Eergisteren kregen Koen en ik een dreigbrief van de advocaat van AZN, het ziekenhuis waar Jolien dodelijk hersenletsel opliep bij de geboorte. Het spreekt voor zich dat wij kwaad zijn op de personen die wij verantwoordelijk achten voor de dood van ons klein meisje én die ons daarna zo enorm arrogant en grof hebben behandeld. Meer lezen over “16 maand”
Auteur archief:jessievc87
Anger is a part of grief
I’m so incredibly angry. A little over a month ago, the wife of one of my husband’s friends gave birth to her second child exactly six months to the day after our Jolien was “born”. I put that word between quotation marks because when I was 5cm dilated and half an hour after they placedMeer lezen over “Anger is a part of grief”
This landscape
Daughter, Daughter dearest, Never. Ever. Never ever. Never ever.NeverneverneverneverneverneverNever will I let go of you.Never will I move on from you.Never in the entirety of this life I still have to live. You were born. You stayed for a week.And then you died.You went back to the Source. The Source of Love still exists.It wasMeer lezen over “This landscape”
Color
When we were in the third trimester of our pregnancy, we went to an illustrator specialising in birth announcement cards. In Europe, we have this long standing tradition of sending them when a baby is born. It states the baby’s name, length, weight, the parents and grandparents. We thought of this sweet, innocent girl, sittingMeer lezen over “Color”
Hannah’s Müdigkeit
Evening falling – A soft lamentingEmptiness cradledThe room despairs. Idle armsIn the rocking chairWhat I loveI cannot hold. There to hold:A bear. A framed picture.A little blue urnTucked in baby’s bed. Children’s booksForever openedNever read from. On walls a shadow casted –A sapling cut short. The mother staresInto a future in vain.
Missing her scent
Is there anything more natural than the scent of your own child? That basic instinctual recognition. An olfactory mirror. A mother animal sniffing her young and thinking: this one is mine. A confession. I don’t know the scent of my own child. I mean: I would recognise her if she were here. But I failMeer lezen over “Missing her scent”
What you don’t understand
“Hey, how are you?”Your voice sounds happy and cheerful on the phone. You are my gynaecologist. You know our child died in our arms the day before.I’m trembling. I’m perplexed. Flabbergasted. “This can’t be,” I think to myself.“Good, considering the fact that yesterday our child died in our arms.”“You monster,” is what goes through myMeer lezen over “What you don’t understand”
I (don’t) have a name
I don’t have a name.I don’t know what to do.I am not the person I used to be. Pictures of me smiling, bathing in light, pregnant belly, radiant.Christmas pictures. Us two. No, us three. In love. Walking in nature.Could two people ever be this happy? Ridiculously happy.Happy and contented in the sun.An apparent Sunday’s child.Meer lezen over “I (don’t) have a name”
Forever Jolien’s mom
Dear fellow grievers, I’m Jessie. I’m 32 years old and live in the northern part of Belgium, Europe, with my partner (and soon to be husband) Koen and our two cats Jack and Jeff. Our baby daughter, our first child, was born a little over four months ago (3/28/19). She died in our arms aMeer lezen over “Forever Jolien’s mom”
My little buddha 