The Year of Mariana

Everything feels different this year. Somehow, in the middle of chaos, my world feels brighter/more hopeful/calmer/more exciting. I started going through something last year and it ended/started towards the end of 2022 when I realised I had let myself forget ME.

I have always loved my birthdays, I love the idea of getting a new chapter on a certain date on a yearly basis. At the same time, I have a flair for the nostalgic so for the longest time I was excited for the future, and a bit too focused on a past that I couldn’t and sometimes wouldn’t change. Last year I was able to travel alone with my siblings for the first time. It was magic! We went to a very cold lake to swim and my “mysticism” reached a high with the universe nudging me that things had to change. Last year I was also able to reconnect with people I hadn’t seen or talked to for real in many years. They each had gone through different things and we seemed to pick up right were we left off. The concept of the Year of Mariana started during one of those conversations. I realised something big then: The first 40 years of my life weren’t fully mine. I was a baby, toddler, child, teenager, young adult, wannabe adult, adult who has an uncertain future, adult whose life has changed because of decisions she didn’t make, and so many more iterations of a person. Let’s be clear, a few years of people making decisions for me in the first 40 years makes complete sense. They all did the best they could with what they had and knew. They all made the decisions they deemed as best for me and them in certain times. I thank you all for it, our experiences helped shape who I am. I also made decisions (and still do on a daily basis) that I genuinely believed to be the best at the time of making them.

On to the next 40!

If it isn’t clear, I turned 40 on the 3rd of April (YAY!). So towards the end of 2022 I devised a plan to spend this year (2023) working on me and working hard to create a solid base for what I want my life to be for the next 40 years. At the time of writing this, I am in a great place, I’ve taken part in a lot of very awesome and uncomfortable soul searching and getting to know myself. I’ve understood more about my ego and how it has influenced many of my decisions, relationships and thoughts. I have gone on many journeys to understand and radically accept that some things can’t change, that I need to believe people when they show me who they are and that I also need to “stop being mad at people for not being who I want them to be”. That includes myself. I wholeheartedly recommend you go on this journeys with zero judgement. Let go of what you think you know and take that step with an open mind and heart. None of this will stop on December 31st 2023, it will just change. This year was about starting.

This year was also about reconnecting with who I am besides a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, employee and whatever else I am to people. I came up with a few experiences and activities that bring me back to who I really am and was before I started to work towards shifting myself in certain situations and for some people (some of who didn’t even ask!) in order to feel accepted and/or loved. I’m reconnecting with nature, I’m working on understanding my purpose and how to live/work aligned to it, I’m letting go of things that I’ve held on to because “it’s what you’re supposed to do”, I’m re-evaluating a lot of ideas and beliefs to understand if they are truly mine or if they were given to me and I just ran with them. I am living an intentional, mindful and switch on life with ME and mine.

In line with all of this, I also want to change things over here. I want to be able to help people not only from a bereaved Mother’s point of view. That will always be here and Olivia’s influence in my life is also one of the biggest reasons why I want to change things. This year’s calendar has a lot of the things that I’m doing for the Year of Mariana, some things are repeated from other calendars and some are new and very specific. Do what you can, do what you want, do nothing and just be happy!

Stay tuned for changes to come over here. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy June of 2023 and that you can have a month that makes you feel as epic as you are!

Day 30: Do a gratitude meditation. Try to keep perspective, positivity & love at your forefront

My friend Sonali is a very grounded human, I feel like she can always see things from a different perspective besides her own. I know she will never agree to this, but Sona is beyond selfless, she seriously always tries to go the extra mile for others, especially for her family. I’m a bit late posting this because she sent me a voice note of her story (which I loved!) and that meant listening to her message many times so I could really listen, transcribe everything and pause quite a few times to cry with her voice. Sonali is braver than she would ever admit and she has kept me from some of my worst thoughts by showing up in her full awesome way even if it's just a word in a text message. This is Rahul’s story, told by his mom: 

“My thoughts around this are all pretty jumbled. My pregnancy with Rahul overall was very very happy. I felt incredibly blessed to get pregnant so easily so quickly. I felt like my body knew exactly what to do. I had really bad morning sickness and everything at the beginning but I thought it was my body doing what it had to do. I just had this overall feeling of bliss and immense gratitude, feeling blessed and just so lucky. I always had this Intuitive sense that the first pregnancy would be very easy,  I didn't know what future pregnancies would hold but the first time it would be really straightforward and that’s exactly how it happened. The scans were all fine, and then after the 20 week scan at one point I felt reduced movement and I went in, and it was fine. They always put it down to the placenta being posterior, I think I went a couple more times but whenever they hooked me up and scanned me everything was fine. 

Everything was good and suddenly I got big very fast, and then I remember I was on the tube on my way home from work and I must’ve been nearly 38 weeks and I’ve been having lower back pain, but this time it was unbearable. I remember thinking I had to make it to the hospital to check and was convinced it was a kidney infection or something like that. I got there and it was obvious that I was in a lot of pain, I couldn’t keep the tears back and there was something wrong. They assessed me and checked on Rahul and everything seemed fine. I had a lot of amniotic fluid, and now I know they probably should’ve told me to be in bed rest, because the amount I had could’ve started labour at any point. They kept me overnight because the back pain was so bad and they would do a scan in the morning of my kidneys or whatever just to check everything.

In the morning, when the consultant came to do the rounds, I was in all 4 because of the pain in my back was so bad. Minutes later a porter came up with a wheelchair and said that they wanted to do a scan on the baby. I was so confused as I had gotten one the day before and this was supposed to be to check my back!? 

So I went down and the consultant was there, and that’s when it all started to unravel. The consultant called in her boss, I called Harry and they said we think the baby has a diaphragmatic hernia which means that there’s a good chance the baby’s lungs haven’t developed properly and there is a 30% survival rate; but we need to see once the baby arrives. Obviously everything came crashing down, I couldn’t understand or believe that at 38 weeks pregnant this was being told to us. Despite the induction starting on Tuesday, nothing had happened by Friday, so they said we are going to break your waters and we’re going to try and progres this now. 

All throughout I was like, the 30% chance we’ve been given, I was thinking it’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, there is no way this baby is leaving me and I’m going to take the 30%. 

In the end, around midnight they told us, look, we are going to have to do an emergency C-section. The room was filled with neonatal doctors waiting to intercept Rahul, and obviously the team doing the C-section on me. They told us that if he made it out of the room he had a chance, and so all of the will and the force we had we were putting into the universe that he made it out of that room and that is all I was watching.

When he came out he was perfect, he was just ahh… a head full of curly dark hair with the most gorgeous limbs, he looked like milk. He was just perfect. I could see that the NICU doctors were really working hard on him which was terrifying, but at that point the concentration was so strong that he made it out of the room. The doctors were so kind and they stopped his cot by me as they reorganised so I could have a little look at him. Then Harry followed Rahul into the NICU unit.

As the doctors were coming out, the consultants told me: he doesn’t have a diaphragmatic hernia but he is very poorly and we don’t know what’s wrong with him. The next 24 hours are going to be critical, and the next 12 days ensued. And some of the conversations we had to have and decisions we needed to make were beyond my capacity and intellect and of realms of everything I’ve ever had to do.

And he was just so perfect, he was too big for the NICU cot beds. Eventually on the 12th day he was just too tired and he had been revived one too many times. And so on that twelfth day I held him for the first time so he could die in my arms… which is… I can’t believe I survived that to be honest. It just is the most hideous thing to do that the first time I held him was so he could die. And six years later we haven’t stopped thinking what he’d be like, if we ever did right by him, if we let him suffer too much. I don’t know what to say other than it feels like a freight train has crashed into you and somehow the world just keeps on turning. You feel like you won’t survive the sadness and the rest of your life you genuinely don’t want to.

I had the most blissful happy pregnancy and the most perfect little boy and I did the most unimaginable things that a mother would ever have to do, I still can’t believe we lived through that. They say there are all the stages of grief but I’m still stuck at the stage that is about him and his loss. Even though perhaps, maybe he’s somewhere much more beautiful than where we are and having a much better life than I could’ve given him; but I just can’t be certain of any of that and anyway I’m rambling now. I guess the reason I talk about it being a gratitude meditation is because he is my biggest blessing and he is perfect and I am forever grateful for him.”

Day 26: Eat a potato or a food that hugs your soul

Tarryn and I met in September 2017, at a pregnancy after loss support meeting from Sands. I was pregnant with Eloise and she was trying to think what a pregnancy after losing her son Robin could even look like. From that first meeting, I was in awe of Tarryn, she spoke so confidently and candidly about her son and their journey. She had opinions and she wanted to talk to people that had been there. We bonded immediately. Also, we are both from “third world countries”, she's from South Africa and I’m from Venezuela. I have always said that if I would’ve been back home when I was pregnant with Olivia, she would’ve been here. Not only because I would’ve been able to afford private healthcare, but also because doctors are mega cautious there, you have constant scans to measure the baby (rather than the belly!!!!), you have a real relationship with your doctor where they know your name and family and you have their phone number (not one where you are a hospital number and you get to a place that is so stretched that you fall through the cracks and babies die). During my pregnancy I had epic midwives and I told them all the time how weird that the baby was only scanned and measured twice (yes, insane!) but my belly got measured on every visit. I also think that if that team would’ve seen me in the hospital, things miiiiiight have been different. Tarryn felt the same about Robin and how things could’ve been if she had been back home.

“Could have, Should have, would have” (but really, coulda shoulda woulda) was part of the first text Tarryn even sent me. 

