the book launch – part one

I thought I’d be sharing my news by now. I thought I’d be planning a very different kind of year. I thought this time would be different, but it wasn’t. And here I am, once again, with emotional whiplash as I recover from the abrupt change of direction which you would think I’d be used to by now.

I’m telling you this because of the book launch.

Luke and I are heading down to Sydney tomorrow for the launch of Zoe Taylor’s book, Pregnancy Loss: Surviving Miscarriage and Stillbirth. A couple of years after I lost Sienna, a fellow babylost mama told me that a journo was writing a book and maybe I should check it out. I wrote to Zoe telling my story. I’m in the book. This is part of what I wrote and which Zoe has kindly included:

“The baby was born and I asked what it was. “It’s a little girl,” the midwife whispered. Alone in the room with the midwife I didn’t have to be the brave wife or mother or sister or daughter or daughter-in-law or party guest or employee. I had my longed-for daughter and I would never really get to have her. I screamed from the depths of my heart.”

I don’t know how many miscarriages I’d had when she first started writing. Maybe three. This last one was my fifth.

At the end of last year when I was pregnant I tried to work out my dates. How pregnant would I be when the launch came around? Would I be telling people by then? I think I would have been 16 weeks this week. I would have had to wear a different dress to the launch.

But I’m not pregnant. I lost this baby – number five since Sienna – on the fourth anniversary of her birth. Nine days before Christmas last year.

There’s a longer story, but time has run out to tell it today.

But, because I’m not pregnant,  my New Year’s resolutions are different to what I thought they’d be.

I was going to quit my job when my due date came near. Then, when baby came along I was going to write my novel while the little one napped. I was going to breastfeed. I was going to buy new finger-paints. There would be fresh Play-Doh in our cupboard.

But no. This year I will keep nurturing my ‘baby substitute’: the magazine I edit; my writing. I am doing my Masters. Because I can, dammit.

My gorgeous kids will keep reminding me how lucky I am. My son, fast turning into a technogeek newsmonger looks set to follow in my footsteps. I adore that. My daughter, on the other hand, is the dreamiest child a mother could ask for. The fact that I have them still takes my breath away at times. I’m blessed.

So here I am. Off to the book launch. I’ll be wearing a dress which hugs my body because I have no baby bump. I’ve had my hair done. I want to look nice. It’s something to look forward to. Something.

Last night as I read through Zoe’s book in readiness for the launch, my throat ached with the pain of the experiences – including mine – she has documented. It’s the same pain I feel when I see babies.  But I’m going tomorrow to celebrate the spirit of women and men who have survived this hell. It’s the club for which I have a lifetime membership, and I will not hang my head as I walk into that room. I will be standing up, ready to be counted.

Read about our night at the launch here.



Filed under loss, parenting, writing

44 responses to “the book launch – part one

  1. Oh Jayne, you’re so brave… what an amazing post. You should be proud- for contributing to that book, for the substitutes that are growing and blooming with a life of their own, for getting through it and holding onto your sanity and your sense of humour again and again.
    I’m so sorry you have to walk this path…… but bravo for talking about it and holding your head up. Enjoy the night. xxx

  2. I’m so sorry. I feel your pain, I have been there, in my own way. I am crying with you, and sending lots and lots of love. You have every reason to hold your head up and be proud.

  3. seraphim75

    You are amazing and simply beautiful. I am proud to call you a friend. And I am so very, very sorry for all the loss you and your family has endured.

  4. Jayne, I have tears for you, your pain, your heartache.
    I see you on Twitter, I’ve heard you on the radio and I always read your blog. I think you are an amazing woman with an amazing gift that so many other women (and men) will benefit from. A burden shared is a burden halved. You’re helping lighten the load for many, I hope yours is lightened too by being able to share.

    Have a wonderful night. x

  5. Emotional Whiplash indeed. Sometimes it feels like the more plans we make, the more the universe works against us to smash them apart. You are such a strong, remarkable woman and thank you for sharing this. Have a great time. x

  6. Jayne.

    Thank you for sharing your story. Your honesty and your strength, your humanity and your pain honour the babies you have lost and the all the women whose babies were lost to them.

    I have been in your dark space and words like yours were the light in those times. You have done wonderful things by sharing your story

  7. Hey Jayne,
    That sucks. The more parents I talk to, the more I’m surprised it ever works.
    Whatever you choose to do from here, I wish you the best.

  8. There’s too many words for me to say so I’ll just send a hug (((Jayne))).

  9. I’m so sorry you have gone through this again. Once is bad – everything after that is just more and more bad. Hold onto the children. You’re lucky to have them. I wish had children to make the pain of my losses a little less.

  10. Thank you so much for sharing this. I too have been there – many times, and it hurts still…you are a vry very corageous woman.

