Max's name in the sand

A little while ago I requested for Max's name to be written in the sand at Christian's Beach. Since 2008, a woman called Carly Marie has written over 14,500 names in the sand to recognise children who have died, and whose families have few memories of them to treasure. She began to do so after her little boy, Christian, was stillborn.

The beach where Carly Marie photographs the beautiful Western Australian sunsets is in Mullaloo, just north of Perth.

You can read more about her, and find lots of resources for people whose babies have died, here. I think you'll agree she is a very generous and special person to bring people from all over the world a little bit of comfort.

For now, I'd like to show you Max's special photo in the sand. Carly Marie does not charge to write a child's name in the sand, but asks that if you would like a copy of the photo you purchase one for $25 from the website, which I have just done. I will then have a digital file of the photo and can reproduce copies for anyone who would like one.

Here is Max's photo and online tribute:

http://namesinthesand.blogspot.com.au/2012/02/maxwell-alexander-pogson-moran.html

Looking back

An entry from my journal. As you can see, I was pretty damn excited to discover I was pregnant…

Thursday 14th July 2011

Today is Bastille Day - time to celebrate all that is French! And there are more reasons to celebrate. Though chilly, it is a beautiful, clear, sunny day outside; it’s still school holidays; and beautiful Peppy is sitting on my desk batting pens and various other items onto the floor. therefore, all is well with the world.

But wait! I almost forgot! This week something happened that has never happened before:

You’ve got it - I’m pregnant! My darling little baby is on the way! First things first, though. Don’t be alarmed. I’m not pregnant with triplets, nor am I pregnant to three separate men. Nor is there something wrong with your eyesight. You are seeing three test results. But I just took three individual tests because the first one was so damned easy to pass that I thought I must have missed something, so I did it again. Second time around I was even more surprised at my glowing result. I’m a good student, but I hadn’t even studied for this one! Perplexed, two glowing positive results had me tottering down to Bridge Road to the pharmacy to ask for some expert advice. I felt like some sheepish, embarrassed 15 year old trying to read the boxes when no one was looking. Except I wasn’t doing anything I should not have been at that age, and neither should you be, baby, if you’re listening! These tests are the easiest tests you’ll ever pass, so much so that I passed the third one in record time - around 1 minute - powered along, no doubt, by the lithium battery that made this final test cost 18 bloody dollars!

It was an eventful 24 hours - there must also have been an earthquake as there were a few moments where I began shaking uncontrollably and feeling quite sick. So much so that my first instinct was to reach for a valium. Except I CAN’T! Because I’m PREGNANT! Then it dawned on me. This shit was for real. This shit was FOREVER!

You may be wondering where Les was through all of this, and rightly so, because I’m pretty sure he’s the father. Well, he was blissfully unaware at work during the first test. I’m not even sure why I did one at that exact moment - midday on a Monday afternoon after a delightful breakfast with Kate. Just to prove to myself it’d be negative I think. I fully expected it to be so, even though I’d been unnaturally tired for well over a week and that intermittently it felt like I’d stood too close to a radiator and caught my boobs on fire. They were burning like Vika and Linda Bull’s House of Love, which was indeed a suspicious sign.

Anyway, the pharmacist advised, in hushed tones, that I should wait and try the third test the following morning as you have higher, more accurate levels of some baby hormone when you first wake up. Usually, I like to wake up and eat some vegemite toast in the mornings but that morning I had to instead collect my pee in a jar and stick random bits of magical paper in it which I hoped would reveal an invisible message, much like lemon juice would to secretly scrawled letters in primary school. It was a bit of a comedy of errors because a) it was 5am. I’d been really thirsty the night before and drank more water than usual. I awoke with an unexpected conundrum. If I went to the toilet now, did that count as the ‘first urine of the day’ as the chemist had advised, or because it was still technically the middle of the night, was it the ordinary kind? If I wasted this one and tested instead at 8am would I have already missed the magic ingredient?

After much leg crossing and internal debate I decided this indeed counted as the morning based on the logic that although it was still dark, bakers, train drivers and garbage truck men were already probably up for the day, and therefore would already have had their first morning pee.

Les was there for this part (except for the part where I spilled the mini bucket of wee on my PJ pants…hey it was early and I hadn’t yet had any caffeine!). The tested confirmed what we really already knew, and after a few minutes of staring blankly at each other we went back to sleep as if nothing at all had really happened!