The last text she sent me was two weeks ago, with Robin’s story, as told by his epic mom:

“I remember so vividly the morning that I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I was walking down Putney Hill and thought why am I so nauseous… and my period is late. Hold up. Could it be??!! Fast forward an hour or two and I met my husband near work at the little garden outside One New Change in the city to phone our families straight away to say “you’re going to be a granny/ great uncle etc!” We were so excited. I remember those early weeks being starving in the mornings, despite the nausea and retching, desperate for garlic potatoes?!! Yes, anything savoury and rich for breakfast would do! I hit the M&S every morning before work to buy a sausage bap or two haha and I felt so excited. Everything seemed fine in our first trimester really, but on New Years Eve, at 14 weeks pregnant, things started to change. Unfortunately by the time we got to 19 weeks pregnant, after weeks of back and forth from the hospital with ongoing bleeding, I suffered my second antepartum haemorrhage. A few days later due to further complications, including my water breaking, we were told I had to give birth if I wanted to save my life, but our baby would be too small to survive. Saying goodbye to the baby happily kicking in my belly on that afternoon was one of the darkest days of my life. Our sweet baby, Robin, was born on 5 February 2017. I remember the midwife saying “He was perfect”. —— Robin made me a mother. His birth and death broke me apart but it also allowed me to be rebuilt and now I take deeper breaths and see more colour in every leaf and every flower and I am so so grateful for what I do have in this time I have on earth. Robin's heartbeat changed who I was for always, and I will miss and love that heartbeat for always. — One of the ways that I eventually started to heal my heart after losing Robin, was by joining SANDS group meetings with other parents who've lost their babies. And it is this group of women, and all our angel babies, who saved me and made me feel normal in an abnormal time. Those friendships still carry on now five years down the line as our lives have moved on, the heartache of grief has grown more gentle with time but we are connected at the heart. And will always be in each other's lives and celebrate each other's children, all our children.”

I messaged Tarryn today to make sure she was happy with what I wanted to post and she added something that I think is very important to share today “The only thing to add would be that since that initial time we met I’ve realised that nothing could have saved Robin. But the choices we made at the time saved my life”. I don’t want to make this political, but this is more than that, this is about saving lives and taking away a MASSIVE decision from the women that are pregnant. Tarryn and I talked a bit more:

M: Tell me what you think. I want to be as diplomatic as I can with the world with HOW FUCKED UP the US is right now

T: Exactly!!! If I hadn’t been induced I could very likely have died… I feel so angry and confused at the world… But this thing in the US has stirred a lot for me… Because I don’t know what could have happened if they had left me to haemorrhage and get sepsis…. And it makes me livid that they might do that with modern medicine to someone in the US… I keep telling people that if I’d lived in a rural village in Africa I might have died, turns out the same might have applied in the US now…

I’ve shared a lot of stories so far this month, and they all have one thing in common: Not a day goes by when we didn’t wish our children were here. All of us miss our babies and mourn the lives that should have been. However, a few of us had to make choices. Impossible choices that no human should be asked to make, some of them for their children and thinking of the life (or lack thereof) that they would’ve had and others because they needed to save their own life. Yes, it is an impossible choice that follows you even when your life is at risk, but taking away that option is unthinkable and even more cruel. That is a choice that only the people that are pregnant can make. I’m hugging every person who’s having to make this kind of choice and those whose choices are being made for them.

Day 25: Watch one of your favourite films and take time for yourself

I met Natalie during my first or second support group meeting for Sands. Even before she spoke, I was drawn to her and I just wanted to hug her. She reminded me so much of my cousin, one of my favourite people on earth. Natalie stayed silent most of the meeting and her eyes were intensely sad, I guess all of ours were; but there was something else about Natalie. She is the youngest in our Awesome Mums group, and wise beyond her years. I feel weirdly protective over Natalie, maybe it's because I see her as my baby cousin, maybe because I can’t imagine being able to cope with everything we’ve been through when I was 20, or maybe it's simply because we recognise each other’s pain and we are linked somehow.

Natalie wanted to take part in the calendar from the beginning, but I could feel the hesitation in sharing Lyla with the world. It turns out she never had written something and shared it with the world. I can feel how that is hard, I’ve been openly sharing Olivia for almost 6 years and it’s still hard and I still have so many feelings I’m too scared to share. So, welcome my dear very brave friend Natalie, as she shares her story, for the very first time:

“I fell pregnant with Lyla in 2015 when I was 20. My pregnancy and labour with her was very difficult and traumatic and to this day I still struggle to talk about and to deal with mentally. I was rushed into hospital on the evening of Thursday 25th February 2016. I was in labour and losing a lot of blood. There was so much noise and beeping, sounds of midwives, doctors, bright lights. I didn't know what was about to happen. I remember the face of the doctor who looked me in the eyes and said "your baby doesn't have a heartbeat" I was in so much pain I didn't take it in at this point. I tried to get off the bed. Lyla was born full term on the 25th February 2016 at 9:30pm. I was in labour for a long time and then had to go into theatre because my placenta was stuck. I was so close to having a blood transfusion because of the amount of blood I lost. It was the worst day of my life but also the day my beautiful daughter was born. She was and is perfect. We stayed in the hospital with her for two days in a butterfly suite. I was incredibly weak but those two days meant the world to me. I'll never forget holding her, cuddling her, the feel of her soft skin, her warmth and telling her how much I love her and how beautiful she is. We then kept going back to see her until her day.

We were asked whether we wanted a post mortem and we made the decision not to. I just wanted her to be left as she was. I still to this day think about whether that was the right decision. The doctors said that her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. That's something I will never know,  why did that happen, why did she have to die. I blamed myself for a long time and something I've worked on through therapy.  Those thoughts haven't gone away, they're still there and at times they take over and others they don't. I feel, as her mum, I couldn't protect her, I couldn't keep her safe and that breaks me everyday. It was out of my control. As I look back at my pregnancy with Lyla, I'll be honest and I've only told a few people how I felt because I've been scared of the reaction. I didn't enjoy my pregnancy and looking back I fell into a depression. I felt incredibly low and felt like I had no one to turn to even though I had so many people around me. Why did I feel like that? Surely pregnancy is meant to be a happy joyful time. This was the same throughout my subsequent pregnancies with Lyla's little sister and brother. I didn't enjoy my pregnancies, mentally I didn't cope well. There were little snippets, one of them being music, I enjoyed listening to music when I was pregnant with them all and seeing/feeling them move when the music was on. I get comfort from that, knowing that they share that together. The special connection they have together as siblings while growing in my belly. 

Butterflies are what connects me to Lyla because of the room we stayed in was a butterfly suite. I've always loved butterflies but now they are that extra special to me. When I see them I think she's coming to say hello or to check up on me. On Lyla's day everyone wore a pink glittery butterfly. Over these last 6 years it has been incredibly hard and still is. A pain that never goes away. I struggle everyday with anxiety and ptsd and I've had therapy to help me with that because it got to a stage where it was so difficult to get through my day. Some days are harder than others. I've  accepted that it is a part of me now but it doesn't define me. I just wish everyday she was here. I believe that she is, just not the way I want her to be. She's in everything I do now. I'm forever grateful she chose me to be her mummy and for what she's shown and done for me. On the day we were discharged from hospital I put one of my favourite Disney films on, Lilo and Stitch, and I sobbed. A quote from the film is: ‘Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten’. That will always be with me and is something I go by. Family is so important. Lyla is a big sister to her little sister Faye and little brother Kai. I believe she brought them to me. They know about their big sister and Faye now talks about her. Lyla has her own special cabinet at home and I buy things for her so that she is always included. It brings me some sort of comfort, because it wouldn't feel right if I didn't include her. Another tradition we do for Lyla now is that she has her own money pot where we put money in each month up until her birthday and we then donate all the money to a charity on her birthday in memory of her. That's all I can do for her. She will always be included because she is and always will be a part of our family. My eldest daughter, the perfect little girl who made me a mum. 

Thank you princess for bringing Faye and Kai to me and for showing me that it's ok to not be ok but most of all giving me the best title in the whole world "mummy". 

I love you and miss you so much forever and always. My little butterfly 🦋”

Day 24: Do something that makes your heart race (in a good way)

I don’t even know how to start this post, there is so much to say and I only have so much space. Claire and I met in 2010 (or 11?) When we became flatmates, I was looking for a gas hob and they were looking for people; so Jonas and I moved in. I had never met (still haven’t!) someone like Claire Mackenzie, she is all heart, joy, adventure, passion and fun. She is someone that lives life and does all the things we “have” to do, whilst always stating true to herself and what she believes in. Claire doesn’t compromise on her core values and when she knows something is wrong in principle, even if it doesn’t affect her. I fell in love with Claire the second we met and I’m sure there is a parallel universe where we grew up together and were family by blood. In this reality, I am beyond glad that we found each other and became chosen family for each other.

Claire is the kind of person that FULLY loves and supports her friends and family with whatever they need. I have never felt anything other than love and understanding from her (even when I deserved a bit of a slap!) Claire always leads with kindness. I know there is no topic off limits with Claire, I know that whatever I’m going through she will wrap me in her love and give me whatever I need from her at the time (hugs, words, silence, attention). People like Claire truly make the world a better place and I don’t think there is a person in the universe that after meeting Claire, doesn’t agree with this.

I first want to share a post that Claire shared in October 2018, for baby loss awareness week, alongside a picture of her in 2014,”at the beginning of my first pregnancy, when I thought baby loss was something that happened to other people” :

• At least you know you can get pregnant

• At least it was only <<insert number of weeks>>

• At least you have <<insert name of living child>>

• You can always try again

• The baby was ill, it was for the best

Things I said/thought prior to April 2014 when I heard the word ‘miscarriage’.

Now all of these things have been said to me and I know that there are no ‘at leasts’, there are no silver-linings. Just maybe things that are slightly less shit than they could have been.

I didn’t know that when you have a miscarriage often have to have an operation to remove the ‘products of conception’ aka your dearly wanted baby. 5 operations later, I do now.

