Jane Hepburn’s daughter Alba was born still on 27th April 2012. She has been an amazing support to so many bereaved families in the Inverness area and has kindly allowed us to share a piece that she wrote a 2 years after Alba’s birth.

We all grieve in our own way, at our own pace, and we all take comfort in the things that make sense to us. It’s ok to grieve differently from other bereaved parents we know - we are all on our own unique grief journey.

“It’s ok to not fit in, I think…

I read a lot - poems, articles, blogs, whatever I find, by other bereaved parents. Sometimes I find things that I can relate to yet I still feel distanced from it all.

I found out the day before my due date at a routine appointment that my baby had died. I did not scream and shout, I was not a hysterical mess, I made the phone calls that needed to me made, I made the decisions that had to be made and I gave birth to my dead baby late that night.

Just before she was born I admit I was scared, scared of what she would look like, scared that I wouldn’t love her. But no, she was beautiful, my perfect baby girl, I held her straight away and my heart broke. The love for my newborn baby washing over me as I looked at her wee face, her hands and feet and saw her Daddy lovingly holding her. We stayed the night in the hospital with her, holding her and taking photos and the next afternoon we went home, without our baby. I have two older children so I needed to go home and see them, they were my priority right then.

In those early days it is so raw and you do wonder how you are going to carry on but you do and as every day that passes it does become a little easier. I felt guilty about being out and about, about going to things at the school somehow feeling it was expected of me to be hiding out at home in floods of tears.

I did cry and still do, sometimes completely uncontrollably but those moments are usually with my partner or on my own and are fewer and further between as time goes on. I never made a decision not to cry publicly, I just don’t. I do not see it as a sign of weakness or feel embarrassed getting emotional in front of people, I get so emotional at times but that does not lead to tears. I’m not in denial, I’m not ‘not allowing myself to grieve’ it’s just my way.

In the early days I could not begin to imagine why I would want to be in contact with other bereaved parents but in time I felt that it may be helpful to me and I went to some online pages and groups but found it so against what I felt. I have no religious beliefs and could not go a long with the notion that I would meet my baby again and the references to angel babies all playing together in some distant place made me uncomfortable, I felt so alone but almost like I should be doing these things that somehow I couldn’t possibly love my baby as much as all these other women so absorbed in their grief and creating this new better world for their babies to be until they met again. My baby was dead, we had her cremated and her ashes are in a box in our bedroom. Ok I understand that sounds harsh and I would love for something a bit nicer but that is truth and fact for me and I can’t pretend otherwise.

Alba’s leaf on the SiMBA Tree of Tranquillity in Inverness

I don’t know what to write when someone says it’s the anniversary of them losing their baby, I can’t send floaty kisses or wish them a Happy Angelversary. It brings such comfort to many and I wish I could go along with it but it just doesn’t work for me. When I first heard the term rainbow baby I’m pretty sure I would have screwed up my face but when I read an explanation behind it I thought it was truly beautiful, but, yes there is always a but, I am very uncomfortable with the need to label a living child based on whether or not they were born before or after their dead sibling.

It will be 3 years soon and I still don’t really feel like I fit in. I’ve met people who do not want to talk about their baby, who find it easier to just try to cope by not discussing it, by even trying not to think about what they have gone through, I get that. I’ve met people who gush about their angel babies, who find comfort in ‘signs’ from their babies in so many forms, I get that. I think whatever anyone needs to do to get them through is 100% ok.

So why after saying that do I still sometimes doubt the way I get through? I want to talk about my daughter, I want to tell you all about her, she is such a huge part of my life as are my other 3 children but I don’t feel we are quite at that stage of discussing dead babies. Sadly that is what she is. My baby died, I’m never going to forget that, I’m never going to get over that, I’m never going to stop speaking about her to prevent others from feeling uncomfortable. My baby died, it hurts, I miss her but it’s happened and I wouldn’t be where I was now if it hadn’t and I’m not ashamed to say I’m happy just now.

I have 3 wonderful living children. What I have gone through has made me a better mother, a better person in fact. She’s left me with an appreciation for the small things I once took for granted, I have a new found love of butterflies which is not to do with me thinking of them as a sign, it’s just one of the many things I was too busy to notice before. The requests from my children that were previously met with Mummy is too busy are more often met with ok, let’s do it. My house is messier, I’m less organised, I allow myself the bad days and don’t feel guilty about getting on with my life.

All four of my children make me who I am today and it would not be fair on anyone to let the sadness, guilt, anger and disappointment of losing our baby always outweigh the joy that life and my other children bring.”

~ Jane, Alba’s Mum