Little Bird

**This is a very detailed post about a miscarriage.  It may be a trigger.  Please be aware.


I woke up with joy in my heart.

A baby.

After a year and a half of trying, we were finally going to have our second child.

He showed himself to me in a dream. A bird. A delicate little bird. October 16. I knew the moment I conceived him. I knew it was a boy, and I knew he was there instantly.

Two lines later on a stick test I knew for sure.

Baby Due Winter 2009.

I floated down the stairs of our terrace house in the inner suburbs of Sydney.  My husband was in the kitchen and my daughter was in the lounge room watching Hi 5 on DVD.  It was the weekend and the excitement was infectious.  We were all smiling and laughing.  Everything was perfect.  5 days of bliss.  We knew for 5 days.

And then I went to the toilet.

I sat on the seat and urinated, my mind floating away with dreams of big blue eyes and dimply cheeks.  I wound some paper into my hand and reached between my legs and wiped.  And then I saw it.  The ugly smear of bright red staining on the printed dolphins swimming across 2 ply.

My heart stopped beating for what seemed like eternity before heading to warp speed. I did not believe what I was seeing.  I folded the dolphins in on each other and wiped again and looked.  More staining.  I dropped the paper into the bowl, stood up and flushed, dolphins swimming my dreams away.

I walked into the kitchen where my husband was cooking at the stove, clanking utensils in the frying pan. I stood with my back against the bench when the first ache rumbled deep within my body.  The tears were burning hot, but were yet to fall.  He looks at me and notices my face is blank. What’s wrong? I’m Bleeding.  I knew it was more than just spotting that sometimes accompanies pregnancy.  My back was hot. Painfully warm and the waves were building.  This was the end.

It was only a beginning.

5 and a half weeks pregnant.

Try as I might, the tears would not stay behind their wall any longer and started to fall.  He held me tight, while Tara came up and asked what was wrong. The baby in mummy’s tummy has gone away. Did it die? Yes.

The baby. The Fetus. The sack of cells in imperfect formation, leaving my body.

I pottered around the house, jumbo pad between my legs sponging the blood that began to come more frequently. I sat on the couch not watching the TV. Used the computer. Cried.

Let’s go out, he suggests.

We walk.  We walk through the suburbs. It’s warm. I didn’t want to leave the house, but didn’t want to be in it either. I didn’t want to be anywhere. We are out all afternoon.  My body aching, throbbing, gushing.  What were we thinking, being out of the house?

Home.  I walk in the door and start pacing the kitchen.  It’s 6 hours after I first spied the red on toilet tissue.  I walked around in circles across the tiles, tears leaking, body leaking.  The pain is gripping and then whoosh.  I feel it.  My body releases. And the pain stops instantly. I walk to the toilet and sit.  The blood spills into the bowl and the water turns red.  Clots and tissue.  I cry and weep.  I say sweet words over the bowl and wish my Little Bird his wings.

I flush.

I am racked with guilt.  For years I mourn for what I should have done.  I should have buried my Bird. I should have saved my Little Bird.  I should not have flushed.

But my Little Bird was returned to water, to the Earth.  I have to believe that he found his way home, committed to nature.  One way or another. I cannot wish for doing something different.  It never helps.

And just like that, it was over.  My body forgot quickly that it had been pregnant. My mind took much longer.

Today I still stare at dolphins and wait to see their tails dancing in a red sea. Red tides or not.

Such is the mind of a mother who has lost.

5 and a half weeks

Today is Little Bird’s ‘Birth’ Day.  Born into this word, before he was ever more than a heartbeat in my womb.

Always remembering you Little Bird.  You share your conception date with your little brother Avery.  October 16. Two years apart. Both now with wings in your spirit world.  Fly with Joy.


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Wednesday 9 November 2011 - 8:41 pm

OH hon.
Hugs for both your little boys.

Wednesday 9 November 2011 - 8:54 pm

Big hugs to you. I know those feelings all too well xx

Wednesday 9 November 2011 - 9:00 pm

Awwww hun wish I could give you a hug right now… thanks for sharing your little bird’s story… I didn’t know he and Avery shared a conception date- how special. Thanks for sharing his story. It’s amazing how little beings that are with us for such a short time can make such an impact especially on their mum, and we don’t forget them.Did you draw the pictures? They are so beautiful and perfect.

Wednesday 9 November 2011 - 11:34 pm

Sad, but beautiful all at the same time. You have such a way with words. I am so sorry for your loss…… “HUGS”

Thursday 10 November 2011 - 6:19 pm

Beautiful writing. As much as wishing something different doesn’t do much good I still wish you hadn’t had the experiences that fuelled the writing.

Friday 11 November 2011 - 3:14 pm

You never forget, even 21 years down the track I remember too, and like you I just knew the baby I miscarried was a boy. So sorry for the losses of your babies.

Friday 11 November 2011 - 10:39 pm

Those tiny souls have such impact on our hearts xo

Maybe I need to write my grief as honestly as you do.

Saturday 12 November 2011 - 11:26 pm

I wish you didn’t have all this pain to bear.

I’m so sorry for the loss of your Little Bird.

Wednesday 29 February 2012 - 1:29 pm

[...] I miscarried Little Bird, I contacted my friend (and wedding photographer) Anjella Roessler.  We organised for a photo [...]

Wednesday 13 June 2012 - 11:20 pm

[...] mind flashes back to loosing Little Bird and the regret of flushing the toilet.  I take some fresh paper, press the clots onto the pillow [...]

Thursday 14 June 2012 - 5:29 pm

I know the pain and anguish that one simple flush brings……it’s so natural we do it so many times daily…..I didn’t know anyone else had felt the guilt and regret of that one flush…thank you I am not alone

Friday 15 June 2012 - 1:09 am

wow I just read your posts about Dolly, Colt and Little Bird. The crazy thing is right before you lost your little bird I had lost my Cameryn. I soooo badly obsessed about flushing him down the toilet. I carefully went through all the “discharge” trying to find anything that resembled a body – what was I going to do with it? I don’t know. I just tourtured myself mentally. I couldn’t flush my baby. And yet I did. I thought I was totally crazy for feeling the way I did. I am so grateful to know there are others just like me.
I am so sorry for all of your losses – no one should ever have to bear the weight you have. I pray God gives you a rainbow after this storm. That rainbow can never take away your pain but they sure do help brighten the day. I gave birth to my rainbow in December and he really does make the world so much brighter. xoxoxoxo

Thursday 13 June 2013 - 9:22 am

I know this post was written well over a year ago, but I’m thankful to find someone else writing about the pain and grief of miscarriage — the world so desperately needs our voices. I’m still in the midst of my miscarriage — found out two weeks ago that my little girl (I know in the same sense you knew you had a boy) had no heartbeat, but while I’ve had some spotting and bleeding, my little bird is still holding on. My husband and I named her Avelyn — which means little bird. Every now and then I sing the song from Fiddler on the Roof, “Little Bird, Little Chavala.” I believe the world is better because of our little birds.

Thursday 13 June 2013 - 9:43 am

I am so so sorry Avelyn has grown her wings. Rest easy mama. You have a long journey. xx

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