I didn’t know that it would take so long to remember to stop putting your hand, protectively, to your stomach after losing your little love, I do now.

I didn’t imagine that I would ever be asked to actually choose to lose my child, having found out that his life would be extraordinarily difficult had he lived. I do now.

I wish I could go back in time and tell the me of before April ‘14 to just hug the hell out of anyone who told me that they’d lost their baby. Not to offer any platitudes, just to tell them that I am so, so sorry for their loss and tell them that if they ever need to talk about their baby; I’m here.

If you have never experienced losing a baby or your partner losing a baby, I’m so relieved for you, but please, if you hear of a friend who has, don’t be the me of 2014, just listen and hug.

Whenever I hear losing a baby is “just one of those things” I want to scream, IT SHOULDN’T BE! Claire, like many other women,  was told that by medical professionals. Two or even three miscarriages are normal, they said. Normal for who? Are families supposed to just go back to work as if nothing happened and stay in the shadows because you also “shouldn’t really talk about it”?

It hasn’t been easy for Claire, she kept looking for answers as to why she miscarried and she was rarely given the space and respect she deserves. She was her own advocate from the get go, she tried to get answers for each of those babies, just like any mother does. Today I want to talk about Nico, my nephew, and Claire’s middle son. As I’ve warned with the other stories, I will be writing and sharing more on Termination for Medical Reasons; you are welcome here only if you can show up with an open heart.

On the 13th of March 2018 at 9am, Claire sent me a message telling me the news that she was pregnant but that sadly, tests confirmed the baby had a disorder that would make his life very hard to live with life long implications. Claire finished her text like this “I’ll be 15 weeks. I can’t really believe I’m writing this. I’m sorry to give you such shitty news. But I know that you’d want to know and I can’t hide it from you” I’m her family, she should never feel sorry for telling me whatever she’s going on. But we do, we are scared of saying things out loud and even writing them. Sometimes it’s because we are afraid of being judged, and others it’s because we somehow feel they are more true when they are out there.

Nico was born 4 days after that text, on the 17th of March 2018 at 4:26pm, Claire messaged me “He was tiny, like a pixie, but perfectly formed. We were lucky enough to be able to spend some time with him and I was able to hold him. We’ll never forget him” 

Parents that make the impossible decision of ending a pregnancy are, for the most part, judged negatively. Why does the world do this!? Isn’t it enough with what they are going through? Three days after Nico was born I messaged Claire about ARC, the Antenatal Results and Choices charity. What she replied next broke my heart in more ways than one “I have some Sands leaflets… I feel weird about Sands. I feel that because I CHOSE to let Nico go, I sort of don’t deserve to get the help from them. But there we are, that’s my shit”  She was going through the worst moment of her life and she still felt undeserved of help, because she made the hardest decision that any parent would have to make. I don’t agree with her, and I told her then, but I can understand where she was coming from in those dark moments. I mostly felt shame to the outside world after Olivia died, I hid in random places if I ran into people who saw me pregnant last time, because I would vomit otherwise. I hope Claire knows she deserves ALL the help out there to potentially make sense of what happened. I know she would think that if it was one of her friends going through such a monumental loss, why can’t we be so kind to ourselves?

I want to share another post that Claire wrote in October 2019, for baby loss awareness week:

“Mine. Yours. Your friend’s (who says she’s fine). Your co-worker’s, who was off for a few days and has come back not wanting to speak about it. For the beautiful babies have been born sleeping. For the parents who have stared at a lifeless ultrasound screen. Seen the blood in the toilet bowl.

And for anyone who has heard the words ‘I’m sorry but your baby is affected by <<fill in with heartbreaking diagnosis>>’ and then been presented with the choice of a having child who may not make it to adulthood or, just as painfully, might, but who would never known independence and what would happen when I’m not there, and who would take care of him.... A choice between that and having to decide to end this much loved pregnancy and never recover the bit of heart that broke in doing so.

Termination for Medical Reasons is often a bit skipped over when it comes to baby loss information. I wish it didn’t feel like it had to be such a dark secret. The truth is; we loved our babies just as much and the ‘choice’ is something that will indelibly mark our hearts. We are not the same after having made this choice, please don’t ask us to be.”

I always want to be more like Claire, I want to show up for others in ways only I can. Shouldn’t we all want that? She lives a colourful life for all her children, she shows up for everyone regardless of what’s going on. Claire taught me more about miscarriages than I wish I knew, she showed me first hand what TFMR does to a mother and how much love and support they need. Most importantly, Claire shows me every day that the best you can do is live your truth and do it wholeheartedly. 

This one is for my nephew Nico Mackenzie Turner, you are always with us and we have cake and talk about you every 17th of March. Te amo

Day 23: Practice self care

Mariana and I went to the same school since nursery (me) and kindergarten (her), and the reality is that we were never friends and I think that we never spoke to each other in the 13 years that we were in the same school. She is two years younger than me and, in typical dumb mindset growing up, the different years did not mix much or were very friendly with each other. We had mutual friends, but we never got to each other back then. We both knew of each other's existence and nothing more (I think) .

Then the universe (and Maia!) gave me one of the best gifts in life, when sometime between 2010 and 2011, they brought me my Marranita. I don't remember how or when, but I just know that I don't want to imagine life without her. Mariana is SO MANY things, talented, kind, funny, hard-working, sensitive, determined, friendly, loyal, and too many other qualities to fill 80 books. My friend is a ray of sunshine to everyone who knows her and once she's in your life, you never want her to leave. Mariana hasn't had it easy and she's always been very open with many of the bad times she's had... except this one. That changes today, in her own words:

“In January 2019, I was surprised to learn that my first baby was on the way. The news caught me totally off guard, and it was not the way I had envisioned my first pregnancy. This was an unplanned pregnancy, in a relationship that was still building its foundations. I was full of anguish and worried those first weeks, I didn’t feel ready to receive a baby at that time in my life. I tried to see the positive side of it, but I had a hard time feeling fully happy. I thought it was a given, and took for granted that I would become a mom that September. I became consumed with thoughts about the logistics I needed to have in place to welcome my first child. Little did I know that nothing was guaranteed. You're not supposed to lose the baby that came as a surprise. At 7 weeks, after several weeks of feeling fine, no longer nauseous and looking better, I suddenly started bleeding. My doctor then explained to me that I was losing the baby. I was in shock for several days and even thought that maybe it was a mistake and soon I would hear my baby's heartbeat. However, the consultation and scan confirmed what they had already told me, and the miracle for which I was now praying did not come true. 

I was stunned for a long time and felt like the floor was taken from me. There was nothing certain for me from then on. The process of losing my baby was very difficult since it lasted two months. Day by day I had a physical reminder - beyond the emotional and spiritual - about the baby that was leaving my body. The slowness prolonged my agony too much. During that time, and afterward, I only felt guilt for not having felt happy since I found out I was pregnant. I always thought that I was going to get used to the idea of ​​being a mother without looking for it and, I assumed, that I would have time later to get excited and focus on my baby. I came to think that I had caused the miscarriage with my negative thoughts. That this energy affected my baby and caused him/her to no longer be with me. From then on there were very hard months. I had two friends who had the same due date and I still imagine my baby growing up alongside theirs. I imagine him/her at that age and wonder what life would have been like with him/her here. I will always wonder if it was a girl or a boy, who they looked like and what their personality would have been like. It is a loss that taught me that every baby that arrives is a miracle and that, I in my innocence, took for granted.

After that loss, I lived in fear of not being able to conceive another child. When I got pregnant with my daughter I was very afraid to live the experience again. However, despite the fear, I was able to live the pregnancy from a place of knowledge and gratitude. I understood that every day that she grew in my belly was a gift and I did a lot of research on the different scenarios. Thank God my daughter came into my arms healthy, with a mother who fully understands how lucky she was to achieve such a feat. To my first baby, wherever they are, I would like to say that I carry you in my heart now and forever.”

I want to add something here that jumped out at me when I read it because it seemed very crazy and at the same time very familiar: “I came to think that I had caused the miscarriage with my negative thoughts. That this energy affected my baby and caused him/her to no longer be with me.” We all understand that this is not true, that Mariana's thoughts had nothing to do with her loss, but how difficult it is to understand that when you are the one going through this. You think about what you ate those days, how you moved, if you ran a lot, walked funny, if you slept on the wrong side, what lotion did you put on and even what you thought about for your body to betray you in such a way. 

The answer is nothing. We did absolutely nothing to make this happen, it just happened and that is what we see as the greatest injustice. It makes no sense for things to go so wrong after you did everything so right. So we try to blame it on someone thinking that it will ease the pain; and we always start with ourselves. That's something moms do a lot, we take on responsibilities that are not for us and we go through storms that aren't necessary to protect us and feel that we're giving ourselves the title of mom that we've been told we should have.

A mom who gives her all, even if what she gets in return is the worst, is a mom who is succeeding in the eyes of the world. Nobody wins here, if you give EVERYTHING and don't fill your tank, and on top of that you feel that you are to blame for what goes wrong, you will have nothing to give. Nothing was Mariana's fault, no thought made this happen, however she felt guilty for something horrible that was happening to her. I wish I could run to that moment in 2019 and sit with her and tell her that this is a VERY VERY bad time, that nothing is her fault and that she deserves only love for this and more. Let's take care of ourselves and understand that we cannot give from an empty tank. Giving everything expecting nothing in return is not a motto we should live by. 

I went off on a tangent here, but Mariana has given and taught me a lot about everything and I don't know how to encapsulate it in a single post; so I’ll finish off thinking about today's activity. Sure, do your best (when you can) and understand that there are certain things that have to do and tanks that need to be filled, so that you can present that version of yourself, ready to give it your best.

