Finleys Footprints

I write about a lot of things on this blog, but interestingly it has always been Finley’s blog. I may occasionally mention my Twinkle, my living child, my rainbow baby. I very rarely mention my first baby. I never got to say Hello to her (I always thought the baby would be a girl, I dreamt of a girl). I certainly never said Goodbye to her at the time we lost her.

I was devastated by the loss of this first tiny baby. I did not know how to express it, I did not understand it, and I thought I deserved it. I was in a very different place when I lost my first baby. We went through a roller coaster of appointments where hope was first given and then taken away and finally not more than two weeks after finding out we were pregnant it was over. We had a miscarriage.

I never saw her on the screen, she never developed. And that is the hard bit… That is the taboo. How can I grieve for someone that never existed? But to me, to our family she did exist. She was hope for the future, she was a cementing of our marriage, she was love, she was family, she was a little girl who would walk, talk, got to school. I marked her date with a birthstone ring and I moved on.

When Finley was blessed after being stillborn, I cried for him, and later I cried for our first baby. The baby we had let down, the baby we had forgotten, the unnamed baby – the baby whose parents never cared. When we buried Finley, I buried her pregnancy test kit with him and the vicar named her in his funeral service. Finally we acknowledged her space in our family as Poppet.

Four years on, Poppet remains in our thoughts and our hearts. But she is not public.  Today I got to Say Goodbye to both of my babies.

Since I  first saw that the Saying Goodbye Services had been created, I knew I would go along. The thought of a service in a big Cathedral was something of a treat. I love old buildings, old churches. I love the history, the character, the grandeur. The thought of all those other feet treading the same floors. In many ways they are a sign that life goes on. They have a life of their own, a blood that runs through their stone, that shows itself in ceremony and tradition. Exeter Cathedral and today’s service did not disappoint.

There was an impressive blend of old and new, plenty of large flat screen televisions amongst the ornate stone pillars. And church staff in their full ceremonial dress, beginning and ending the service with beautiful tradition and grand entrance. I was moved almost to tears before the service started. Reading the literature and knowing that I could sit in that grand space and fully own my story and my babies was powerful.

I sat alone – by choice. This was my time for my space. I have spent so much of the last three years helping other people – albeit gladly – that I forget that I need time to grieve too. I lit a candle for Finley, one for Poppet at the front of the church. I added candles for other angels. I kept feeling my eyes drawn to them throughout the service. The flickering flame that doesn’t go out.

My tears started flowing well during the first hymn, one that has held new meaning for me since Finley died. They continued through the beautiful readings of bible verse and poetry, which complemented each other perfectly. I had the chance to revisit my spiritual beliefs again, and explore what my understanding was now. There was plenty of time for silent reflection.

I was held captivated listening to the song Soothe, sung by Lana Martin. Quiet tears trickling down my face as I got the chance to think of Poppet and the light and lessons that she left behind. The speaker representing the miscarriage association spoke a very powerful story, as she explained that we would get the chance later on to ring a handbell for each of our losses. She told us she would ring the bell five times, and what each chime would represent. Her words struck me… The difference… The difference in each loss, in each time, in each experience and each memory. What would I reflect on when I rang the bell?

I held my breath as the Canon was talking as it became clear that he too had had losses. He shared a picture that held meaning to his wife.

I had never seen this picture before, and listening to his words I was thinking about how the arts can be so helpful in expressing things that we cannot, or in healing things that words cannot.

For me though, the most moving part of the service, something I will never forget occurred towards the end. The choir singing softly a song/prayer. And while this happened (the sound of the children’s voices in the choir haunting and whispering what could have been) the hand bells were passed around. I sobbed as I heard the person next to me ring the bell so many times. I don’t know how many, I lost track of the heartache. Then it was my turn. The first one I was given, I held it for  a while. I was reflecting on what this moment meant. My first chime… My first chime was pain, loss and unrecognised grief. My second chime was different. My second chime was a bit longer, rang for longer and was more hopeful. My babies. Both remembered, both equal. I had a second bell handed to me, a smaller lighter one. This one I rang twice in celebration. Celebration of the lessons my babies bring, the lessons they still bring. Celebration of the changes in me. And celebration of Life. Life that is long, Life that is short. Life that is less than the blink of an eye. Life that is Life.

As the service came to an end, with another song from Lana Martin. This time a cover, but hauntingly beautiful and with such meaningful lyrics, my tears were still held inside. I wandered off alone to a small, ornate chapel and sobbed. This little chapel had a project in it. It was called the Cairn of Hope. A pile of little pebbles and shells. I picked up a pebble to add to it. As I turned it over, looking at the beautiful almost see through whiteness, I noticed it had a smudged word written on the base.

It said Mummy.

More Saying Goodbye Services will take place this year and into 2013. Find out more at http://www.sayinggoodbye.org

You can also find Saying Goodbye on Twitter at @SayingGoodbyeUK and facebook at http://www.facebook.com/SayingGoodbyeUK