Three years, three months and three weeks

Tomorrow Craig and I will have been married for three years, three months and three weeks. By anyone's definition we're just getting over being "newly-weds". But Craig and I have had three very tumultuous wedded years ... certainly not years of bliss, although that was our intention when we said "I do" to each other on that day so long ago.

On that horribly hot day in March, we had no inkling of what lay in store for us. We were blissfully unaware of the gathering storm clouds. Instead, we were happily looking forward to married life together with our then 11-12 week pregnancy. Amazingly (to us) I was pregnant with our daughter Freyja, although we weren't aware that she was a girl at that time. At that time she was the promise of a joyous future together, the promise of a family.

I often think these days that so much happens in our lives without us knowing. So much happens which influences our lives in such a significant way, and yet we don't find out about it till later. We don't even know that things are happening in our lives which will affect us for ever -- for the rest of our lives.

My baby Freyja died inside my body without my knowledge. I didn't know that she had died until I went to the hospital. I went to the hospital just to check that everything was ok. Not because I thought that something was wrong. It didn't occur to me that something might be wrong. On Freyja's autopsy report (we have two autopsy reports now) it states that I, the mother, went to the hospital because I had concerns that I had not felt my baby move. That is incorrect. That is not why I went to the hospital. I had no concerns that I had not felt my baby move. In fact, I don't recall being concerned at all about my baby's (lack of) movements. And yet, somehow it says in the autopsy report that I was concerned about the lack of my baby's movement. Similarly, the conclusion of the pathologist in Freyja's autopsy report is that Freyja died as a result of a group B strep infection ("GBS"). In fact, the head obstetrician at the hospital where Freyja was born disagreed with the pathologist's conclusion as there was no evidence that Freyja had become infected with GBS. He said that it was the absence of any other "cause" or "reason" for Freyja's death which caused the pathologist to point the finger at GBS as a cause. Freyja's body showed no evidence of any infection -- neither did she show any evidence of anything which might have caused her death. Her death was one of the unknowns.

She died inside my body without my knowledge. Yet her conception, death and birth has changed me and my life forever.

My baby son Kees died on the sofa in our lounge room. He died after he drank his bottle of milk, had his nappy changed, and was apparently going to have a snooze on the sofa. His dad left him on the sofa for about two minutes, and when he came back, Kees had died. Kees' autopsy concluded that he'd had a virus - a cold or flu virus - which attacked his heart instead of his lungs. The outcome of that viral attack was an infection of his heart muscle which caused his heart to stop. Just like that. No symptoms, nothing. His heart just stopped and he died in an instant. My beautiful baby son Kees.

He died in an instant and we didn't even know that he might have been ill. Yet his conception, birth, life and death has changed me and my life forever.

When we got married three years, three months and three weeks ago, none of these events were even a possibility for us. With the exception of Freyja's birth. Her birth was an exciting event ... something to look forward to. Although (and I have to admit it) I was scared too. Can you believe that??? I was scared of childbirth. I was worried about it. I worried about it for months. And then, the actual event, after we found out that Freyja had died inside me, it was an anti-climax. I went into spontaneous labour late in the evening of the 24th of July and I gave birth very early in the morning of the 25th of July. If I compare the actual event of birthing my daughter Freyja, I have to admit that it was less traumatic than birthing my (living) son Kees. There's food for thought.

But the point is my life has deviated frantically from the course it was on. Nowhere in our future plans was there an inkling of death (any death) or multiple deaths. We were healthy, our immediate families were healthy. Nowhere was there a thought that maybe I would have more than one child. Or that I would be burying a child -- or that I would be burying two children. Or that I would somehow end up being pregnant for the THIRD time in three years.

I know a lot of people surround themselves with inspirational writings and quotes -- you know the stuff. "What doesn't kill you will make you stronger" and the like. Right. Anyone who's read my blog before will know that I think that's utter bullshit. What doesn't kill you might not make you stronger at all. It might make you weaker. It might make you scared. It might strip you of all the courage and independence you had. I could go on, but you're getting the idea. Inspirational quotes and writings do not give me my life back. They do not give me my children back. They do not give my future back. They do not give me my happiness back. They do not give me my hope back.

I wonder if I had had an inkling of what life had in store for us back then on that horribly hot day three years, three months and three weeks ago, whether we would have chosen, or would have been able, to do things differently.