I’ve since been to the doctor, which is always highly amusing. My doctor has a very well-developed sense of humour and I knew he would appreciate my opening line: ‘I made this appointment to see you because of a cluster of weird symptoms which all seemed to point towards a terminal disease, but in fact it turns out I have a different sort of lifelong condition - I’m pregnant!’ He was very excited at the good news and proposed the question ‘so what are you going to do now?’. My brain ticked over and came up with nothing. I thought it was his job to tell me what to do next? He got out a little paper dial thing (that looked very much like my French verb wheel) and calculated that the baby would be due around 19th March 2012! He commiserated with me having to be pregnant during the summer and I told him I was only happy not to be pregnant with an Aquarian - the one star sign whose annoying water-bearer characteristics I have never been able to bear. Instead we’ll have a lovely, dreamy, pisces, or if there are delays in the birth canal (down to 60km/h and one lane closed) perhaps an aries. 

I made another appointment with a different doctor at the practice for next week. Her name is Dr Nanette Presswell, and whilst her name might make me think of a nanny goat, she is very thorough and kind and I trust will care for us well. I’ll be having shared care with her through the Royal Women’s Hospital, which means that she looks after most of my antenatal appointments and I only have to go to the scary hospital once or twice. 

My doctor left me with only a few pieces of very pertinent advice: don’t eat soft cheeses or deli meats, don’t find out too much information, and don’t listen to anyone’s advice. These are the mantras that will become my motto over the next nine months…oh wait, I’m already one month pregnant, so does that mean there are only 8 months remaining? Holy christ! That’s not very long, is it?

PS. Baby, apparently you are currently the size of a poppy seed, which is really not that exciting. You are currently ‘burrowing’ your way into my uterine lining, however, which sounds more than sufficiently sci-fi/terrifying, you little termite monster!

My other baby

My other baby…

This is Pepper, commonly known as Peppy. He is my other baby - Max’s big brother. It seems that I wasn’t the only one who fell in love with the two ‘Max’ bears that arrived today. I introduced him to them earlier in the day and he keeps going back to sleep with them. It is so sweet that I could almost squeeze him to pieces with love and affection for his adorable nature. He is always able to identify the softest, most comfortable seat in the house and make it his own. I like to think that he and Max would have cuddled up on the couch like this one day.

I love my Max bear

Time for a nap with the cuddly teddies

Goodnight!

Bears of Hope

Lots of good things seem to land on my front doorstep in the early hours of the morning. I think the Australia Post parcel delivery guy must be up at the crack of dawn, and that I must live near the warehouse where he picks the parcels up as no matter how early I get up they are always there waiting for me. He places them gently behind a pillar in front of our house so that they’re visible to me when I look out the front window but so that no one can see them from the street.

Anyway, this morning two packages were waiting for me - one from Bears of Hope and one from the Teddy Love Club. Leslie is working from home today so we sat down and opened them together. Both organisations support bereaved parents. When I found out about them a few weeks after Max was born, I discovered that they provide care packs to hospitals to distribute to parents whose baby has died. Each pack includes a teddy bear, donated in memory of a child who has died, so that parents do not have to leave the hospital with empty arms, as I did. I was dismayed to find that those packs were not distributed to us in hospital. In fact, we were given no information of support organisations other than a list of funeral homes. I can’t help but feel this was a failing of the social worker, who seemed a bit clueless at the time, I remember. I don’t know for sure if this was her job, but it seems as though it should have been.

Bear of Hope

There is so much information that both of these organisations provide that I wish I’d had at the time. Things like ideas for spending time with your baby to make memories while you can. These things are very time specific - there is no point me finding out about things I could have done weeks after Max has been farewelled and cremated. I needed to know them in those crucial early few days and I’m more than a bit pissed off that I did not have access to that information. There are some other organisations I’ve found that will actually help you organise a funeral and make the hard phone calls you are not in a state to make. People need to know about these services!

I will be making it my duty to write to the hospital to ask why we did not receive information about the support available. I will also be doing my best to get information about that support to the people who need it. To start with, I will do so on this blog, which is the only platform I have at the moment. But I have skills in communications and PR that I plan to use to spread this crucial information, too. But that comes later, as do my plans to give something back to those who have helped us along this journey.

I contacted both of these organisations a week or so ago to let them know that I had just discovered them and that the hospital I gave birth in did not provide me with their information. They were both dismayed, and promised to investigate why the hospital was not participating in their programs (which they provide free-of-charge) or if they were, why we were not told of it. They both very generously sent me a bear, and in TLC’s case, a really thorough information pack and book of stories, to help me remember Max.

I have been emailing a really lovely lady, Robyn, from TLC, who I’ve just discovered is a fellow Tasmanian. She has been really helpful in sharing her story with me, but also in reassuring me that everything I’ve been going through is normal, and that there are some people who understand.

