Warning:
This post could be a trigger for anyone who has lost a child, or those who love and support someone who have lost a child, or anyone dealing with infertility.
If you are expecting a child, I pray that you will be holding your precious bundle very soon. As an Angel mom, I have gone through the many stages of grief. In fact, I acknowledge the fact that I am still traumatized by the birth nightmare of my son, and that it is a vicious cycle that I have not been able to escape - I don't know where it begins and ends.
A SNIPPET OF MY STORY
Looking back I see it all differently now. In those early days I wanted and needed no witnesses to my suffering or tragedy. Now I see that no one knew what to do or say ~not the nurses or Drs or social workers; not even my family...it was not their fault.
Somehow, some way, we got here, and I am happy that we are here. I am happy that we have made it and can speak about it. I am blessed to know how beautiful and fragile life is, and to know that he who protects me and guides me, always knows what is best.
Grief has no race, religion or creed...it simply is what it is. When the world feels small - when you feel insignificant, know that I am only an email away. If you ever need to speak to me about ANYTHING at all, please contact me. I pray for peace in your heart, and for your dreams to come true.
I am open to speaking to you about my personal experience(s) relating to:
Please tell me how I can assist you!
This post could be a trigger for anyone who has lost a child, or those who love and support someone who have lost a child, or anyone dealing with infertility.
Dear friend,
Thank you for stopping into this space. If you have lost a child, my heart goes out to you. I am deeply sorry for your loss. If you have been praying for your own BFP (big fat pregnancy), I pray that you will receive the answer that you have been waiting for.
If you know someone who has lost a child, give your sincere condolences, and be a shoulder to cry on - if possible. Fancy words not needed.
If you know someone who has lost a child, give your sincere condolences, and be a shoulder to cry on - if possible. Fancy words not needed.
If you are expecting a child, I pray that you will be holding your precious bundle very soon. As an Angel mom, I have gone through the many stages of grief. In fact, I acknowledge the fact that I am still traumatized by the birth nightmare of my son, and that it is a vicious cycle that I have not been able to escape - I don't know where it begins and ends.
A SNIPPET OF MY STORY
Hussein was my 3rd child and my first son. Before Hussein died, I never thought about the death of children. I never knew that there was a huge community of women suffering, hoping, and praying for their hearts to be healed. And I certainly never heard the word Cord Prolapse.
Cord prolapse is:
Cord prolapse is:
(...a complication that occurs prior to or during delivery of the baby...in a prolapse, the umbilical cord drops (prolapses) through the open cervix into the vagina ahead of the baby...this can result in a loss of oxygen to the fetus, and may even result in a stillbirth).
SHOCK
On June 13, 2009 my world changed forever. My pregnancy with Hussein was a difficult one, but not in a million years did I imagine the end result. The day that Hussein was born was really like any other day. I was 38 weeks pregnant. I had just seen my OBGyn 2 days before.
When my water broke, I got up and showered, spoke with my husband, and we left for the hospital.
When I woke up in the hospital room I didn't feel anything. I was heavily sedated and numb all over. Hubby was there, a nurse was fixing tubes, and a minister was speaking to him while looking over at my bed.
I had no idea what had happened.
I think it took about 20 minutes for my husband to tell me that my son had died and that I had missed it all.
Worse yet when I tried to get out of bed I felt a horrible pain in my mid-section. I had been given an emergency C-section.
Days (perhaps hours) later the loss of Hussein was beginning to become more of a reality; however, the pain from the C-section began to sink in. I had been cut open...I was in a lot of pain and there was no prize...I didn't have my baby.
It never occurred to me that MY baby would die, that I could go through all of that and come out empty handed.
REALITY
How? That was the question I asked myself. I wasn't angry at God or anyone. I was angry at myself for not knowing that Hussein was in danger as I sauntered to the hospital that morning. I was angry because I felt a real/true mother would know that her child was dying.
It didn't register in my mind until 2 days later that Hussein was born alive.
I had heard words like "breathed...was alive...tried to save him...born alive...lived ..." but not only was I in a state of disconnect. I was in denial.
