I've been trying to post this for days but couldn't muster the strength.
DS2 was stillborn at 39 weeks last weekend. My placenta detached 24 hours before my ELCS. I did 5 days of induction but eventually he was born naturally and peacefully.
Please can someone tell me this horrific heartache will get better? It just feels so endless. Like nothing will ever be any good ever again.
The mornings are hardest when DS1 (3.5) is in nursery school, the house is so quiet and we have nothing to do but the awful practical things that need to be done.
Today has been one of the saddest days - we saw the vicar to discuss his funeral service, dropped his little outfit off to the funeral director for them to dress him in, had to go shopping for something for me to wear for his service and emptied his nursery into boxes that are now in the loft.
It's now just an stark, empty bedroom - we're going to turn it into a playroom for his big brother but it just is so horrid having a room I'm so scared of in a place we're supposed to feel safe, our own home.
Every day my stomach gets flatter and my lochia is lighter and it feels like I'm still slowly losing him.
When the sadness hits it's terrifying, the emotion is so strong I feel like I'm going to vomit and my chest is going to cave in with the pain. It feels like my brain is having to remind me ever ten minutes or so that he's gone and I just want to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
The midwifery team at our local hospital have been utterly amazing and are supporting us so well, as are our families and friends so we are lucky in that respect but despite it all I feel lost and alone and scared and angry, so very angry all at the same time.
Please, anyone, does this pain get better?
Bereavement
Life after stillborn - will this ever get better?
Impatientwino · 21/03/2016 19:39
I'm so sorry this has happened to you, you will never, and should never, forget, but in time, it will get easier.
Our son, Christopher, was stillborn at 37 weeks just over 6 years ago (it seems like much less). It is/was awful. There is nothing anyone can do or say to make it better for you, but it does get easier. I still think about him every day, always will, and am proud to be his mother. He taught me so much.
The first few months were the worst, he was our first and the house was so quiet that I chose to go back to work after a few weeks.
I haven't read all the posts above (still makes me so sad to hear about others), but would recommend getting in touch with Sands - look at their website, give them a call or go along to a meeting. It really helps so speak to others who have experienced the loss of a baby as those who haven't often find it very difficult to acknowledge or respond to the death of a child. I found that at the time, I felt very let down by some of my friends/family's responses and actions, but I can see in hindsight that they had no idea how to handle it or what to say. Sands was a safe haven.
My heart goes out to you & your family 
Werks wow, 2, how incredibly unfair and utterly heartbreaking for you.
Thank you for your post, it reads like it's written by a phenomenal woman.
I'm so sorry for your losses 
So sorry to hear about William.
He never knew anything but your nurturing love for his entire short life. Your heartbeat was his life's music. He will be a part of you forever.
Thinking of you xx
Perfect little big feet
The world may never notice
If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.
But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.
The little one we long for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.
And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
Every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.
I'm so very sorry for your loss. Those words seem so empty, but they're heartfelt.
We lost my brother a few years ago, and I remember something someone said to my mum that stuck with her and gave her a bit of hope that things wouldn't always be so raw. They told her that at the start, to imagine her pain and grief as a tennis ball, and her life to be a jam jar. The tennis ball is the only thing that fits in the jam jar, it's all consuming and there's no room for anything else. Over time, the jam jar will get bigger and to imagine it finally as a vase. The tennis ball hasn't changed size, the pain and grief is still as big as it always was, but as time passes there is a lot more room for other things, things that will ease your hurt and soften the pain. I'm sorry if that makes no sense or seems silly, I didn't know how else to put it.
Take it a minute at a time, be kind to yourself and reach out to your loved ones. You and William are in my thoughts
impatient - I have nothing useful to add to the amazing advice that you have had here but I just wanted to send you and your family strength and courage and hope. A beautiful name for what sounds like a lovely boy. I'm giggling through my tears at his lovely little big feet.
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