annkitsuetchin-book

7000 rare genes.

2012-03-02T17:32:00.006-08:00

My Chinese grand dad used to tell a Chinese version of Little Miss Bo Peep. The cloud is liken to be our diseased children. One moment, they are there. the next moment they are gone.

29 February was RARE genes day. There are 7000 rare genes diseases.
In New Zealand, the (NSU) provides health screening programmes. http://www.nsu.govt.nz/about/index.aspx

Today, I went to the monthly meetings of Sands. Many of us do not know why our babies die.

The Newborn Metabolic Screening Programme screens for rare but potentially serious disorders such as phenylketonuria (PKU), cystic fibrosis, and congenital hypothyroidism.
A blood sample is taken from your baby’s heel at or as soon as possible after 48 hours of age (the ‘heel prick’ or ‘Guthrie’ test). If a disorder is found, early treatment can prevent permanent damage or death.

Did you know that...

While most babies look healthy, there are some disorders that aren't visible
Early treatment of these disorders can prevent potentially serious complications which can cause permanent damage to the baby or even death
To screen for these disorders, a sample of blood is collected from the baby's heel
The screening is free to babies born in New Zealand (http://www.health.govt.nz/new-zealand-health-system/eligibility-publicly-funded-health-and-disability-services)

How to get your baby screened

Your Lead Maternity Carer (LMC) or midwife will discuss newborn metabolic screening with you during your pregnancy. You will be offered screening for your baby when s/he is 48 hours of age. If you have any questions about screening, have a look at the Frequently asked questions on this site, if there is no answer you can submit a question from that page.

Global Genes Project and Fund

2012-02-25T13:02:00.016-08:00

My Andrew born 29-9-1989, died 22-11-1989, aged 55 days. He had Campomelic dysplasia. They think his gene SOX9 is faulty. Babies are still dying.

My friend, Ellen had two CD babies :
Happy 8th birthday sweet Angel! Avery bravery! Born at 9:04AM eight years ago today.
Avery was born 2/21/2004. She lived 33 hrs and died 2/22/2004. Hope was born after Avery. The doctors did not believe that we could ever have another child with Campomelic Dysplasia.

http://www.facebook.com/globalgenesproject
Global Genes Project and Fund
Non-Profit Organization · Dana Point, California

WORLD RARE DISEASE DAY

World Rare Disease Day is a time when the global community comes together in unity, to build voice, awareness and support for the hundreds of millions of patients and their families affected by rare disease.

The Global Genes Project™ is a campaign sponsored by the RARE Project helping individuals and organizations to participate in this annual Day Of Unity.

Show your support, find resources, and for ideas on how you can help raise RARE Disease Awareness on World RARE Disease Day.

Can you help us spread our "1 Million People for Rare Disease" message so our voices can be heard in Washington? Share with family, all of your friends and on your personal pages. Ask them to join together with us and others in the rare disease community who are fighting for treatments and cures. Rare Disease Day is Feb. 29.

Please also join the discussion at www.rarediseaseday.org or www.rarediseaseday.eu.

For questions related to Global Genes Project and World Rare Disease Day activities, please contact Amyg@rareproject.org.

Plunket and me

2012-02-24T11:06:00.011-08:00

I’ve signed up as an online collector for Plunket's 2012 Appeal.

Plunket’s Appeal raises vital funds for a wide variety of services , such as parenting education courses, car seat safety schemes, education in schools, toy libraries and many other valuable resources and programmes.

In the 80s, I was a young mum 3 times. I had no family in New Zealand. Plunket was family to me. Plunket's care was epitomised when I was sick when I was pregnant with Andrew and after he had died. I could never repay what Plunket did for me. I tried by collecting door to door, I tried by writing about Plunket. I wrote in detail about Plunket's help in my book and in my other posts.

Diary of a bereaved Mother http://annkitsuetchin.blogspot.co.nz/

http://ann-mythoughtsandphotos.blogspot.co.nz/2010/11/christmas-in-rocket-park-2010-and.html

http://annkschin.blogspot.co.nz/2009/06/plunket-society.html
These services rely on community support to keep going. Your support will assist Plunket to give every New Zealand child the best start in life.

Please consider making a small donation, every dollar counts. Thank you for your support!

This year they're trying something a bit different: an online version of the traditional street collection. Please click on this link:

http://appealcollector.plunket.org.nz/collect/annchinplunketappeal

ann Chin

Christchurch earth quake baby victim. Jayden

2012-02-23T03:05:00.001-08:00

In the forest, a little sapling is trampled down and killed. Today, at the anniversary of the terrible earthquake and his death, I think of his mum.

Photo: courtesy NZ Herald.

On Feb 22, 2011, an earthquake jotted Christchurch. Among the 185 who perished, baby Jayden made me cried most.

His mum, Tracey made sure he didn't die in vain.

Christchurch earthquake: Baby's death sparks trust
By Vaimoana Tapaleao
5:30 AM Wednesday Mar 2, 2011

As eight-month-old Jayden Harris is laid to rest today, a trust named in his honour will look to help other children with head injuries.

Jayden, one of the youngest victims of the earthquake, was killed instantly last Tuesday when a 21-inch television fell from a chest of drawers on to him.

It was revealed mum Tracey had tried desperately to protect her son, but the force of the earthquake had knocked her off her feet.

The trust was set up after housewife Clare Smith, of Lyttelton, read about Jayden's story in the newspaper.

"At the end of the story it said his mother, Tracey, wanted to create a trhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifust to support children with head injuries ... " she said.

"It really touched my heart and it made me cry."

Mrs Smith had donations from friends for a different project and after reading Jayden's story felt some of that should help his mother's dream come true.

People can donate at any Westpac branch to the Rainey Collins Trust, 03 0566 0082260 02, reference: Jayden.

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10709590

Reminders, reminders, reminders.

2012-02-17T10:39:00.000-08:00

I teach English as a Second language and withdraw children from from class rooms to my teaching space. My school is renovating parts of our building, and now I am banished to the Wild west. Yesterday, I was walking this Columbian kid and the sky was dark.
He said, " We better go fast, there is thunderstorm."
The rain started pelting down on us.
Last night, I was having dinner at a friend's house. We were sitting in her covered deck, but the rain came down like a waterspout. So we had to move the table.
This morning, I listened to the TV news as I blog. I hear the word "Waikumete" and turned around to watch the TV screen."
We had so much rain in West Auckland in the "Waikumete" area, there are flash floods. Houses and cars are flooded.
Why does "Waikumete" make me turn my head?
Andrew's grave is there. I hope the flood doesn't sweep away the graves.

I posted The World Day of Prayer which I am involved for Malaysia. It will be on 2nd March, 2012.

My very good friend and adopted sister, Jenny Yau-Peng Chew facebooked me: 2nd of March, never slip out of my mind....Ah Koh passed away on this day exactly 12 years ago on this world day of prayers! Right timing, we will all pray together for him. Thanks

Ah Koh was my very first student when he was 13 and I was 18. He died so young. I have adopted their mum as my mum, and I put this photo as the leader photo of my facebook.

Here in August, with my KAI/ adopted mum Mrs. Chew Tien Kui. There we are, two bereaved mums.

Why the parakeet photo?

A pair of parakeets come to my apple tree and eat my apples. I watch from inside my house, and they are there for a long time. The moment I get to the garden, they fly away. They are like our departed loved ones, you can see them, but when you approach them, they fly away.

Thinking of you, Megan.

2012-02-08T15:54:00.001-08:00

It is Christopher's 26 birthday.

Megan's heart is far from celebrating and cooking a storm,

Christopher won't be surfing,

Christopher won't be windsurfing.

Megan and Christopher never walked on a beach as mum and son.

Megan wants no expensive flowers.

Because a horrible thing called SIDS took Christopher away.

My poem for Megan today.

It is Christopher's 26 birthday.

Megan's heart is far from celebrating and cooking a storm,

Christopher won't be surfing,

Christopher won't be windsurfing.

Megan and Christopher never walked on a beach as mum and son.

Megan wants no expensive flowers.

Because a horrible thing called SIDS took Christopher away.

Sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) is the unexpected, sudden death of a child under age 1 in which an autopsy does not show an explainable cause of death. Symptoms: Almost all SIDS deaths occur without any warning or symptom

Megan Lee Facebook
Happy Birthday, Christopher Matthew. 26 years ago today, you came into my life, and you taught me so so much. I miss you just as much today, as I ever did. You are now, and will always be, my firstborn son, and you will always hold a special place in my heart. I love you son. Now, forever, and for always.

Today at 12:00am until Tomorrow at 12:00am

Wherever you are ~ No need to leave your home.
This is a virtual event. You don't need to go anywhere, or do anything much, except spend two minutes thinking of a special, precious little boy, who passed away far too soon, on May 30, 1986. He was 3 months, and 3 weeks old. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥urfing,

painting in the sand

2012-02-03T21:48:00.000-08:00

When we were doing the documentary "It's Okay to cry", GLENNA CASALME, Associate Producer told me about Carly Marie. She too is a bereaved Mum and her project to heal was to paint in the sand. http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/

I am not artistic like her, I can't duplicate her work, though my kids have written names and drawn love hearts in the sand.

I recall having taken these photos, and God is the ultimate artist and healer. God painted these scenes. Today, I attended our Sands monthly meeting. I go there to support newly bereaved mums because when I was newly bereaved, a bereaved mum of 17 years was there to comfort me. She was God's nurse and 22 years on, I am trying to fill that role.

We talked about Rainbow kids. I am thankful for my rainbow kid, Sam. Without Sam, I would not even have looked at this baby playing in a hole in the sand.

I want to thank Catherine Dodd of Australia, who is a bereaved mum herself. She told me about rainbow kids and reminded me of Carly's work.

Sands Manukau and KidzGrab.

2012-01-31T03:46:00.000-08:00

When the Documentary, "It is Ok to cry!" which featured me on National TV, there was another group of women who were featured. They are the Sands Manukau. These ladies work hard in helping newly bereaved mums while they are bereaved themselves.

Recently I befriended AnneOChen on the committee.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder

KidzGrab: a company with a big heart.

FUNDRAISER FUNDRAISER FUNDRAISER FUNDRAISER FUNDRAISER

We are very excited to be raising funds for Sands Manukau for the next month starting on February 2nd at 7am on www.kidzgrab.co.nz

We will be selling their Inkless Hand and Footprint sets for them to raise the $30,000 a year it costs to fund the awesome work these guys do.

Sands Manukau is a registered charity providing care and support to parents grieving the death of their baby during pregnancy or up to a year after birth. "We believe that making memories is a critical part of the grieving process and allows parents the opportunity to bond with the baby in the short time available. We provide Care Bags for all families that come through Middlemore Hospital, as well as offering phone support, monthly support meetings and a bi-monthly magazine"

The inkless kit (yes inkless no mess!!!) will go on sale at 7am 2nd February and ALL PROFITS will go to Sands Manukau. Please pass this on to as many people as you can and support the incredible work these folks do in our community.

Rainbow children: My darling Samuel

2012-01-22T15:14:00.000-08:00

Last week, I learn for the first time the term Rainbow babies from a fellow bereaved mum, Caterine from Australia.

Rainbow babies are conceived after the lost of a baby.

"Rainbow Babies" are the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it does not mean that the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and the clouds. Storm clouds may still loom over but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy, and much needed hope.

Many mums for various reasons choose not tohave rainbow babies, and many well meaning people tell them, " You will be alright, you can soon have another."

For me, my rainbow baby came 7 years after Andrew died. I had not planned for him. I went through hell during my pregancy because I was worried I would have a repeat of Andrew.

1996 Samuel, the final chapter

He hears your cries,
He sees your tears,
Enough is enough!
He dries your tears.
He makes you laugh.

In January 1996, I thought I was having gynaecological problems. Every morning I met with my older friends doing Tai Chi. They were menopausal women so we talked a lot about women’s problems. I was bleeding when I shouldn’t be bleeding, and was dry when I was supposed to bleed. Once, I had a gush of blood rushing down my legs. I was really frightened. I went to the doctor and she said, perhaps the pills did not suit me, so she prescribed another type. She did this twice.
Around Easter, I told my neighbour Dorothy Debrah from Ghana. She was training to be a dietitian in England.
She asked, “Are you sure you are not pregnant? Some women bleed when they are pregnant.”
I had no symptoms of any kind, no nausea and no craving for particular food. I was climbing up and down a steep slope gardening. Dorothy frightened me and I insisted that CO took me to the doctor. We went to her and she wrote me a referral letter and rang the gynaecologist for an urgent appointment. We went to Dr. Selina Chua straight away. Dr. Selina Chua listened to me, and read the GP’s letter. She told me to get on the bed and hooked on the machine. The machine went Bop! Bop! Bop!
She said, “Congratulations, you are pregnant.”
I burst into tears. She was baffled. I was married and why was I crying? CO told her about Andrew. Selina was a very understanding doctor. Immediately she rang the radiology department to make reservations for a very urgent ultrasound scan. She recommended that I had an amniotic fluid test because I was 42.
Dr. Chua explained the options I had. I didn’t have much choice. I was too far advanced in my pregnancy to have an abortion by D & C, and scrape the baby away. I would need an induction to deliver the baby if I wanted to get rid of him. By induction, the hormone prostaglandin is intruded into the cervix. This hormone softens my cervix; the induction mimics the process of natural labour. Prostaglandins will usually cause ‘period type’ pains in the back or lower abdomen and these result in my cervix opening a little, to enable the midwife or doctor to break my waters. This artificial labour can be tiring and painful, and until the baby is expelled. Either way, the baby is killed in the process.
Selina said, “Let us not worry prematurely, and wait till we get the scan results.”
This didn’t pacify me a bit. I was crying and crying.
God in his infinite wisdom planned it that when I found out I was pregnant at 28 weeks; it was too late for a normal abortion. If it had been earlier on, there was no telling if I would have aborted the baby. The odds were too much against me. It was literally hell I went through when I had Andrew. Would I have the strength or be stupid enough to go through it again? I seriously contemplated getting rid of it. I remembered Olwyn Dickson telling me that it was terrible for a woman to go to labour knowing she was having a handicapped child. It was worse for me, I was going to have not only a handicapped baby but one that would die. My world had turned upside down, and helplessly, I was hit over and over by a sledgehammer.
They couldn’t scan me straight away because the clinic was closed for lunch. We had an hour to wait. We went to the cafeteria and I told CO I couldn’t eat. Food was the last thing on my mind. The horrors of the 55 days with Andrew flooded back. I was on tenterhooks. History was repeating itself. What had I done to deserve this? CO ate his lunch and I sat crying. I didn’t care that the other patients and their friends were looking at me.
The radiologist came back from his lunch and was very good when he did the scan. He had never encountered a Campomelic baby, and we told him, the most important sign was the femurs bending; you will see a kink.
I remembered telling him, “Check the femurs! Check the femurs!”
He reassured me that the baby was normal. I didn’t want anyone to say my baby was normal. The last time Dr. Tan said my baby was normal, my baby died. He told me the baby was a boy. I got no joy from this news. I think it was CO who told the technician to tell us the sex of the baby. All my previous three pregnancies, I hadn’t wanted to know. I wanted the element of surprise. CO later said, he thought if I knew I was having a boy, I might feel better. It didn’t.
We went back to Dr. Selina Chua. She made an appointment for the amniotic test. I was so confused and worried. Dr. Selina Chua informed my GP. My GP was very worried. The contraceptive pills she had prescribed me were very potent. There were a lot of male hormones. If the baby was a girl, she would be very masculine. I was thinking about the Campomelic SOX9 sex reversal. She rang CO to tell him this information and told him we were better to have an abortion.
This year in 2010, there was controversy over a gender row concerning champion South African runner Caster Semenya. She was suspected of being a man or of having male sexual organs. There were reports that claimed sex swap tests had shown she was a hermaphrodite. I thought of Andrew and other Campomelic babies whose sex was ambivalent. When people discuss Semenya, I refrain from saying, you don’t know about being Campomelic.
We had the whole issue of debate about abortion again, and I was worried. Though the scans showed the baby wasn’t Campomelic, I was worried that the scans were wrong. I went to the amniotic test. It was the biggest syringe needle I had seen; the technician injected the long needle near my navel. I asked if the needle would poke the baby, and she said no. The fluid the technician drew out was dark brown, almost black. I asked her why; she said she didn’t know. That was probably caused by the bleeding I had been having. The contraceptive was not foolproof; the human body sometimes gets tired of it. That was how I got pregnant, when my GP changed the contraceptive pills.
I was worried sick, and getting depressed. I was a mental wreck. The amniotic test results came back. Baby wasn’t Down Syndrome. We told Deborah and Gabrielle that they were going to have a baby brother.
Deborah aged 12, asked, “He is not going to die, is he?”
I said, “No,” without conviction.

*********

To me, it’s like God saying, “Sorry for taking Andrew, I am making it up doubly.”
Time has diluted the grief in me. Having Sam helped a lot.

Thursday Theme Song: Leaving on a jet plane

2012-01-18T13:01:00.000-08:00

My husband got a job as a lecturer in Nanyang Technological University. We were leaving in July 1990. As I was packing my things, John Denver kept singing this song. I was singing it to Andrew.

We went one last time to Andrew's grave. The mum who had buried two young sons next to Andrew told me, "Go in peace, my two boys will take care of your son. When I come, I will bring some flowers for your baby." She hugged me, and only a mother who has bereaved herself knew how I felt.

All my bags are packed I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
But the dawn is breakin' it's early morn
The taxi's waitin' he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I tell you now, they don't mean a thing
Every place I go, I'll think of you
Every song I sing, I'll sing for you
When I come back, I'll bring your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go

Guitar Solo

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time let me kiss you
Close your eyes I'll be on my way
Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times, I won't have to say

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh baby, I hate to go

Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go

http://youtu.be/f4hsC0nRvZM

http://hootin--anni.blogspot.com/

hootin--anni has a new meme.
IT'S ALL ABOUT MY NEW MEME THAT I HOPE SOME WILL FEEL LIKE JOINING IN ON THE CHALLENGE AND THE FUN [at least I hope the weekly challenge will be fun!]. It's loosely based on song lyrics [recorded songs since the beginning of time to today] and associating them with photos of yours...as I've done in the past...If you click on the link above, it'll take you to the Meme's Homepage for rules and buttons. There will be a Mr. Linky Widget for each individual week also. Do consider joining me sometime. Hope to see it flourish in time.
http://hootin--anni.blogspot.com/

Bereavement: Drowning.

2012-01-15T21:40:00.000-08:00

It is summer here, and so is swimming and water sports. I just watched the news that there are two drownings.

http://annkschin.blogspot.com/2009/01/warrior-star-drowning-at-bethells.html Bethells Beach, west Auckland, where the rising rugby league star twenty years old Sonny Fai was presumed to have drowned late in 2009. This is a favourite post of mine when I teach my students about water safety. They know about their sports hero, and this will sink in their little head.(Sorry the pun). The students especially remember this drowning and whisper, " He died!"

I was at a public reserve, (I decided to keep this place anonymous) when I saw something red in the bush. I wanted to go over to take a photo for my Ruby Red and Rednesday meme. Upon getting closer, my heart sank. Someone had drowned there. I don't think this is grave, but a memorial. A mother has lost a son. A waka/boat had stopped sailing.

Just recently, in Kuching Sarawak where my Dad chose to live his last days, there was a serious flood. Two persons died, a young student and her rescuer. The found the bodies at Sungai Maong, Kuching, Sarawak after the flash flood that hit Kuching last 2 days. It is harrowing, I lived in this area before I came to New Zealand. The victim wasn't even swimming, she was driving her car and the king tide and heavy rain caused these tragedies.

Read more: Kuching flood victim body found... - Galleries - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/galleries/kuching-flood-victim-body-found-1.29067#ixzz1jeXQH8Lm

When I was very little, my grand dad used to tell us about the drowning of his 4th son.

Here is the excerpt.

I thought of two women in my family who lost their children. One was my paternal Grandma Chan. First, my fourth uncle, aged four, drowned swimming in Rejang River in Borneo.

We were frequently told how my Grandpa Chan cried aloud.

He lamented, “God, why did you take this favourite son of mine? Why couldn’t you have taken one of the others?”

Even when he was in his seventies, he was telling us his loss and how all the women folk sighed and shook their heads. He might be a grieving dad, but he shouldn’t have cried to his god to take one of his other sons. He gave him a grand funeral, which was unheard of at that time for a little boy. That little boy had a younger brother to call him, “Ah Ko” which meant big brother, so it was fitting that he had a funeral and be remembered.

Every year, at Ching Ming Festival, Grandpa led all of us to pay respect to his poor son. Forty years later, Grandpa, aged almost eighty, wanted to move Fourth Uncle’s remains to a new cemetery to a new grave next to his, Mum and Dad and Grandpa went to dig some dirt to put in a little box. It was a symbolic gesture to remove his remains. Mum said that Grandpa dug and dug, and there was nothing. It was very hot under the tropical sun, Mum told him to stop, he would find nothing. He refused; eventually he found a sole of a tiny shoe. Mum said that Grand Pa had loved his son very much. He had buried his little son in a pair of leather shoes when most people walked barefoot at that time.

New Bereaved Mothers in Sibu, Sarawak, Malaysia

2012-01-11T13:35:00.000-08:00

Bereaved Mum Kong Yien Yien with one of her murdered children Amy. She posted a photo of herself and her dead daughter, Amy Ling with a heart wrenching message in Mandarin on her Facebook asking "Why did you kill my lovely daughter".

Photo courtesy of http://www.sarawakupdate.com.my/2012/01/victims-mum-post-heart-wrenching.html

http://ollieartgallery.blogspot.com/
Sibu Born artist Oliver Wong's : Cry of Desperation.

Sibu, town of my birth,

Last week, I wrote that I reconnected with many of my friends through Facebook. Especially with many of my friends from Sibu, the town of my birth that I had left in 1974. I said I would post photos for you. But I didn't anticipate posting this. But as a self appointed spokes person of bereaved parents, this is one that is from the heart.

Something horrible happened to the town of my birth recently. There are two sets of murders. In a small town, when such news made headlines, and with the internet, is made known world wide.

On January 6, 2012, Ling Tong Huat, his aged mother, Leong Nguk Lan, 76, daughter Amy 7, son David aged 10 were bludgeoned to death in their house on Monday morning at about 7 am at Oya Road.

Two women became bereaved mothers. Kong Yien Yien, birth mum to Amy and David, and serious injured Kevin. Though she had left the family home, nobody can take away the fact that she gave birth to them. Kevin is still in the intensive care unit with head injuries.

Li Xiao Lan, the step mother. How cruel could it be that she, the second wife, aged 28 was in police remand to facilitate investigation. and suspected of killing the family. She has since been released.

Sibu is a closely knit town, almost everyone knew everyone. I am wondering if Yien Yien is related to me, a "sweet potato/ kumara" relative, a term affectionately used in Sibu. Yien Yien and my mum shared the same surname.

That day of the funeral, they buried 3 generations, the most tragic was for them to bury their children. In my book, I wrote. the worst tragedy is for a white head to bury a black head. This is not supposed to be, a child should by logic , bury a mum, but this is not meant to be. Here Yien Yien and Xiao Lan did what I had to do, 22 years ago. That is bury our children.

I sadly tell you that you are now members of a club, bereaved parents, No body wants to join this club, but we are forced into it. My thoughts are with you and it is OK to cry.

Thank you, my ex student Kong Hie Ding and new face book friend Raymond Tan Chok Hui for the news.

January 11, 2012, Wednesday, Another mum became bereaved. Man in his 40s shot multiple times at Brooke Drive

http://www.theborneopost.com/2012/01/11/another-sibu-businessman-murdered-latest/#ixzz1jBqJiS1w

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder

Artist Oliver Wong: Still Born

2012-01-07T20:02:00.000-08:00

Oliver's painting "Still Born" My painting is to portray the emotions and feelings the parents have gone through having lost their babies.

http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Oliver when I knew him as a university student in 1978 in Auckland New Zealand.
http://ollieartgallery.blogspot.com/

Is it ESP or is it what the artist Oliver Wong says:it is just a coincidence I paint the "Still Born "painting. Now reading your blog makes it more meaningful..the emotions parents gone through...

I knew Oliver when I first arrived in Auckland in 1978. We come from the same town, Sibu in Borneo. I stayed with other flatmates, most of them from Sibu, and in fact we were called the "Sibu House." We were both in Auckland University, and like many others from Sibu, Oliver came to my flat, especially when there was a rugby game when the boys hosted a BBQ. We, from Sibu have a special affinity or bonding. Oliver left after his studies and returned to Malaysia. We stayed on, and I did not see him again.