Their websites are here for you to have a look at, and I encourage you to pass on these details to anyone you hear of that might be in need. You can also donate money to help them continue their work, or send a bear to another family in Max’s name.

Teddy Love Club

Bears of Hope

Right now, I want to show you the gorgeous bears that are sitting beside me waiting for cuddles. My ‘Max’ bears. The bear sent to me by Bears of Hope was donated to me in honour of another baby who died. The card said her name is Imogene Kate and that she was born on 27th October 2008. I can’t help but think who you might have been, little Imogene, and I want your mummy and daddy to know that you are in my thoughts today, and that I am grateful they have done something amazing in your beautiful name.

My Teddy Love Club bear was donated to me in honour of little twin girls, Amie-Lee and Emily. I just found out about their story, which you can read here. What precious baby girls and how dearly they were loved and are missed.

I am very honoured to keep their memory alive alongside Max’s as I cuddle these bears tight.

Leslie with our baby bears

Teddy Love Club bear

For Max, from Nanna

My mum has been visiting the last week or so, and apart from helping us procure a truck load of flat-pack Ikea furniture, she also had a special little something in her suitcase for Max. She had this little handmade sign made up especially for him. Leslie was very relieved that the little car was a Nissan, even if it wasn’t a black one like his! I think Max would have loved to have it on his bookshelf or on top of his chest of drawers or something. We will choose a place for it where we can look at it always and think about the little boy he would have become.

Are you my mother?

It's official - I'm a mother!

Yesterday Max’s birth certificate arrived in the mail and I was so glad. I was very keen to get it into the registry as soon as possible. I really felt the need to make Max’s birth ‘official’ for some reason. I wanted to see his name on paper. I wanted the world (or at least the state of Victoria) to know that he existed. Now they will. He is, as they say, ‘on the books’. I feel so proud that future generations might one day stumble across this evidence of his birth and wonder about the story of this little boy’s family. Maybe my descendants, assuming I eventually have some, will use this certificate to help them create their own family trees.

This picture is of the regular certificate they send you that you can use for identification purposes and stuff, not that Max will ever be needing a passport or drivers licence. I also ordered a commemorative one that I am going to frame. That is still coming. I was a bit disappointed with the designs available in Victoria - I thought they were all a bit naff to be honest.

These are the Victorian ones.

In South Australia you can have a panda, bunny or duck one!

Seriously uncool, Victoria.

I guess most people don’t really care about this kind of thing and will wonder why I spent an afternoon researching the designs of a silly form. A birth certificate is just another piece of paper to them - something to file away until baby is older and needs it to prove who he/she is. But when that piece of paper is one of the only things you have to prove that your baby existed - that he was a person who lived - it takes on a whole new significance. This certificate will hang on our wall as a proud reminder that our son was a real part of our lives; that he is not just a part of our imagination or memory.

I also cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to see my name listed as this little boy’s mother, and Leslie’s as his father. It made me feel for the first time that we are really someone’s parents. I want to cut that bit out, highlight it, laminate and keep it in my pocket so that I can pull it out and look at it hundreds of times a day if I want. I’m Max’s mother. He is my son. Those phrases are like chicken soup for my sickly soul. I will never get sick of reading them or hearing them said to me!

There is one more thing I want to say about the birth certificate’s design. I do not think it is necessary anymore to have a space to list details of the parents marriage. In our case, it just means that a whole section is left blank and looks as though we have missed a huge ‘step’ in the process. It makes me want to get out my pen and write something in there that says to the world how much Max’s parents love each other, even though they have not professed it to an imaginary being in a church or in front of kith and kin in a stupid reception centre. Again, maybe I read too much into this stuff, but it irks me!

Finally, at Christmas this year, Max had a little present under the tree from his Nanna. I was so touched when I opened it and found the most gorgeous porcelain keeper for his birth certificate. I had never seen anything like this before, but mum said she found it at a newsagents. You will see how pretty it is in the photos above. The official copy will sit safely in Max’s keepsake box. Thank you, mum, for being so thoughtful!

Flowers for Max

I am not at all a gardener, but I spent some time this week researching flower emblems and meanings as I wanted to try and grow a plant for Max. I don’t have high hopes I can keep it alive, and Les has made me promise I won’t get upset if it dies, but I have started with a pink camelia, which apparently expresses the sentiment of longing, as in ‘I’m longing for you’. Here it is, alongside an action shot of me watering it. I am so excited about tending to it and watching it grow and bloom over the coming months. Every time I care for it I will be doing so in honour of Max.