Day 22: Practice positive affirmations

Jackie and I met when I started working at Google in 2015, we didn’t work together but she was always super nice and had the cutest puppy I had seen (Winnie, she’s no longer a puppy but still comes to visit the office!). Jackie is one of those people who is effortlessly cool, she is very practical, super fun and things feel fun when she’s around. As I said, we never worked together or shared much besides me wanting to hang out with Winnie and her being the super nice person she always has been.

When I came back from mat leave with Olivia Jackie was always kind and nice and while we still weren’t close friends, we were always happy to be around each other and she gave me great work advice. When I came back from Eloise’s mat leave in early 2019, Jackie was about to go on one of her own to give birth to her amazing son Theo. I wasn’t happy in my role and after a chain of very fortunate events, I ended up doing Jackie’s mat cover and then stayed as part of that team. Fast forward three years after and we finally have been working together (we sit beside each other) and have now finally become friends. It was this friendship that gave me the privilege of knowing Jackie’s stories and the reason I’m able to share them with you, in Jackie’s own words:

“I had various relatively common health issues from my 20s (ovarian cysts, pre-cancerous cells on cervix) that made me, like many women, wonder if I'd have a hard time getting pregnant. But lo and behold, when Harry and I decided to have kids, Theo was conceived on the first try and I had a pretty smooth pregnancy as well. When we decided we'd like to try for a second, I knew it may not be as easy, but had no idea what a tough road we had ahead. Within 3 months of trying, I was pregnant, just before Theo's 2nd birthday. Early on, I had a very clear and funny feeling that something wasn't right, and when my symptoms went away at 8 weeks, I really felt something was wrong. Everyone I told, including my midwife, reassured me it was all OK and that I had no reason to worry, but then sure enough around 11 weeks I had a scan, and there was no heartbeat. the baby had stopped growing right around 8 weeks. i was devastated, and had to have an MVA procedure to manage the miscarriage. After my body got back to normal 6 weeks later, we started to try again and got pregnant again. I miscarried again within a week. I called the GP and they reassured me that 2 miscarriages is still considered "normal" and I was told to keep trying. So we did, and a few months later got pregnant again. I went for an earlier 8 week scan this time, and once again, there was no viable pregnancy. I had to have the MVA procedure again. Even though I knew what to expect with the procedure, everything was harder that time - it was even physically more painful. I had spent 20+ weeks that year being pregnant. The stop starts were mentally very hard. I proceeded to get some blood tests through the NHS which all came back normal, so I proceeded to go to a private clinic and had more extensive testing. They found I had high levels of NK cells and also a risk of thrombophilia, so I started some treatment. The NHS then came back 12 weeks later to say that the pregnancy tissue they tested from my 3rd miscarriage had chromosomal abnormalities, which explains why the pregnancy didn't continue. Even though the drs said the tissue only explains the 3rd miscarriage and that the test results aren't definitely why I miscarried the other times, I feel lucky I got any clarity at all, as many people never get that. I also had a wonderful doctor who was so positive, and said things to me like, "WHEN you have another baby, because you will...". I realized how powerful positive thinking and affirmations could be. 5 months later, I did get pregnant again, and this time I have made it through to 22 weeks so far. Because of the thrombophilia, I have to inject my stomach with meds every day of the pregnancy until I deliver, but in my mind that is a very small price to pay for what I now realize so clearly is a miracle for any family - to have a healthy pregnancy and baby.”
I want to follow up on something that I’ve written about before, after sharing her story, she followed up with “I don't want to sound like it even scratches the surface of losing an actual baby, because it doesn't. but it was my journey in case it can help anyone xx” As I said to her and to many other friends: Don’t do this to yourselves. As humans, we need to start validating our feelings and experiences and stop minimising them because of someone else’s reality. We all go through bad times and our reality is truly the one we need to hold a mirror at and we need to go through it respecting and honouring ourselves. Jackie fell in love the second she knew she was pregnant, she started daydreaming right there and then and all those hopes and dreams came crashing each time she lost a much loved and wanted baby. None of those feelings are made less hard regardless of what happens to someone else. Let’s love and hold us like we do the people we love.

Day 21: Donate money or time to a charity

Mareike and I met (I think) on my third Sands support meeting, the first day time one. It was in someone’s house and I remembered hearing her son Jack was born in the same hospital as Olivia. I started having an imaginary conversation with her and asked if she had the same midwives, what did she think of the room, was she lucky enough to have pictures, has she met the bereavement person there… The list was endless. I thought that would’ve been my first conversation close to normal when women give birth and share stories about their experiences with other moms. I was craving that kind of normalcy, I was desperate to share my experience because after all, I also gave birth! Only I was too scared to speak out loud and nobody wanted to hear my story.  

Except Mareike had the same reaction! When we left (Pierre was there with me too) she ran to us and asked to walk to the station together. Guess what? We actually had one of the same midwives and we indeed give birth in the same room, just 29 days after. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t have to hide and I could also share something positive about mine and Olivia’s birth story. We have been very good friends ever since and we still talk about our births and that midwife.

I love that when I asked Mareike to tell me more about Jack and his story so I could honour him and be accurate she said: “Maybe keep it quite short, perhaps about it being a perfect pregnancy that ended very badly way past the point we expected anything to go wrong… Maybe how he was perfect 🥰” She then sent me this:

“We went to our final check up on my due date and were told: next time we see you will probably be for the birth! Which is what happened 6 days later, but not the way we expected. 

We went to hospital after I had been having contractions for a few hours, feeling so relieved we had made it to the hospital with what we thought was perfect timing. 

They checked us in and searched for a heartbeat, we were transferred to another room and heard the words from the consultant that you can't even comprehend at that point: i am so sorry but there is no heartbeat. 

Jack was born a little while later and he was perfect. 

They told us that he had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck several times and that this was the most likely cause he died, i.e. that the oxygen supply got cut off as labour progressed. We spent two days with him to say goodbye. Still think about him every day and talk to his little siblings about him xxxxxxx”
I’d like to think that I know Mareike pretty well by now and this is the first time she wrote about Jack somewhere for the world to see. Her words are brief and powerful and if you are ever lucky enough to cross paths with her you’ll see just how awesome she is and how much she can talk about Jack for hours, just like any other mom does with her children. Mareike has taught me many things, not to be too angry with the world, to try to calmly assess a situation and to not lose hope. The last time I saw my sister in law she had my newborn nephew in her arms and she said: this will be you very soon!  That was never me ever with Olivia. When I was pregnant with Eloise, Mareike had just had her second son and we ran into each other at the hospital and she said: this will be you very soon! I had completely forgotten about the moment I heard that before and how wrong things went after. I cried a bit and told her and she made me feel so safe with the way she answered. That is who Mareike is, a safe place for me and for anyone who knows her. I know that Jack felt that every day of his life, his mum’s peacefulness, calm, love and the certainty that as long as he was with her, everything would be fine.

Day 20: Take a picture of something you never want to forget

Today wasn’t a sharing day, this is one of the activities based on my story, this year I’m only writing about my friends. I reached out to Jayne about sharing her story and she luckily said yes, but it was when the calendar was already published, so I couldn’t add an activity tailored to her. So it came down to me to take one of my days that I felt suited best for her and her son Rory. Today is the day! 

Jayne and Reg were there the first time Pierre and I went to a Sands support group. She spoke with so much love and composure and they both had (and have) this energy of elevated humans, like they are just from a different realm. It’s been almost six years since that day we met, and I can honestly say that there is not a day that goes by when I don’t think of Jayne. I once saw a picture of Rory and I’ll never forget just how perfect he looked, his super cute nose and the love and pride Jayne had when she showed us that picture. I wish I could’ve taken a picture of her so she too could feel and see what we all did that day and every other day when we are with her.

This is Rory’s story, written by his mum:

We found out we were expecting Rory Cupcake in September 2015. He was our third baby – we’d had two first trimester miscarriages and we had a difficult first trimester with him too. We thought we were losing him in week 7 but, despite heavy bleeding, there was a strong heartbeat at each weekly scan. At our 12 week scan all his measurements were on track, the bleeding had started to subside and we began to believe that maybe things would be OK. It took a little while to trust in that but eventually we were able to joyously embrace the pregnancy. 

Then… at our 20 week scan the sonographer told us that our little Cupcake’s heart didn’t look like it was developing properly. We had a series of scans and appointments with fetal cardiologists and Rory was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect: pulmonary atresia (which means his pulmonary artery had not developed) with a ventricular septal defect. To say it was overwhelming is the most understated way of describing our emotions. We had a meeting with a consultant who mentioned that termination was legal until 24 weeks. I don’t have the language to describe that moment - I just stared at him as the bottom fell out of my world. All along people (and I mean medical professionals) had been saying they can work miracles these days, etc. but in that moment the penny dropped, and shock and disbelief kicked in at what the three of us were facing. However, we were assured by the cardiologist that Rory’s heart condition was survivable with surgery a few days after birth and then again later in childhood. It was stressful and traumatic but we built a plan for Rory’s delivery with the most wonderful specialist midwifery team supporting us, as well as family and friends, and we tried to remain hopeful and excited. 

Then… at our 28 week growth scan more problems were diagnosed and we were told that Rory was unlikely to make it to term, that if he did he was unlikely to survive, and if by some miracle he did survive he wouldn’t be strong enough for the open heart surgery. So whichever way things played out, tragedy lay ahead. 

Things like this don’t happen to you. They happen to other people. But now all of a sudden, we were those other people. 