This year when I started Facebook, it was like opening Pandora's box. Friends from my past started flying out of the box. I saw him in a mutual friend's Facebook, and I contacted him. Initially, he couldn't recall me, which was a disappointment. But I persisted and bingo, it's like 30 years separation never existed.

I found Oliver shares a lot of my interests, our mutual love for protecting the world and spreading this message. Oliver has a special gift. He is an artist. Last night I told him about my book, and gave him the link to my youtube: "It's ok to cry."

He posted this painting for me, aptly titled "Stillborn". I asked his permission to post the painting for all my bereaved parents, and Sands. It is a very sensitive topic to talk about, and Oliver had done it in painting.

Ka Pai and Paki Paki.
Oliver would know it means in New Zealand, good job and clap clap.

I sent my draft to Oliver to edit:

"Wow what a beautiful write up..seems like your thoughts just flows through your writing..impeccable ..I would be honored to let you share my painting "Still Born" to all the bereaved parents and Sands. I like " Still Born" instead of Still Birth, actually which is the correct terminology? ( Oliver, both can be used)
How did I start to paint such sensitive issues.. My paintings are mostly accidental..I normally started with a blank..then I just draw lines, add in colors and bingo!

"Still Born" came to my mind. It is a sad painting. Then I thought to myself "Who would want to hang this painting on their wall" You know us Chinese , very pandan one (Pandan means supertitious)..So it was left in the drawer until I saw your clips "It is OK to CRY". Only then I realised you and me are talking about the same thing.

Coincidence? I believe God works in a miraculous way..During that time, I painted another one which I like very much but not my wife. I called it the Miracle of Life..A pregnant woman, I just love the shape of the pregnant women..I will post it for you later..Looking at Miracle of Life..I was thinking how so many people take life for granted..that it took nine long months for the baby to come out and during that time hoe the mother have to loving caring the baby around. And those parents who so desperately want a child but cannot conceive.

This is a maudlin story, a very Melancholic topic. Oliver has done it beautifully. Thank you Oliver. Those of you who are fortunate never to have this topic affect you, thank your lucky stars or your God.

Here for all my friends who had still births, for Megan, Ellen, G, and those mums I met at Sands. , Sands Auckland,http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sands-Auckland-Central/112396652171998?ref=ts, Sands Manukau, http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002307489292 and those in the Campomelic group.http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/campomelicfamilies/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder

Tragedies:

2012-01-06T19:08:00.000-08:00

Jacaranda Mimosifolia The jacaranda tree is a tropical beauty with its clusters of fragrant, purple, trumpet -shaped blooms. For all the trees that were chopped prematurely. I chose this Jacaranda tree, the last time I was with mum in 1986, we were walking around the streets of Gold Coast. We both marvel how beautiful this purple tree it. I took this photo yesterday, and had no idea I would use it today.

With this morning's hot air balloon accident in New Zealand, I thought of the many bereaved people left behind by the eleven who died. There are bereaved parents, grand parents, spouses, and children. Those who died, hopefully were in pain for a short time when the fire exploded. But it is those left behind who are suffering the excruciating pain for a long time. Some of the family were actually following the hot air balloon and saw the tragedy unfold in front of their eyes.

The first time I experienced a youngish man's death, was my dad's very good friend. He had gone to England with dad in his late 20s. They continued to be good friends when they came back to Borneo. When he was 40, he collapsed and died of a heart attack. I was 15, and his oldest daughter was 14. Dad and mum took me to visit her mum and her. Mum said, I was nearest to her in terms of age. We went to her home in the evening before the funeral. I went and talked to her, and said something like I am so sorry, that she was so young and her dad died. We were not in a huggy culture. I can't even remember if I held her hand. I cried for her and for myself that I was glad my dad was alive.

When I was 33, mum died tragically in a terrible accident in Australia. Dad didn't want me to go to her funeral because I was at my late stage of pregnancy. Mum was 60, and I took this very hard. I couldn't sleep for many months, and my solace was writing. I wrote about mum as a child, I wrote about mum as our mum. Mum of 9 kids.

Recently, my brother Joseph told me that cousin M's husband aged 50 was very sick with cancer. His next email was he had died. I had never met this man. Cousin M was much younger than me, something like 10 years and I had not seen her more over 35 years. I cried for her. I recall one incident we cousins had which is in the niche of all those present. I wrote in my posts in my other blogs of the playground. I sent an email to her brother to send my condolence.

Poor M, she was very young when her husband died. He left behind two daughters in their early twenties. Last month, I was liaising with her sister C when we chatted briefly about M's bereavement. Then I connected with A who commented on C's Facebook. I asked her who she was, and she replied that she was M's daughter. Bereavement is not easy for her.

When I wrote my book, one of the reasons was to help the bereaved. I told A that I would like to do a post on her in light of the hot air balloon accident this morning in New Zealand.

I want to tell my cousin M that it is OK to cry, to niece A and her sister, cry, you don't have to be strong, and to all the bereaved families of this morning's tragic event, CRY!!!!!

Hot Air balloon in New Zealand

2012-01-06T12:44:00.000-08:00

We have breaking news. Multiple deaths in hot air balloon disaster. Police have confirmed several people have died in a hot air balloon at Clareville in the Wairarapa.

Police say they were notified of the incident just before 7.30am.

The local health board has confirmed that 11 people have have been killed in the crash at the showgrounds, beside State Highway Two.

Former ONE News operations manager Don Cunningham lives in Carterton and saw the balloon take off at the normal time of about 6.40am.

Cunningham said he heard the gas burners going and saw the canopy going down in what looked like a controlled descent behind the trees at about 7.15.

Conditions were perfect with hardly any wind, Cunningham said, adding that the balloon wasn't moving very quickly. He said he heard screaming and shouting and saw a big pall of smoke.

There are a lot of bereaved people from this accident. Bereaved parents, bereaved spouses, bereaved children.

My photo was taken early one morning at my brother Charles' house on the Gold Coast. I was talking with him and my sis in law who had been up on one. I said I didn't know the fun of being up in a confined space for 3 hours. I think I said something which amounted to "opening my smelly mouth."

The Transport Accident Investigation Commission has opened an inquiry into the accident. An investigation team is being assembled with the first two of up to four investigators due on the scene about midday.

For the living

2012-01-06T11:42:00.000-08:00

In my book, I wrote about a special friend, a cyber sister. I wrote about the Chinese saying, "TUNG BING SIANG LIEN", loosely translated as birds of the same feather flock. E lost two children to Campomelic dysplasia, then she had to fight cancer. I knew her through my Campomelic family group, and walked along with her when she first knew she was pregnant with a CD baby. I walked with her with her baby died.

I wrote about hoping that lightning won't strike me again, and here E is, being struck three times. E survived and bounced back.

E is a fighter, she is involved with the global genes project. She is involving her daughter in the heart foundation jump rope for the heart. Here, she is mirroring me, I used to donate to save lives of a pair of co-joint aka Siamese twins and the deaf children in Kenya. I too, got my kids to help me.

Is it through bitter trials, that our lives are strengthened and we have become more resilient?

I love you E and H, and K.

http://www.globalgenesproject.org/wrdd.php
World Rare Disease Day is a time when the global community comes together in unity, to build voice, awareness and support for the hundreds of millions of patients and their families affected by rare disease.

The Global Genes Project™ is a campaign that works to help individuals andhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif organizations participate in this annual Day Of Unity. Global Genes Project™ has put together resources and ideas about how to participate and get involved, garner support or show your support!

Please also join the discussion at www.rarediseaseday.org or www.rarediseaseday.eu for more information on how to get involved.

For questions related to Global Genes Project and World Rare Disease Day activities, please contact Amyg@rareproject.org or click on the links/resources below.

http://honor.americanheart.org/site/PageServer?pagename=aha_landing

Help fight cardiovascular disease and stroke by participating in our fund-rhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifaising events and programs. Your help is needed now and the rewards can last a http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giflihttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giffetime! Without your help, the American Heart Association's lifesaving research and community programs would not be possible. Please volunteer today!

Jump Rope For Heart
Click here to sign up to make your Jump Rope For Heart webpage
https://secure2.convio.net/amha/site/SPageServer?pagename=jump_login

Some kids have special hearts, and you can help them by doing Jump Rope For Heart! Millions of kids across the country are jumping to help.

Hope and her school raise money for the American Heart Association by jump roping

Do we take our deceased babies home?

2012-01-04T12:47:00.000-08:00

A deceased baby is like moss on the rocks. Nobody wants their baby to die. But he did, and the moss is there to remind you of your loss. If you are not careful, and the rock is wet and slippery, you slip and it hurts over and over again.

http://foxnewsinsider.com/2012/01/02/watch-rich-lowry-takes-alan-colmes-to-task-for-comments-about-santorum-deceased-child/

on today’s Happening Now, things turned ugly when Rich Lowry, editor of The National Review, called comments made by Fox News contributor Alan Colmes “contemptible” after he remarked on something Santorum chose to do with his deceased child.

The debate began when Colmes responded to a question on whether or not undecided voters will truly stick by Santorum when it’s time to cast a vote. Colmes answered, saying that his rising support will stop short once people “get a load of some of the crazy things he’s said and done, like taking his two-hour-old baby when it died right after child birth home and played with it so that his other children would know that the child was real.”

A maddened Lowry then cut off Colmes, calling the statement “a cheap shot.”

“To take something that is that personal and that hurtful as losing a child and mocking it like that … that is beneath you, Alan,” he said. “What you’re saying is contemptible.”

Alan Colmes sees the practice of taking a deceased baby home as crazy. Seems to be a situation of making statements on something he knows nothing about. Vicki Culling,from Sands Wellington/Hutt Valley and our previous chairperson has emailed him to remind him that it's not a crazy practice and we do it every day in NZ.

I watched a documentary "5 hours with Raja" where a family had taken their deceased baby home. It was very touching with all the members of the family there to say goodbye to Raja. There was healing. I wish I had done that with Andrew. It was a conflict of culture, we were Chinese in a western society.

Here's an excerpt from my book.

Andrew 24 November 1989 Friday evening.

You left just like that,
In a little white box.
You look down,
And whisper,
I am not there.

Today, Andrew, my longed-for and well-loved son was laid to rest in Waikumete Cemetery. The funeral director tells me that it is the biggest cemetery in the Southern Hemisphere. Do I need a statistic like that?

We didn’t have a pre-funeral gathering. I wish I hadn’t agree to not viewing Andrew’s body after we left him for the autopsy. Chen Onn said it would be too disturbing for me to see his body all cut up. On Wednesday evening, I wanted to go to the funeral home to see him. The funeral director, who was a Polynesian said, I could if I wanted to. But I knew Chen Onn would not agree.

The Chinese brought their deceased loved one home. The body was never left alone. I cried for poor Andrew, lying alone in the funeral parlor. I cried for myself, I had three days, my heart was longing to hold Andrew, but I was in the house void of him.

We were in New Zealand and this was a white man’s culture and custom. I wonder if this helps in a mum’s grieving. Mum had said that the Ibans, the natives in Borneo, even hugged and kissed their deceased. I wanted to do that to Andrew. The Maori hold a tangi and it is similar to the Chinese custom.

When my dad died, we kissed him, we hugged him. My brother Joseph, nephews, nieces, my brother-in-law Kallang and I slept on pieces of cardboard on the floor of the funeral parlour. We took turns to sleep with him every night until the burial. Some of us stayed awake to company Dad.

I sent this to Alan Colmes.

New members to the Bereaved parents club:Darrin and Rachael West

2011-12-31T16:34:00.000-08:00

A little tree has been chopped down before it has a chance to grow. Rest in peace Jackson.

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10776120

This new year, a couple will not be rejoicing. I do not know them personally, but I know them by default. They have joined the Bereaved Parents like me. For we belong to the club of bereaved parents. Membership is not by choice but by compulsion. Jackson lived longer than my Andrew, but their experience is similar to mine. I too knew my son wasn't going to have the chance like healthy children. My thoughts are with you, cry and feel the pain, don't hold back.

Darrin and Rachael West always knew that their son Jackson had only a small chance .
He was born with an extremely rare form of leukaemia that causes purple spots - an illness that saw him dubbed the Blueberry Muffin Baby by doctors.

Despite the odds, the Taranaki couple refused to contemplate the possibility Jackson wouldn't pull through.

Rachael spent 10 months in Auckland while Jackson was in Starship Hospital and said the hardest part had been not seeing her other children, Bradley, 4, and 3-year-old Katie.

Six months ago Jackson underwent a bone marrow transplant. His condition gradually improved, and after all the chemotherapy, hospital visits, scans and blood tests, they had even started to see his true personality emerge. His naughtiness and cheekiness showed all the traits of a normal little boy.

But just before Christmas, doctors discovered the aggressive form of cancer had reinvaded the 21-month-old toddler's bone marrow.

The little battler was given 48 hours to live. He lasted 13 days.

Rachael detailed her torment in a Facebook post on December 28: "Well. It's 12:25 and Jackson has stolen another day.

He is very weak and has deteriorated since yesterday. It is gut wrenchingly horrible to watch someone you love so much succumb to this hideous disease. To watch him fighting to breathe, it's heart breaking. But still he clings on. As much as I want him to live, I want his suffering to end."

Jackson died that night in Taranaki Base Hospital.

Yesterday, hundreds of people attended a ceremony at the Inglewood Town Hall. Friends held simultaneous ceremonies around the country, releasing balloons.

Rachael said they had never given up hope that Jackson would pull through.

Speaking before the funeral, she said: "For us there was no way this was going to happen in our hearts. We have got through so much with him, he was going to grow old.

"In the last couple of weeks we started to see his true personality emerge. We have lots of photos and videos of him and we can look back on that and show our 3- and 4-year-old. We are so grateful that we got to see his stroppiness and cheekiness."

Despite Jackson's illness placing a massive financial burden on them, Rachael and Darrin never sought to publicise Jackson's plight.

But the grieving couple say they are proud of the way Jackson battled every day of his life.

"I want people to know about Jackson," Rachael said, "and to know that with so many horrific stories of child abuse, that there are children that are loved."

Darrin added: "The whole 21 months of his life, this has always been a possibility. It's just been a real roller coaster ever since."

Fundraiser for Jackson's Family( may he RIP)

Your Inner Princess made this truly one of a kind headband/hair clip to raise funds for the West Family, and put it on our online trademe. http://www.trademe.co.nz/436118648. She wrote:
I have a child with cancer, so Jackson's journey is very near and dear to my heart, alone I cant do much to help, but TOGETHER we can. Ka Pai Inner Princess.

Special Needs children,

2011-12-28T12:04:00.000-08:00

I am part of the Change.org which is an online organisation that fight for justice of the underdog.

Yesterday, I got an email petitioning to end abuse of Autistic students in Mercer County, Kentucky. I did a post http://ann-mythoughtsandphotos.blogspot.com/2011/12/sign-petitionstop-mercer-county-ky.html
on my blog and facebook.

As I did the post, I was wondering how it affected me or to many, what is it to me? As a bereaved parent. I was told through the experience of parents who have special needs children, the initial feeling was one of bereavement. They are bereft of the healthy baby/child they have hopes and aspirations they have for the child. Once that bereaved period had past, they learn to accept this child who will have a lot of challenges.

During my stay in the hospital, I met two sets of these parents. I will never forget what they asked me," Is it better that your Andrew dies and you suffer an intense lost, and then you can move on, or is it better if we have a less sick child, but we have to help her all her life?"

No wonder Sandra Baker is fighting for her 9-year-old son Christopher. Fight on Sandra, I am behind you.

Here's from my book: 2 mums.

Andrew shares his nursery with three and sometimes four babies. Most of these babies are just premature and have nothing wrong with them. Occasionally some of them have some problem, and with a lot of medical intervention, they survive with some sort of handicap. They stay in this ward 6 and grow until they reach the magical number of 2.5kg or 5.5 lbs. The mothers then joyfully take them home. As we usually do not discuss our babies, many of the mothers do not know Andrew’s situation.
They are euphoric and tell me, “Don’t worry, your turn will come to take Andrew home.”
I smile at them but cry inside. He won’t be coming home with me.
Andrew is the longest staying baby in the ward. I sometimes joke with the nurses that he’s the oldest swinger in town. It is ironic that his ward is the last room in the promotion line. There were some mums who talked to me about their babies. What else could we do when we sit in the tiny cubicle but talk?
There was Sina’s mum T. She was diabetic, and Sina was very premature. Sina was also hydrocephalic. Her head was growing bigger and bigger and was almost the size of a big balloon. You could literally see her veins and her head stretching as though it was going to pop. Sina had a few operations to insert a shunt to drain the fluid. Sina’s mum T was a big Samoan woman. In her simplicity, she forgot the rule of not asking about other babies or telling them about her own baby. She was worried that Sina would be mentally handicapped. Sina’s cot was just next to Andrew. I think she knew that Sina would be handicapped but didn’t know to what degree. One day when Sina was in the operating room, she held my hand and cried.
She asked me a very profound question, “Ann, is it better that your Andrew dies and goes to Heaven or is it better I have a very sick Sina for the rest of her life?”
I couldn’t answer. I held her hand and cried with her.
I said, not even convincing myself, “Of course, you are in a better situation, you will always have Sina, and I have nothing when he dies.”
Sina was discharged.

On 23rd October, a little boy, Jona, was born with Down Syndrome. His dad was a young church minister of the same denomination as ours. Jona was the third child of the young couple. Our similarities were so alike, except that Andrew was dying; and Jona was expected to live though without the best quality of life. Jona’s having Down Syndrome came as a big shock as they had no antenatal warning. Doesn’t that sound familiar? His mum’s gynaecologist had not picked it up? Jona’s cot was next to Andrew’s and I overheard her talking to the doctor. I was crying for her. It was as if she was living a repeat of Andrew’s tragic story. When the doctor left, I broke the rule of not speaking to other mums about their baby’s condition.
I spoke to her, “I am sorry about your baby.”
We became friends. They had no idea how badly affected Jona was; they too were worried about a very bleak future for Jona. You may be surprised to know this discovery I made. If you remember Sina who had hydrocephalus; I wrote that Sina’s mum asked that profound question, “Ann, I don’t know which is better, to be very sick, but alive, or you have a baby and after he dies, your life would return to normal.”
This question was asked not only by an uneducated Polynesian woman. Jona’s mum was a highly educated Pakeha woman. She too asked that same question. I conclude that it is universal for every mum faced with the prospect of bringing up a very severely handicapped child. What is his future? What is my future? Is it better that he died early?

People who had impacted me.

2011-12-25T16:05:00.000-08:00

1999, the first reunion, our teachers Mr. Johnson from UK, Mrs. Rao from Australia, and Miss mamora.

Miss Fries from Maryland, USA

After my book was published, I had been asked frequently how I got into writing. I won't like to say, "Ghosts of my past," but there was a group of foreign teachers from USA, Uk, and Australia who left the comforts of their homes to come all the way to Borneo. They have impacted me in my thoughts and my character.

Thank you Miss Fries from USA, Mr Johnson from UK, Mr. Gregory (not photographed) from Australia, Mrs. Rao from India, and Mr. Temple from USA. This year I found on Facebook Mr. Funk from USA. Mr Funk was teaching when I was a junior. Happy birthday Mr. Funk.

Rachel Jean

2011-12-21T18:48:00.000-08:00

Stranger things have happened, and this has to be one of the strangest.

I had resisted putting up the Christmas tree, though it's 3 sleeps to Christmas. The water engineer is away overseas on work assignment, and it was just my 15 year old and me.

There was another reason why I was hesistant about putting up the tree. I wrote this in my book, "Dairy of a bereaved mother." which I posted this passage this morning.

"When Andrew died, I gave away all of his things except one, that little brown puppy dog. I kept it with his lock of hair. Then I kept it with my Christmas decoration. Every year, when we decorated the tree, I have told the children this is Andrew’s dog. In my heart, I grieve for Andrew. This is another Christmas he won’t be joining us. I told nobody about this."

We moved to this neighbourhood near Pt Chevalier Beach. The waters are too still to surf, and my 15 year old had been dreaming about surfing for a long time. We went up to Omaha beach on Sunday, bought his wetsuit, and he had become a real surfie junkie.

Yesterday, he came home and told me, I met a friend and he invited me to join him surfing. I asked how old his new friend was and he said 8. As a naturally curious and cautious mum, I wanted to know more. My son gave me the boy's mum's business card. I didn't recognise the company except it was in the media business. I told my son I would email the mum.

She replied and told me she became a widow this year. I wrote," Someone/something brought your son to my son, and then brought you to me."

When I wrote my book, I wrote as a bereaved mum, I not only became a spokesperson for bereaved parents, I also have empathy with all bereaved people, no matter who they have lost.

The Chinese say, "YOU YEARN" or have fate. As this year draws to a close, I thank God for Rachel and Frankie.

The kids are at the beach again, and I went on the google machine. This is what I found about Rachel, and I shed a tear for her.

http://screentalk.nzonscreen.com/interviews/rachel-jean-living-and-laughing

An insight into the making of her documentary Life, Death and a Lung Transplant about her husband’s Cystic Fibrosis and lung transplant
Pauli O’Halloran is just the 96th person in New Zealand to have received a lung transplant.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/auckland/local-news/central-leader/513775/Couple-breathe-easy-as-doco-airshttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
Last updated 15:03 01/07/2008

http://youtu.be/s14nLANczMM

A Sandringham couple has put the hardest years of their lives on the small screen.

Life, Death and A Lung Transplant is the story of cystic fibrosis sufferer Paul O’Halloran, filmed by his wife Rachel Jean.

The documentary spans five years of the couple’s lives, but most of it is based around Mr O’Halloran’s 2006 lung transplant.

He says his lungs had "given up the ghost" and were only working at 21 percent by the time he had the operation.

"I couldn’t do anything. In the last year it got pretty terrible."

The couple were living in Helensville at the time and he could not walk the length of their 50-metre drive-
way without stopping for a rest.

His condition deteriorated and he ended up in hospital more frequently, staying for up to a month each time.

Mrs Jean says a friend who also makes documentaries asked if she could do a story on Mr O’Halloran.

"We said it was fine and I asked if I could have the footage afterwards because I thought I would make a documentary if the transplant happened."

When their son Frankie was born she decided to make the documentary anyway as a record of Mr O’Halloran in case he didn’t survive.

The project became even more important when they had their daughter Violet, who was three months old when her father got his new lungs.

The couple started discussing a transplant with doctors when Mr O’Halloran’s lung function was at 35 percent.

"The specialist used the words ‘on a slippery slope’," she says.

Because the surgery is so risky, doctors started tests early and Mr O’Halloran went before a selection panel.

"It’s one of the hardest surgeries to survive and get through. It’s not fun, but having said that, I would do it again at the drop of a hat if I had to."

Fifteen percent of patients who have the operation don’t survive long enough to make it out of intensive care and only half of the survivors live past five years.

The documentary, to be screened on TV3 tomorrow night, shows the lead-up to the transplant, including the late night call from the hospital to say he had new lungs.

"I happened to have been filming the kids and I had the camera on the table. When I heard the tone of his voice and what he was saying I knew that was it.

"I picked up the camera and started filming," says Ms Jean.
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A documentary maker for 15 years, she has made more than 50 programmes and says having 24-hour access to her subject made this one of the easiest documentaries to shoot.

"A lot of it is essentially home video footage, we just tend to shoot on better cameras than the average household.

"A lot of the time we would pick up the camera and shoot it ourselves."

Because the other camera crews were acquaintances or friends, the project wasn’t stressful for Mr O’Halloran.

"It really wasn’t a big deal, it felt fine."

Although he had a successful transplant in April 2006, Mr O’Halloran had difficulties and finally got his lungs fully functioning again in November last year.

He takes between 30 and 40 pills a day to stop his body rejecting the lungs and maintain his health.

He will be on the medication for the rest of his life.

But it’s all worth it to be able to play with his children and go surfing again.

Before the transplant, he couldn’t even hold baby Violet because the weight on his chest was too great.

"It was fantastic to see her fall totally in love with her father," says Ms Jean.

The documentary ends with family and friends celebrating Violet’s first birthday.

