Baby Loss

Baby Loss: Is It Time To Move On?

A black and white photograph of a soft toy abandoned on a window sill - Baby Loss - Is It Time To Move On - Mrs H's favourite things

Trigger warning – this post mentions baby loss and miscarriages.

Baby Loss: Is It Time To Move On?

A New Diagnosis

This month marks the anniversary of one of my miscarriages. One of our lost babies was also due in November. And last week I was finally diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the miscarriages. All this means that our experience of baby loss is very much on my mind.

It wasn’t a surprise to be given a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I know that experiencing baby loss has radically affected my life. But I still found the diagnosis hard to hear. Because it made me realise, that although I will never forget my babies, it is time to move past the miscarriages and get on with my life.

Needing Therapy

I’ve been referred for EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing) therapy. This is now the form of therapy that NICE and the World Health Organisation recommend for PTSD. It’s likely that there will be a long waiting list for this form of therapy. So, in the meantime, I have also been referred for bereavement counselling.

I don’t know what to expect from either of these forms of therapy. But I know that I will have to relive some of the worst moments of my life. The baby that was referred to as the retained product of conception and was then delivered in a private room on the maternity ward. A chemical pregnancy that involved my sobbing at the side of the street while I bled heavily and had uncontrollable diarrhoea. The missed miscarriage that occurred a few days after Little Miss H had been in a hospital with suspected meningitis.

They are memories that I know I need to face. But they are memories that I don’t wish to have to relive. That I would prefer to keep buried deep inside me. Although, they aren’t buried deep inside me because they often bubble to the surface and to engulf me.

Holding On To The Memories

They are also memories that I want to hold on to. I even long to keep the pain. Because they are the only thing that I have left of my four babies. 

When we were going through the miscarriages, I didn’t want to remember. I couldn’t cope with the idea of planting a rose in memory. Or buying a necklace for my babies. If I let myself think about the fact that we’d lost four babies then I would have given up. We wouldn’t have kept on trying. Little Mister H would not be walking this earth.

So all I have of my four angel babies is a piece of ribbon that tied a bouquet of flowers my parents sent after the first miscarriage and a name. I know many people who have named their lost babies. This isn’t us. But since Little Mister H was born I’ve given them a name. One name for four babies. Lyra Kristen. It’s the name that we would have given Little Mister H if he’d been a girl. It is a name that I still love. And it is now the name for the babies who didn’t get to be given a name.

But this isn’t enough. These babies are still a part of my life. The loss of them has infused through every part of the last 6 years.

Letting Go Of The Baby Loss

And this is what I want to leave behind. But I don’t know if I’m ready to let go of the miscarriages. How can I forget our four babies? How can I forget the pain that we went through when we lost each one of those precious babies? Why do I want to assign their memory to the past?

Yet, holding on is affecting my mental health. It’s making me ill. When I remember my heart physically aches. My whole demeanour changes. And I remember too often. I bring baby loss into a conversation too much. I sometimes seem like I’m obsessed.

Talking about our experiences of baby loss has meant that I have helped 100s of women who have miscarried. I’ve even coached a number of readers and friends through their miscarriages. Preparing them emotionally and mentally for the ordeal ahead of them. Being there to love and support them when they have needed it. It’s been a privilege to help these women. And it has turned my heart breaking experiences into a positive.

Then there is this blog. A blog where I write honestly about mental health and baby loss. A place where I shared my reactions to the miscarriages. Where I lived through the baby loss with you by my side. I’m not sure I can walk away from writing about those experiences. Not when I know how much it has helped other women feel less alone.

Moving Forward

So where does that leave me? Well, I’m not sure. Knowing that I need to move forward is different from wanting to move forward. Because I can’t let the baby loss keep holding me back. I won’t let the pain of the miscarriages prevent me from enjoying the current happiness I have with my family. The nightmares, where I relive those heartbreaking events, need to stop. Dates need to come and go without ripping holes in my heart. I need to let go and I need to move forward.

Yet, I can’t forget. I can never forget. I won’t let myself forget those babies. The memory of finding out we were expecting. The tender strokes that I gave my developing bump. The tiny beating heartbeats that we sometimes saw at early scans.

But I want to be able to remember without pain. Because I can’t continue to feel such pain. I need to move forward in whatever way that looks like. I have to learn how to move on from baby loss.

A pinnable image of a soft toy abandoned on a shelve with the text "Baby Loss - Is It Time To Move On?" - Baby Loss: Is It Time To Move On? - Mrs H's favourite things






  • Reply
    Tracey Abrahams
    November 22, 2018 at 2:20 pm

    Oh Lucy, it makes my heart ache a little to hear the pain in your words. I really hope the therapies you’ve been offered help you move past the pain to a place where you can remember your babies without it hurting and effecting your present life.
    Offering you much love and huge cyber hugs xxx

  • Reply
    November 22, 2018 at 7:30 am

    Sending you best wishes, Lucy. I experienced two losses but the first was by far the most traumatic. Even now, if I close my eyes and think about it, I can see him. However, before the counselling, the awfulness was there every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t control it. It was controlling me, spilling into every element of my life. The counselling was a huge change. I hope you get the help you need.

  • Reply
    November 20, 2018 at 6:36 pm

    We passed our 6 years since the heartbreak day this month. I’m past tears but I too like that my still heart aches. We named our child, and I have fond memories of the way I planned out a nursery – we moved before our son was born and so they remain like a time capsule. I’ve tried to let go of specifics, of medical conversations and such. We keep hold of the paperwork, including a first uneventful scan that confirmed the pregnancy. I mention our loss every time I’m asked how many children I have, I count that spark of a life – I’m always amazed at how it sparks conversations. Just added “Birthed: Finding Grace Through Infertility” to my amazon read list on a recommendation, I feel the conversation needs to be widened and more freely spoken of – love how your blog does that.

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