We had a meeting with a neo-natal consultant scheduled for 9th March with a view to thinking about options regarding terminating/continuing. But Rory had other plans and spared us having to make the decision. In the early hours of 6th March, we found out that our little Cupcake had fallen asleep forever. In 2016 6th March was Mother’s Day... Rory was born 48 hours later at 2.55am on Tuesday 8th March 2016. With me in the softly lit room were his Dad and our midwife as he delivered himself gently and silently. In that moment I became a Mummy to the most beautiful boy with a cute little button nose, ruby red lips, long slender fingers like his Dad and the most gorgeous feet.  Rory had ten fingers and ten toes but we would later find out that inside all the wiring had gone wrong. He had several other congenital defects that aren’t visible on scans so, despite his courage and his fight, he had no chance of survival. We were told that all the bleeding in weeks 7-11 would have been when things went wrong – so the whole time we were desperately clinging on to hope and were overjoyed every time the heartbeat was still there was exactly when his fate was being sealed. I can’t allow myself to get too caught up in that because it is just too difficult to bear. 

The loss of him and our grief for him are overwhelming – but so is our love. Life delivered us the most unimaginable tragedy.  But in that same moment life also gave us the most precious gift – our son.  And our darling boy gave us a beautiful gift – parenthood.  What a privilege. 

We will love you and miss you forever our little Cupcake xxx <3

Day 15: Write down five things you’re grateful for

I start all the posts in English, this is the first one that comes naturally to me in Spanish. I think it's because my relationship with Mariava (pictured) existed long before I discovered my inner voice in English (I think we met in '98 or '99?), or maybe because we've talked a lot and very honestly in the last few weeks, and always in Spanish. Mariava is one of those people who are simply happy, wherever she is there is a party, she makes friends with everyone and we all have a better time when Mariava is there. She has always been very sincere and that quality of what you see is what you get, is one of the thousands that I love about her. Mariava and I never talked about her first daughter, María Alesia. When I asked her if she wanted to be part of this month, I also invited her to send me to hell if she wanted, because in real life, it was the first time we talked about this. Mariava posted a photo on Instagram in April 2013, her first Instagram photo “Happy week 18 María Alesia Galavis”. Later I remember that they put a photo on a hospital bed with different facial expressions from who they are, that photo no longer exists. A few weeks ago, nine years after this and having talked to Mariava about everything and nothing throughout the years, we finally talked about María Alesia and her. These are parts of some of the messages that Mariava sent me:

"The truth is I was thinking about what to send you and I can't think of anything from that time... But if I thought of a great learning…. I don't know if it works... I think that the important exercise to do is to give thanks for everything we have in the present and not worry so much about the future and stop looking for perfection. Make a list and give thanks for 5 things. In my particular case, I lost the baby because I had a procedure done to see if she was healthy, and she was perfect... If I had asked people with more experience for their opinion and had humbly understood my immaturity and how childish I was… I didn’t know half of what I thought I knew... The truth is that on the other hand, I think everything happens for a reason… When I got pregnant with María Alesia I didn't feel very ready either… in my immaturity I wasn't taking care of myself and obviously I was excited but I felt kind of overwhelmed…. I enjoyed the pregnancy of “La China” and David much more, but I insist…. I think my immaturity and unnecessary feelings do not justify anything that happened…. I think I screwed up everywhere in all the decisions made and everything for thinking that I knew everything…. And then my actions had consequences for everyone…. Even for innocent souls who had neither voice nor vote... I think I've never told anyone other than David all this and the truth is you don't know how good it feels. I think it's a matter of not seeing me vulnerable or as “pavosa” hahaha but without a doubt those little souls deserve recognition "

I read the conversation right now and I feel the same as I felt talking to Mariava that day, anger at not being able to show her what I see and anger at not being able to hug that version of her that blames herself for too many things. As I told her that day, “You did what you thought was best at the time. We can be very very harsh judging and looking "backwards", think that you say and know all of that now, because a long time has passed and nothing is as it was before. At the time you made those decisions because you really thought it was for the best." I know, I’m wonderful at giving advice and wise words, but I know exactly what is happening to Mariava, because I also speak to myself that way sometimes, although logic tells me otherwise. Another thing about my conversations with Mariava that made me explode was that she, the ray of light and happiness for all of us, called herself a "pavosa" - for non-Venezuelans, she called herself someone who brings bad luck - and that hit me in the soul! If you’ve read some previous posts you’ve read that that feeling of wanting to hide because you're embarrassed that your baby died, or you don't want to be the one who "gives that to other women'', is something VERY strong. That day I told Mariava what I tell the world and what I repeat to myself like a mantra: “NEVER pavosa!!! Your story can help so many people. If I had known that death was an option at 37 weeks of a perfect pregnancy, I would not have let them send me home after spending the whole day in the hospital telling them that something was wrong. I would’ve knocked down the walls for them to take her out. It sounds stupid, but I didn't know it was an option because I never knew someone who had that happen to, I never saw a movie where that happened. Really, that was not an option in my mind. Now I prefer that the people who know me know that it can happen and that, if they can, they take matters into their own hands” And the same thing happened with Mariava and María Alesia. She did not have a point of reference, she hadn’t even seen it as fiction in a movie. You have no clue of what can go wrong, and as a doctor tells you that what you are doing is fine, you think (sometimes against your instincts) that you are obviously doing the right thing. Mariava asked me to put this: In my case a doctor recommended that I should consult with someone, and because of my immaturity, decided I knew better (Mariava's words). We cannot judge issues from our past with information from the present, and this applies to everything in our lives.

I feel honoured to have Mariava as a friend, I feel that she is an AMAZING mother to her three children, those who are with her and María Alesia who is magical land, where she lives. Mariava has taught me many things in life apart from laughing and being happy, but today I am going to focus on her idea of ​​living more in the present, which is what exists and what we have to work on. One of the things for which I am 1,000,000% grateful is to have friends like Mariava, who show me parts of them that make me love and admire more every day.

Day 13: Call a family member and remind them you love them

My friend Amelia is another of the connections I started during remote work. We met in September 2019, when she joined my team and I went on mat leave with Apolline. She was secretly (and terrifyingly) pregnant at the time and when she told her manager about her anxiety about this pregnancy, they said “talk to Mariana”. That manager didn’t give much explanation or clarity to his comments, but Amelia thought: sure? And then I went over to her desk (she says, I don’t remember), introduced myself and said bye as I went on mat leave.

A whole 1.5 years passed before we had that chat, as she also went on leave and then I did a rotation on a different team. 

Amelia and I now have weekly (or even daily chats!) about everything and I am so glad she is in my life. We sometimes have a work catchup and then end up sharing waaaay more info than normal people would expect to have on a work setting. But that’s the thing with me and Amelia, we were supposed to meet and I think we see a bit of a safe place in each other. Like me, Amelia is far away from her family and is also obsessed with food (everyone should be). She also sees emotional intelligence as the most important one and is always willing to help others, even if she also has to go and venture for answers. I wish Amelia could see herself the way I see her (but that’s a different story!).

Today you will also have first hand story telling, as Amelia wrote what she wanted to share about her journey:

When I first got pregnant, I was completely ignorant to the possibility of a miscarriage. So days before my 12 week scan, it took me by complete surprise when I started to cramp during a meeting at work. I rushed to the toilet and spent the longest and worst moments of my life having minor contractions and bleeding. I remember holding the fetal remains in toilet paper and wondering what to do with it - should I take it home and keep my baby? Or should I flush it down the toilet? I threw it away and cleaned up the stall while holding back my tears. This was the first time I truly understood the harsh reality of the statistic of 'one in four women miscarrying'. 

The next year, we were elated to be pregnant again. Slightly cautious this time, I got an early scan to check all was ok. I was careful with what I ate and how I exercised. We walked into our 12 week scan feeling positive and excited. What I remember is the silence of the sonographer as she moved the scan around and my husband squeezing my hand so hard. I was the last to realise that there was no heartbeat on the monitor. We had another miscarriage. Because this had to be surgically removed, the doctors reported that it was a molar pregnancy. This is a problem with the fertilised egg which Asian women are more at risk of. I learnt a lot during my two miscarriages - plenty about the medical support of the NHS, the biological evolution of a baby during pregnancy, but mostly about how strong I am and how much I wanted to be a mother. 

I can report that a couple of years after her molar pregnancy, Amelia was lucky enough to be able to bring a baby home in March 2020. To some, you will think that she got her happily ever after, and by all accounts she is VERY happy to have a healthy son when some people never get that privilege. But let me tell you something, none of those losses are magically fine after you hit the jackpot of bringing a baby home. Half of the time, you still can’t believe those humans are here and sometimes you even question how you got so lucky. I know I miss Olivia every day of my life, just as much as I know Amelia wishes her first 2 babies made it home with them. Yes, the pain certainly feels easier to manage (at least for me), but please never assume (or say out loud) that the arrival of siblings makes the world and our experiences ok.

Amelia’s activity is actually a crafted one from the original one, the conversation went like this:

A: I was thinking of 'making dumplings' as my activity. I just don't know if it's too difficult.  It's quite a therapeutic activity that you do with the family and my sister and I did it lots virtually during Covid

M: 100% too difficult 🤣🤣🤣 Tell me more as to why you thought about that and let’s give it a twist

A: Ok ok. How about calling a family member to say "I love you".

M: If that is what gets you through the tough times then I love it! Whatever happy memories you had of those times or what helped you get out of bed

A: Well it's an adaptation of the dumplings. Because what I really loved was just chatting to my sister. Us knowing that the other was there

I don’t want to limit anyone’s abilities, so please go ahead and make some dumplings! One thing is for sure, all humans want to feel appreciated and know that they matter. So go and call your family, may it be the one you were born into or the one you made for yourself, and tell them you love them. Thanks for this and your friendship Amelia, I love you!

Day 12: Sing your favourite song out loud

This one is a special one, not only do I LOVE this activity (no, I don’t sing great but it makes me SO happy that I feel like Adele on a stage!), but I also have an extra connection to the mother and daughter from today.