Andrew's dog and Christmas

2011-12-21T16:12:00.000-08:00

October 4th, 1989
I had no recollection who I went with and how I went; or if I did the things I intended to do. I did go to Newmarket and was at the Chemist shop at 277, Broadway. Suddenly, I wanted to buy things for Andrew. I had not prepared anything for him. I grabbed an armful of soft toys, and as I was about to pay for them, a torrent of tears flowed. What was I doing? Andrew couldn’t play with them? Andrew was dying. The girl at the shop saw me and asked if I was okay. She probably thought I was sick. I held the toys to my chest. My poor Andrew, Mum hasn’t given you anything. Eventually I composed myself and chose a little brown puppy with floppy ears and big brown eyes. I gave it to Andrew and put it in the bassinet. Deep in my heart, I had a sense of satisfaction. Sweet Andrew, Mum did give you something after all.
When Andrew died, I gave away all of his things except one, that little brown puppy dog. I kept it with his lock of hair. Then I kept it with my Christmas decoration. Every year, when we decorated the tree, I have told the children this is Andrew’s dog. In my heart, I grieve for Andrew. This is another Christmas he won’t be joining us. I told nobody about this. I wonder what Chen Onn will think when he reads this. In December 2004, Gabrielle and I left Singapore for New Zealand. Chen Onn rang and asked if he could donate the Christmas tree to the students. They were raising funds for the tsunami in Indonesia, Thailand and Sri Lanka. I told him, make sure you keep Andrew’s dog.

I still have the puppy dog and I will keep the dog as long as I live. Then I will bequeath it to Deborah. She knew her brother better than Gabrielle and Samuel.
The morning doctor saw the puppy dog. He said I looked much happier. He suggested that instead of dwelling all the time on the sad situation, perhaps I could think of the good things. He had noticed that I was writing a lot and I had a lot of friends.
He suggested, “You have so many helpful friends, why not write about them? It will be good therapy.”

This children’s song I used to teach my Sunday School class came like honey. Count your blessings, counting your blessings one by one.

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.
I couldn’t remember all the lyrics, but the words “count your blessings, count your blessings” became real and comforting. I thought of all my loved ones, my husband, even though I had threatened to leave him the day before, my two beautiful and healthy girls, and my many friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder

Natalie

2011-12-20T20:36:00.000-08:00

The flowers on this photo is not perfect, it has defects. Just like this story, it is not a happily ever after story.

Natalie with her son Jackson. She found out she had cancer the day before he was born.

In my city of Auckland,
Natalie Murphy died on Monday afternoon,
She bravely battled cancer,
She was only 35.
Two years ago she found a lump in her breast,
On the day before her son, Jackson, was born.
She was told it was cancer a few months later.
Natalie captured hearts with her determination.

My thoughts are with you, Greg and her son.
Tonight you cry, because it is ok to cry.

Diary: Tree House

2011-12-11T15:57:00.001-08:00

As I walk around Auckland, this tree house is nearest to the tree house I once made with my very good friend Brina.

Andrew 10th December 1989

Don’t let his life be in vain,
Do something,
Do something even if you don’t feel like it.

It is a fine line between what reality was and what a dream was. My stress dreams and my reality were rolled into one. They were massive scary, tormenting nightmares. I was a wreck, I wasn’t sleeping, and I wasn’t eating. Even preparing a simple lunch was a chore. I didn’t eat any lunch as I only had Gabrielle at home. I lost a lot of weight and looked really slim but haggard. I didn’t care. I had given up on myself.
The weather was warming up. We have a big oak tree in the front section. Deborah wanted a tree house and had been pestering Chen Onn to make one for her. His procrastination infuriated me. I took the hammer and some planks of wood and proceeded to make it myself. I was stubborn and belligerent
I wasn’t going to wait for Chen Onn. It could be next summer if I depended on him. Brina came over, and we two women went hammering. The house was very crude but it served its purpose. To Deborah, it was the best tree house ever. She and Marisa and Simon had great fun. Deborah still remembers that tree house which her mum and Brina made. The kids laughed and enjoyed the house. Was I happy that I achieved something?
I sat on the stairs of our house crying. I made that tree house, Where was Andrew? I wanted Andrew to enjoy my tree house, to laugh with his sisters and his friends. I wanted Andrew to climb up and down the steps. God! I wanted him back. I cried sad, sorrowful tears. I cried raving, boiling, volcanic lava. I was angry, I was so angry. God! Why did you give him to me if you were going to take him back so quickly? I would rather you never gave him at all. My pain was so incapacitating. I held my hammer in my hand. I wanted to hit the wall. I needed to vent my anger. The house didn’t belong to us, and I couldn’t account to my landlord for the hole if I had bashed on the wall. Chen Onn would be very angry. So I visualized myself doing it, knock, knock, knock!
Deep in my heart, there is a hole. Some invisible being was hammering, and knocking and making the hole bigger and bigger. My heart was gushing with blood. How can my broken heart be whole again? Who can repair it?
Brina came from her house. She made two cups of piping hot tea. She just sat next to me. She knew that was the best thing to do. She didn’t have to say anything. Brina too had buried a son. She understood and she knew the pain. The hot tea scorched my lips, but the pain was nothing compared to the burning in my heart.
It is all very well for people to sing, “It is well with my soul,” These people have never been in turmoil. They have never worn my shoes. My soul had been crushed. If a mirror is cracked, no matter how you repair it, it will never be the same.

Deborah's 5th birthday

2011-12-06T22:50:00.000-08:00

When I started this book blog, it was my intention to post excerpts of my book. I had not done that because it has been so busy this year.

Tomorrow 8th December will be my oldest Deborah's birhday. She is alone in Harbin in China. I am home alone with Sam because the water engineer is on overseas assignment. I think of that particular birthday that Deborah had. The birthday after Andrew had died.

Deborah wearing her dress I made the night before.

A special cake that wowed her friends.

It was Deborah’s birthday on December 8th. In New Zealand, your fifth birthday is a very important day. You start at school on that day. Yesterday, her kindergarten teachers took her to her new school, Maungawhau School, for a visit. She came home all excited: they sang Happy Birthday to her, and gave her a very important chore. They gave her a white mouse to take back to her kindergarten. Her head teacher Margaret said this had never been done before. Margaret had told Maungawhau School about Andrew’s death, and they wanted to make her feel special. On the 7th, they gave her a farewell with a big play-dough cake and gave her a crown for a princess. She stood on top of a pedestal.
On our way home, I promised to sew a new dress for her to start school. I remembered the other promise that I hadn’t fulfilled. I told her that I would sew her a new dress for her to wear to Andrew's funeral. But I couldn't, I simply couldn't.
So off we went to Geoff’s Emporium and bought a length of stretch green stripy fabric to make a dress. That night, when everyone had gone to bed, I sat down to sew. Anyone who sews would tell you that when you sew, you need to give it your full attention to produce a good outcome. I had not slept properly for months, I was not in the right state of mind, but I was determined that I wasn’t going to fail her again. There was a lot of sewing and unpicking. I don’t remember how long it took. I eventually finished it and hung it at her door.
It was all worthwhile when I heard her say, “Mum, it is beautiful” and she gave me a hug.
I was lying in bed when I told her to parade herself and to do pirouettes. We gave her a pink backpack, her stationery, her drink bottle, her yellow lunch box, her new shoes and socks. It was easy for parents to buy presents for their five-year-old to get all their requirements for their first day at school.
Deborah was all set to go to school. Our neighbour Brina’s kids Marisa and Peter had come to take her to school. She was excited, but I wasn’t ready. By the time I was, Marisa and Peter had gone and it was too late for us to walk, so we took the car. Deborah was disappointed. She and Marisa had talked for months about walking to school. I saw the class teacher, and I told her about Andrew. The teacher said she had been told, and she would be watching out for Deborah.
Looking at my little girl going to school in a dress which was shabbily made, and failing in getting her to school on time and upsetting her plans she had made with her friends, must have given me a jolt. I drove home with Gabrielle. No, I didn’t have the motivation and energy to do things. I went on a frantic writing spree.
Yes, that was what I could do, I could write about my feelings. I was struggling with my grief and desperate for an outlet for my pain. My outlet was writing. While I wrote, I told God my pain, I told God my anger, I told God my hopelessness. I wrote to thank all the lovely people at Ward 11A, I wrote to thank all my friends who helped me journey along my hour of darkness. I wrote to my dad, to my siblings, to all my friends who had returned to their home countries in Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia. I wrote to the hospital superintendent to thank her and tell her what a great job the doctors and nurses had done at 11A, Andrea in the crèche, Cherry Thompson in the Nurses’ Home, the check-out operators at Oliver’s, and Wendy Green. I even wrote to everyone at Ward 11A; I remembered everyone, from the doctors to the cleaner, who was involved with Andrew in one way or another. I even remembered most of their names and what special things they did. It was a six foolscap pages long.
It was therapeutic, all this writing. It was like God was saying; cast all your cares on me. I will not forsake you. The young doctor who spoke to me in the beginning days was right when he told me to focus on the good things, like friends who have helped me. Of course, during the early days, it was easier said than done.

We hadn’t celebrated Deborah’s fifth birthday in anyway. She went to bed thinking that we didn’t celebrate because Mummy wasn’t feeling well because baby Andrew had died. I baked her a cake after she went to bed. It was going to be a surprise. I had not baked since we found out that Gabrielle was allergic to egg and dairy products. Before that, Deborah enjoyed baking very much.
I made a rectangular cake, and wove a basket of patterned brown chocolate icing around it. Then I cut part of an ice cream carton and used it for the handle. I filled the top with lots of miniature fruit candies. There were red strawberries and yellow bananas. It really looked very good, like a basket of fruit. It conjured up images of Red Riding Hood taking a basket of goodies to her ailing grandma. If only you could see the photos. I must have stayed up the whole night baking, waiting for it to cool and then icing it. Chen Onn was used to me staying up and not sleeping. Sometimes, he would call me to bed; at other times, he just went to bed by himself. It was useless calling me to bed because I wouldn’t come.
I hid the cake from her, and in the morning, we just carried on as though it was any other day except Dad was home.
In the afternoon, we took Deborah and Gabrielle with Marisa and Peter to McDonald’s at Broadway in Newmarket. It had a nice indoor playground. Deborah thought were were just going to McDonald’s for a meal. There we surprised her with her friends Joy and Craig DeStiger, Miriam and Joanna Finch, Anna and Scott Bettridge, the Teal boys and others. Deborah was over the moon when she saw the cake. She had a marvellous time, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. Birthdays at McDonald’s playground and birthdays were a new thing at that time. An employee of McDonald’s coordinated the games and party favours, so I didn’t have to do much.
I was in turmoil: if only Andrew was alive and was a normal baby, I would be the happiest person in the world. I let the employee conduct the party and I just sat there reflecting. Deborah was our first-born, and Andrew was our first-born son. Having a son is so important to a Chinese family. I had failed Chen Onn, I had failed the Chin family.
Towards the end of the party, my brain was so numb. Someone touched my shoulder. She was someone I had worked with in Auckland Hospital when I was the crèche administrator. Her daughters went to the same Auckland Hospital Crèche as Deborah and Gabrielle. Her older daughter later went to the same kindergarten as Deborah. She had brought her daughters to McDonald’s, and Deborah was glad to see them. I forgot her name, but I remember her face because she was in the photos. We sat and I didn’t say much.
She said, “Still hurting, huh?”

Remembering Andrew

2011-11-21T21:38:00.000-08:00

These booties,
These slippers,
Are never worn and will never be worn.
You see,
They belong to a little boy, 22 today.
Officialdom deems that he doesn't exist.
How wrong they are.
He grew in his mum's body.
He lived for 55 days in her arms.

To be philosophical,
This year, Andrew made his mum known.
They featured a newspaper article on her.
They made a TV documentary.
Thank you, my dearest Andrew.

29 Sept 1989-22 Nov 1989.

Reader's Digest Story Contest.

2011-11-18T16:17:00.000-08:00

Dear all,

Voting ended on November 15th. I did not expect to win as I entered really late, on October 20th. But it was a great exercise. I wanted to bring exposure to baby Loss Awareness and bereaved parents.

I joined the International Catergory, and a quick counting showed I garnered enough votes to rank 4th out of 800 entries. The TV New Zealand You tube clip had more than 400 hits, compared to the other clips that were aired that day.
http://www.youtube.com/asiadownunder#p/c/C9FEF73B56807B22/3/IZk9w-uywAs

Thank you to all who voted, and those who rallied for me.

Thanks,

Ann

When I was young, I always read the Readers' Digest and marvel at the bravery of the mothers who struggled with sick children. When I had Andrew in the hospital, and accepted the doctors' advice that the kindest option was to let nature take it's course. When Andrew didn't die when the doctor predicted, I struggled with myself and spoke to the doctor about those mothers I read in the Readers' Digest, and I wanted to be these mothers, Dr James said that Andrew was different.

Today, I found out that Readers' Digest was inviting people to submit their stories. I am submitting mine for media exposure. But if you like to vote for me, it is appreciated.

"Diary of a bereaved mother"
My journey of having a baby who died and now I am the self appointed spokes-person for bereaved parents. My story is from my heart and will resonate with anyone who has had the misfortune to give birth to a child who has struggled to live. Synopsis: Your baby is dying. Andrew did not die that night as predicted by the doctor, he didn't die after 3 days, 10 days and finally he died at 55 days. Friends did not know whether to congratulate or commiserate us. He was declared dead after his first at 40 days, but he bounced back. That was more excruciating than his actual death. After Andrew, what have I done? Have I become a better person? There are many of the things I am most proud of. I spearheaded raising funds to separate a pair of Siamese twins from Nepal in Singapore. For 16 years, I raised funds for the Deafhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif Children in Kenya. I did the publicity, marketing, cooking and selling. I volunteer at teaching new immigrants.

http://apps.facebook.com/yourlifecontest/content/diary-bereaved-mother

idiots steal from the dead

2011-11-12T00:43:00.001-08:00

In Waikumete cemetery in West Auckland where my son was buried, a gang of idiots, brainless hoons had been removing brass plaques and selling them for $21 each. It cost the loved ones at least $500 to have them made.

These idiots are not young kids. Last year, a 33-year-old Lower Hutt man has been arrested and charged with theft following the disappearance of more than 40 bronze plaques from the Whenua Tapu Cemetery, north of Wellington.

"This kind of offending is absolutely appalling. These plaques honour graves of people's loved ones," Inspector Gary Davey said.

Dan Sales from Waikumete Cemetery said after a search of records it was found out that 13 of the plaques were from their graves.

The plaques were ripped from the resting place of loved ones at the cemetery.

Just scum, just the lowest of the low," said Sales.

"There are certain things that you just do not do in life and one of them is grave rob. People used to be hung for that, graverobbing and I'd put that in that context."

A bronze or copper plaque costs families about $500 but the scrap metal value is just $21 at today's rates.

"It's part of that grieving process and people do like that visual name, they do like to see that name on their loved ones' graves...to take that away it's just unbelievable," said Sales.

Police are still hunting another person in connection to the case.

They say families with missing brass plaques on graves at Waikumete Cemetery should contact them.

My Andrew's plaque is cemented in my heart where nobody can steal.

3 more days to vote:

http://apps.facebook.com/yourlifecontest/content/diary-bereaved-mother

A Mother buries her son.

2011-11-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

http://apps.facebook.com/yourlifecontest/content/diary-bereaved-mother

Last 10 days to vote.

Photos courtesy New Zealand Herald.

This morning, a mother buries her son.
She is no random mother I read in the newspaper.
She is the mother of 4 of my students.
She is someone I talk to.
She is burying her first born.
Sanele was 17.
Sanele was killed by a drunken driver.

This month is Andrew's anniversary month.
I had Andrew for 55 days.
Teevao had Sanele for 6207 days.
I understand Teevao's grief.

I saw Sanele's sister Faith.
She came to school just one day.
I hugged her tightly.
I didn't have to say anything.

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10763549

'I don't want him to die' - anguish at Cup teen's death
By Anna Leask
5:30 AM Thursday Nov 3, 2011

Teevao Pauli sits next to the body of her son Sanele at their home in Pt Chevalier. Photo / Steven McNicholl

The parents of a teenage boy killed on his way home from celebrating the All Blacks' World Cup win wanted him to stay at home that night.

But Sanele Pauli, 17, was so desperate to be part of the festivities that he pleaded with his mother for a week until she let him go.

Now Teevao Pauli must say goodbye to her boy for ever - and is left wondering if he would still be alive if she had not changed her mind just hours before kick-off.

Sanele was on his way home in the early hours of Labour Day and had just stepped off a bus with his brothers when a car hit him in Great North Rd, Pt Chevalier.

He was 500m from home. The Herald revealed last week that the man driving the car was a disqualified driver with three previous drink-driving convictions.

The 38-year-old had a breath-alcohol level of 512mcg - the limit in 400mcg. Police allege he was also speeding.

Mrs Pauli was sitting waiting for her boys to come home.

"The whole week Sanele was asking me. I said, 'No, I don't want you to go," she said. "But I could tell that he really wanted to."

Mrs Pauli eventually agreed to drop Sanele and his brothers Tapu, 15, and Sefo, 14, in Queen St.

"Sanele was so excited. He was the last one to get out of the car. He turned and said, 'Thanks mum,' and I knew he was so happy."

Tapu had a cellphone to call home if they needed a lift, or text if they were taking a bus.

"I stayed up, sitting and waiting for their call. Tapu called me and I heard him crying ... 'Mum, mum, come ... Sanele got hit by a car and he's not breathing'."

Mrs Pauli woke her husband, File, and they rushed to the scene.

"I was crying, I was just begging, 'God, please, God, please, I don't want him to die.'

"When I got there I saw him lying on the road on his own. I asked the policeman, 'Why are you not helping him?' He just comforted us and said, 'I'm sorry, we couldn't do anything. He's already gone.'

"I asked if I could go and hold him and say goodbye, but they couldn't let me. My boys were saying, 'Sorry, mum.' They were blaming themselves for what happened, especially Tapu."

Sanele was crossing the road with Tapu when he was hit. Tapu told his mother he saw the car coming towards them. He was between the car and his brother.

"Sefo got off the bus and ran across the road. Sanele and Tapu stayed on longer to say goodbye to their cousins. When the bus left, they crossed the road. Tapu didn't know if Sanele saw the car. He said it happened so fast. He stopped, he was right there, he was looking at the car ... then he heard the noise of the car hitting Sanele."

Mrs Pauli said the boys were taking their brother's death very hard.

His younger sisters Celyn, 15, and twins Faith and Hope, 7, were also devastated.

"The police tried to explain about the driver but I didn't want to know. Nothing's going to bring my son back. I'm still just trying to focus on my boy. I haven't thought about the driver yet."

Sanele's body has been at home with his family this week. His funeral is on Saturday.

He would have graduated from Avondale College this month and had enrolled in a mechanics course at Unitec. Mrs Pauli said Sanele was a "daddy's boy" and wanted to be a mechanic like his father.

"He was his father's right-hand man. His father relied on him to help with the cars. I'm just asking myself, how do I say goodbye to him when I bury him? How will I accept that? I know I will never see him again."

Mrs Pauli said that if she could say one last thing to her boy, it would be "Go in peace".

"We're praying that he's going to be in heaven. I know he's going to be a good angel - our guardian angel."

Peekaboo: A movie about bereaved parents

2011-11-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

Peekaboo

A powerful and compelling short film looking at baby loss, starring Lesley Sharp and Shaun Dooley.
Finally, here is our teaser for Peekaboo. Please take a watch here, and help us by donating to help us complete our film. Please share this with friends and help spread the word. Hope you enjoy it.
Thanks.

Click here for trailer. It is very sad and solemn. But the who won't be sad when their babies die?
http://www.sponsume.com/project/peekaboo-teaser
www.sponsume.com
Our Story "The gift of life gets taken back but the love goes on and on." We are Big Buddha Films, award winning film company based in the UK. We are making a powerful short film called Peekaboo. Our film looks at stillbirth and terrible suffering it causes to families.

Diary of a bereaved mother

2011-10-30T21:06:00.000-07:00

School reopened last week and I showed some of my students the TV Clip of my interview for the Baby Loss Awareness Week. They said they felt very sad and asked if I was still sad.

We can never get over our loss. One of the blogging things is I had some very good blogging friends. YTSL went on holiday to Japan and her post on "broken" touched my heart.

"This bodhisattva is particularly revered among East Asian Buddhists -- and beloved in Japan, where he is popularly venerated as the guardian of unborn, aborted, miscarried or stillborn infants.

Put another way: every figurine in the photo represents people's unborn, aborted, miscarried or stillborn babies. Looking at them, it's not just their numbers that can overwhelm. For often placed amidst the cold stone or cement statuettes are stuffed toys, tiny shoes and other items associated with babyhood."

I think this is a great idea. It is something symbolic for Mums and dads to do.

http://webs-of-significance.blogspot.com/2011/10/broken-this-weeks-photo-hunt-theme.html

On the other hand, I just read last week that some insensitive people have messed up other children's grave and to the extent of stealing their toys. How callous is that?

In this little grave lies a loved child at Okahu Bay. The parents must have chosen this to represent themselves. It is heart breaking

http://apps.facebook.com/yourlifecontest/content/diary-bereaved-mother
Vote for my story, you can vote once a day. Voting finishes on November 15th. Thanks.

Readers'Digest Entry

2011-10-19T13:06:00.001-07:00

When I was young, I always read the Readers' Digest and marvel at the bravery of the mothers who struggled with sick children. When I had Andrew in the hospital, and accepted the doctors' advice that the kindest option was to let nature take it's course. When Andrew didn't die when the doctor predicted, I struggled with myself and spoke to the doctor about those mothers I read in the Readers' Digest, and I wanted to be these mothers, Dr James said that Andrew was different.

Today, I found out that Readers' Digest was inviting people to submit their stories. I am submitting mine for media exposure. But if you like to vote for me, it is appreciated.

"Diary of a bereaved mother"
My journey of having a baby who died and now I am the self appointed spokes-person for bereaved parents. My story is from my heart and will resonate with anyone who has had the misfortune to give birth to a child who has struggled to live. Synopsis: Your baby is dying. Andrew did not die that night as predicted by the doctor, he didn't die after 3 days, 10 days and finally he died at 55 days. Friends did not know whether to congratulate or commiserate us. He was declared dead after his first at 40 days, but he bounced back. That was more excruciating than his actual death. After Andrew, what have I done? Have I become a better person? There are many of the things I am most proud of. I spearheaded raising funds to separate a pair of Siamese twins from Nepal in Singapore. For 16 years, I raised funds for the Deaf Children in Kenya. I did the publicity, marketing, cooking and selling. I volunteer at teaching new immigrants.

Vote up!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder
http://apps.facebook.com/yourlifecontest/content/diary-bereaved-mother

Sands New Zealand: Stillbirth and Newborn Death Support

2011-10-10T20:15:00.001-07:00

I wear these two Sands bands all the time and talk about Andrew when people ask why I am wearing them.

www.sands.org.nz/

Welcome to Sands New Zealand. We are a voluntary, parent-run, non-profit organisation set up to support parents and families who have experienced the death of a baby.

Most of our members/supporters are also bereaved parents. While we do not know exactly how you are feeling, we have been in similar circumstances. We offer empathy and understanding. We are not counsellors and do not give formal advice but we do offer an opportunity and environment to share experiences, to talk and to listen. We promote awareness, understanding and support for those dealing with the death of a baby in pregnancy, birth or as a newborn, and due to medical termination or other forms of reproductive loss.

http://www.youtube.com/asiadownunder#p/c/C9FEF73B56807B22/3/IZk9w-uywAs

The TV Program was available in New Zealand only.
http://tvnz.co.nz/asia-downunder/s2011-e31-video-4453514

Baby Loss Awareness Week: 9-15 Oct 2011

2011-10-03T01:54:00.000-07:00

When I see the millions of spring flowers on my tree, yet only a few develop into fruits. I see a parallel of many babies who don't survive and have a full life. I think of the bereaved parents whose hearts are hurting this week, their branches once laden with beautiful flowers of promise. But now are empty and barren branches. Ann Chin.

http://www.babyloss-awareness.org

9th Oct-15th Oct.

http://tvnz.co.nz/asia-downunder/ta-ent-index-group-2516087

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=8849706865

http://www.youtube.com/asiadownunder
October 9th, 11am. Sunday TVNZ 1

If you are in New Zealand, you can watch the program online. Click on chapter 3. Watch Sands Manukau mums and a segment of my interview, "Diary of a bereaved mother."
http://tvnz.co.nz/asia-downunder/s2011-e31-video-4453514

diary of a bereaved mother: When you are down, you need a friend.

2011-09-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

I chose winter trees with no leaves for Glenna. I understand her heart is heavy, and she would feel like these trees, gloomy and leaveless.

I told my friend Teresa about Glenna and this week is the 1st anniversary of her baby. Teresa wants to cheer Glenna up.

I knew Teresa from our days as faculty wives in Singapore. Teresa knew how to laugh and make others laugh. http://www.facebook.com/teresa.a.richards2

Here is what Teresa suggested," maybe we can be friends in FB if u can give me her name as I used to helped at the church with single parents and abused women. Maybe we can chat and make her laugh. What u think?" Teresa, you are a great friend.

diary of a bereaved mother: Potters Park

2011-09-09T19:26:00.000-07:00

Glenna took me to Potter's park to shoot some reflection shots for the documentary for the Baby Loss awareness week. This month is appropriate, September is Andrew's birthday month. It is also Glenna's baby JG's birthday.

