# 22 What I wish I could say out loud after a stillbirth and years of fertility treatments

To the shop woman,

I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. It was my first time out shopping since it happened. It was an instant coping mechanism. To let you know before you made a comment (looking back now, not that you would have made a comment at all!) You see, I no longer want the reminder of my maternity clothes, yet my normal clothes still don’t fit with my ‘Joey pouch’. I presume that when you look at me, you see a tired looking woman with a small protruding tummy, this could be what her body normally looks like to you, but to me, it’s my constant reminder that my baby is no longer with me, in any sense. This lady looking back at you is broken and is holding her head up and moving on the best that she can. I can’t breastfeed my child, I no longer have a child. My verbal diarrhoea is not under control, my self preservation to protect myself meant that you heard my life story when you were just doing your job. I’m sorry.

To the person with the pram,

I’m sorry that I can’t look up or look you in the eyes to smile or say hello. The floor is my only concentration right now as the emotions explode inside of me as I see you coming towards me. Walking past you is one of the many hard things about trying to move on with everyday life. You have no idea how much I would love to reach into the pram and cuddle your baby, wishing it was mine. The utter heartache that you have the one thing I’ve dreamed of for so so long. I had the slightest glimpse of the world you have, but it was taken away and impossible to have. The jealousy that runs through me when I see you, it’s not your fault, please forgive me when I don’t look up. Your life is still going on, but mine has completely stopped. I hope in time I will smile, say hello and my shattered heart fragments soon begin to heal.

To the store who made it even harder,

Don’t put the sanitary towels in the same aisle right beside the baby products...it’s beyond inconsiderate...It’s ridiculous. End of.

To the pregnant friends,

I am struggling to find the right words to not make me sound like a complete and utter nut case. You should never EVER have to apologise for your happy news, yet please be aware that if it catches me off guard and it’s excitement without a care, I can not guarantee that I can always put on a brave front. I wonder what it must be like to have a scan with no concerns and just pure elation. To come home and stare at a perfect picture. To have a gender reveal celebration. To excitedly plan a nursery, to look for all the things you’re going to buy them and to plan a future with. This is all the things we never got to experience and know that you will. It’s not that I’m not happy for you, it’s just that I wish I was you. And wish that you’re never me.

To those with children,

Please forgive me for distancing myself for years. I try my best to put on a strong front and ask you about your family, but I secretly don’t want to know, but absolutely know I should! I hate what my infertility has done for our relationships. I’m sorry.

To those who don’t know what to say,

Sometimes you don’t need to say anything. Sending a simple “X” is sometimes something that can put a smile on a face for a split second just when they need it the most. Don’t worry about not getting in contact because you don’t want to say the wrong thing, because you don’t need to give advice, or words of wisdom, (and from experience the words of wisdom and advice is your experience or thoughts, you often sometimes don’t know the full story of someone's pain). But by letting someone know you’re thinking of them can completely lift a broken person's mood more than you think. A simple love heart can help make that person's aching heart beat a little easier.

To me,

Don’t expect the dread of what’s happened to disappear. This is now a part of you...This will always stay with you. Don’t wish time away...Tomorrow isn’t always guaranteed. Don’t feel guilty for your jealousy. You are human after all. Embrace the pain and emotions as much as you can. This hurts because something so wonderful came into your life, but sadly ended before they even got to live. If you‘re tired, sleep. If you feel like crying, cry. Don’t feel guilty for smiling and laughing again.

To my Husband,

I’m sorry. I know it’s not my fault. But as a woman carrying your baby, I feel I’ve let you down. No matter the amount of times I hear it wasn’t my fault, I still feel a failure. I couldn’t make you a daddy, a wonderful and hilarious daddy that could make your child laugh, and I know that would have been your favourite sound of laughter ever!! I’m sorry that you feel the need to be strong for me. Don’t. We are both going through the same pain. We both lost our beautiful child. Most importantly don’t ever forget how proud I am of you. You have carried us through 6 months of our pregnancy with dignity, strength, humour, and love. I may have carried our baby whilst he was fighting, but you carried him to rest. A walk I could not have managed.

To my angel,

In all honesty, I don’t know where you are. I like to believe there is such a thing as heaven and that you’re playing in the sky. That you are no longer fighting to survive and somehow get to live. I wish that when my time comes, you will be open armed and ready for an actual real cuddle with me. That I can feel you squeeze me. That I can look into your eyes and see what colour they were. That I could see your perfect lips smile back at me. That I could hear your voice and we could walk hand in hand and be together forever. I miss you. I catch myself still feeling my stomach in the hope that you’ll move. They say there is nothing like a mother’s love, my beautiful boy. I honestly never knew this love existed, I can only imagine how it would have felt to have known you and watch you grow up. You should have grown up. I fought so hard to meet you, you fought for so long to meet us, but the battle could never ever have been won my son. You were just too poorly. You are and will always be the best and worst part of my life. I have to keep telling myself that it’s better to have loved and lost you than never have loved you at all. Most days I believe those words, but there are days when the pain is too much. All the KAT6B disorders are not known, but it is estimated at fewer than one in a million, so you were so very very special. We are immensely proud you were such a little fighter and that we got to meet our strong and incredible little man, to hold you and lose time staring at how amazing you were.

Billy... As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.