England has something called NCT (national childbirth trust), and when someone is pregnant you have the chance to attend classes with other similar due date parents, to “prepare for the birth”. I see it as buying a very expensive lottery ticket hoping that you like the group you have and that you can go through everything together. We met Louise and Gavin there. We attended all our classes, asked all the questions, did all the (now I see them as useless) games of “put a diaper on the baby” and, in the most insane twist of events, both of our daughters passed away.

I remember seeing Louise a few weeks after Olivia died, and maybe a week before Pip. Four of my “almost same due date” friends and I, sitting on a table outside. They all had their babies still in their bellies and mine was empty. My sister Bea walked me to meet them as I was terrified, she said to call her if I needed her to come pick me up. Weirdly, I felt fine around them, I felt a bit normal and like I could still hold on to the last thread of what my life was supposed to have been if Olivia had lived. Louise looked amazing and complained about the heat (it was indeed insanely hot) and she said she was so so ready. The next thing I heard is that Louise went to the hospital in labour and went back home without her much awaited and loved Pip. A few weeks went by before we saw each other, but I think she told me they had put up some bunting that said “Welcome Home Pip!” When they left for the hospital… talk about being surprised by that punch in the face.

I want to make space here to make a complaint to the NCT, as our teacher (who subsequently disappeared after we emailed her telling her the news about Pip and Olivia), NEVER covered this possibility in all the hours of preparation she gave us. She told us about babies having their cords around their necks and when I asked if they could die of this, she said NOOOOO, midwives can take the cord out in seconds. She then said that in all her years she might have heard of maybe one case of things going wrong. ONE. Hate to break it to you Debs, but your stats don’t seem to match up. Louise put a lot of effort and wrote a beautiful email to her breaking the news. Silence. Absolutely no answer whatsoever. We chased, and nothing. This teacher lived local to me until January when we moved and I actually ran into her a few times. I felt like I was going to vomit the first time I saw her and I literally hid in bushes because I was embarrassed that my baby had died, we emailed her and she didn't reply. I messaged Louise about this encounter and, being the calm and loving individual that she is, she helped me get perspective and get out of that bush. I ran into her many times and I even stared at her waiting for her to recognise me and say something. Nothing. Literally as if we never met. I know she must have given hundreds of courses and even though I’m pretty epic, I’m also forgettable. But, how can you forget 2 people whose babies died that only a few weeks ago were attending your courses? Seriously, if it wasn’t for Louise’s perspective, I would’ve stayed hidden for much longer not understanding that it’s not me who should be embarrassed. 

I digress, this is about Louise and her amazing daughter Pip! On August 2nd 2016, we had Olivia’s service and almost all of my NCT friends attended (I did hit the lottery with a few, and they are pretty awesome). I remember exactly where Louise and Gavin were seated and when I stood there to read my speech, I remember seeing Louise cry and I thought: she gets it… How insane is it that she actually gets everything that I’m going through?

Pip is buried in the cemetery close to the hospital, so every time I had an appointment to talk about something regarding Olivia, I went to visit her. Every time we went for bereavement therapy there, I always went and spoke to Pip for a while. Olivia is buried in France and we do have the bench, but having Pip’s beautiful place (Louise is a secret landscape artist) made such a big difference to my life. Gavin and Louise have given such a wonderful home away from home to Pip, that I would encourage everyone in the area to go visit (beware of the hungry and fearless squirrels!).

When I asked Louise about the activity, she said “I used to love singing to Pip, but I guess that's a bit obvious?”... “I'm a terrible singer, but never mind. Life's too short to care too much about these things.” - I love this thought and I couldn’t agree more. Although, weirdly I think she’s lying and she has an angelic voice and is just trying to make me feel good. I sang all day, I had toys, spoons, markers and everything in my way as a microphone. I hope you all gave yourself the time to be on your own stage and sing out loud as if the entire world was cheering and watching!

Day 10: Donate a toy for a six year old. Ideally send it to your local hospital

Ana Sofia and I grew up in the same place but never met. One of her cousins and I were camp counsellors in the same summer camp (to this day, my favourite job ever!) for one season and we were friends on social media. I launched my page on October 2nd, Ana Sofía reached out to me on October 8th and we have been very close friends that have never met ever since. 

I went over to buy the toy today and decided we will take it to the hospital tomorrow with the girls so that they fully take part in this. I want my kids, above all, to be kind and have empathy, so having them come with me to drop the toy will hopefully help them take a step in the right direction. Thinking about what I want for my daughters, I remembered a spectacular post that Ana Sofía published on Elisa's first birthday (where the photo is from): “I dreamed of health, joy and faith for you. I dreamed and wished for you to have courage, that you would be daring, confident, intelligent, persevering. Compassionate, loving, kind, responsible. I never wanted you to lack love, I wanted a smile to always be on your face and warmth in your heart. I wanted humility, simplicity and gratitude to accompany you throughout your life. Today, I am sure that, wherever you are, you are already much more than what I dreamed for you. Happy first birthday Elisa Helena. I love you with all my soul daughter, and I miss you in every moment of my life. God bless you always"

This time, Ana Sofía wrote what she wanted to say, so you are all going to have a break from me and read Ana’s beautiful words about her daughter Elisa. Las adoro a las dos!

My daughter Elisa Helena, who was born sleeping on September 10, 2016, has given me more things than I could give her in her very short life. Among those, a friend like Mariana who is part of my tribe and support, even when distance and time sometimes get in the middle. Like Mariana, I also didn’t know that a perfectly -or at least apparently- healthy baby in her mother's womb could die at the end of the pregnancy. In my case it happened at 39 weeks. I had no idea because no one ever told me, I never saw it in a movie or TV show... Unfortunately, after it happened to me, I heard of MANY similar cases, and sometimes from people incredibly close to me. Why didn't I know anything about this? Why not know that things like these can happen? Why are we silent? There is nothing to be ashamed of, but there is A LOT that we can do just by TALKING and raising awareness about it. Neither Olivia’s nor Elisa’s deaths, as well as many other children, will never be forgotten, much less hidden. We HAVE to speak up, because by doing so, we can save the lives of many other babies. Each mother and father have the right to enjoy the pregnancy of their babies, but they must also know the risks that may arise and be prepared to face them. It is the only way to bring our children into the world... and have the privilege that many of us have not had: to bring them home with us. On June 10, I invite you to buy a toy, ideally for a 6-year-old (but it can be for any age!) and donate it to the nearest children's hospital. Olivia, Elisa and many other babies could not come home with us but let’s also always keep in mind that there are many other children needing the strength and joy that a “simple” toy can give them in a difficult moment… when they are fighting for go home with their families. 

Love, Ana Sofia, Elisa Helena’s mom.

Day 9: Lie down outside & look straight up at the sky. Let yourself get lost in it

This morning Caroline and I were texting and I said to her: “Writing about so many of us has been amazing and heartbreaking. I was reading our messages in the early days of Awesome Mums when it was just us. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do life without all of you. Seriously, how can anyone do it without a safe space or people!!??” Reading those early messages was impressive. I started that Whatsapp group on the 17th of September 2016. We had known each other for a while whenever we went to support meetings and we always wanted more. I knew I needed to be in constant contact with that group of women, where I knew I could say it all and nothing would be perceived as too dark or ugly, we all just understood each other, even when all our losses were different and our backgrounds even more so. I really hope whatever hardship people go through, they always have someone where they know no judgement or questions will come, just empathy, love and understanding that sometimes things are just crap and there is nothing you can do except be there for one another.

Caroline's story is the second one that will show you the harrowing face of termination for medical reasons (TFMR) and I want to reiterate that you are welcome here if you can show up with an open heart and free of judgement. 

In 2016, Caroline was happily pregnant, her daughter Lottie was eagerly waiting for the arrival of her little brother Charlie, and everything was great. At the 20 week scan, a scenario that hadn’t crossed their minds became their new reality, Charlie had a condition that would make his life extremely challenging to live and he would suffer more than live a plentiful life. They asked questions and processed all the information and  they decided that the kindest and hardest thing to do was to let Charlie go with as much peace and love as possible. 

Caroline was induced and she delivered her amazing son as masterfully as she does everything in life. Charlie was as perfect as she imagined and Caroline was able to hold her son and give him only love and make him feel safe because she was with him his entire life. That’s one thing that always gives me comfort, the idea that Charlie and Olivia only ever felt love and protection from us. Caroline did the ultimate protecting here, and broke her own heart for the benefit of her son. This is what mothers do every day, put their kids above all. 

I think I remember Caroline once saying that early in our support groups she felt a time or 2 that she didn’t quite fit in because our circumstances were quite different. That idea felt so insane to me, that my friend and sister in the trenches would feel anything other than welcomed, loved and supported. I guess that’s the thing with pregnancy loss as a whole, we are never really seen as the same as other mothers who have lost children when they are older. Our hearts are broken, our dreams taken away and we are not interested in measuring how our pain looks against someone else’s. I was told many times: “at least she wasn’t born”, “at least it happened when you were pregnant” and one time I said to someone that my first daughter had died and they asked how old was she and I said I was 37 weeks pregnant, the person then said: aaaaahhh, okeeeey. As if it was fine now. It's never fine and trying to minimise someone’s pain because of someone else’s circumstances is pointless and plain mean. I’ve spoken to many mums who have lost older children and none of them ever made me feel like we were not two bereaved mothers trying to keep living. You know who did? People who have their children here. If you ever tried to do an at least moment, even if it came from a good place, please stop.

Now, if I have felt this way so many times, I can’t imagine the horrors felt by parents that had to make the decision to terminate their pregnancies. Caroline and I celebrate our children the same way, we love them and miss them as forcefully, we talk about them and they are as much a part of our families as their siblings. 