Potter's park is ideal, I used to take the girls when I was pregnant with Andrew and after he had died. The playground was empty and again I thought how poignant it was, empty playground signifying to me that Andrew and his angel friends were not longer on earth, but playing in the playground up in heaven.

I am the one in the red Lightweight Swing Cardie, it wasn't spring yet, but under the sun. The weather was quite warm. Here we are, two bereaved mums. We are linked together, we both have sons who are angels in heaven.

GLENNA CASALME | Associate Producer | Asia Downunder
Address: 4 Newton Road, PO Box 68835 , Newton , Auckland , New Zealand
Tel: +64 9 360 0803 Fax: +64 9 360 0477

Check out our Asia DownUnder web pages:
http://tvnz.co.nz/asia-downunder/ta-ent-index-group-2516087
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Asia-Downunder/150203195037337
http://www.youtube.com/asiadownunder

http://www.babyloss-awareness.org

Diary of a bereaved mother:The Book Depository. UK orders

2011-09-04T22:43:00.000-07:00

http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Diary-Bereaved-Mother-Ann-Kit-Suet-Chin/9780473187095

Now you can buy my book from UK and they will take orders from all over the world with Free worldwide delivery.

Diary of a bereaved mother: Television Documentary: Baby Loss Awareness

2011-09-04T14:16:00.000-07:00

http://tvnz.co.nz/asia-downunder/ta-ent-index-group-2516087

GLENNA CASALME | Associate Producer | Asia Downunder
Address: 4 Newton Road, PO Box 68835 , Newton , Auckland , New Zealand
Tel: +64 9 360 0803 Fax: +64 9 360 0477

Check out our Asia DownUnder web pages:
www.tvnz.co.nz/asiadownunder
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Asia-Downunder/150203195037337
http://www.youtube.com/asiadownunder
Glenna contacted me to do a documentary of my book and me for the Baby Loss Awareness Week. It will be screened in October. Glenna googled me and invited me for coffee and asked if I was interested.

It is a documentary on how we can make people more aware of bereaved mums and dads and hopefully our sad experience will improve the sad statistics.

Cindy Farquhar, professor of obstetrics and gynaecology at the University of Auckland, says the number of babies who are stillborn or die within four weeks of birth is higher than New Zealand's road toll, Funding for prenatal death support and research, to help reduce these deaths, is minimal in comparison to the millions poured into road safety campaigns, she said.
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10610819

For every 1000 babies born in New Zealand, eight will be stillborn. One in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage. Nearly 600 babies are stillborn or die within 28 days of birth in New Zealand every year. Many parents are bereaved in New Zealand, and in all over the world, but very few people talk about them.

Thank you Glenna and Dave for helping us. Baby Loss Awareness week is on 9th October to 15th October.

Sadly, Glenna herself is a bereaved mum, hence you can appreciate her passion in this subject.

http://www.babyloss-awareness.org

http://youtu.be/IZk9w-uywAs

Diary of a Bereaved Mother:Auckland University.

2011-09-02T20:58:00.000-07:00

http://www.alumni.auckland.ac.nz/uoa/home/alumni/af-benefits-and-services/alumnibookshelf

My book has been added to my alumni, Auckland University's bookshelf. Details of my book are here on their website:

Diary of a diary of a bereaved Mother: Google Books

2011-09-01T04:36:00.000-07:00

My book is listed in Google Books.

http://books.google.com/books/about/Diary_of_a_Bereaved_Mother.html?id=x7OJZwEACAAJ

Google Books (previously known as Google Book Search and Google Print) is a service from Google that searches the full text of books that Google has scanned, converted to text using optical character recognition, and stored in its digital database. The service was formerly known as Google Print when it was introduced at the Frankfurt Book Fair in October 2004. Google's Library Project, also now known as Google Book Search, was announced in December 2004.

Results from Google Book Search show up in both general web search at google.com and through the dedicated Google Books site (books.google.com). Up to three results from the Google Books index may be displayed, if relevant, above other search results in the Google Web search service (google.com).

Subscribing users can click on a result from Google Books that opens an interface in which the user may view pages from the book, if out of copyright or if the copyright owner has given permission. Books in the public domain are available in "full view" and free for download. For in-print books, Google limits the number of viewable pages through a variety of access limitations and security measures, some based on user-tracking.[1] For books that may be covered by copyright and where the owner has not been identified, only "snippets" (two to three lines of text) are shown, though the full text of the book is searchable.

Klaus Peter

2011-08-17T03:59:00.000-07:00

Thou Shall Not Pass
Klaus Peter, 1960-2011

We are sorry to share with all the MyWorld Tuesday and Skywatch Friday participants news of the passing our friend and fellow blogger Klaus Peter. Klaus was an active participant, supporter, and eventually owner/maintainer of Skywatch and the founder of That's My World. He loved nature, photography, and sharing his knowledge and beautiful images with us all. We can't begin to say how much we will miss him.

Today's post on his blog, Virtua Gallery, featured this photo which he titled "Thou Shall Not Pass." It is a fitting tribute and farewell to him, and in his honor we will publish My World Tuesday with the words and graphics Klaus always used. I hope you will join me in dedicating this week's posts to Klaus.

A mum has lost a son, when I read how young Klaus was, I feel for his mother. I am a participant of MyWorld Tuesday and Skywatch Friday, These are two of the earliest memes I participated. Klaus, you will be missed.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Running

2011-08-14T04:34:00.000-07:00

Running for a good cause. When I ran the quarter marathon some 7 years ago with my friend Lydia, I didn't know we could run for a good cause. It was only after I had done it that I was told. What a pity, because I knew a lot of people then, and had been doing a lot of charity work.

My fellow bereaved parents are raising funds through running. Catherine's friends in Australia raised friends Brett and Shelley Pritchard who ran today 14 Aug and raised $535 for Bears of Hope.

There is plans in England for a Sands team to run the Bupa Great South Run in October.

21 May 11 12:54 PM
posted by Catherine Dodd

Our friends are aiming to raise money for Bears Of Hope Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support by completing the City2Surf. We welcome any contribution, great or small, that you could make!

For every $45 I raise, a Bears Of Hope Gift will be donated in loving memory of our precious daughter Eden Hope Dodd.

Through the donation of a bear of hope, parents are provided with the comfort of knowing they are not alone from the very beginning and offered significant ongoing support to heal their broken hearts. All Bears will be donated to Liverpool and Campbelltown Public Hospitals.

Bupa Great South Run - 30 October 2011 - The Bupa Great South Run is held in Portsmouth and it is Britain's biggest and most popular 10 mile road race. It is a fast, flat scenic course ideal for runners of all abilities. If you would like to join Team Sands and apply for a Sands Charity Place or if you have your own and would like to use it to raise funds for Sands, please get in touch with us by emailing fundraising @ uk-sands.org or calling 0845 6520 448

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Design gives back.

2011-08-12T17:09:00.000-07:00

http://www.designgivesback.com/2011/08/welcome-to-miracle-makeover-reveal-charlies-room-video-august-12-18-leave-comments-and-design-gives-.html#comments

My fellow blogger and bereaved mother Marydon has lots in common with me. We both lost our sons. Today, she did a post and invited me to comment.

Mary featured on ~ Charlie Grady aka Charlie Santa ~
www.designgivesback.com I invite you to check this out to watch this incredible and awesome boy.

We are sharing the story of a little boy who is probably a lot like your son, grandson or nephew; he loves cars, trucks & trains. Charlie loves riding his bicycle, also. He is different than most 8 yr. olds in two ways: he has brain tumors & he leads a toy drive to help kids in chemotherapy to have happier holidays. "Charlie Santa" was founded when he was just five & in his first round of chemotherapy. This is one of the reasons he was chosen to be an ambassador for kids with Neurofibromatosis Type 1, & a recipient of a Miracle Makeover.

I have another friend Linda, who is wearing the same shoes as Charlies' mum. Shoes that are too small and pinching her feet causing great pain in their heart.

Designgives back is not screened in New Zealand, but what a great job they are doing,

In my book, I wrote a poem about shoes.

I modify it here,

The hole in the heart is bigger than life,
The hole never mends.
My child has cancer.
Life is never the same again.
Only a fellow mum who has a child with cancer,
will understand another mum's pain
For she wears the same pair of shoes,
For she feels the pinching at the toes.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: sad victims.

2011-08-10T20:55:00.000-07:00

I choose this one frond of a fern found in the bush. Nature has stained it red. Red like the blood of the Kahui Twins, and growing wild in the bush because their mum had neglected them.

If there is a bereaved mother in New Zealand that nobody has anything good to talk about. It is the mother of murdered 3 month old Kahui Twins.Chris and Cru Kahui died of massive abused wounds, and everybody hushed up, and the police and judge could not convict anyone.

In July an author announced the publication of his book in collaboration with the mother. There were national wide protest. Two big book chains will not stock this book. The book will be launched next week.

As a bereaved mother, I don't know if all the drugs and P and her undesirable lifestyle had immuned her. I would not be buying her book.

A Facebook group has been set up urging people not to buy a book written in collaboration with the mother of the Kahui twins.

As the inquest into the deaths of three-month-olds Chris and Cru Kahui inches forward at the Auckland District Court, a Facebook site called "Boycott the Macsyna King Book" has been set up in response to the news that the twins' mother, Macsyna King, is about to release a "tell-all book", written by journalist Ian Wishart.

Chris Kahui Snr was charged and later acquitted of the boys' murder in 2008 and King's involvement has been questioned, including by Kahui's defence team at the trial.

"Somebody like this should not be allowed to profit from preaching her perverted view of the horrific events which led to the deaths of the only two children who hadn't already been taken from her by CYF's," the Facebook site says. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Boycott-the-Macsyna-King-Book/140832719326817

Diary of a bereaved Mother: fellow bereaved mothers.

2011-08-05T00:04:00.000-07:00

In my book, I wrote about uncanny incidences that happened to my life.

Last night it happened again. I got an email from a bereaved mum C, if I had the contacts of another Campomelic family I had told her about.

The thing is, I have not told her about a family I knew, but I knew of another family K who sadly just lost their child.

C replied that was the very family she was looking for.

Our angels in Heaven were leading us to connect each other through email and Facebook.

Something uncanny happened when I read about K, and I asked her if her child had Campomelic. She replied yes, and we became friends. She wrote that she heard about me from a mutual friend before I FB her.

You may not think it is strange, you see, I am in New Zealand, and C and K are in Australia, and we are separated by the Tasman Sea.

The following is copied from C's Facebook.

If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who is important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you are reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift.
Elizabeth Edwards

Here, this post and flowers is for C and K. As an older bereaved mother, I love you.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother:

2011-08-01T22:19:00.000-07:00

http://youtu.be/sNElghttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifDoSNXQ

I used to read and watch Winnie the Pooh with my children. After this video, I will never think of Winnie as just a child's book.

If ever there's a tomorrow when we're not together...

If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. i'll always be with you.”

“Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave.”

“If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever”

“This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life.”
lynnie_buttercup

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Where to buy

2011-08-01T21:40:00.000-07:00

My readers have been asking me where to buy my books. You can buy them in these bookshops and online as well.

The Womens Bookshop http://www.womensbookshop.co.nz/

University Bookshop https://www.ubsbooks.co.nz/bookweb/search.cgi?START=0&STYPE=KW&STEXT=diary+of+a+bereaved+mother

Church of Christ Bookshop http://books.ccnz.org.nz/estore/category/books/biographies.aspx?page=1&filterby=Ann%20Kit%20Suet%20Chin&sortby=0

Wheelers Books.http://www.wheelers.co.nz/ http://www.wheelers.co.nz/browse/search/results/?title=Diary+of+a+Bereaved+Mother

Your Place
http://yourplace.org.nz/index.php?option=com_adsmanager&page=show_ad&adid=14&Itemid=37

http://www.fishpond.co.nz/Books/Diary-of-Bereaved-Mother-Ann-Kit-Suet-Chin/9780473187095

Or you can order from me direct: anncampomelic@yahoo.com.nz or annkschin@yahoo.com

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Sam, a new angel in heaven

2011-07-26T03:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001568143533

It was just recently when I came across Kate Clark on Facebook. She was appealing for funds to buy a special motorised wheel chair for her son. I read the features of her son, and I decided to ask her if her Sam had the same syndrome as my Andrew.

Through facebook, we became friends and then we found out we had mutual friends. In fact Elizabeth and Diane Suemahu had told Kate about me.

Sadly, I read in Facebook, Sam has become a new angel in Heaven together with those in Norway.

When I had Andrew, I said that God had given me a special albeit painful gift: to comfort other grieving mums. Tonight, I cry for you Kate and the bereaved mums in Norway.

Kate Clark
To my beautiful boy. Your were the strongest person I knew and my heart breaks with not waking up to your hugs. I will miss you so much, but I know you are at peace and running with Jesus. RIP Samuel Clark 10.09.08 - 26.07.08.

Cry Kate, your hurt is raw, your arms are heavy. Cry Kate cry.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Bereaved mothers of yester-year

2011-07-14T17:32:00.000-07:00

This is my maternal Grandma aka Bodai whose real name was Lia Yi, she is the grandma I spent most time with among my 3 grandmas. I absolutely forgot that she was a bereaved mum too, when I wrote about the other two. How could I have forgotten? This is because poor Grandma was born in an era that it was taboo to talk about dead babies. Sorry Grandma.

I had most fun with this grandma, though sometimes we didn't like it when she called us Bloody useless girls ( an term of endearment for useless girls, girls as in female children, another victim of her generation.) We would retort, you are a bloody useless girl yourself. She would reply, if I was born a boy, I would have done great things, but alas, I was born a bloody useless girl.
I learn Chinese quilting by helping her.

I went to visit her showing off my husband whom I wed in New Zealand. She insisted on making her kind of Cantonese/Hakka cakes for her new grand son -in-law, whom she was very proud off, a first SIL who had a university degree.
She loved making all sorts of Chinese cakes. She made them from scratch, grinding her own flour from rice grains. She wanted to make some of her special cakes for the water engineer, one of her new grandson in law from West Malaysia.
Alas she was too old to turn the stone and she didn't make cakes much anymore. she needed my muscles to turn the heavy stone. I have good memories of this because she would guide me along, not too fast or not too slow. She would spoon little spoons of rice into a hole in the middle of the stone. If I went too fast, I would knock her with the long pole handle. It was hard work. I forgot what cake she made, but the memories of this grinding rice to flour forever remain in my mind.

Grandma wore her Traditional Chinese pants and top with frog buttons. She wore her long hair in a bun. This was taken in 1982, the last time I saw her dressed in the very traditional style of dress and hair.

The next and last time was in 1986 when I went to show off my daughter to her. Grandma had permed her hair. I couldn't get used to it. She explained that short permed hair was easier to maintain.

Grandma died shortly after this. She was in her late 80s. I did mention that part in the book. Grandma was a very clean woman, even when she was dying, she insisted on having a bath everyday. The nurses complained having to bath her, but they told my sister Elizabeth that this was Grandma's virtue. She prided in her cleanliness. She died a very clean woman. She had Elizabeth and Kallang to bid her Good bye when she went.

***All Chinese women her era wore jade bangles. It is not a cosmetic jewelery. The Chinese believe that Jades have protective elements. Tales have been spun that the jade bangles have protected them.***
http://ann-mythoughtsandphotos.blogspot.com/2011/07/peekaboo-touching-movie.html

This morning, I went for my dental appointment. I told my dentist about my book. She told her receptionist. SC said her mum had 5 babies, and 3 survived. They never talked about the dead babies during her time. Babies were buried while the mums were still in hospital. A friend said her mum was offered someone's healthy baby to substitute for her dead baby. How cruel is that?

Elisabeth said...

Just last night, Ann, I talked again with my mother about her first baby who died at 5 months of age in 1945. My mother still remembers her enormous sadness at losing this baby just as she mourns the loss of her last baby who was still born in 1963.

These babies span twenty years and my mother had nine live babies in between but the ones she never forgets are those who did not make it.

I had a miscarriage once and although it was early, the grief of that loss has never left me.

This is an often neglected issue. Thanks for promoting the film.

Reply to Ginny: I have no idea where that baby came from, I suspect that it was an abandoned baby. That was a era when it was very shameful to be an unwed mother. When I had Andrew, I remember there was an abandon Asian baby. It was in the news paper. I even discussed about adopting this baby. But I only wanted my own child, so I didn't discuss further. I did not write this in the book, because I wasn't so sure.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Peekaboo Part 2

2011-07-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

This is part 2 of Peekaboo.

Everyone grieves differently, though often how they feel mirrors another person's grieving. That is why sands organisation is there for bereaved parents to share, talk. cry and comfort each other.

I read the reviews of this Peekaboo. It is a sensitive issue, but who are you to judge, unless you ware wearing the bereaved mother's ill fitting shoes which are pinching her toes.

This morning, I went for my dental appointment. I told my dentist about my book. She told her receptionist. SC said her mum had 5 babies, and 3 survived. They never talked about the dead babies during her time. Babies were buried while the mums were still in hospital. A friend said her mum was offered someone's healthy baby to substitute for her dead baby. How cruel is that?

Peekaboo sent me their second pitch of fund raising,

Our Story

We are Big Buddha Films, award winning film company based in the UK. We are making a fantastic short film called Peekaboo. This is our second pitch. We had our first pitch which ran for the last few months, to help us finance the shoot of our film. Between Indiegogo and our own other methods, we managed to successfully raise £8,500 (around $15,000) in cash and a lot of in-kind support from businesses and services to help us keep our budget to a minimum. We have now shot our movie and it's looking fantastic.

Our film looks at stillbirth and terrible suffering it causes to families. It focuses on the story of Emily and Andy, a couple that have lost three babies. Emily then has a breakdown and experiences a delusional state to help her get through her grief. Her husband has to try and help to guide her through this and out of the other side. It looks closely at the effects a trauma like this can have on a relationship and at people's own different ways of coping.

We have been exceptionally lucky in having two of Britain's finest actors in our lead roles. BAFTA nominated actress Lesley Sharp plays Emily, and very well known and loved TV and film actor Shaun Dooley plays Andy. We have incredibly powerful performances which bring out the complexities of their characters perfectly.

We also worked with a very experienced and talented crew. Our DP is Phil Wood, Sound Recordist/Designer Grant Bridgeman, Editor Neil Fergusson, Line Producer Sandra Chapman, Art Director Helen Wood, and Focus Puller Alex Veitch. We will be having an original score for the film which is currently in development. The film was Written, Produced and Directed by Debbie Howard.

Our previous films have done extremely well in film festivals all around the world, winning several nominations and awards. See our website for further details:
www.bigbuddhafilms.co.uk

The Impact

A Child that loses a parent is an orphan.
A Man who loses his wife is a widower.
A Woman who loses her husband is a widow.
There is no name for parent that loses a child.
For there is no word to describe the pain...

With the money we need to finish our film to a very high standard, we will be able to gain entry to the best international film festivals and get our film screened all over the world. This will help to challenge attitudes and change views towards stillbirth in the future, and give parents the understanding that they need. Seventeen babies die from stillbirth and neonatal death each day in the UK. Many more people experience this than you would think.

What We Need & What You Get
This campaign is specifically to raise money for the initial stages of post production:

We need to raise around $6000, but I will just be looking to raise $1000 here, so that we can try and reach our goal. Any additional money will all go straight into the film.

We are offering some great perks to all those that contribute. We are also offering anyone who has suffered the loss of a baby to add their name to the credits in memory of all those babies that are no longer with us.

Other Ways You Can Help
Please help us in any way you can, to spread the word about Peekaboo:

Please share this onto your Facebook page.
Refer a friend
Join us on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/bigbuddhafilms
Join us on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/#!/BigBuddhaFilms
Put a link on your website
Hold a fundraising event for us
Sell something on Ebay and donate the money to us
Or anything else you can think of....

Please make a donation and help us get our film made. We've worked so hard to get this far, please support us if you can.

Thank you.

Also Find This Campaign On
LinkedIn Facebook Twitter YouTube Website

Created By Debbie Howard

Diary of a bereaved mother: Peeka-boo

2011-07-10T04:28:00.000-07:00

I am supporting this film project, though my baby Andrew was 55 days old, he might as well be still born because he was given the death sentence when he was born. The healthy baby I longed for died when I was told," Your baby is going to die tonight" the day when he was born.

Good luck to your project

Peekaboo is a short film soon to be into production. It is looking at stillbirth and miscarriage and the effect the grief has on the parents. It is starring Lesley Sharp and Shaun Dooley.

http://www.facebook.com/bigbuddhafilms?sk=wall

Basic Information
Release Date TBC
Genre Drama
Studio Big Buddha Films
About Peekaboo is a short film soon to be into production. It is looking at stillbirth and miscarriage and the effect the grief has on the parents. It is starring Lesley Sharp and Shaun Dooley.
Description You can see the video pitch for Peekaboo on the Indiegogo website at:
http://www.indiegogo.com/Peeka-boo

Please support us if you can.
Plot Outline Stillbirth and miscarriage is a taboo subject within our society.

I am making a new film to highlight this tragedy and the silence that often surrounds babies that are ‘born asleep’. This is an incredibly difficult time for parents, and there is little support and understanding to help them.

The new film, Peekaboo, is a high profile, short narrative film that looks at the issue of stillbirth and miscarriage and the psychological trauma that surrounds them.
Starring Lesley Sharp, Shaun Dooley
Directed By Debbie Howard
Screenplay By Debbie Howard
Produced By Debbie Howard and Sandra Chapman
Website http://www.bigbuddhafilms.co.uk/
http://www.indiegogo.com/Peeka-boo

Our Story
Hello, this is Debbie Howard, writer/director from Big Buddha Films, in Sheffield, in the UK. I'm trying to raise money for our new short film Peekaboo. It's a really strong script and has attracted two of the UK's top actors in the lead roles. We have BAFTA nominated Lesley Sharp playing Emily, and Shaun Dooley playing Andy.

Our subject matter is quite a taboo. However, I feel it's really important to get this film made. It's looking at the struggle parents have to come to terms with their loss when they have lost their baby due to stillbirth and/or miscarriage.

The script is dark and surreal. The mother can't move on from the loss of her three lost babies and due to the trauma she becomes delusional and imagines her babies have come back, as a way of coping with her grief. Her husband is left trying to skillfully deal with the consequences of her seemingly irrational behavior and gently guide her back to reality. But will she really ever be able to let go?

We are hoping to shoot Peekaboo in March 2011 here in Sheffield.

Our Exec Producer is Alex Usborne of Picture Palace North, who has made such wonderful films as Irvine Welsh's Acid House, Fucking Sheffield and Tales from a Hard City. We also have very generous sponsors Alice Jolly and Stephen Kinsella.

"Debbie Howard is an original and tenacious filmmaker. I have followed the development of Peekaboo and am hugely supportive of this project and feel strongly that this will be the film that takes Debbie to the next level.”
Alex Usborne, Film Producer, Picture Palace North.
The Impact
I feel it's a really important story to tell, as there is a lot of silence around stillbirth and miscarriage in our society and parents often feel isolated and silenced on top of their grief.

Below are some quotes from A Silent Love by Adrienne Ryan:

"Some people said, “Never mind, you’ll have other children.” The point was that we wanted this child. Others decided to deal with it as if nothing had happened."

"Can you not see the pain that you cause when you dismiss my loss as trivial? Do you not realize that although they are merely words, it still cuts like a knife when you tell me everything is fine because it wasn’t really a baby I lost?
It was a baby, and I am the child’s mother. Just because you do not acknowledge it does not make it any less real to me."

Quotes from parents of stillborn babies.

What We Need & What You Get
Updates from since our video pitch was put together: So far I've managed to raise £5,500 approx through my own fundraising events and sponsorship from people I've contacted directly. I have used some of this money for pre production costs including three amazing reborn babies made for the film by reborn artist Elaine Colbert. The rest of the money we are saving towards our shoot.

We are now looking for an additional £4,000 for our shoot. This money will be used for the following:

Cast' wages, crew's expenses, equipment hire (camera's, lenses, lighting, sound recording), insurance, locations, catering, costume. All of the above will be helped along by discounts and favours from our kind contacts, so we'll get the most out of our money that we can. Everything raised will be spent on the production, we will look at fundraising later for post production.

