Bradford Babyloss Conference - Pt 2- The Arrival

…And whadya know it worked. I found myself at the conference with enough time for a bit of banter before lunch. Some would call that a result…..which it was!

I’ve done a fair bit of speaking abut Grace since she died and my biggest audience was 6000 people in Denmark, but as we sat munching on sandwiches and debating the spiciness of the samosas (bless you Heidi) there was something playing on my mind.

The Invisible Parent

I usually write my thoughts but after the birth of my daughter Kira Renee Monteith, the mish mash of thoughts were a bit paralysing. However they were forced into being when I was asked to speak at a memorial service, so here's my latest post - something I think is communicated better by hearing rather than reading

If you or anyone you know needs support with bearevement or supporting friends and family though theirs then please contact SANDS - https://www.uk-sands.org/

The Gestation of Grief & Mothers Day

Tree Planting at Grace's resting place

It's enough time to have a baby I used to jokingly say when anyone would refer to a time period of nine months. It's a powerful phrase with a lot of weight attached to it. You just have to say the phrase '9 months' and pregnancy automatically comes to mind (despite the fact that a growing number of women, my wife included, find themselves giving birth nearer to 10 months)

I was reminded by Siobhan that when we started attending a support group for parents of still born children, organised by Kent SANDS, one of the things that was raised by some of these parents was how things got suddenly more difficult around the 7/8 month mark. At the time this was something I couldn't understand. Our grief was so raw, our experience so fresh, how could things get worse? And yet somehow it did.

Maybe it was dealing with the fact that life goes on and a routine is once again establishing itself in our minds and bodies; and yet there is something,deep inside, playing with the emotional weight of our new reality that doesn't want to acknowledge that life 'just goes on'. The tectonics of this internal landscape causes emotional tremors of a brand new variety.

Grace's Farewell

It's been 4 weeks since my daughter died, 4 weeks since she was born and 2 weeks since we said farewell to her body. The world seems like a different place. An epic transformation has taken place and it hurts that the world carries on just the same, and yet it should.

For a day that I never wanted to happen and never want to happen again, we had a wonderful, wonderful day. The service was exactly what we wanted. We decided we did not want to be passive in our daughter's farewell and designed the service and participated. Our lovely friend Loretta Hopkins sang beautifully for us and we were honoured by friends who read and prayed for us. Over the next couple of weeks I will post the readings and poems that comprised the service. Father Christian preached the most compassionate yet real sermon I've ever heard at funeral and wore a stole decorated with children's hand and footprints.

Everyone participated in a ritual of farewell by lighting a candle and placing it on the altar. It was beautiful.  Despite the lumps in our throats, we proudly read the Eulogy, asserting our decision not to give up on the joy of living in the midst of grief. However, the moment that moved us the most, that we will never forget, is this:

Today I will bury my daughter so do me a favour

My inspiring wife carried our daughter Grace for 9 months and upon her death still had to deliver her into this world with sweat and pain. In a vague attempt to bring some symmetry to our experience I with the help of my brother dug her grave yesterday.

Although I can in no way approximate my wife's experience I needed to sweat, I needed to ache. And in the same way, while I can never come near to the experience of carrying and nurturing my child in the same way as Siobhan did, I will carry her on my own down the aisle today in her white willow basket.
I have 2 favours to ask of you.