Max's daddy

Leslie as a little boy. I wonder if this is what little Max would have grown to look like? If so, he would have been so gorgeous. I love these photos so much.

Tiny tots

Max in the tiny clothes that were lovingly provided to him by generous volunteers at the hospital.

Help make tiny gowns, booties, cardigans and bonnets for babies like Max

We were so unprepared for Max’s sudden birth that I didn’t even have a change of clothes to leave the hospital in let alone a set of tiny clothes to dress our baby after he was born. Thankfully, the midwives provided us with a beautiful set of handmade clothes for our little boy that had been donated by generous volunteers. We were absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude as his outfit was so perfect for him. Wearing a little white and blue shirt, tiny booties and the most adorable gumnut hat, we wrapped Max in a hand-knitted blanket and gave him a tiny hand-sewn teddy bear to cuddle. It meant so much. If you’re at all able to knit or sew, it would be so lovely if you could contribute some of these items in Max’s honour. The Miracle Babies Foundation are one place where I’ve found patterns for tiny clothes, but I’m sure there are many other organisations that also provide clothes to maternity hospitals and NICU’s.

Wishing on a star

Though the postman woke me up at 8am this morning by ringing my doorbell, he left a very special package on my front door step that had me in tears before my day had even begun.

My friend Sharon’s mother, Sue, who I’ve known for many years, and whose family I’ve always been included as part of, had a star named in memory of my darling Max. Inside the huge box from the International Star Registry was a beautiful framed certificate bearing the name of Max’s star, a map of the constellation of Sagittarius in which his star is located, and a heartfelt message from Sue and her children.

The official certificate we get to hang on our wall

This was such a beautiful gesture and I was overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness and creativity in thinking of such a unique way to remember my baby. I am planning on making a little space in our house which will be Max’s, in which I will put his photo and some keepsakes, and where I can sit and think of him. I will hang his star certificate there and picture him floating peacefully through the heavens, illuminated by the brilliant light of his very own star.

A map of the constellation of Sagittarius where Max's star lies
 

Heartfelt message from the Gourlay/Hughes families

The location of Max's special star

12 weeks

My baby boy at 12 weeks, developing perfectly.

Treasures

I have received some beautiful, heartfelt keepsakes in memory of Max and I will treasure each of them forever.

Dear friends, Michael and Ava, told my story to jeweller friends of theirs who created this pendant featuring Max’s initials out of an antique spoon. It was so special to receive something made by true crafts-people who created it with Max’s unique spirit in mind. You can see some of their other beautiful pieces here.

From Michael and Ava

This silver bracelet was sent to me by my oldest friend, Sharon, and is inscribed with Max’s name. It is one of the first things I received after coming home from the hospital, and it meant so much. I will wear it with pride.

From Sharon

This birdie brooch - which people have said is ‘so Janelley’ - was sent to me by Kate’s parents, Sue and Tom. That Max’s life touched other families was such a comfort to me, and was evidence that so many people were thinking of us and feeling our pain. Sue is a master calligrapher, and hand wrote the inscription on the back of the brooch - something that makes it so very special.

From Sue and Tom 

The back of the brooch from Sue and Tom

Max's things

Since news of my pregnancy broke back in July/August 2011, Max’s bedroom has been filling up with all manner of clothes and toys in preparation for his arrival. His Nanna, Christine, is to thank for much of it. The little suits and toys she kept sending, chosen so lovingly, let me know how excited she was to be a grandmother, and helped me regain my pregnancy excitement after I suffered terribly from hyperemesis (severe morning sickness).

All of these things sit folded neatly in piles - never to be worn by the little boy for whom they were intended; never to be messed up, pulled out of drawers and dragged down the hallway by his chubby little hands. His teddies will never be squeezed or chewed upon or flung across the room in excitement or rage…except by me, perhaps.

I don’t know what to do with any of his things, and I can’t bear to even cast an eye in the direction of his room. My doctor suggested I choose a few things to hang onto as keepsakes and give the rest away, but as I have so few memories of Max to hold onto I want to keep every tiny thing as evidence that he existed; that he was real.

If I could sew all of his little shirts together and make a jumpsuit I could wear every day for the rest of my life I think I would. But it might not go down so well in the workplace, even on ‘smart-casual’ days. In the lunch room I would no longer be known as simply the crazy cat lady with 10,000 cats. I’d be the crazy cat lady who never changed out of her dead baby’s clothes, and that’s a whole other thing altogether.

A few of Max's toys

Darling baby suits

All-in-one baby underwear

Booties, socks and other baby accessories

How I would have loved to do so every day