Everyone that donates will get something from us in return, see our VIP perks. And your help will be massively appreciated. Anyone that has suffered a loss from still birth or miscarriage may prefer to have a dedication made to their baby, rather than their own name in the credits.
Other Ways You Can Help
Please help us by spreading the word about our campaign. You can download a Peekaboo press pack which tells you all about our film from the Gallery page, see files at the bottom of the page, or it's on our Peekaboo page on our website at:
http://www.bigbuddhafilms.com/films/fiction/pee...
Please send this out to anyone you think might be interested.

Visit us on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/#!/bigbuddhafilms?ref=t...;
and leave us positive feedback to help us generate interest and support.

Every donation will be massively appreciated - please help us if you can. Please help save the arts by supporting projects independently.

Thanks to Sara Jay for use of her song It's All OK, in our video pitch.

PLEASE NOTE THAT ALTHOUGH THE PAYMENTS SHOW UP IN DOLLARS, YOU CAN PAY BY PAL PAL OR CREDIT CARD IN ANY CURRENCY AND IT WILL CONVERT IT INTO POUNDS FOR US. THANKS.

Thanks to all those that have donated so far! Your donations are really appreciated, thank you.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Church of Christ Book Shop

2011-07-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

http://books.ccnz.org.nz/estore/category/books/biographies.aspx?page=1&filterby=Ann%20Kit%20Suet%20Chin&sortby=0

http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
http://books.ccnz.org.nz/

25 years ago, our friends N and R were married in The Church of Christ at Mt Roskill. We took D there, she was about a year old. The water engineer was the official photographer for our friends. At that time, the church was very formal, the ladies had to wear hats.

Little did I know, one day their bookshop would be selling my book both online and in their shop.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Online order

2011-07-07T21:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Wheelers Books http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

http://www.wheelers.co.nz/
New Zealand's largest online new book supplier to Schools & Libraries with over 10.6 million books to choose from. With unique features to facilitate easy selection, it's a great online book resource for all Librarians, Teachers and Families.

You can buy my book online from Wheeler's books

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Wonderful friends and a wonderful holiday

2011-07-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

The beautiful Waipu beach.

Steve and Lynn Peeters, this photo was taken on a farewell party for us at Gary's place in 1990. We were leaving for Singapore.

The little Northland Township holds a special place in my heart.

Twenty one years ago, when my baby Andrew died, I was miserable with empty arms and grieving. My friend Steve Peeters invited me to his mother Nelly's kiwi fruit farm near the beach in Waipu. There I found solace as I sat by the little jetty looking at flounders lie on the shallow creek. Steve's dad had just passed away, and Nelly told me that life had to go on. She had to, because she had a big kiwi farm to run.

We came back to Auckland, and I found inspiration to live on. This is a condensed part of my book. I haven't seen Steve and Lynn since this photo was taken in 1990. I spoke to Lynn a few times over the phone.

Recently a friend quoted this: “Let your dreams be greater than your memories.” I want to marry the two, a dream based on memories.

Andrew 27th April 1990
3.30am

I am in turmoil again. Just before Easter, I was reverting back to when I couldn’t control myself. Margaret Honey said perhaps my medication was working as it does happen. She changed the meds but I felt nauseas so I stopped taking the meds for two week. I was really depressed and didn’t want to do anything. The house is a mess and I didn’t go out to Keep Fit, or to the Play groups. I was thinking I should go back to Margaret Honeyman to put me back on the old meds. Last week, I didn’t go to her appointment and today she rang me to see how I was. She told me to go back to see her tomorrow. Things had been really terrible. Even the weather is not co-operating. It has become very cold and gloomy and wet. I had not done much writing for my journal.
Gabrielle was suffering, she didn’t like her bandages. I even bargained with God. I said you took away Andrew, that was enough for me. Please relieve Gabrielle of her dreadful itchiness. I kept reminding God of the pact that I made when Andrew was first born when I said, you can take Andrew, I won’t ask why me, but promise me that my life will be good from now on. God, you didn’t keep your part of the deal. I can’t end it all because I love my girls.
God must have listened. Steve Peeters from our Young Adults group invited us to go up north to Waipu and spend Easter with his mum. Steve’s family and us went back to 1977 when my sister Margaret went to Waipu to do her intern as a farming student. She got to know Steve’s family as they went to the Roman Catholic Church. Steve and I both taught the same Sunday School group before Deborah was born in 1984. We got talking when he said he came from up north. He got very excited that I was Margaret’s sister. He was a young boy when Margaret came home to lunch on Sundays.
We drove up to Waipu and Nelly Peeter’s kiwi fruit farm was by the sea. There was a little jetty, and I could see flounders lying on the bottom of the sea floor. We tried to catch them, but didn’t manage to get any. God had also brought us to Nelly. Steve’s Dad had died recently, and Nelly cooked for us, and told be to relax and enjoy ourselves. She said I deserved a good holiday. In the evening, Nelly sat down with me and told me about her husband’s death. She said she had a kiwi farm which was just beginning to ripen. Every morning, she had to wake up at 6 am, cut a couple of fruits and test for the sugar. She said, she had to do it, there was no one else to do it. If she didn’t check for the sugar, and they pick the fruit, the whole harvest would be wasted. She would lose her livelihood. We sat holding hands. I thanked God for Nelly. She was brave out of necessity. My necessity was the girls. If the girls didn’t have me, they would have nothing. We walked on the beach, it was already very cold. We didn’t swim. The girls played under the kiwi fruit vines and it was just so serene to see the egg shaped Kiwi fruits.
The beach, coupled with Nelly’s kind hospitality brought me back to the road of recovery again. I came home rejuvenated. I told God, I am giving you another chance, don’t leave me. I am fragile. Don’t let Satan snatch me away. God told me to lay down my burdens and assured me he would carry me. I took out Betty Steven’s Footprints poem and thank God for Betty.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: a tribute by a very good friend.

2011-07-02T00:54:00.000-07:00

http://sarawakianaii.blogspot.com/2011/05/ann-chin-sarawak-born-author.html

Ann Chin - Sarawak born Author
This is extra-normal way of introducing a new author from Sibu.

Ann Chin (Chan) Kit Suet was born in the Rajang Valley. Her parents were both Cantonese from the Kwong Tung Pah (now Sg. Salim). I left Sibu in 1970 and she left Sibu in 1975.

How did I get in touch with Ann Chin after 40 years? This is an exceptional cyberspace tale.

In her own words "I.....was googling Billy Abit when I came to Sarawakiana's post on the boys hostel of Methodist school. The more posts I read, the more intrigued I was. I was convinced I knew who the blogger was. But this blogger would not reveal her ID for a long time, until I read the post of the blogger's dad's accident.So I wrote: CY, I think I know who you are, don't let me stew in my own juice.
Finally, the blogger revealed herself. It was such a happy day, because the blogger was my hero in school.
The rest is history."

I couldn't be more surprised to be connected in this way. Here I was...blogging happily as a retired person who has been worried about Alzheimer's disease and Dementia. Writing a personal journal and taking a cyberwalk cost nothing but truly it has enriched me in more ways than I could believe. And being connected with a dear but long lost friend was really unbelieveable. She was only about 13 or 14 and I was already getting ready for university and the adult stage of my life. When I took off at the Sibu airport for KL I said to myself "I must leave my childhood behind and become a real tough female warrior....and nothing should stop me..."

My precious gem of a friend thus came in the form of Ann chin who encouraged me by her sheer strength and enthusiasm for life and writing via the blogging world in the last two years..

And on my part I am only too happy to help her connect with more people in Sarawak and the rest of the world.

She is no longer the shy little Form One kid in the Methodist School but a nice mature writer and teacher who has been inspiring people who have come in contact with her. She lives a full life in Auckland (New Zealand) .

For several years she has been thinking in a very humble way how to get her book published.
Eventually it has come out. And it will be a hit with parents who have lost their children at a young age and for those who empathise with this agony.

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For those who would like to know more about this Sibu born daughter of Cantonese ancestry she has done more than her share to serve Sarawak. You can read an article about her interview in a local newspaper or go to
http://www.theaucklander.co.nz/living/news/words-of-healing/3954293/

Ann has been away from Sarawak since 1975, and not many people know that she has taught in Kai Chung School in Bintangor I(originally Binatang). Although some students have already found her on Facebook recently many may like to find her by other means. It is interesting to note that most Sarawak students like to find their teacher and thank them in the later lives.. Hence school reunions are very popular and I have also noted that many teachers get invited to their children's weddings especially in Sibu because the ties are definitely maintained for many generations.

Ann Chan Kit Suet (her full name) was educated in the Methodist Primary School from 1961 till 1966. She then went to the Methodist Secondary School from 1967 to 1973 which was then still an English medium school. After she completed her Upper Sixth she taught in Kai Chung School, Binatang, Kuching High School and SMK Binatang before she left for Canada to further her studies.

Today she is teaching in Auckland and is married to Singaporean Dr. Chin. She has two daughters and a son.

Several of her siblings are still residing in Sarawak while others are all over the world. Her father the late Mr. John Chan Yui Fei served a brilliant career in the Sarawak Education Service as an Education Officer. Her late father was also an alumni of the Methodist Secondary School and a former teacher .

Her family photo below still brings a tear to my eye...how much I would like to have such a family photo taken with my dad and mum and grandmother in this manner. This is the kind of family photo most Chinese Sarawakian families would still take in the 21st Century!!

You can read more of her writing in the three blogs she maintains. She is such an energetic and prolific writer. Sibu should be very proud of her!!

And the good news is - she would want to connect with you!

Diary of a Breaved Mother: Wonderful friends

2011-06-26T23:26:00.000-07:00

Gary and Janice Corbett and their children.

When we left New Zealand for Singapore in July 1990, our friends gave us a big party at Gary and Janice Corbetts' house at Mt Eden. Ian Destigter took a lot of photos which helped me remember of all our friends in New Zealand.

From the first chapter of my book, you will read my reference to these two couples. These friends are gems, and they did so much practical things to help me during my difficult time. Ian and Dawn's house became a second home to my girls, Deborah and Gabrielle.

They will always remain a special place in my heart. When you know them, you will understand how I was able to survive through my worst case scenario.

Ian and Dawn Destigter and their children.

http://sundayscans.blogspot.com/

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Feedback

2011-06-25T14:05:00.001-07:00

A reader went on facebook to tell me that she did a post on her blog on me. It is wonderful for her to do it, and as you read her post, you will think how uncanny it is that our lives are intertwined in so many ways. Yet, it seems impossible that we should meet. For it is like what Robert Frost had written,

Two roads meet, and I took the one less traveled.

Indeed, Elizabeth had traveled all the way from South Africa, and I from Borneo, and we meet in New Zealand.

http://elizabethherr.blogspot.com/2011/06/diary-of-bereaved-mother-by-ann-kit.html
Saturday, June 25, 2011

"Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him." Psalm 127:3 (NLT)

Ann is a woman in my local church here in Auckland, New Zealand. She is an immigrant like me. She is a mother like me. We both have a baby in heaven. My baby died before I was 2 months pregnant, but Ann's baby was born ... he lived ... and he died.

Ann's story is a sad story. It tells of her Andrew. Precious Andrew who lived for 55 days. Andrew and I share the same birthday - 29 September. It is interesting the connections we find with people.

I haven't finished reading Ann's book. I find sometimes I can't put it down ... other times I just have to put it down and take a deep breath. It is a book written with raw honesty. Ann lets you look into her soul.

This book will touch your heart and your soul.

Ann's addressed this book to "The Beareved", "The Care Givers", "The Medical Personnel" and "The General Reader" in the hope that it will encourage and strengthen those who have walked / will walk a similar path and to help those who walk beside them.

This is Ann's opening words in her book:

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Front page

The greatest tragedy
A white head buries a black head.
~Ancient Chinese Adage~

In the book of fairy tales,

Girl meets boy,

They fall in love,

They marry,

They have children,

They live happily ever after.

In the book of melancholy,

The owl hoots,

The crow caws,

A loved child is taken,

A hole in the ground,

The heart bleeds.

In the book of Christianity,

Reach out,

Cry out,

There is comfort,

There is healing,

There is light.

This is my story in a nut shell.

~Ann Chin~

3 comments:

Ann said...

Thanks Elizabeth, this is beautifully written.

In deed our lives are connected in so many ways. That morning when you were telling your story in church, I was crying, I saw a younger version of me in you. Kay tapped on my shoulder and asked if I was alright.

That was why I came to hug you and send you my email though I had been in church for 5 years, we never spoke.

God brought us together that only he knows why, but I know , we both have a special gift, to comfort another grieving mum.
June 25, 2011 11:24 PM
Elizabeth said...

Ann, Thank you for your encouragement. I know that your book will touch many lives.
Blessings,

Our Village is a Little Different said...
I think this book will be a wonderful gift for bereaved mothers. The loss of a child is so painful and isolating - because nobody wants to talk about it. But the worst thing for a mother, and a marriage is to keep that enormous grief inside!

I hope writing it was good for her soul. I know that this will touch, (and hopefully help heal) many other women who may feel alone.
-Catherine

June 25, 2011 11:32 PM

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Lyn Kriegler

2011-06-24T03:14:00.000-07:00

lyn kriegler

Lyn Kriegler is a book illustrator, scriptwriter and oral storyteller. Originally from the United States, born in a town at the Niagara Fall. Her career as a staff artist and art director saw her work for a variety of organisations such as Mademoiselle, The New Yorker, and the Washington Post.

In 1974 Kriegler immigrated to New Zealand and has since illustrated 22 picture books, seven chapter books and 25 readers. In 2006 she illustrated Margaret Mahy’s Family Surprises, and more recently she has written her own book, Mister Minty (illustrated by Blair Sayer).

I was very honored to spend time with Lyn when she came to my school to speak to the children. She gave me two illustrations and one was signed. She told the kid who got one that he could sell it on Trade me. We talked about my next book.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Flowers 2

2011-06-22T00:30:00.000-07:00

AMARYLLIDACE

Narcissus 'Erlicheer' double flowered narcissus
Narcissus 'Erlicheer' belongs to the plant family AMARYLLIDACE and Genus Narcissus

A fan brought me this bunch of Erlicheer. It is winter here, and the florist told her that this is a hot house variety. It brings "early cheer" to the recipient.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Book Order

2011-06-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

What greater honor is it to walk to the bookshop of the Universities where you are an Alumni to see them sell your book.

The University Bookshop of Auckland University and Auckland University of Technology, both of which I am an alumni approached me and placed a big order.

With this comment:

It looks like the sort of book we’d do well with in store.

We’ll also promote your title to our library /school customers in our newsletter.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Hospital administration

2011-06-18T00:26:00.000-07:00

http://www.3news.co.nz/Couple-with-stillbirth-made-to-sit-in-waiting-room/tabid/367/articleID/207705/Default.aspx

21 years after I became a bereaved mother, Wilemina and Jaccob Simeon were made to wait in a public waiting room with her still birth baby.

This reminded me when I delivered my very sick baby, he was rushed to ICU. I was allocated to a normal ward with two other mothers with normal babies. I was there for about 6 hours before my baby's pediatrician moved me to a private room. I am very thankful for him.

I do not wish for any one to go through what I had to go through. It was just cruel to let a mother with a very sick baby to share a room with healthy babies. Where was my obstetrics specialist who should have be there during my delivery?

diary of a bereaved mother: Flowers

2011-06-16T02:54:00.000-07:00

A fan sent me these lovely orchids to my school. The school receptionist brought it to my room.

My students went wow! and they asked, "From your boyfriend?"

Diary of a bereaved Mother: You got mail

2011-06-13T04:31:00.001-07:00

Dear Ann,
Your book….it was a book I could not put down…….I kept reading even though I needed a break. Well done. It is so brave of you to put on paper such deep, raw feeling. I learnt a lot.
My mother-in-law lost a girl…R. R and I sat next to each other at a small primary school. Then it was a tiny and full of “farmers’ kids.” R was new and used to town kids. She had only been in the district about 18 months when a boy along the road shot her with a gun for teasing him about being a softy for needing a plaster on a little cut.
It has been nearly 60 years ago. The school’s counselling….well it was effective, I suppose….we were to get the strap if we even mentioned anything about the shooting. My husband who was R’s older brother has only spoken of it twice. It was never mentioned in his family…yet it was always there.
You made me sad, as I wished I had read your book long ago. I would have had a better idea of my mother-in-law’s pain. I must have reminded my mother-in-law of what R could have been all the years I knew her. (R was my mother-in-law’s only daughter.)
All the best for the future.
PB.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Newspaper article

2011-06-04T01:28:00.000-07:00

The local newspaper magazine did a feature article on me.
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http://www.theaucklander.co.nz/living/news/words-of-healing/3954293/
This magazine comes free when you buy the New Zealand Herald, one of the biggest mainstream newspaper in the country.

Words of healing
Rebecca Blithe | 3rd June 2011
Share

Ann Chin has published a book about the death of her infant son. Photo / Kellie Blizard
A mother's account of the death of her newborn son has been turned into a book in the hope it will help other mothers heal. Rebecca Blithe meets the author.

"The specialist said, 'You're going to have a normal baby'," says Ann Chin, as she sits with a pile of her recently published book, Diary of a Bereaved Mother.

But the days that followed the birth of her son, Andrew, proved anything but normal.

"Once I had my baby they realised he was dying," she says, of his diagnosis of Campomelic syndrome; a bone and cartilage condition resulting in short limbs and breathing problems because of a small chest capacity.

"They knew because of the scans, but they didn't investigate because it was a rare thing," she says, of the abnormalities. "When the baby was born, they resuscitated him. He was going to die that night. He survived for 55 days.

"One afternoon I was told he had died. He stopped breathing, he turned black, he was dead for half of the afternoon. Then he began breathing again." Describing that afternoon, the author seems lost for words. "You can't really give words, except that it was heart-wrenching, I was in a black tunnel."

During this period, Mrs Chin stayed in the nurses' home at National Women's Hospital, awaiting her baby's death, and writing.

"It was not only a diary for myself but I was writing letters to family in Australia and Singapore.

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I kept carbon copies," she says, adding her father had made his six children write daily compositions from a young age.

Twenty-one years later, after meeting other women who lost children, she decided to revisit her ordeal, in the hope of helping mothers cope and those close to them understand. "Six hundred babies a year die. That's more than the road toll. [Compared to the funding for road safety] there's just nothing provided for us."

Mrs Chin, who teaches English as a second language, says reliving the experience was difficult but cathartic.

"I took out all my old files. I read them and I cried. I sat at the computer and I cried. But after a while, I was okay. Then I finished the first draft on his anniversary."

She says the feedback so far has been positive, especially from those who have had similar experiences.

"One of the mothers [from a Stillborn and Newborn Death support group], she just cried. She said to have someone writing about it was really helpful. I've spoken to grandparents as well. People tell me, 'Now I understand'."

Her story also tells of her disappointment with some of the staff at the antenatal unit and the importance of cultural sensitivity. "We had two doctors who kept saying, 'This is his problem'," she says, of medical staff shifting the blame.

The book has been requested by one of Mrs Chin's doctors, who is now based at the University of Toronto, Canada, to assist with training and hospital management procedures.

Dr Simon Rowley is a consultant at Starship Children's Hospital who's been given a copy of the book.
"It is a good reminder to all health professionals that when our patients leave us, the story does not end for the parents. The detail is amazing, and every little thought and action seems to have been recorded as it happened, and then has been reflected upon.

"For parents undergoing similar experiences this book could be a great comfort. For health professionals, I would see it as essential reading."

Further reading

Diary of a Bereaved Mother is available for $25 at The Women's Bookstore, 105 Ponsonby Rd, or email Ann Chin: annkschin@yahoo.com

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Testimony

2011-05-28T04:44:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I made a special friend. Janice was calling the Powhiri (The traditional Maori welcome) to our visiting Fijian visitors. Then she explained the Hongi, generally known as the rubbing of noses, and the breathe of life. She explained if a baby is born without the breath, you smack it's bottom. In the hongi the ha, or breath of life, is exchanged and intermingled.

What she didn't know was seated at the back of the auditorium was me, who was impacted by this message, and modified my talk.

The title of my talk was Free to share.

Every year, nearly 600 babies are stillborn or die within 28 days of birth in New Zealand. Their parents do not feel free to share that they are bereaved because people just don't talk about it.

I was born in Borneo to a Chinese family. If I had remained in Borneo, I would be shackled by tradition. I would not have the freedom to share my story.

When I was in primary school, my aunt had her baby in the hospital. The baby died. Nobody was allowed to mention this baby. My mum paid $20 to a trishaw man to take the baby away to be disposed off as garbage.

The Chinese are shackled by this sad belief. They think that if a baby dies, his spirit will return to his mother and dwell in the body of her next baby. The next baby will die and the cycle goes on and on. If you give him a funeral, it makes it attractive to come back. But if you pretend that he was never born and treated a rubbish, he won't come back. You will bear healthy babies in future.

During the Powhiri, Janice Thomson talked about babies and the breathe of life. 21 years ago, on 29 Sept 1989, my baby son Andrew was born. He did not have the breathe of life even when he was smacked on his bottom. The doctors said he was dying that night. Amazingly, I had to wait 55 days. Long enough to love him. The wait was heart wrenching and I do not wish it on anyone.

On Good Friday, I launched my book. It covers my journey, the kindness of the post natal doctors and nurses, and sadly my disappointment and anger with the ante natal doctors.

When I went to my mother-in-law's house, I suffered the same fate as my aunty. My mother in-law told me to forget Andrew, burn his photos and get pregnant quickly. How could I?

I share my testimony publicly. Because you never know if it will impact someone and comfort them, or if some one will come and comfort me.

I survived because God sent friends/community to give me practical help, moral and spiritual support. He sent Olwyn who was always there for me.

God sent me his Holy Spirit as my comforter. I remember the Bible Verses I had memorised. These verses came to my mind in situations when I needed help. Assurance O f Answered prayer John 16.24 Assurance of victory 1 Cor 10:13

What had I gained from this excruciating experience?
An empathy for others, an ability to comfort.
A touching testimony to bring people to the Lord.
A reminder to myself that God had been great during my worst case scenario. God will continue to be with me.

In short, the good news is God did not fore sake me, and I did not reject God.

I wrote this book to inspire you, to tell you from experience that during trails and tribulations, Proverbs 3:5-6 is very real. Trust in the Lord with all your heart.

Janice came to sit beside me after the Powhiri, we briefly whispered before my talk. After my talk, she whispered that she too belongs to the exclusive club, the club nobody wants to belong too. See my synopsis. During dinner, a couple of women came up and said they too, are members of that club.

Diary of bereaved mother

2011-05-27T16:32:00.000-07:00

Knitting was what I did as therapy during my bereavement. isn't the jumper stunning? People, strangers came up and asked me where I bought it. They couldn't believ that I knitted it. Then they offered to buy it or commission me to make one for them.

I told them, my knitting was not for sale. As each knit or purl I made, I thought of Andrew. Deborah loved wearing it. The pink skirt was part of a set. I sewed that too.

Diary of a bereaved mother: News exposure.

2011-05-23T22:44:00.001-07:00

I asked Kelly if I could take a photo of her, and she said she wasn't used to being photographed. I wish I had done a good photo and showed you her big camera.

This is Rebecca who did my interview.
http://www.theaucklander.co.nz/http://www.blogger.com/img/blahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifnk.gif

http://www.theaucklander.co.nz/living/news/words-of-healing/3954293/http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

I was very happy when the reporter from The Aucklander rang to say she wanted to do a feature article on me and my book. I didn't want them to come to my house as it is messy so I asked my deputy principal if they could come to school. She said yes, and I could use my colleague's room as mine was busy during lunch time. Another said I could use her as it is more suitable.
My principal Sandra let me use her. I am so thankful.

The Aucklander was the best Community paper in 2008 and 2009. It comes out on Thursdays with the New Zealand Herald. The Herald is New Zealand's leading metropolitan newspaper.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Hospital Angels

2011-05-14T21:40:00.000-07:00

This was Andrew's Dutch Physiotherapist, Majolien who persisted in coaching Andrew to feed, and devised an elaborate feeding plan.

Dr Bobby Tsang was not only Andrew's doctor, he was our personal friend. Here he was at the garden of the Corbetts with Ling Ling his wife, taken during a farewell party for us as we were leaving for Singapore. Bobby, You are the best.

Daphne, Andrew's favourite Day nurse. She was nursing until last year, and I wish I had gone to the hospital to see her earlier. I am happy she is now married. I gave my book to Nurse Janny to pass it to her. Daphne is what the Chinese would call, " Money can't buy." She had two Polaroid photos taken, and she gave them to me later when we had left ICU.
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The hospital is now here. I went back and had a tour guided by Doctor Aftimos.

the theme for May 13 is in honor of Nurses. May 11th is Nurses Day. So show us your medical personal, nurses, doctors, helpers, hospitals, doctor offices of your town.