  11. Suz

    Hi – i’ve never been here before but have come at the suggestion at Seraphim’s tweet – and i am glad i did. I am so sorry for the loss you have experienced. It just shouldn’t be that way. I miss 2 tiny angels as well. Will be thinking of you for the launch and will be buying one of those books asap Suz xxxxx

  12. You Jayne are one hell of a strong, courageous woman! Thankyou for sharing this pain with us your tweeps. It is no mean feat that you are choosing to use these experiences to be part of something greater to do something to help other people going through this! I hope that all your wishes and dreams come true! XXXXXXX you deserve it! Thankyou for being you!

  13. I have no words. I am just so sorry.

  14. I’m so sorry that another little spirit is lost. I will be thinking of you, courageous and beautiful and wish for you strength and peace (my favourite of wishes that was bestowed upon me after William died and one I wish to all baby lost mummies).

    Strength and peace to you.

  15. Oh wow, I hope you do enjoy the launch.
    We have an amazing reflection service here on the Gold Coast every year on the Saturday before Mother’s Day – to remember the babies lost through miscarriage, abortion and still birth, and another which is similar in October – International preganancy and infant loss.

  16. Chris

    Oh dear,

    I’m deeply touched by your very personal story. Need a box of tissues now. It’s through talking and writing about these horrible experiences I suppose we can heal, hopefully.

    Very touched, do take care of yourself.

    • Thank you Chris. For me, personally, I do find that talking and writing helps heal – but that’s me, chatterbox and oversharer extraordinaire. 🙂 And healing beautifully as a result. x

  17. I’m so sorry, Jayne. I wish I could be at that launch with you.
    Look forward to reading the book and seeing our stories side by side.

  18. AS

    Jayne thank you so much for that very moving post, I can’t believe how much I’m crying. I’m currently 4 weeks pregnant (hence why I haven’t used my full name) and cannot even to begin to imagine what you went through.

    Congratulations on your piece in the book. Thoughts are with all who have lost children. I will say a silent pray today for the healthy future of my unborn baby.

    Thank you again Jayne for sharing your story. xx

  19. Jayne, today I am sitting here anxiously awaiting the best possible news from my dearest friend who has walked a very similar path to yours. Your words are a gift to her and also to people like me who walk beside our loved ones and try to understand. Thank you for sharing them. I am so sorry for your loss.

  20. Vicki

    I am so sorry to hear you have been through this so recently Jayne. I hope the launch goes well tonight and has many positives for you and others there.

  21. candicelemonscott

    I much admire your strength, your courage, your honesty, your way with words Jayne. Your blog has moved me to tears and I wish you much luck with the launch, your masters and everything XO

  22. Cil

    Oh Jane, I’m so sorry to hear that.

    What a brave thing your doing. To bring about change to this sensitive and social stigma is an amazing thing, and your doing that. Your one amazing lady.

    Sending lots and lots of hugs.

    Cil xxxx

  23. Jayne. You are such a brave woman, and an inspirational one. I love…LOVE that you are so open and honest in your writing. It is your voice, but it is a voice for others too. You say the things many others want to, but can’t, but can feel strength & support through your words.

    All my thought and best wishes are with you. I bet you look gorgeous! x

  24. Kathy Collins

    Emotional Whiplash is just so fitting. Life serves up such sudden jolts at times, that you’re left reeling and unable to make heads or tails of anything. I truly admire your courage Jayne and I’ve added you to my list of inspiring people. I’m sure you’ll have an amazing day and I hope you find it both soothing and uplifting. Come back with renewed resolve to keep tackling life head-on and maybe even give it a little slap upside the head for being such a biatch at times!

    • And Kathy, I know that your heartfelt words come from a place of truth and hard won wisdom. Giving life a slap upside the head for being such a biatch – nice one! 🙂 Your own intelligence and grace are an inspiration to me. xx

  25. Carol @ the ABC

    Emotional whiplash! Indeed.

    Jayne – this is why I love you and the other ‘ladybloggers’ so very much.

    You share.

    You share your own stories full of pain and love and triumph and despair and humour … and they make the rest of us (who don’t have the writing gift) realise that we are not alone, that we share ’emotional whiplash’ in its many forms, that we can, and do, live full and fabulous lives.

    Even when those lives sometimes seem difficult, mixed up, messed up, imperfect, confusing …..


  26. Reading this brought back so many memories for me. The time I would spend thinking, planning, dreaming about the year to come only to have everything turned upside down. I am so sorry for your losses. I really admire your honesty here. As one reader wrote “To bring about change to this sensitive and social stigma is an amazing thing, and your doing that”. Thankyou!

  27. Sharon

    My throat aches too when I read this. For you.

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