Support

Liam, it has been nearly a year since I have written to you, I know you understand why and I know you will forgive how rough this will be. I needed to take care of both my body and mind when pregnant with your sister. I couldn’t allow myself to pour emotions and my soul out on paper, I feared the tears that have always come from the depths of my soul when I write would in some way hurt your sister. I was not willing to give my body any excuse to let another one of my children down.

In the past few weeks, I have felt a need to start writing again. Liam, there have been topics discussed on social media that I feel I did not do justice, confined to the word count they give us. I have much more to say on many things. So, I have returned here sweet boy, to the space I created to not only connect with you but the entire world. To tell our story, a story that I hope helps someone else, many more but selfishly, I am happy if it only helps me.

Liam, the other day the topic of support came up and a discussion surrounding what others did to support themselves in that first year, what professional services were offered to them and how their level of support after the death of their child determined how they could handle and process their grief. I thought back to our story. We were not offered anything after you died, except two pamphlets in your memory box; the first about a support group for parents who had, had a multiple birth and a sibling(s) died. The other a pamphlet on SIDS.  We did not discuss any websites or support groups with a counsellor before leaving the hospital, we were not handed any phone numbers for support or offered the opportunity of future professional care.

In the days and weeks after your death Liam, Google became my best friend and worst enemy because it seems that where we live entered us into the worst type of postcode lotto and impacted heavily the support available to us. It shouldn’t be like this and when I was told numerous times by several people that professional help will be beneficial or perhaps I should see someone to talk it through, I just wanted to scream…I AM TRYING! Help is not that easy to find, especially if you don’t know where to look. I had never had a child die. I had never suffered a broken heart and soul that required this type of ‘fixing’.

I was specific in what I wanted. As a teacher my degree allows me to teach until year 10. I could put it on my resume or in my ‘dot points’. However, 99% of my teaching has been in the junior years foundation- year 2, so I wouldn’t be any good at year 10. Liam, I didn’t want a therapist who just had grief in their dot points or perinatal care as a semester they took at uni. I wanted someone who did this everyday…so of course my options then became even more limited.

Liam, in those early days I was liking the idea of attending a group to talk to other bereaved parents, but there were no groups in our city or the surrounding suburbs that I could find that would allow or had care set up to offer an option of bringing your brother. I respect why he couldn’t be in the sessions but as you know our family are close but we are not geographically close so trying to attend those sessions at night without him was difficult and I admit I quickly gave up trying to organise a way to try. 

So, what and who helped us when we were left broken after your death Liam? Instagram, or as I like to refer to them; the little squares of support. It is available 24/7 and full of advice, support and virtual love from people we have never met but share a bond like no other. The conversations shared through messages and the motivation scrolled over has helped in ways I can only ever hope of repaying through our story.  

Liam, Raphael Service is where I have poured my heart out for the past year. I have told them all about you. About your birth, your time in NICU and your death. Over a hot cup of tea I have proudly beamed about how much you have done to helps others and the places your name is written for future generations to see. Perinatal counselling has helped both your Mummy and Daddy. I never thought I would be a person who needed therapy or counselling, I have always been so in control of my life and my emotions. You sweet boy, have taught me to never say never. My emotions, thoughts and actions have been explored, validated and listened to here and it has helped me in so many ways to process aspects of grief I think would have kept me bitter, angry and upset without professional support.

Another form of support that I got, was in a place where I didn’t necessarily look for it, it was from my obstetrician, the man who helped bring you safely into the world Liam. He listened to my concerns about the lack of mental health care available or ‘searchable’ and was able to source care (from Raphael) when my attempts didn’t even show it as an option. I would highly recommend to others to start the search for help and support from their obstetrician and/or midwife too.

The fundraising and social events that are run by organisations like Sands Australia, Bears of Hope and Life’s Little Treasures gave us so much purpose, support and motivation in that first year. I was adamant that your death was not the end for you sweet boy, you were born to change the world and I felt a sense of responsibility to ensure you did and continue to do that. Although I didn’t access the online and phone support, I acknowledge that they offer bereaved parents a lot of support too. Sweet boy, I hope you enjoyed watching us walk wearing the t-shirts that have your name on them over our heart…we truly are living for you Liam.

Liam, I have left the most important support to last; your family, both biological and extended. The extended family being your Mummy and Daddy’s friends who talked and cried it out with us in the early days and still check in with us now. Our family, put simply, got us through those first few months Liam. It was your brother who gave us our purpose to live. Hearing his little feet pitter patter down the hall into our bedroom in the morning, requesting pops in his bowl with a side of, Good Morning Mumma and Daddy, we kept going. Oh, how I hope you see him send all those kisses up to you each day, he not only supports your Mummy and Daddy but your memory too.

Liam, this is the support we sought and accepted in the first year to survive your death. Now after the first year though, we realise that it is not just the first year you need to survive but every year after. The weight of the grief doesn’t change. We, with support, just get better at carrying it.

Sweet boy, oh how I miss you.

Love Mummy