Now the calendar I have next to my computer has May 11th as Nurses Day. When I tried to find info on it, I found a National Nurses Week tribute, all with different dates. ?? It is celebrated from May 6 to the 12th.
National Nurses Day, also known as National RN Recognition Day, is always celebrated on May 6th and opens National Nurses Week. National Nurses Week begins each year on May 6th and ends on May 12th, the birth date of Florence Nightingale.

The history of Nurses Day can be traced back to 1953 when Dorothy Sutherland of the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare sent a proposal to President Eisenhower to proclaim a "Nurse Day" in October of the following year. The proclamation was never made, but the following year National Nurses Week was observed from October 11 – 16, marking the 100th anniversary of Florence Nightingale's mission to Crimea.

In 1989, I "lived" 55 days in the ICU at the national women's hospital in Auckland New Zealand. My son Andrew was born with a fatal syndrome called Campomelic dysplasia . The nurses, doctors, social workers were ministering angels. I published my book

Unfortunately I didn't take many photos of the ward and the doctors and nurses.

Dedications

To doctors Andrew James, Simon Rowley and Salim Aftimos

All the caring nurses, physiotherapists and staff at Ward 11A in National Womens’ Hospital back in 1989

Wendy Green

Rev. Don and Olwyn Dickson

They are part of the Hospital life of my late son Andrew.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Brina Vlassic

2011-05-06T11:08:00.000-07:00

Brina was our next door neighbour. I went to went her on Friday. She is the bestest neighbour you can find. When you read my book, right from Chapter one, you will know why.

But by the time we got ready, waking Deborah and Gabrielle and sending them to our neighbour Brina’s house and making all the necessary telephone calls to arrange for the girls for the day, it was almost 8 am.

I made reference to Brina a lot. She too, is a bereaved mother.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Ministering Angels

2011-05-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

My book is out, I am invited to have a short talk at the Auckland and New Zealand's Baptist women's annual gathering. I will be given a table to sell my book.

I will be featuring the wonderful people who helped me walk my difficult journey.

This is Don and Olwyn Dickson. Don was the minister at the Auckland Baptist Tabernacle. Olwyn was with me when Andrew "died" that first time, Don was with me with Andrew was struggling. Olwyn said, I am available 24/7, and she said,"I am your mum now." ( My mum had died 20 months earlier)

Last year I posted in my Friday Shootout http://annkschin.blogspot.com/2010/12 for my thankful post. /fso-thankful-don-and-olwyn-dickson.html. God has blessed Olwyn for her elegant look. Twenty years had passed, she looks the same.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Tiki's song

2011-04-28T13:59:00.001-07:00

I posted this on my photo site, but with the comments I got, I decided to post it here too. Hootin Annie said how poignant the photos were. I didn't plan it this way, it just happened, no children playing on the equipment. They are gone, gone to play the equipments in the sky.

I went to the Starship hospital recently to meet with Dr Salim Aftimos. http:http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif//annkitsuetchin.blogspot.com/2011/04/diary-of-bereaved-mother-chapter-1-part_01.html

We talked about my late son Andrew and the future of my surviving children. Though the tears are gone, being with Dr Aftimos flooded back memories of the TLC treatment I received from him and his colleagues Drs Andrew James and Simon Rowley.

It was good to know that this artist Tiki had dedicated his song to the hospital, and that is has comforted parents like me who had lost their children.

Ka Pai Tiki.

Go to sleep, baby.
Close your eyes.
let the angels take you up into the sky

Go to sleep, baby.
Close your eyes,
let the rainbow take you up into the sky'

Sweet dreams, baby.

SWEET DREAMS: All proceeds from Tiki Taane's Starship Lullaby go to the Starship Foundation.

What started off as a calming song for Tiki Taane's baby boy has become a source of comfort for grieving families.

"I've had some tear-jerking emails from parents," the musician says.

Tiki has sung and played his guitar for his only child Charlie since the day the two-year-old was born.

Charlie started responding to the music when he was three months old and a few chords got him really excited.

"I decided I was going to write him a lullaby – that's where it all started," Tiki says.

He wrote and recorded the song and later decided to do something more with it.

He offered the tune to the Starship Foundation in the hope that it would raise awareness and funds – Starship jumped at the offer.

But he didn't expect the reactions he would get from patients' parents.

Lyrics such as `let the angels take you up into the sky' have been relevant for children who have died.

"Later on I realised it can actually be a sort of metaphor – taking your baby up to heaven."

Parents of patients have told Tiki the lullaby has become "their song".

They've also said it's been played at children's funerals.

All proceeds from the lullaby when it's bought off Tiki's website, www.tikidub.com go to the Starship Air Ambulance Service which flies medical experts to emergencies around the country.

After the Christchurch earthquake last month it flew patients out of the disaster zone in the first 48 hours.

Go to www.tikidub.com to purchase the song.

hootin--anni has a new meme.
IT'S ALL ABOUT MY NEW MEME THAT I HOPE SOME WILL FEEL LIKE JOINING IN ON THE CHALLENGE AND THE FUN [at least I hope the weekly challenge will be fun!]. It's loosely based on song lyrics [recorded songs since the beginning of time to today] and associating them with photos of yours...as I've done in the http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifpast...If you click on the link above, it'll take you to the Meme's Homepage for rules and buttons. There will be a Mr. Linky Widget for each individual week also. Do consider joining me sometime. Hope to see it flourish in time.
http://hootin--anni.blogspot.com/
http://www.stuff.co.nz/auckland/local-news/east-bays-courier/4804232/Tikis-Starship-Lullaby-touches-hearts

Go to this link to watch a video of this song.

Tiki embarked on his solo artist career in January 2007 and has gone from strength to strength, becoming one of New Zealand’s most popular and diverse award-winning artists renowned as much for his powerful live performances as he is for his anthems.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Hospital

2011-04-27T17:07:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of time online, and had experienced joy when I get connected to unexpected person via another person. In February, whilst writing and researching for my book, I went to the cure kids site, and came to Stephen Robertson
Professor of Paediatric Genetics
Department of Paediatrics and Child Health
Dunedin School of Medicine
University of Otago
Dunedin
NEW ZEALAND

I wrote to him because his research was on skeletal disorders like CD, the syndrome my late son Andrew had. I was pleasantly surprised he replied: I think it is very important
that your experience and the diagnosis is reassessed and re-evaluated by one of my colleagues in Auckland,

If the diagnosis is re-confirmed as CD then the risk to your grandchildren will be very low.
have taken the liberty of copying in to this email my colleague in Auckland, Dr Salim Aftimos.

Presently I am in the UK on research and study leave but I hope my Auckland colleagues will be able to help answer your questions.
Best wishes
Stephen
Web www.otago.ac.nz

Dr. Salim not only replied, best of all, he was the very doctor back in 1989 who confirmed that Andrew had CD.
On March 2nd, I went to see him and it was lovely to see someone who 21 years was so good to me.

We remain connected and yesterday Dr Aftimos took me to a tour of the ICU. I had not been back for 21 years, and I garnered a lot of mental energy. They had relocated the hospital and up graded it, and that has made a lot of difference..

I asked a nurse Janny who was nursing when I was there. She told me that Daphne , Andrew's favourite nurse had retired and I was so happy to hear that she got married. I had a tinged of sadness his night nurse Betty had died.

God had arranged for Janny to be there. if I went 10 minutes later, she would have gone home. She read my book and she knew y friend, Gwen Bettridge. I gave my book to her to pass on to Gwen.

This week, as I revisit my friends who were with me during those days, we could laugh and there were incidences which I had omitted and I would edit for my first edition.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Ad

2011-04-27T03:33:00.000-07:00

My Church Mt Albert Baptist Church has a free community "Your place" website. I made use of it to advertise my book

http://yourplace.org.nz/index.php?option=com_adsmanager&page=show_ad&adid=14&Itemid=37

newly published book
See all ads from annkschin
Diary of a Bereaved Mother.

A Christian mother's journey as she awaits her baby's death, her bereavement and her survival.

Foreword by Robyn and Jonathan Dove

Genre:Self help, infant death, bereavement

$20 from Ann,

$25 at The Women's Bookshop

http://annkitsuetchin.blogspot.com/201 1/04/diary-of-bereaved-mother-reviews.ht ml
Price: 20
Contact:
Chin Ann
8159788
Send an Email

Diary of bereaved mother: Reviews

2011-04-26T15:23:00.000-07:00

Here are reviews: 27 April 2011)

That's really great. A real encouragement to you. I have started to read the chapters... You have written from the heart- and God will use your book to bless many in their better understanding of life's difficult circumstances. You are brave in sharing your intimate journey of struggles with your son Andrew's birth and his very short life on earth. May God bless you, CO and your family. C New Zealand

Hi Ann, please let me know where I can buy your book. Just email me K USA

Congratulations on becoming a writer. Kalang & Liza Malaysia

wonderful. Praise God good job Ann keep it up. MP Singapore

Congrats budding writer. You have done well. DB Australia

Congratulations Ann, I'm so pleased for you. I read your book over Easter. It is so real and honest I know it will be a big help to others. I can't get over how much you went through you surely are a survivor. K NZ

Congratulations, I am so happy for you. God is good. C New Zealand

What fantastic news. We are very excited by this. I am reading it. It is wonderful. Sad, heartwrenching but wonderful. I was awake in the night, and I just couldn't get back to sleep so i picked it up and read for an hour in the middle of the night.
thank you for telling your story. it is so important for women everywhere.
god bless you immensley D & L NZ

so you have a book now to describe about your own struggling journey. i am sure there will be many mothers who share the same journey. congrats. will read more. SN Singapore

Congradulations!!
May the gift of writing from God not only enrich your own life but also enlighten other people's life.
May our Lord be glorified in what you have achieved. A NZ

Hi Ann, I hope your book sell well. I read it on your other blog briefly, its very detailed and really show the other side of you. Take care my buddy :) K Malaysia

Congratulations, Should approach hospital bookstore Dr MC Malaysia

很高兴你这样说，我也很珍惜这样的机会。
你写的书很好，我现在已经推荐给我的客人看呢，希望更多的人能看到这本书。 ( Translated, I am leaving it for my clients to read. It is so touching?

Diary of a bereaved mother: My book shop

2011-04-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

http://reducefootprints.blogspot.com/

To the wannabe or aspiring writer, finishing the book is a hugest step. Getting it published is another gigantic step. Finally getting a bookshop to stock your book in monumental.

It is so exciting for me when I sold my book to The Women's bookshop They were the first shop I went to, and it was important that I didn't classify my book as a Christian book.

Thank you Carole for believing in me. Without proprietors like Carole, aspiring writers will find it very hard to sell their books and their zeal will be stifled.

Thank you. Gillian Tewsley, my editor.

My next book, here I come,

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Front page

2011-04-22T18:16:00.000-07:00

The greatest tragedy
A white head buries a black head.
~Ancient Chinese Adage~

In the book of fairy tales,

Girl meets boy,

They fall in love,

They marry,

They have children,

They live happily ever after.

In the book of melancholy,

The owl hoots,

The crow caws,

A loved child is taken,

A hole in the ground,

The heart bleeds.

In the book of Christianity,

Reach out,

Cry out,

There is comfort,

There is healing,

There is light.

This is my story in a nut shell.

~Ann Chin~

Last night on Good Friday, my Church Mt Albert Baptist Church organised a pot luck Dinner and Movie night. We invited many ESOL students to celebrate with us. The advertisement in the local News Paper inadvertently published food provided. Some of us organising committee quickly made the decision to provide more food just in case people did come. We did have some coming because they read the ad and didn't bring any food. It was the quick thinking and reading of my friend Connie.

There was plenty of food, and it was an enjoyable dinner.

I read the above poem, translated by my ESOL student Annie Cui. Many came up and said it was a good poem. One asked where I got it from. I told them I wrote it.

This day was also the unofficially launching of my book. I gave my book to those who had supported me.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother

2011-04-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

202 pages
Paper back.

NZ$25 plus postage

Color changed to Sky Blue.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZk9w-uywAs&lr=1&user=asiadownunder

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Chapter 5 part 3

2011-04-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

25 September 1989,

I didn't sleep last night, I was coughing all night. I rang the Landscape Road Plunket. The Plunket nurse took me to Dr Lim's surgery. He was concerned about my weight loss. I had dropped in a week from 65 to 62 kg. I must have looked a mess.
He rang National Women’s to admit me. He said they may have to induce me.
There was protein in my urine. I had excessive amniotic fluid. The Plunket nurse sent me home to pack my bag and the girls stayed in the Landscape Road rooms.
There should have been alarm bells right from the first scan. When we read the scan reports after requesting them from the hospital after Andrew was born. I was very angry.
On 25th September 1989, Monday, I was admitted to Ward 5, referred to by my GP Dr A Lim at 38/40. I had been coughing for nine weeks, had a weight loss of 4.05 kg from 25 July and 2.2 kg on 7 July. I was vomiting and had insomnia and my overall weight gain was only 6 kg. I had ultrasounds done from 14 June 1989. There was a question of skeletal abnormality as the femurs were bent. I had four scans done in Greenlane Hospital, all with the same results.
There was protein in my urine, and I had a lot of water in my uterus. Subsequently I researched and found that excessive amniotic fluid (hydramnios or polyhydramnios) was a sign that babies are not normal, and certainly one of the warning signs of a Campomelic baby. Yet nobody picked up this. Andrew could not swallow, and this may have attributed to the excess fluid.
Dr Lim said they might have to induce me. I arrived at Ward 5 at about 10.30am and was met by the nurse manager who was having her morning tea. I explained that I had been losing weight and not sleeping and was vomiting. She said she would send a dietician to see me. I thought to myself, I needed medical help. I was a 35 year old woman with two children and was a sensible eater. Not an anorexic teenager. A nurse took me to a room where there were three other women.
At about 12 noon, a young doctor came and asked me a lot of information. I explained about my weight loss, my coughing, insomnia when there were days of little sleep, and over the past 10 days, I had not been able to keep food down. I felt anorexic and drank only water and weak tea. He felt my stomach, my chest and my back. The nurse came and got a urine specimen. I specifically told him about the four ultra sound scans I had had done at Greenlane Hospital and expressed my concern because of the bent femurs.
Then a team of doctors came under Dr Brown. He took a blood sample and asked a lot of questions. As I was a Chinese woman, they were discussed whether I had got tuberculosis and wanted to X-ray my lungs. I was concerned about getting an X-ray at this stage of my pregnancy. Dr. Brown ordered an urgent ultra sound scan. It was lunch time and the Nurse Manager wasn’t happy that I had to go to the Radiology Department without my lunch.
A student from Carrington Tech took me down to the Radiology Department where she waited with me until 2 pm. During the scanning, I told the technician about the four scans I had had done in Greenlane, which was just next to the National Women’s. It appears the technical staff were not told of these.
She said, “I am glad you told me, because I wouldn’t know what I was scanning for.”
During the scanning, I saw that the femurs were still bent. I was very upset because during the fourth scan at Greenlane, the doctor had told me that the femurs were straightening out and would be alright by the time the baby was born. Then a man came to scan me. After he finished, I asked if I was going to be induced.
He said, “It is not my position to say so.”
Then I was told I was to wait for X-rays to be done. I was very upset. Though I heard the doctors at Ward 5 talking about it, they had not told me. I kept asking the technician if it was safe and she assured that they do a lot of X-rays for women at this stage.
After the X-ray, I went up to Ward 5 by myself. It was 2.30pm. There was no lunch for me, but I didn’t ask as I didn’t feel like eating.
At about 5 pm, a Chinese doctor came and identified himself as a consultant. He was H Tan. He touched my abdomen, and asked three questions :
Why are you here?
Don’t you think your baby is alright?
Can’t you remember from your previous pregnancies?
I was taken aback by his abrupt manner. I explained again the same things I had explained three times already during the day and about the important four scans at Greenlane Hospital. He said he would have a 24-hour urine test and some blood tests.
The hospital report of the scan done had this discussion:
The differential diagnosis includes:
1: Osteogenesis imperfecta
2: Neurofibromatosis
3: Diastrophin dwarfism
4: Camptomelic/campomelic dwarfism
5: Congenital hypophosphatasia.
There were no definite antenatal features to enable a firm diagnosis of these. Post-natal evaluation is required.
Nobody told us of these, the delivery suite didn’t have my files when I came to the theatre, the paediatricians were not told. Andrew had Campomelic dwarfism. One look at him, and the paediatrician knew something was seriously wrong. They could have picked it up from the scans, BUT THEY DIDN’T. Somebody had failed me badly.
During tea, I forced myself to eat a little while listening to the other women complaining they didn’t have enough to eat. I offered them my food which they took and ate heartily. They then told me not to tell the nurses because they were diabetic and were on a strict diet. They joked that they get their whanau or family to smuggle food in for them. They teased me about where my puku or stomach was because I didn’t look pregnant.
I was coughing badly, and the patient next to my bed suggested I ask the nurse for some inhalation because it relieved her coughing. I asked the nurse and she brought it to me. I would not otherwise have been given anything for my cough if I had not asked. The other women laughed out loud and joked that the patient was a doctor. They were a jovial lot. They were Maori women and had a strong camaraderie because they were all in the same boat.
At 9 pm, the nurses pushed my bed to the Day Room. They explained that this was so the women didn’t disturb me, and also that I wouldn’t disturb them with my coughing. I am sure it was the latter. I was sad to leave these ladies whom I had grown very fond of. They were sad too, because it was like being sent to Coventry. Maybe I was sent there to be punished for having given them food. I didn’t sleep a wink because I was coughing the whole night. At 5 am, I asked the nurse about the urine collection, and was told to start at 6 am. In the morning, I was pushed back to my new friends. They joked that I was back from solitary confinement. These ladies were in the room for months, some of them confined to 24-hour bed rest. All they could do was to crack jokes. My baby wasn’t due for two to three weeks. I couldn’t foresee myself in the ward for such a long time.
In the morning, at 8.30 am, the doctors under Dr. Brown came. He asked if I had eaten and if I had vomited. I said I had eaten but I didn’t tell him how much I ate. They were discussing what to do about my cough. The Indian doctor suggested codeine. I was upset because I had read about codeine and its effect on blood clotting. Dr. Brown said I was ready to go home. I was shocked and I asked about the 24-hour urine collection, and he told me there was no need for it.
I felt very upset because I didn’t think the doctors had done anything for my coughing, insomnia and anorexia. The nurse came with a monitor for the baby. She asked me to press the bell every time the baby kicked. The baby didn’t kick. I was too tired and mixed up to tell anyone. In fact I did tell Dr Lim that baby wasn’t as active as the other two. I just dismissed it as being because I was busy running around for Gabrielle.
(Dr Lim should have picked this up and informed the National Women’s. Babies with CS do not move very much because they can’t move their legs. Last evening, I watched an American documentary on “The man with half a body” Kenny Easterday, the boy with no legs. I wasn’t surprised to hear his mother say that he didn’t move inside her. Doctors should not undermine mothers. Mothers know when things are not right; doctors should not whitewash the fact but carry out a thorough investigation.)
I told the nurse I was very very tired, I had had no sleep the previous night, and I had a four-year old and a 16-month-old baby. I asked if I could stay and rest. She said yes, I could stay until before lunch. Then I was told to come to the day clinic on 5th October.
When I read my discharge note, I was very distressed. It read, “Apparently private Radiologist suggested abnormality.” I had repeatedly told them that the scans were done at Greenlane. I had never been to any private radiologist. On the sentence ‘normal foetal skeletal anatomy,’ before the word ‘anatomy’, the word ‘abnormal’ was scribbled out.
The next day, on Wednesday, I consulted our friend, Dr. Bobby Tsang. I asked him to interpret the notes and advise me who to contact to express my concern about my short stay and apparently unsatisfactory care. Bobby advised it was the doctor who signed the form. Bobby rang Dr Brown and was told that it was a joint decision of Dr. H Tan and himself. When queried about the private radiologist, Dr Brown was adamant that Greenlane did not do ultra sound scans of that nature.
(Of course, Dr Brown was wrong. When I had Deborah, it was also Greenlane that I had gone to. I do not know what assumptions he had made or if he had not bothered to check with Green Lane despite me telling them three times. Despite having his colleague Bobby Tsang querying him, Dr. Brown had not investigated with Greenlane Hospital. Had he done that, he would probably have followed up my case with more care. )
At 5.30 am, 29 September 1989, I started contractions at 10-minutes interval. I had been up since 3 am. At 7 am, I rang the delivery suite and explained that my second daughter was born two weeks early. My labour was 35 minutes, and Gabrielle was a BBA or born before arrival baby. We arrived in an ambulance. They told me to come in view of this.
This time-line was sent to the hospital and Dr Tan. Dr James read it and said no wonder we were so angry. Dr James was very surprised it was so well written. He asked for permission to use it for student training and hospital policy.
We had scheduled a meeting.
17 October 1989, we met with Dr. Tan with Dr James and Wendy Green. Dr Brown was no show.
These were CO’s observations:
1: when asked about his writing, “Normal” in my notes.
Tan’s interpretation:
Whereas Brown took it as normal, he said it was solely Brown’s decision to discharge Ann.
2: Tan said he was not able to comment on Dr Brown’s action.
CO: Do you think that as Head of the team, you have the ultimate responsibility for your junior’s action?
3: Concerning Dr. Brown, we expressed our wish to meet with him, but such a meeting had not taken place.
4: The doctors had not taken the scan reports with differential diagnosis seriously, nor informed the delivery suite of the seriousness of the nature or prepared them when Ann came.
5: Did not appear to have investigated the case fully for themselves and told the patient everything was alright, even though the doctors knew something was wrong. Reassurance from the doctor(s) seemed without solid foundation.
This is unprofessional.
The report contained nothing new, it was a whitewash.
6: Did not bother to check with the patient how she was feeling, or whether baby was kicking during the period of observation. The observation period was next to nothing. It started at 6 am, and by 8 am, Dr Brown had discharged her.
Tan said, since the baby wasn’t due for two weeks they didn’t think it was urgent.
5: The Team did not take what patients tell them seriously. Ann had told them four times she had scans done in Greenlane. Yet no one had bothered to make a phone call to check.
6: Dr Brown did not follow-up our query through his colleague Dr. Bobby Tsang. This to us was very unprofessional.
Since Tan said he couldn’t comment on Dr Brown’s actions, we expressed through Dr James that we wanted to meet with Dr. Brown, We never did. Months later, when we demanded an apology from him, the hospital said he had gone overseas. He didn’t have the courtesy to inform us, or at least send a note.
We were not happy with Dr Tan, that he shifted responsibility to Dr Brown. We feel that as a team leader, he should be ultimately responsible for his subordinates. He disregarded the fact that it was him who wrote the words, “Treat baby as normal.” And for him to then blame it on Dr Brown was absolutely unprofessional.
CO felt that Dr Tan had been patronising. He treated us as though we were uneducated immigrants. What he didn’t know was that CO was a Dr Chin, PhD in engineering, and I had a couple of degrees up my sleeve from Canada and New Zealand.
The whole issue of my antenatal care left me with a very bitter pill. It would not have brought Andrew back, but at least I would have been better prepared psychologically and not have to hear these words.
“Your baby is dying tonight.”
I would like to have better investigations; perhaps I could have involved Dr. Rowley and my friend Dr Bobby Tsang.

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Chapter 5 , part 2

2011-04-13T09:07:00.000-07:00

I got a note through my Social Worker, Wendy Green. It was from Carole Fleming, the secretary to the Medical Superintendent. She told me to collect copies of Andrew’s hospital records which she had photostatted. It was almost the end of the day when I got the note and I went to collect them. I quickly turned to those entries done on the 25th September 1989. The Monday when I was admitted to the ante-natal ward.