On the day of his funeral I was completely broken. No, not broken - completely shattered. The trauma, devastation and exhaustion of bearing the death of a child - of carrying a life that only led to death made me so overwhelmed that I did not want to take another breath. I was too sick to attend his funeral and I couldn't help but feel that it was a blessing and a curse.
I cried and cried my heart out. I needed strength. I prayed every day that all the memories from my heart would simply disappear...that I would disappear, but I was still there...only a shell of my former self - crying for a child that was not meant to be mine. I wanted to move on. I wanted to be strong and good and continue to build my home. I did not want the burden. I could not handle the pain. I was angry. I was full of self-pity and internal strife.
There was one symbolism that I always thought about and still do today. A week before Hussein’s birth/death I saw a lovely butterfly perched on my balcony…strangely it seemed to notice me; it was but a moment, but it felt like minutes had passed. It was almost as if it wanted to comfort me in some way. I didn't realize I was on a path to needing comfort.
I always thought about the hospital room after Hussein's death; how we were discreetly hidden away. How we were in the room with the symbol (a butterfly) taped to our door. I called it the butterfly room.
Perhaps the picture meant to say something profound like "...hope lies here...". But to me the words scribbled in my heart said "...no hope here...keep out!"
I laid awake day and night wishing that I didn't know the despair that dwell behind the butterfly door.
I laid awake day and night wishing that I didn't know the despair that dwell behind the butterfly door.
LESSONS
Over the years I learned many things about myself and my family. I learnt that seasons come and go. Seasons surely have come and gone since October 2008 when I was told that I would have a child.
Looking back I see it all differently now. In those early days I wanted and needed no witnesses to my suffering or tragedy. Now I see that no one knew what to do or say ~not the nurses or Drs or social workers; not even my family...it was not their fault.
Somehow, some way, we got here, and I am happy that we are here. I am happy that we have made it and can speak about it. I am blessed to know how beautiful and fragile life is, and to know that he who protects me and guides me, always knows what is best.
I have come to a place where I can say this was written for me, and there is no way my family could escape our fate.
HOW CAN I HELP YOU?
Years after my traumatic experience, I understand it all on a larger scale. I know that I will never be the same woman. As such, I understand the need to speak about, to reminisce, and to open up the door of our painful past. I do not judge.
I have become more knowledgeable about infertility and the various types of infant loss. I have remained close to women who like me spent hundreds of dollars on ovulation kits, pregnancy test and treatments - who put their faith in Drs and specialists - who walked out of hospitals empty-handed to homes full of all things baby-but no baby.
I understand that with each pregnancy following a loss there is much anxiety and hope. I have been there. I know and understand that some women – great loving women are still empty-handed; doesn't seem fair does it?
I understand that with each pregnancy following a loss there is much anxiety and hope. I have been there. I know and understand that some women – great loving women are still empty-handed; doesn't seem fair does it?
If you have lost a baby, I hope that you will begin to and continue to heal.
If you are waiting to fill your arms with your own bundle of joy please keep the faith
I am praying for all the ladies/families that are still looking for those 2 pink lines...
Grief has no race, religion or creed...it simply is what it is. When the world feels small - when you feel insignificant, know that I am only an email away. If you ever need to speak to me about ANYTHING at all, please contact me. I pray for peace in your heart, and for your dreams to come true.
Special note*
Over the years, many women have emailed/contacted me with stories of loss and hope renewed. Each message is as unique as it's writer and I would never share any part of your story unless I was given permission to do so. Thank you for sharing your stories with me.
I am open to speaking to you about my personal experience(s) relating to:
*High-risk pregnancies
*Polyhydramnios or Hydramnios (excess amniotic fluid)
*Umbilical cord-prolapse leading to infant death
*Emergency }and repeat emergency{ c-sections
*Stomach abscess and surgery
*Fatal drug allergies and the consequences in birth trauma & beyond
*Fertility Drugs & side-effects - specifically Clomid*
*Progesterone use in early pregnancy & side-effects
*Bed-rest & working outside the home
*Writing/making a birth-plan
*Islamic burial rites
*NICU experiences (nursing etc) }specifically in the Canadian health system{
*Virtual connection to Support groups & Angel moms }getting through grief in one piece{
*AND finally depression, anxiety, PTSD and medications.
Please tell me how I can assist you!
Love & light,
Salma