There is a point I want to make besides telling Caroline and Charlie I love them, and that is to bring awareness and ask everyone to be kinder. It doesn’t matter what I think is better or worse in a certain circumstance, unless it is my own. If you encounter someone struggling, see them where they are at and give them the love, space and respect that you would like to have.

Day 8: Go outside for a walk in a peaceful spot

I’m scared of the internet and social media’s lack of accountability. I’m truly worried about the damage that can be done to people from a computer and for the culprit to get away because they can’t be traced. I’ve often wondered if social media is worth it at all, when I see people’s mental health suffering from constant comparisons with someone else’s social media life. Meeting Amanda and Ryan made me believe, for the first time, that social media also has the incredible power to bring people together. In a parallel universe, Amanda and I met each other somehow and Ryan and Olivia are great friends on earth. I know this happens somewhere somehow.

In September 2016, the day that Ryan would’ve turned one, I finally reached out to Amanda. I congratulated her for Ryan’s one year birthday and then wrote: “We don't know each other, but I've been wanting to reach out to you for a bit now but I never sat down and started the e-mail as I frankly didn't know what t say and writing certain things down for the first time actually scares me. But today is Ryan's birthday and I thought I'd contribute to his celebration by sharing my story with you and telling you how much of an impact you and Ryan have had on me.”… “You my friend, have given me hope and a bit of excitement about the future. You have also given me what I'm calling "accompanied sadness"; when I've been at some low points, you keep me from sometimes going to the deep end - THANK YOU! In the days and weeks that followed I read every post you published, I even "saved" some for times when I knew I would need to feel like I wasn't alone - Like the first plane we took without Olivia, where I had her pillow inside my shirt, Pierre's hand on one side and my phone with your words on the other.”

Amanda and Ryan are the reason why I started sharing Olivia so openly and the inspiration behind my website. Amanda gave me words when I wasn’t able to speak or write, I simply sent a link to one of her posts and people could know what I was feeling and thinking. She gave me company when I was feeling things I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud because they even scared me. Amanda and Ryan did this before we even “met” that September six years ago. We are now very much in each other’s life and we will 100% meet at some point in the future. In the meantime, we keep in touch, celebrate all our kids and constantly get winks from both Ryan and Olivia that they do indeed are epic friends in Magic land. 

This is their story:

“On the morning of September 6th 2015, after 9 months of a textbook, happy, healthy pregnancy, just one day before we were due to meet each other face to face, Ryan didn't wake me with a kick in the belly, or greet a few pokes and prods. I knew something wasn't right. But I didn't believe it. An hour or so later, and ultrasound confirmed what I couldn't even begin to believe. He had died. And now it was my job to still bring him into the world. My fears and dread about delivering a stillborn baby were unfounded. It was and is the single most amazing thing I have ever done. He was cleaned and swaddled like any baby would be. And placed in his mama's arms. I stared down at him with so much pride I can still feel the swell in my chest at the memory. He was sleeping. He was an angel. And he was our baby. We created him. I carried him. And we love him as much as either of his siblings we've since raised on this earth. We had few precious hours with him and very few answers about what went wrong. Most likely a lack of fluid. Something had happened between my last ultrasound a few weeks before, my last OB appointment a few days before, and this day, to make him stop producing fluid. He had a bowel movement, and very likely suffocated. But there was no certainty. And we opted for no autopsy. All I knew was that his body was quickly changing and I knew he couldn't take much more of our holding on to him. He got to meet his grandparents and one of his aunts. And we got to have him dressed in clothes we lovingly picked out for him the day we found out he was our baby boy. And then we had to give him back.

The days and weeks that followed are simultaneously the most vivid and blurry memories of my life. Leaving the hospital with empty arms. Making his final arrangements. A stream of visitors to the house. Laying Ryan to rest. Having my husband head back to work. Putting away some Ryan's things we had set up around the house. Dealing with the silence of a baby-less home. I didn't understand how you recovered from this. I only saw the darkness that had come into our lives. I didn't want to see light. Time, however, has provided enough distance to help me gain some perspective. This certainly marked the end of life "before." But it began something new. This "after" life. It's not necessarily a new chapter. But more of a new book. Same characters. New challenges. I didn't know that 9 incredible months of pregnancy could end with such heartbreak. But I do know those 9 months made me a mom. Those 9 months made me happier than I've ever been. And in the time since losing Ryan I've found strength I didn't know I could have. I've found love for my husband deeper than I ever could have expected even if we were together 100 years. And I've found, on the good days, hope for more good days to come. I see bits of Ryan in the siblings that came after him -- pieces of a boy we didn't get to know. Those siblings are proof that Ryan was not where my story ends. He is where it all began.

Day 7: Listen to classical music

Almost six years ago I met a group of women who had been through the same war of losing a child within months from me. We were all part of a Sands support group and we always say that we wish we would’ve never met under the circumstances but we couldn’t live without each other. I called us Awesome Mums. Their kids feel like part of our family and we say good night to them every birthday that passes. I’ve cried with them and for them and today I have the honour of sharing the first of their stories.

My friend Salina went through three rounds of IVF until she was able to conceive her first daughter, Inaaya. The pregnancy went great, Salina enjoyed it (even through a scorching hot summer!) and she loved to play classical music for Inaaya. The famous due date arrived (40 weeks) and they went to her midwife appointment and they were told all checks were fine. Three days later, Salina got up to eat in the early hours of the morning as Inaaya was doing a big stretch and had some hiccups. Later that morning, Salina woke up and had breakfast. She went upstairs with a cold sweet drink, lied on her left side and felt nothing. She called triage, went to the hospital and they told her the same words that haunt some of us: There is no heartbeat… In her text, Salina then wrote to me: “And so began a lifetime of pain, regret, anger, shame…”

The world understands our anger and pain, those are feelings everyone is comfortable with. What most people don’t get is the regret that consumes us at times and the shame that we feel, even though we wish we didn’t. When I first read Salina’s message I immediately wanted to write: Please don’t you ever feel ashamed and don’t let regret haunt you, we did what we thought was right in that moment. I believe that, 100% I do. BUT, I also know I’ve been, and probably will be again, in that place where Salina was this morning. I hate that I feel shame, because that’s how I think the world sees me “the one with whose baby died” and that I should hide somewhere not to give my bad juju to someone else. I hate that I can’t fully share how great my pregnancy was with Olivia, because who is going to want to take advice from a person whose baby died? I’ve talked about this with many friends and, of course they say that this is never the case and I should never feel that way. I get it, in a logic driven world, they are right. But what happened defies logic and makes no sense, so everything goes out the window and we feel what we feel and the world at large validates those feelings when they shun and hide our stories. Well, as long as I’m having a good day I will share our stories. In the good days I can trick my brain away from the never-ending loop of what ifs from the days leading up to their death and I can stop the blame from walking away from that hospital room, because I did know better, I just didn’t trust myself enough.

Today is a good day and I want to tell you that Salina is strong, amazing and manages to have Inaaya present in every day family moments. 

I’ve heard classical music all day (that was an interesting workout!), and before bed we turned the lights off and hugged the girls whilst playing Olivia’s song.

Day 6: Make or build something with your hands. From knitting to making a table

He doesn’t know this and I didn’t send this to him for approval (please don’t be angry), but this activity is inspired by and dedicated to my brother. Tomas has been through a different kind of loss, and that is the loss of a big part of himself. Tomas was on a flight from Taipei to Canada when my dad fell into a coma, he got to Nanaimo and we told him he had to come now. He did. I don’t think my dad wanted his biggest fan to see him lying in bed so he did what he thought was best, and died a few hours before Tomas landed. This was August 2005 and since then my brother has had a long and far from easy journey dealing with anxiety and panic attacks (something that I think A LOT of us feel but don’t call them by their name!). During this time I’ve had to witness my always unbelievable brother go through very dark periods and doubt his own self and how amazing he is.

Tomas has always been artistic and putting things together and breaking them apart has always fascinated him… so he studied business and ecommerce and, for a while, buried that part of himself. A few years ago Tomas started creating things again, building things, making up stuff and taking it apart. Having been to his house for two christmases now I was able to see how good this has been for his mental health (and mine!). Last time I was there we made this chopping board together, from selecting what wood to use from scraps he had there, to putting our names in the back. Making that board was amazing, we used fun tools, I got to see my brother as a teacher, we were able to spend quality time together away from screens and the outside world and I now have the world’s most amazing chopping board.

Tomas is far from a perfect human, but he is my perfect brother (even with all the fighting in our lives). I love seeing him again in all his glory, with the occasional scar from battle, but that just makes him more wonderful.

I’m not doing a chopping board today, but I am doing some cross stitching. That useless activity I was taught in school saved my mental health and potentially a part of my life after Olivia died. I LOVE the sharp focus you need, the clear mind with no worries except what colour goes in what square, and the sense of progress you get as you see the picture coming together. I hope you get to build something amazing today, and I also hope you have a brother (by blood or a chosen one) as life changing as mine is. Te amo Tomate!

Day 4: Go strawberry picking or get some & make a smoothie or summery dessert

Aggie and I started working together when I was pregnant with Eloise, so she never knew my old “whole” self. We were nice to each other but we really never had full conversations I think partly because I was terrified of the world when I was pregnant with Eloise and I didn’t want anything new that could shift things, so I stayed far. When I came back to work in 2019 we bonded over some tough times with our jobs and I remember thinking: Why didn’t we become friends sooner, she’s so awesome! She went on to go on mat leave in summer and I followed shortly in September of 2019. And then COVID happened, and the world changed (not for the better) and then we went “back to work” in f fully remote environment unable to connect with others as much… so I thought. During that fully remote work I made some extremely meaningful connections, one of those with Aggie. We both felt like we had been through a war and were a bit disoriented in this new world. She was amazing at guiding me and I just got the benefit of becoming friends with such a cool person! 