I went back to Ward 11A and perused the entries made by Dr Tan, the consultant who examined me on Monday the 25th. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Dr. Tan wrote: scan – no evidence IUGR (intrauterine growth retardation)
-- no firm evidence of any bone abnormality.
Plan - Treat baby as “normal”
I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t know what he meant by IUGR, intrauterine growth retardation but I remember Dr. A Lim telling me that the scans showed the rest of the body was much smaller than the head. I knew what Treat Baby as “normal” was, -- he didn’t do anything. It was I who had to suffer from this negligence. I sat down to write down the time-line for Dr. James. He asked me to write about myself and my pregnancy so that he and the doctors would know me better, and to present my case to the hospital.
Background:
Deborah: Date of birth 8 December 1984. Gynaecologist Dr Bruce Conyngham. We chose a private specialist because Ann was twenty-nine, and this was her first pregnancy. Conception as planned. Pregnancy and labour uneventful. Deborah was thirty-nine weeks gestation.
Gabrielle: Date of birth 5 May 1988. Under GP Lim. Ann was under Dr Lim for more than ten years. Conception six months after planning. Pregnancy uneventful. Labour and delivery was very quick, only thirty-five minutes while she was still working at the Accounts payable Department at the Auckland Hospital. Thirty-eight weeks gestation.
Andrew: Date of birth 29 September 1989. Under Dr Lim. Conception not planned. Ann’s pregnancy with Andrew.
Last menstrual cycle: January 1989.
Bad nausea in February, but pregnancy was not suspected as menstrual cycle was irregular since weaning Gabrielle in August 1988.
28 February 1989, first appointment with Dr. Lim, pregnancy confirmed.
Dates uncertain.
28 March 1989, second appointment. Dr Lim informs that he was going for a nine-week holiday. His locum will take care of Ann in his absence.
24 April 1989, third appointment. Dr Raymond Chen. He was a young man and was concerned about my bad nausea. I had no weight gain and he requested an ultra-sound scan. My weight measurement by the clerk was 55.6 kg. Dr Chen was concerned. There was no cause for concern.
8 May 1989: 1st scan at Greenlane Hospital, Epsom.
The young technician took an exceptionally long time. He didn’t discuss it with CO or me. Then Jessica, a more experienced technician took over. She came back with Dr/radiographer. Again they scanned a long time. It must have been more than an hour.
They told us, because of the way the baby was moving around, it was very difficult to scan, and made an appointment for another scan in four weeks.
Official report: A less likely possibility is that this is a real finding, perhaps due to some kind of dwarfism such as osteogenesis imperfecta. For this reason we have recommended that the patient return in two week’s time for a further examination but if there was a family history of dwarfism then more urgent action such as an ultrasound examination by an independent operator is recommended. E. Steele
22 May 1989, Saw Raymond Chen, still nausea. Dr. Chen made no mention about the scan, just said, awaiting repeat scan results.
14 June 1989, ultra-sound scan. I went alone. Scanned by Jessica . Saw the two bents of the femurs at different locations. Two doctors came and asked if I had fallen at any stage. It was a possible explanation that I had fallen and broke the baby’s bones and they reconnected. A follow-up appointment was made for four weeks.
Report: Osteogenesis imperfecta may have to be considered.
E. Cadogan
22 June 1989. Dr Lim came back, I was still nausea. I queried about the scan. He said, “Can’t tell if there is any problem, there is no prognosis at this time.”
3rd Scan. Went with CO. I told Jessica that baby doesn’t seem to be moving like my other babies. Jackie had a list of things to scan as instructed by Dr Alistair Roberts of National Women’s. We had a quick look. Other skeletal defects, in particular: spine, jaw, limbs, various length measurements, ossification which is the process of the synthesis of bone from cartilage.
The femurs were still very bent.
Jessica went to consult the doctors.
The doctors came and Jessica did more scanning. She said all the rest of the body was normal.
“I am sure the baby is perfectly normal, when baby is born, let me know and I will come and visit you.”
Another appointment, and then a follow-up appointment for every four weeks according to Alistair Roberts.
Official report: Pre-natal bowing due to foetal packing is a possibility, as is osteogenesis imperfecta. A repeat examination in four weeks’ time is suggested.
J Mawwson
10 July, Saw Dr Lim, nothing eventful.
14 July 1989. Fourth scan. I went alone. It was a different technician and doctor. Saw the kink of the femur had actually straightened a little or was less bent. It was a quick scan by the doctor, presumably by Dr. N Black. He said there was no more scans unless A. Roberts or Dr. Lim requested it.
He said it would save my time, not having to go to Greenlane.
The scan which measured the baby’s head was 31 weeks, and the rest of the body was 28 weeks of development.
It seems likely this represents a variant of normal but significant pathology cannot be excluded on the basis of ultra scanning alone and follow-up of the baby after birth is required. I note that the patient is now under the care of specialist at National Women’s Hospital and further scans at Greenlane do not seem necessary.
N. Black.
(I was never under any specialist in National Women’s. I don’t know how Dr Black made this assumption. He could have been the first in the chain of my mismanagement. I had never met Dr Alistair Roberts. After I got the report, I asked to see Dr Black him for an explanation. He never showed up or even wrote an apology. After Andrew was born, we were told Dr Roberts was the doctor in National Women’s hospital that the Greenlane doctors had consulted. Unfortunately, he had gone to America and nobody followed up with him. It was incredible that I could have such a seriously problematic baby; yet we were kept in the dark, and right up to four days before my baby was born, I was assured that I was having a normal baby.)
July 1989, I saw Dr Simon Rowley for Gabrielle at the Landscape Plunket Road rooms. I told him about the scans and he said he would see the baby when he was born. I should just tell the delivery people.
10 August 1989, Dr. Lim. I had a cold from July, there was no medicine and he didn’t mention about further scans though I was worried and asked him about it.
18 August 1989, Dr Lim. I asked about the scans. He said maybe baby was bow-legged. It was strange that the femurs should be bowed/bent at different places. Or baby might just have short legs.
24 August 1989, Dr Lim. I asked him about the scan report. Baby has a big head and short legs, which conjured ideas of a midget.
I pressed on about his head measurements. He said, his head from ear to ear was still within normal range, just his legs were short.
There was no need to worry. Still there was no prognosis.
He would request a paediatrician after delivery.
I told him about CO’s nephew who was Down Syndrome and still couldn’t walk at three.
I was already having a cold, was not eating and the cough was preventing me from sleeping. He prescribed Amoxil and Gee’s linctus.
30 August 1989, 4 September, 13 September, 18 September,
I continued to be sick, my weight was dropping. I was seeing Dr. Lim on a weekly basis.
21 September, I was very sick and rang Pregnancy Help. They came and took me to Meadowbank’s Plunket because the Landscape Road Plunket couldn’t take me. I vomited in their car. The Plunket nurse saw that I was very unwell and suggested I see the doctor or at least to let the doctor know.
I rang the doctor’s nurse and told her my condition and explained that the Plunket nurse was very concerned.
The nurse at Dr. Lim merely said, “Wait till tomorrow; if the condition still persist, then come in to see the doctor.”

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Chapter 5 part 1

2011-04-13T09:06:00.000-07:00

Chapter 5

11th October 1989 Time-line

Beware of what you put pen to paper,
For when it is in black and white,
You can’t deny what you had written.
It may come back to bite you.

After Andrew survived his 10 days, I started to doubt the doctors. I remember reading the Readers’ Digest stories about mothers who defeated all odds and saved their loved ones. I thought to myself I did not fight for him like those mothers in the Readers’ Digest. Here I was, nothing but a loser who gave up so easily, unlike the heroic mums I read about. Now I wanted to fight for him. I asked myself if I could cope if he lived on and couldn’t eat solids, couldn’t crawl, couldn’t move and worst, if he was intellectually handicapped. I rationalised that if those mothers could do it, so could I. I said God would work a miracle, and Andrew would become a complete child.
It’s 7.55am, the girls are in the crèche. The nurse told me that at 4am, Andrew had cyanosed, which meant he had turned blue with discoloration of the skin, fingernails, and mucous membranes caused by gasping for air for 10 minutes. It happened half an hour after his feed.

We were in a meeting in the medical library. I told Dr James that I had changed my mind. I wanted full medical intervention. He touched my hands and told me those Readers’ Digest mothers were different. If Andrew had any glimmer of hope, Dr James would fight together with me to get him well. But Andrew in all aspects had no hope of survival. I told CO too, and he reacted the same way. I was really confused.

CO said he didn’t have the strength to take care of a handicapped child even if he wasn’t so severely handicapped as Andrew. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured on my head and dampened any hope I had.

Andrew had not spilled since his 9 am feed after they reduced his feed. But in the afternoon, he cyanosed again. The nurse was experienced and gave him a dummy half way through the feed. He got upset again. Then the nurse stopped his feed to get him to settle. I fed him again when he settled again. He got upset again and cyanosed. The nurse said to stop feeding for the moment, and she would top it up. She gave him a sedative in the tube. This nurse Jane was very experienced. I had not seen other nurses doing it. Using the dummy became part of his routine. This dummy is made of soft rubber which is different from the shop bought one.

I wanted to stay in Ward 11A that night. Nurse Jane was very understanding. No mother who sees her baby cyanosed is not affected by it. I touched his mop of hair. I wanted my mum. I wanted her to tell me it was alright. But Mum is buried across the ditch in Australia. Mum was there when my eldest sister gave birth to her oldest child. Mum was there when my second sister gave birth to her daughter. I thought of the Chinese song that mum used to teach us, titled “Mum is the best.”

I taught my niece Emily to sing this song and she dedicated it to my brother Charles. It is a lovely song.

Mommy's the only dearest in the world

You can click on this link to hear it.
http://ann-mythoughtsandphotos.blogspot.com/2010/09/thursday-theme-song-moms-best_08.html

Diary of a bereaved Mother: Chapter 4

2011-04-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

6th October, 1989

A nice soft bed,
It might as well be a hard concrete floor,
For it gives no rest.

The Nurses Home became a second home, but all I remember was going to sleep which never came, waking up early have breakfast, wait for some nurses at the other end of the dragon as it was 6.00 am, and still too dark to walk outside. Sometimes, when there were no nurses, I just entered the dragon alone. I prayed to God for safety.

A nurse took me down to the crèche. (Later, Betty, Andrew’s night nurse told me it was her, only I was too spaced out to remember.) The supervisor was a young Maori woman, Andrea Morris. She said, there were hardly any mothers leaving their children so it would be fine to leave Gabrielle aged 17 months and Deborah aged 4 ½. She was sure that the girls would be fine. There was another elderly Pakeha or European woman, Cathy Thompson. I think she was a volunteer and she came twice a week. In my notes, I wrote of a Margaret Smart, but I have no recollection of who she was.

The crèche was very big, but very sparsely decorated. I think the hospital gave the space, and paid the wages for Andrea. The rest of the toys were donated. There was a little tea room at the back. I don’t remember where the babies slept, but I think there must have been some sleeping spaces or there were mattresses. If Gabrielle had her daily nap, it was trivial where she slept.

Andrea suggested that Deborah and Gabrielle come in the morning, and at lunch I would take them to Oliver’s. After lunch, we could go for a little walk, and come back to the crèche. Gabrielle has her nap, I take Deborah up to Ward 11A for our Andrew-Mum-Deborah time. Round about 3 pm, I take Deborah down to Andrea. By then, Gabrielle would be awake. We have afternoon tea. I go back to Andrew. CO comes after work at 6pm, we all go to see Andrew, and have dinner at Oliver’s. CO paid for his own meal. It was good, at least we were a family having a meal I didn’t have to prepare and cook. We had a rest in my room upstairs, and then they went home to sleep. I went to spend time with Andrew until the nurse told me, time to go, you need your rest as tomorrow will be a long day.

In the afternoon, Andrea told me, “Good news, the hospital decided I didn’t have to pay for the childcare.”

I don’t know why, because I saw other mothers paying when I was there. This was a great relief. God took care of that financial problem.

This seemed all very well, but nothing is smooth sailing when your ship is sailing in uncharted waters. I didn’t really want to spend too much time away from Andrew. Yet at the same time, I knew the girls needed me. My heart and my time were divided, and it was as if claws were clawing and digging into my heart and causing it to bleed.

I used to really like the song, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God.” But at this time, it seemed that God had forsaken me. How could I seek him first? There were a lot of anger issues with the obstetric team of doctors. Dr James told me to write a time-line of my life. He would arrange with the hospital to get a meeting with the doctors. He also sent me up to the hospital library to do research on Campomelic Syndrome. It was ironic that some of the students who used the library thought I was a doctor.

Ward 11A had six mini nurseries, they were more like cubicles. The first two were the top priority ones. Those had babies in incubators and heat tables and with tubes and wires attached to their bodies. Then it went to nurseries 3, 4, 5, and 6. When Andrew came back to Ward 11A, he was in 4, but as he was a non priority case, it didn’t matter. They were just providing him with board and nursing care. Not medical care. The doctors still came to see him every day.

One morning, his cot was empty. I cried. I thought Andrew had died. I was angry they didn’t contact me. I had left notes for them to call me when he was dying and I would be down from the Nurses’ Home in a flash.

A night nurse came and said, “I am sorry….”

I couldn’t listen any more. I was shaking all over.

She touched my shoulder and repeated, “I am sorry we didn’t tell you, we moved him to nursery 6. We should have told you or done it when you were here. We were less busy in the night, and thought it was a good time to move him, as the morning nurses were always so busy.”

I literally let her lead me to the last ward. Andrew was there in the corner, the first cot at the entrance.

I cried and told him, “I thought you had died without saying good bye to me.”

That moment when I saw his empty cot and thought he had died, my heart stopped too. It was as though I had died with him.

It took me a long time to settle down. A nurse brought me a cup of hot tea, to calm my nerves. I thought to myself, would this be how I would react when it actually happened.

A senior professor came and asked if I would talk to some students because Andrew was such an unusual case. There were three young students and there was I telling them lots of things about CS, and showing them all the parts of Andrew. I actually spoke a long time. Andrew’s nurse came and told me quietly that I didn’t have to do this if I didn’t want to. I was emotionally drained when I finished. I don’t know how much the students took in, or what they had to know about CS. I remember the old professor coming to thank me, and apologizing that he hadn’t make it clear that all he wanted me to tell the students was the psychological side of a mum faced with a baby with a terminal situation. He didn’t expect me to tell them the clinical facts. Andrew’s nurse must have complained that I was subjected to such a horrific situation.

Charge Nurse June made a beautiful management care plan for Andrew. She decorated it beautifully and put it on the wall. She did it in her own time that Sunday and the nurse told me that no baby had ever had the charge nurse do this. I thanked her for this and she said she wanted to do it for Andrew.

Throughout this time, we expected Dr Tan and his junior Dr Brown to come and see us. But they never came.

We were scheduled to have our first official meeting with Dr Tan and the hospital. Dr Tan didn’t have the guts to attend the meeting. He asked Dr. James to represent him and the hospital.

Dr Tan’s no show infuriated me. Why couldn’t he say, “I am sorry” since he made a blunder? And he couldn’t even say it to my face?

Now, even CO was angry that Dr Tan treated us in a patronising manner. No doubt Andrew was a terminal case, but had Dr Tan done his homework and followed it up, he would have been wise to inform the delivery suite and the doctors to be prepared.

At the meeting, we requested Andrew’s notes so we could investigate further.

I asked Dr Armstrong, the paediatrician, if Andrew would have died then if they had done nothing to him. Dr Armstrong said the answer would probably be yes, as the doctors gave him oxygen and helped him breathe. Would it have been better he had died then? It certainly seemed so when I was in pain sitting and waiting.

Deborah and Gabrielle had adjusted well in the crèche. Andrea was a very good supervisor. On the first day, when Gabrielle kept crying, Andrea took a Tommy Tippee turtle toy and spun it across the floor. Gabrielle stopped crying and went about 20 feet away to pick up the turtle, retrieving it for Andrea for her to spin it again. Patiently Andrea repeatedly entertained her this way, until the friction of rubbing it against the floor was scraping the colour off. I think Andrea must have been tired of this game, as she told Gabrielle that turtle wanted a rest. It continued to be Gabrielle’s favourite toy. She played with it by herself.

After Andrew died, we went to see Andrea to say goodbye, she said the turtle was too scratched; otherwise she would have given it to Gabrielle.

Six months later on May 5th, 1990 Gabrielle turned two. I made her a turtle jelly cake because she was allergic to dairy products and eggs so couldn’t have an ordinary cake. I bought her the same Tommy Tippee turtle. She was very thrilled to have it. She remembered the good time she had with Andrea. But it cut into my heart, that turtle belonged to the time when Andrew was alive. That turtle was more for me than for her. We brought the turtle to Singapore.

In 2005, Gabrielle came back to New Zealand to study her last year of high school. Before we came back in July 2006, a sister of my British neighbour came from the Philippines. She ran a Street Kids program in Manila and had asked for good old clothes and toys. I had packed away all my clothes and toys I didn’t need any more. Before I sealed the box, I held the turtle, Gabrielle’s turtle. I wanted to keep it the way I kept Andrew’s dog. It was a very emotional time. I decided against keeping the turtle. I reluctantly put it in the box. Some kids in Manila could have use out of it.

One day in 2007, I saw the same kind of turtle in a Salvation Army Op Shop in Auckland. I have this feeling that you would not understand. I am back to the city and country Andrew was born, and there was the turtle reminding me of that fateful time. I bought it and gave it to Gabrielle. Gabrielle had since moved out of the house and gone flatting. I asked her if she still had the turtle. If she didn’t want it any more, I wanted it back and I gave this part of my manuscript for her to read.

She said, “Mum, you can have it.”

Deborah was doing well in the crèche with Andrea. One day she came up to the ward to give Andrew a picture she had made. She had drawn her family photo. When I saw it, I cried. She drew Andrew as a baby floating above us. She had glued onto him a blue Chinese conical hat. The rest of us were standing firmly on the ground. She told me that she stuck the hat on because Andrew was a Chinese boy and he was up in the skies because he was an angel. To her, it was a good picture. She had in her own way accepted that Andrew was going to die and he was going to be an angel. We pinned the picture above Andrew’s cot, and she proudly told everyone that her baby brother was going to be an angel.

One day, Deborah was very excited. Some kind ladies had knitted lots of little dolls for the hospital and left them at the crèche. Andrea told her to bring one bag for Andrew, and one bag for the rest of the little babies in Ward 11A. There were more than 10 dolls in Andrew’s bag. She chose a doll that she wanted to give to Andrew, another for Gabrielle’s gift to Andrew, and finally mine. She chose the one I liked very much. She chose one for herself and one for Gabrielle. Then she confidently went to all the other six nurseries to distribute them to the rest of the ICU babies.

When Andrew died, I asked his nurse if she would pack a doll for him to take it to Heaven, meaning it would be buried with him. I was very happy that Nurse Daphne chose the one that I had given him. She kept the puppy dog, as she knew I wanted to have it back. Whoever those ladies were who knitted the dolls, I wish I could thank them. I hope all the other babies that day survived and took their dolls home.

On 16th December, 2010, Mrs. Nesbitt, one of my British blogging friends, posted photos of knitted dolls of the Nativity scene. She invited readers who wanted the patterns to tell her and she would email to them. One of the dolls was Mary holding Jesus. It looked very similar to the doll I gave to Andrew. I told her I was interested in her patterns, and would explain why I wanted to knit one. She sent them to me the next day. It seems so strange that after 21 years, I get to see a doll that meant so much to me and at the time when I am writing this book.

November 10th, 1989.

CO and my relationship were volatile. We didn’t argue in public, we always went to some place where we were alone. One morning, he was late in coming to drop the girls. I was upset waiting at the lobby for them because I wanted to be with Andrew. If I had had a passport, I would have taken the girls and flown to Australia to be with my Dad and leave Andrew and CO. I had had enough.

That night, I wanted the girls to stay with me in the Nurses’ Home. CO must have protested but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him any more. I told the girls that they would have a sleepover in my room, but we had to be very quiet, otherwise the friendly Mrs. Cherry Thompson would come and chase us out.

I didn’t know at that time that whanau or family were allowed to stay in the room too. You see, to the Maori, whanau was very important. We only had a single bed; both the girls were crying. Deborah was afraid Gabrielle’s crying would alert Mrs. Thompson. The bed was too small even for them. I caressed Gabrielle and cried myself. I had taken the first step to leave my husband.

I couldn’t sleep a wink. I stared at my daughters; I stared at the family photograph when we were once a happy family.

I cried, “God, where are you when I need you so desperately. You are so far away.”
I did what I normally do when I can’t sleep. I got out my writing pad, but I couldn’t write. God must have told me to write a letter to CO, to tell him I loved him.

I wrote,
My dearest husband,

I love you. While my head wants to escape all this, and run away, somewhere at the back of my head tells me that this is the worst thing to do. But knowing my pride, once I have left, I am not going to come back.

Please, please, for my sake, for our sake, for our daughters’ sake, when I say, I want to leave, do not reply and retaliate saying, “Go!” Just as you did yesterday, even though your intention might be to jolt me to my senses.

Instead, hold me tight and ask me to stay. Tell me that you need me, tell me that Deborah and Gabrielle need me, and Andrew needs me. Tell me that I am needed for this family.

Right now, I am at the top of a crumbling cliff contemplating if I should jump. I need you more to hold me back from jumping or hold me back from escaping. It must have been God’s plan that I haven’t got a passport. It is no empty threat. If I had a passport, I would go to Australia. I would take the girls to Father. I won’t come back, in this state of mind; even if Father and Charles persuade me to come home, I will not. My pride is too great. It would be up to you to beg, to kneel and beg me to come back. Not even if you fly to Australia, will I come back. NO! NO! NO! I can’t take it anymore.

The only thing stopping this flight is Father. I don’t want to upset Father. He is still grieving for Mother. I am sure he will take me in, but it is not the right thing to do.
Olwyn says we both have our pride; we both need to work on it. Both Wendy and Olwyn asked me how we met. I told Olwyn, I was going to Palmerston North, I wasn’t meant to come to Auckland. Everything was so strange that I should have my plans change and come to Auckland and meet you. Would I have met you if I had gone to Palmerston North? Would I be in this hell hole?

God had different plans for me.

Thank you for standing by me right from when we started our relationship.

Thank you for being there when I had that breast operation.

Thank you for standing by me when we had Deborah.

Thank you for standing by me when I had the operation when I had the breast infection.

Thank you for standing by me when I fell so sick when Deborah was weaned; when most marriages would have broken up.

Thank you for standing by me when Mother died.

Thank you for standing by me when I had the difficult pregnancy with Andrew.

For all these, I praise God for you.

Now, however, I need more than standing by me. I need you to hold me up and prop me up.

Last night, I had enough of this rocky road, I tried to have a reconciliation. Instead our talking made it worse when it became a shouting match. I spoke to Don, I felt better. After the meeting with Dr. James and Wendy, I felt good. I felt really good after Dr. James looked at Andrew’s charts and came and told me that my observation was right, I told the doctors that when the nurses used the bigger nasal tube, Andrew was always sick. Now, they will always use the small tube. I just felt good because it sort of showed to Dr. James and everyone concerned that I didn’t just make a whinging comment.

Please darling, you are the most important person in my life. I want to hold you, to touch you. But something is holding me back. That something tells me you are the cause of all my trouble. That something makes me feel repulsed at the sight of you. That something is very sinister, it is from the Devil and he wants to break our marriage up.
But I actually want you to hold me and touch me as well. Though at this time, I don’t want you to kiss me. I will let you know if I want to or not. Please let me hold you.
Please, do not turn me away. Hold me tight.

Olwyn told me her paediatrician brother took care of a Campomelic child in Australia. The baby lived for four months. My God, I hope Andrew is not going to live that long.

Andrew is like a tunnel, only it has no opening at the end. There are lots of obstacles that we keep banging into. We don’t know how long it is. Please help me walk together in this dark dark abyss. Please don’t let me stall at any of the hurdles.

I love you. Let me clarify my request that when you see me in the morning to first ask how Andrew had been and how I had slept. This is not to DICTATE to you what to do, but for you to GAUGE my feelings, my state of mind.

Last night I did not sleep a wink. I was up writing this letter. It is 5am. I am very upset.

At this moment, and in my current state of mind, I feel no emotions for you. I still don’t want to see you. I know it is wrong and unchristian-like. The evil force is lurking, and ever ready to pluck me away from you and from God. I need you to help me.

I love you.

Ann

Diary of a bereaved Mother:Chapter Three part 2

2011-04-09T01:18:00.001-07:00

The Tunnel.

Life!
Is life's journey a series of tunnels?
You never know how long you have to walk,
You never know when there will be light.

Then there was this tunnel or maze which played a very significant part in my life. The nurses used to get to the Nurses’ Home when they ended their night shift at 11 pm or started their morning shift at 6 am. They told me that while this was a longer walk, it was much safer, and more comfortable if it rained and in winter time. They also suggested that I not walk alone because it could be quite scary, and one never knew what weirdoes may have sneaked into the tunnel. The nurses always walked in twos and threes. They advised that if I left Ward 11A at around 11 pm, and waited round the entrance of the tunnel, there were bound to be nurses heading back, and it would be safer if I joined them.

In November 2008, I started blogging and made many online friends. On October 30, 2010, it was Halloween, and many internet memes I had joined were featuring on this theme. I don’t believe in Halloween and didn’t post ghosts and witches’ photos. For the topic ‘dark’ I posted a photo of a tunnel of my local Westfield shopping mall, making it black and white. It turned out very effective as a dark and fearful picture.

I didn’t make the connection to the tunnel of 1989, but when my fellow blogger Ginny commented that it was like a hospital corridor, her comment opened up a flood gate of memories. She seemed to be able to read my mind despite the fact that Ginny is thousands of miles away in the USA.
Here is the link to it. As a picture tells a thousand words, no matter how I describe it, I can’t beat the photo. You may like to view it.
http://ann-mythoughtsandphotos.blogspot.com/2010/10/photohunt-dark.html
When I walk through this tunnel-like walkway, I am reminded of my friend Gwen Bettridge telling me," There is always light at the end of the tunnel." This was during her visit to me when Deborah was born.

She said, “There will be sleepless nights, there will be piles of laundry and nappies, there will be piles of dishes unwashed in the kitchen sink”
It seems I had unconsciously posted that shopping mall tunnel which resembles another tunnel which had been etched in my mind. Twenty-one years ago, my son Andrew was born, I chose to be with him until he died. The hospital kindly gave me a room in the Nurses' Home.

The block was quite a distance from the baby's ICU, and was connected by underground tunnels like a maze. If you missed a turn, you could end up in another block and be lost. When I walked past what the nurses call the groaning dragon, the boiler, I wanted to walk quickly as the dragon not only groaned; it shook and created an earthquake. Every day, for almost 50 days, I walked this tunnel twice. It was not a walk I would wish for anyone.

On November 21st, I walked that walk for the last time. The next day, I left the hospital's main entrance with empty arms.
Ginny, I had not shared this with anyone, not even with my husband. Today, I am sharing this with the whole wide world.

*Oh, Ann, I am so sorry. Your comment has moved me to tears. I have walked a lot of hospital corridors in my time, and I just had the strangest feeling about this one. Overwhelming sadness. Sadness in sympathy for you, which I did not even know at the time. Also what is so strange is my post I have planned for tonight, which is about babies who have passed away. Many blessings, Ann. Ginny*
*This is a wonderful photo for this theme. I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your son. George*
*Oh Ann, This is heart-wrenching... I am so sorry... That had to be a low point in your life.... We all walk through the tunnels of life -- and they are hard. BUT -- there is LIGHT at the end of the tunnel... God Bless You, my friend.
Hugs,
Betsy*
CO was on a working trip to Singapore. I was at home with Sam. I had asked Robyn Dove, my pastor’s wife, to read my novel, “Mail Order Bride” and she asked if I would write the story of my life. Although when friends read the notes I wrote when Andrew was alive, they encouraged me to try to get them published.

It was this post of the tunnel, or rather Ginny’s comment which got me thinking again about the piles of notes I had written in 1989. I had not got back to them. When I wrote them, it was a diary to recount those turbulent days and a record for my children. Deborah and Gabrielle are now in their twenties, and have not read my notes either. The notes went with me to Singapore, moved a few times there, and came back to New Zealand in 2006. CO wanted to throw out all my correspondence.

I said, “You can throw out my family letters, but no way are you throwing out Andrew’s notes.”

I am glad I kept them. The first night was hard, I just flipped through the loose pages, I didn’t read. The second night, I started. I had to work during the day, I had to force myself to sleep. Sleep eluded me; my mind was working overtime. Transcribing from notes with scratchy handwriting is much more difficult than tapping on the keyboard and thinking at the same time. It is good having the hard copies. I can tell when my emotions were up and when they were low and how long I had been writing and when I wrote. The hand writing ranged from beautiful to “chicken scratching.”

Diary of a bereaved Mother:Chapter 3 part 1 Andrew 5th October, 1989

2011-04-09T01:15:00.000-07:00

Little bits of kindness,

Going that extra mile,

Added together,

Takes the bitterness away.

Dr James arranged for us to meet Wendy Green, the social worker of Ward 11A. Wendy was a very lovely person. I couldn’t remember exactly what went on during the meeting. This was what she wrote in the hospital notes.

“Mum and Dad were very upset and still anxious and angry and very confused. Both worry and seem to worry about baby’s condition and how to manage in future weeks. To see again and remain closely involved.”

October 6th, 1989.

All maternity cases were free in New Zealand. Most mums stayed at most for three days. I had stayed more than a week. Dr James was under pressure from the hospital management. I had overstayed my welcome in Ward 2. The nurse manager too was pressurised. Technically, I wasn’t a patient. I used the room to sleep, I was not sick to require that hospital bed and that single room.

But they couldn’t just throw me out as they had treated me so badly when I was admitted on the Monday before Andrew was born. We were still sorting things out and it would be bad for the hospital if we were aggravated further and the sensitive nature of situation could escalate and lead to a nasty court case.

Dr James and my social worker Wendy came and told me they had found a happy solution. They had a room in the Nurses’ Home that I could have, and the hospital had a crèche that my girls could go during the day. The hospital would give me free board and food. They gave me vouchers to have my breakfast, lunch and dinner. The allowance was ample as I hardly ate a thing during those days. In fact I had enough to share my lunch with Deborah and Gabrielle.

The hospital had just imposed a new charge on the crèche meant for antenatal mums to leave their kids in when they went for their maternity check-up. For these women, the few hours of their visit didn’t matter, but for me, if I left my girls eight hours per day, the charges were phenomenal. Here was another big hurdle hanging over my head. But like the saying goes, “Beggars can’t be choosers.” I accepted this offer.

I packed my stuff and followed a porter. It was all very confusing and I was totally lost. The porter was a young Polynesian man and he was very patient with me. He kept saying, “This way Mam, watch out for cars, Mam.” We crossed roads, turned right, turned left, walked straight ahead. Finally, we reached the building.

It was just a block from the main hospital. It was like a hotel building with a tall block, and a lower entrance with the kitchen and dining cafeteria. He went to the reception to check in for me. I must have looked and behaved like a zombie. He explained where I was to get my meal vouchers and where to eat.

Mrs. Cherry Thompson at the reception desk explained where I had to drop my keys when I left and another desk where I went to get my daily meal vouchers for the Cafeteria they called Oliver’s. I soon got to know the personnel there well. Mrs. Cherry Thompson and the other receptionists were very patient, always asking how Andrew was. They were very friendly and always giving comforting words. Come to think of it, I wonder if perhaps they were told I was “The Mum”, the infamous mum with the dying baby and who was going to sue the hospital.

He took me to the room allocated to me, opened the door and asked if I needed him to take me back to the hospital. I think he was really worried about me. I told him I would be alright, I didn’t know how long I would be and I didn’t want him to wait. He said it was okay, he would wait in the common room.

The room was depressing, bare walls and thin carpet. I just dumped my things on the floor. The room was on the right side of the wing. I couldn’t remember which floor it was, but we had to go up in the elevator. It was just a single room with a single bed. There was a communal bathroom, but I didn’t remember taking my shower or brushing my teeth. I didn’t venture around the place and I didn’t go to the common room. I stuck some of our photos and a few drawings Deborah had done.

I opened my door, the porter was leaning against the wall and waiting for me.

He asked, “You ok?”

We repeated the walk back in reverse order. I had no idea where he was leading me. I just followed him. Poor man, how many to-be-bereaved mums had he taken to the Nurses Home. He was a lowly and poorly paid porter, but he did his work well.

When you walked straight out of Oliver’s, you came to the crèche and then to Ward 11A. On the left was another crèche for the staff, doctors and nurses. Why do you think I remembered this so well? I couldn’t bear to look at the children playing in the playground and their laughter and their crying.

It was as though they were mocking me, “Nani nani poo poo, look at me, listen to me, I am a healthy child. You are a hopeless mum, you are a failure.”

I bit my lips because I didn't want these children see me cry.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Chapter 2 part 2

2011-04-05T14:48:00.000-07:00

Andrew October 4th, 1989 5.30am Wednesday Part 2

Stress!
How much can one take?
A word out of place.
It blows out like a volcano,
When in fact it is a storm in a tea cup.

I am in a daze, my bucket of tears has run dry. I am like a mechanical person. I wake up at 5 am, go down to see Andrew, come up at 8am and have breakfast, go down to see Andrew, come up for lunch, go down to see Andrew, come up for dinner, go down to see Andrew until the nurses chase me up to the ward to sleep. But I don’t sleep; my brain is working overtime.

Andrew’s Chinese name is Fighter. What a silly thing to name a dying baby, did I think he is Rambo? I wish I hadn’t given him that name. He is a loser, a chicken. Yet as I looked at him, he was living up to his name. He was a fighter alright; he had defied the doctor’s prediction by five days.
Andrew came up with jaundice on Monday. His reading went from 270 to 300. I asked Dr. James if we should put him under lights. The doctors’ practice these days, they don’t put the babies under the lights at that level. I told Dr. James about the jaundice scare in Malaysia in 1977. Many babies were dying of jaundice. He then said, to allay my fears, if the reading went up to 330, he would put Andrew under the lights. I thought to myself, perhaps the doctor thought I was contradicting myself. We had agreed to give him palliative care, yet now I was asking for active intervention.

When I woke up at 5am, I was groggy and felt sick. I rang for the nurse and told her that I was feeling sick. She said she would ring for the doctor to come and see me to give me something to make me comfortable. In the meantime, she said she would stay with me. Her name was Wanda; she had been to China to Tientsin and Beijing. Her husband had an importing business. I told her, as a Sarawak-born Chinese, I had never been to China.

Wanda told me about her trips to China, the Chinese food she loved, and said I should go since I was a Chinese. I told her about the Chinese girl who was coming to stay and would be my children’s nanny and now I didn’t need her any more. We talked, we talked and talked. Then the doctor came, I looked better and I felt better.

It was “Dr. Nurse Wanda” who did the trick. She had spent time talking with me that made all the difference.

She did not say, “Sorry, I have my duties to do.”

My mood changed slightly. I wrote a letter to my sisters and brothers to pray for me. I needed strength. CO been having a lot of stress as well. The afternoon before, we had two disagreements. Somehow, after my lunch, I didn’t know what triggered it. We ended up with a fight. It wasn’t just a lovers’ spat. It was huge.

I told CO, “If you push me any further, don’t come here again, I will discharge myself, get Deborah and Gabrielle and go away. Don’t bother to find us, because you will never find us.”

I didn’t have my bag or key as CO had taken them back on Friday. Where would I go? I didn’t have any money; I didn’t have a key to the house.

That night, I kept thinking what a frightening thing I had done. It wasn’t fighting CO, but the idea of wanting to abandon Andrew. Subconsciously, I had been telling myself not to abandon him, yet this thought came to my mind in the heat of anger. I cried and cried, and the nurses gave me some sedatives to sleep because they said I really needed them.

We hadn’t reconciled when CO the previous night. He was angry; I was angry. The Bible tells us:
"Do not let the sun go down on your anger" (Ephesians 4:26).

We had just done that. If we were not in the hospital, we would have slammed the door.

I am not sure if this was why we fought. Perhaps he was tired of going back to an empty house. He wanted to take the girls home from Dawn’s house to sleep and I said it would be better they remained at Dawn’s. And he said we had imposed enough on Dawn’s hospitality. Deborah put up a fight. She didn’t want to leave Dawn’s house and their daughter Joy. To Deborah, it was a big fun sleepover with her best friend. Poor CO, he had to deal with my fight, and he had to deal with the girls’ fight in Dawn’s house. He opened the door to the house a dejected man. His wife had threatened to leave him with his girls and abandon his dying son in the hospital.

Olwyn, Bobby Tsang and his wife Ling Ling and Sim came. I told them about my fight with CO and my fear of having entertained the thought of abandoning Andrew, and that I had made the threat of leaving my husband. I wasn’t proud of my behaviour. This was an understatement; I was very ashamed of myself.

They consoled me that it was understandable given my circumstances. I was under so much stress that there was only so much one could take. They prayed for me and for Chen Onn and the girls.
The doctor came in and I told him my frightening thought of forsaking Andrew. He said that the nurses were worried thinking that I had been coping too well and was putting on a strong front. I am glad I told Nurse Wanda and the doctor the turmoil inside me and how I felt “gutted.” Wanda told me she was a Christian and I praise God for her. She spent a long time to help me.

Dr S Lim came and suggested that I should not be spending so much time in ICU. He said I should go for a walk or a drive because being confined to ICU and my room would make me depressed. He was a Chinese, but a New Zealand-born Chinese so he probably didn’t know the traditional Chinese Confinement month. I told him I didn’t want to go out, and while I didn’t practise this tradition, I had LBL and I hadn’t been well during the pregnancy; I didn’t have the mood to go any where. He didn’t say the confinement practice was hocus-pocus or old wives’ tales, but it was for the baby rather than the mum, so the baby wouldn’t catch an infection.

I wasn’t really convinced that I was cooped up in the hospital and it wasn’t good for me, but I decided to go out for a drive. I needed to post my letters, go to church and talk to Don Dickson. CO needed that support from Don because I wasn’t giving him any. And I realised just how fragile our relationship was. Though we had been married for ten years, it wasn’t as solid as I thought it was. It buckled under pressure of these last six days.

Olwyn reminded me that in Napier, a fourteen year old girl was abducted and killed. Her father was a church minister. The tragedy broke the family up. This goes to show that even mature Christians can not handle tragedies. Often these turbulent incidents can make or break marriages.

It is strange that I had forgotten this Napier case, even though I had written it down. Deep in the abyss of CO’s mind, he had hidden it somewhere. At one of our recent Bible Studies on trials and tribulations. CO suddenly remembered this case.

I had no recollection who I went with and how I went; or if I did the things I intended to do. I did go to Newmarket and was at the Chemist shop at 277, Broadway. Suddenly, I wanted to buy things for Andrew. I had not prepared anything for him. I grabbed an armful of soft toys, and as I was about to pay for them, a torrent of tears flowed. What was I doing? Andrew couldn’t play with them? Andrew was dying. The girl at the shop saw me and asked if I was okay. She probably thought I was sick. I held the toys to my chest. My poor Andrew, Mum hasn’t given you anything. Eventually I composed myself and chose a little brown puppy with floppy ears and big brown eyes. I gave it to Andrew and put it in the bassinet. Deep in my heart, I had a sense of satisfaction. Sweet Andrew, Mum did give you something after all.

When Andrew died, I gave away all of his things except one, that little brown puppy dog. I kept it with his lock of hair. Then I kept it with my Christmas decoration. Every year, when we decorated the tree, I have told the children this is Andrew’s dog. In my heart, I grieve for Andrew. This is another Christmas he won’t be joining us. I told nobody about this. I wonder what CO will think when he reads this. In December 2004, Gabrielle and I left Singapore for New Zealand. Chen Onn rang and asked if he could donate the Christmas tree to the students. They were raising funds for the tsunami in Indonesia, Thailand and Sri Lanka. I told him, make sure you keep Andrew’s dog.

I still have the puppy dog and I will keep the dog as long as I live. Then I will bequeath it to Deborah. She knew her brother better than Gabrielle and Samuel.

The morning doctor saw the puppy dog. He said I looked much happier. He suggested that instead of dwelling all the time on the sad situation, perhaps I could think of the good things. He had noticed that I was writing a lot and I had a lot of friends.

He suggested, “You have so many helpful friends, why not write about them? It will be good therapy.”
This children’s song I used to teach my Sunday School class came like honey. Count your blessings, counting your blessings one by one.

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

I couldn’t remember all the lyrics, but the words “count your blessings, count your blessings” became real and comforting. I thought of all my loved ones, my husband, even though I had threatened to leave him the day before, my two beautiful and healthy girls, and my many friends.

CO was in a rotten mood when he came.

“I don’t want to see you if you are angry like this, you might as well not come” I told him.

He said he went home and the house was stinking. It smelt like something was rotting. Of course, nobody had cleaned the house, done the dishes or taken the rubbish out. It had been more than two weeks. The weather was warming up and flies were coming into the house. There were maggots in the kitchen bin and on the kitchen bench.

“You don’t expect me to come home to clean, do you?” I shouted. “I am in confinement, and if I was in a Chinese home in Malaysia or Singapore, I wouldn’t have to do a thing.”

We were about to continue the fight we had last night and my tears flowed. Tears are a woman’s strongest weapon. After than, we decided fighting wouldn’t make the maggots go away. We needed someone to clean the house.

We rang Brina to ask if she could help us. When CO went back that evening, the house was immaculately clean. It had never been so clean before, because Brina was a cleaner in a motel. She even did the laundry and ironing. Brina was one of the best neighbours I ever had. I am so grateful for her love to us.

My church friend Jill Arnett sent me a note and a card. She told me that she had had two miscarriages. Somehow reading that other people have had similar tragedies made ours a less bitter pill to swallow and I felt slightly better. Jill Arnett and I went back a long way. We worked in Kerridge Odeon Corporation before Deborah was born.

Lois Thornton, our Kiwi Mum, sent Daily Light’s notes. She wrote that she was just reading them and thinking of me when CO rang to tell her of our bad news. Andrew’s birth must have reminded her of Ken’s death two years ago.

It would also be hard on our Pastor Don Dickson. He had buried his mum two weeks before when she died suddenly. And now, he had to bury his congregation’s baby son. How many pastors have buried a baby in this day and age?

Andrew survived his six days. It seemed he was battling on, my little Rambo. I just have to live day to day. Was it a day of bonus or was it an extra day of pain? Dr. James said since he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to die, maybe they should get the orthopaedic surgeons to fix his dislocated hip and his club foot. It gave me a glimmer of hope that perhaps things were not so grim after all. There was a tiny flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.

There were lots of things to think about, to decide whether to take Andrew home, to meet with the social worker, to investigate to see what kind of help I needed from nurses, what home help I required, what kinds of subsidies were available to us. No matter what happened, Dr. James assured us that he wouldn’t leave us in the lurch.

Dr. James would come and see Andrew and examine him. He would arrange the meeting on either Thursday or Friday. We had the three paediatricians, Dr. James, Dr. Rowley and Dr. Armstrong to choose from to be Andrew’s doctor. It was really a hard choice between Dr. James and Dr. Rowley. Dr. Rowley had been very good to me and Gabrielle. But here in National Women’s, Dr. James has been an exceptional doctor. You couldn’t ask for a better doctor. We resolved to choose Dr. James. Dr. Rowley promised that while he wasn’t officially Andrew’s doctor, he would always be available for me to talk to him.

The management plan was now to treat Andrew as a normal baby. The only thing was we would not resuscitate him when he stopped breathing or when his heart stopped.

I had some special Chinese vegetable seedlings growing in the garden. CO had not watered them, as that was the last thing on his mind. I was worried they would die. I asked CO to go back to water them. He said by the time he got home at 10 pm, it was too late and too dark to go to the garden. We had another fight. I had a dying son, I didn’t want a garden full of dead vegetables because someone didn’t do as I requested.

God saw our fight, and answered my prayers. That night, he sent rain. I looked out of the window and saw the rain drops pelting against the window pane. I thanked God for saving my vegetables. I requested God to give CO strength to handle me and strength for me to be able to do everything.

I remembered the verse I memorised on Assurance of Answered Prayer:
“Hitherto have ye asked nothing in My Name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy
may be full” (John 16:24).

I claimed that and had an easier sleep.

Diary of a Bereaved Mother: Chapter 2 part one

2011-04-04T14:17:00.000-07:00

Andrew October 4th, 1989 5.30am Wednesday

A stranger tells of her woes,
Yours are worse than hers,
You want to shut her up,
But you can’t!
You don’t shush a hurting woman!

On October 1st, I wrote to my sister Elizabeth. I was sure she would have cried with me and prayed for me.

I saw a young Hakka Chinese woman; she belonged to the same Chinese dialect group as CO. She had just delivered her second daughter and she came to my private room. She asked why I was privileged as a multiple mum to have this private room. She didn’t like to be in the open ward because she couldn’t speak English. I bit my tongue and couldn’t answer her. She cried saying that her mother-in-law did not like her because she had given birth to another bloody girl. She admired me saying that I was lucky to have a son and my mother-in-law would be so happy and treat me well. I comforted her telling her that I too had two girls, and this was my third baby. Next time she would have a son.

“No, my husband said we didn’t have money to have more children,” she moaned.

Deep in my heart, a river of gushing tears caused a tsunami. I wanted to tell her to leave, but I didn’t want to hurt her as she was an uneducated immigrant woman.

I wanted to shout, “You want to swap places? I will give anything to do it.”

Her talk verged on the ridiculous.

“My mother-in-law will force my husband to take a new wife,” She sobbed, “You are a Chinese woman yourself; you know Chinese men can have many wives.”

Blah! Blah! Blah! She went on and on. Eventually I told her that I was very tired and needed to rest and rolled over to face the windows. She took the hint and left.

My heart sang this romantic Chinese song. “I am so sorrowful, I have words but I can’t utter them.”

This song was very popular when I finished high school. We had a family crisis, when Rose heard me singing the song, she warned me never to sing it within Mum’s earshot, and it would worry her very much. Mum was hurting enough.

Right now, I am a bag of emotions. I am feeling my lowest since Andrew was born. Andrew was now six days old and was still fighting on. Since Monday, he appeared to be breathing better and had not had a near death episode. However irrational it was, I was having a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the doctors were wrong; they were wrong when they said, tonight and then three days, weren’t they? I wanted so badly for them to be wrong. I wanted my healthy little boy.

Deep down, I knew it was hope against hope. Andrew was still breathing deeply with difficulty, he still had his club foot, and he still was being tube fed. He could do nothing a healthy normal baby could do. Dr. James told me, now the deadline was ten days. I asked what if he survived ten days. How long then? He said, he would be living one day at a time, then maybe month by month and who knows?

The song, “One Day at a time, Sweet Jesus, that’s all I am asking of you;” came to my mind. When you sing this song on any other day, they were just words. But when you are actually living one day at a time, this couldn’t have been more horrifying.

I thought of two women in my family who lost their children. One was my paternal Grandma Chan. First, my 4th uncle, aged four, drowned swimming in Rejang River in Borneo. We were frequently told how my Grandpa Chan cried aloud.

He lamented, “God, why did you take this favourite son of mine? Why couldn’t you have taken one of the other boys?”

Even when he was in his seventies, he was telling us his loss of 4th Uncle and how all the women folk sighed and shook their heads. He might be a grieving dad, but he shouldn’t have cried to his god to take one of his other sons.

Grandpa gave him a grand funeral, which was unheard of at that time for a little boy. That little boy had a younger brother to call him, “Ah Ko” which meant big brother, so it was fitting that he had a funeral and be remembered. But a grand funeral? The people shook their heads. Grief had softened his head!

Every year, at Ching Ming Festival, Grandpa led all of us to pay respect to his poor son. Forty years later, Grandpa, aged almost eighty, wanted to move 4th Uncle’s remains to a new cemetery to a new grave next to his, Mum and Dad and Grandpa went to dig some dirt to put in a little box. It was a symbolic gesture to remove his remains. Mum said that Grandpa dug and dug, and there was nothing. It was very hot under the tropical sun, Mum told him to stop, he would find nothing. He refused; eventually he found a sole of a tiny shoe. Mum said that Grand Pa had loved his son very much. He had buried his little son in a pair of leather shoes when most people walked barefoot at that time.

There was no talk about how Grandma grieved. Was she a stoic woman? Grandma came from a rich family. She brought a slave girl to do all her housework, but in the Chan’s family, everyone had to work. She suffered in China. When she and Grand Pa came to Borneo, she endured hardship as a pioneering woman. After 4th Uncle died, she wanted to return to China. Maybe that was her way of escape. As a strong headed woman, she was determined to go even when Grandpa said, “If you go, I will take a second wife.”

She must have been heart-broken when she left. Shortly after she returned to China, her third son, at seventeen, suddenly died. He came home from a basketball game and felt sick and “dropped dead.” The local people said he suffered from what many people returning from the tropics to a temperate country suffered, the suddenly transition from the extreme heat to the cold killed him. Some people even pointed the finger that Grand Ma had killed her son indirectly because she insisted on returning to China.

Poor Grandma, her husband had taken a new wife, her sons dead. After that, she lost her will to live and died without any apparent sickness. The Chinese call it Sum Tung or heart ache.

I never saw my grandma. But now, I was thinking, Grandma, I am following in your footsteps. I am burying my son.

I was in primary school, my aunt, Mum’s brother’s wife, had gone to deliver her baby in the hospital. The baby died. We were not told if it was a boy or a girl. It has become an unmentionable, forever to be forgotten by everyone except by his mother.

Mother arranged for a trishaw man to take the baby away and paid him twenty dollars. The Chinese are shackled by this sad belief. They believe that if a baby dies, his spirit will return to his mother and dwell in the body of her next baby. The next baby will die and the cycle goes on. If you give him a funeral, it makes it attractive to come back. Hence, if you pretend that he was never born and treated as rubbish, he won’t come back and you will bear healthy babies.