In September last year (2021) Aggie confided in me that she was pregnant, she was super excited to be having a boy and we talked for a while about second pregnancies, kids and mostly I kept telling her how amazing she looked. That same week we talked again and she told me she was worried that she hadn’t felt him moving yet (she was 20 weeks) and we agreed that she would ask the midwives but it was probably too soon and it would also depend on where her placenta was. I think it was the day after or two days after at most that I got a message from our friend Jackie telling me Aggie had received the worst news in the world and wanted to reach out to me. I cried for her and her son, even before I talked to her or new what happened. I reached out and we have been growing as closer friends ever since. 

Before I tell Aggie’s story, I want to make you aware that this (and other posts this month) talk about Termination for Medical Reasons (TFMR). If you can show up here with an open heart then please read on. 

Charles Dawborn (Charlie) was born on October 4th 2022 and passed away shortly after in his mom’s arms. The day Aggie went for her 20 week scan they received the news that Charlie had some issues that would mean his life would slowly end in her belly and he would be suffering. So the doctors asked them what they wanted to do knowing full well that there was no alternate reality here. I can’t imagine being in that position and the heartbreak and strength Aggie and Tom must have felt when they made the decision to get induced so that they would get to meet Charlie and he would get to pass away being hugged by his mom and dad.

This is what Aggie told me when I asked her how much of her story I could share “Feel free to share as much as you want about Charlie. I want people to know more about the heartbreak behind TFMR, especially given the situation in the US. I wouldn’t have been able to cope with the pain of having to carry him to term knowing that the lack of amniotic fluid he had would mean he was hurting and then for him to just pass away a few hours after birth. It was the most heartbreaking decision of my life but at least I HAD the choice and the choice was to not let him suffer.”

I’ve seen people (especially lately), have no empathy towards someone that decides to terminate a pregnancy even without knowing the full story. This angers me in unimaginable ways. The heartbreak of losing a child is inexplicable. Then add the feeling of knowing you have to take that step because it is literally the best and kindest option for your baby. The last thing those parents need is judgement, all they need is compassion and infinite love. There will be more stories like Aggie’s this month and I am honoured that these women said yes to me sharing their stories so everyone can hear the mother’s side here. 

As for the activity, Aggie was really into strawberries when Charlie was in her belly and I think they even went to pick some. I’ve never picked strawberries and I’ve always wanted to do this; and although I’m in France today and there are zero farms around here, I ate a mountain of strawberries with all my girls and I will go to that farm in June.

Strawberry eating at the cemetery with all three of our girls

Day 3: Consciously imagine how they would be like today. Write it down and feel it all

This day comes courtesy of my friend Ana Corina Sosa. I have no idea when we met each other, but we were definitely kids. So it’s been A LONG time. We’ve always had friends in common and when I lived back home we were part of some of the same friendship groups. I’ve never told her this, and she will find out when we reads this for approval, but Ana Corina was one of the few people with babies that I didn’t unfollow in 2016. Her first daughter (an exact replica of her) was born in July 2016. Olivia’s due date was July 7th. Whilst I was beyond happy for all my friends and their 2016 babies, I just couldn’t take part in smiling when my heart was literally broken. But I couldn’t stop seeing her updates because I day dreamed with her timeline. Olivia looked so much like me, so I wondered if I too would have a “Polly Pocket”. 

The first thought I had when I I found out Ana Corina was pregnant with her first son was if he too would look exactly like her. So when 4 months after, I heard the news that her son had died and I felt like someone punched me in the face. I always thought that Olivia would be here if I had been in Venezuela when everything happened, doctors are  beyond careful and constantly check the baby and the placenta. So I couldn’t believe this had happened to someone who I knew so well. I later found out that Ana Corina had some bad news when she was 26 weeks pregnant, she didn’t believe it and went for a second opinion and things got a bit more complicated. She thought (like I did) that everything would be somehow fine when he got here. Unfortunately, Ana Corina’s son joined Olivia in magic land in September 2018.

This is the post that Ana Corina put on social media when she shared her son with the world (translated from Spanish):

“My beloved baby! There are so many things that I would like to write to you or be able to explain to you... You made me very happy for the 9 months that you were curled up in my belly... If someone granted me a wish, I would ask for an eternal pregnancy... One in which this end would never come. I thought I had prepared myself, but no... There is no human way to prepare to live this... Although I don't understand it and literally feel that I split open in pain, I had to return you to God the day you arrived and I will have to imagine for the rest of my life what it would have been like to see you grow up... With you, the person I was is now gone, my innocence and a piece of my heart will always accompany you. I am grateful for the little while that I was able to see you, hold you and kiss you and I would go through everything again just to relive that moment. Little son of my life... Never think that I forget you... Nobody is going to replace you. I will imagine you in every soccer game, in every Lego, in every superhero costume... You came to teach me many things but above all that life is not what one wants or plans but what God has prepared for us... Now I know, Thanks to you, I can do difficult things because I have already done the impossible. I hope you know that I would have given my life for yours without thinking about it... But I have had to understand that rather you came to give yours so that your dad, your sister and I are better... You are our hero and we will always remember you as such. Enjoy Heaven, I imagine it cooler than Disney for you! If there were visiting days, I promise I would be the first to arrive and run to hug you. Take care of us and hope that one day we will meet again. We love you very much, your daddy, your sister and me”

When I asked Ana Corina to take part in this I wasn’t sure she was going to say yes, but she jumped head in and this is the text she later sent me: I normally do this every year, but I don’t know if this is too sad. “Sit and imagine for a day how he/she would be like… His eyes, his laugh, his personality, his favourite superhero… Write it down and cry. It’s ok.”  

I don’t think this is sad at all and I LOVE this idea so much and I’ve actually been doing this for a while. I started doing this after my dad died in 2005. Many times in my life I wonder what he would say about this, how would his relationship be with Pierre, would he visit me often? I sometimes even have full conversations with him out loud. A few years later, one of my uncles (Netos) died very unexpectedly and I also started talking to him and thinking of how much he would’ve loved to be at my wedding. I talk to both of them quite often, even about mundane things like what I’m eating today (my favourite subject). This is all based on all the great memories I have of them and all the things we were lucky enough to share. 

Then Olivia died, and all I had was hopes and dreams of who she would be. I honestly think I got to know her very well when she was here in my belly. We were very in sync during those 37 weeks, I knew her favourite foods, what kind of music she liked, what gave her hiccups and what would make her jump to give me high fives. But that was it, I don’t get to hear her voice when I have conversations with her, I don’t get to know what colour her eyes were, the sound of her voice or which family member in Encanto would she like best. This is where Ana Corina’s idea comes to play. Every now and then I give myself permission to dream on who Olivia would be, what would make her have a full blown tantrum, would she like tickles, would she be cuddly or not interested in hugs? I know she loved the book “But not the Hippopotamus”, would she still like it at almost 6? 

I think about this quite often, but I’ve never given myself the space to really explore my thoughts and imagination and feel whatever comes. Today is the day, wish me luck!

This is a controversial statue by artist Martin Hudáček, but I love how it expresses a mom’s grief

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That’s how many days have passed since Olivia was born. That is how many days have passed since the only day I got to spend with my first daughter outside of my belly. Not a single day has passed when I don’t think about her, say her name or miss her more than any word could express.

This year, dates and days align perfectly to mimic 2016. This Saturday was my amazing baby shower… and the first time that I went to the hospital because she wasn’t moving as normal. I’m always reliving everything that happened, I constantly play life in those days, the good moments and the bad moments. This year feels a bit more everything.

A bit of a “not fun” fact, I haven’t been able to go to the regular bathrooms at work since Thursday the 16th of June 2016. It was there that I realised something was really wrong, I said to myself outloud: she’s floating. I filled my bottle of water and left to go to the hospital. I’ve never been back there and I don’t intend to do so any time soon.

This is the sixth iteration of Olivia’s calendar and a VERY special one at that. In past years I’ve been asking friends and family for ideas on activities and I’ve loved how everyone has gotten involved. This year’s “guests” are linked to me on another level besides being my friends and family. Besides a few activities that I’ve kept for myself, almost every activity has been given to me by a fellow loss mom.

Not all losses have been the same and you will read more from each of them on their day, but the one constant is loss. All of us did everything right, all of us loved those babies from that positive pregnancy test, and all of us are living without one or more of our children.

This is the most important calendar I’ve done so far. I want the world to hear every voice and story that wants to be told, I want everyone to understand that this can truly happen to anyone and that there is nothing to be “ashamed” of. I feel like we are the ones often carrying the “scarlet letter”, and that some people feel that our stories shouldn't be told because we are going to scare others or bring the happy pregnancy moods down. I wholeheartedly disagree. 

Until the 16th of June 2016, I had no idea healthy babies could die at 37 weeks of a perfect pregnancy. Nobody had ever told me it happened to them, I never saw a movie or TV show that said it could happen, so it literally didn’t register as a possible reality. If I had known, I wouldn’t have left the hospital on the 15th, I would’ve stayed hooked to a machine until she came safely. Olivia’s death could’ve been avoided. If only I had known she could die. I wish I had read one or two of the hundreds of stories I know now, that would’ve given me more tools to know that I should’ve trusted my connection with her and to stop the midwives every time they told me she was fine, she’s running out of room. I know people know how devastating Olivia’s death was for me, I know my loved ones hurt with me for me and for that little girl that they so eagerly waited for. I know everyone understands the magnitude of my loss (also because I won’t stop talking about it!). This is my story.

Throughout June, we hope to bring awareness to many other stories of loss: the ones where sadly nothing could’ve been done, the devastating ones where parents had to make the most difficult decision of their lives and some like mine. They all happened at different times and the world sees us all differently when they think about baby loss. I think we all see each other the same, mothers and parents who lost a child and would do anything to have them back.

As always, let’s make June epic!

Mariana