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    #31
    I noticed that many of you had sad stories of babies lost, through either stillbirth or miscarriage. This is the thread to talk about this, be it your child or grandchild.
    “A grandchild fills a space in your heart that you never knew was empty.” – Unknown

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      #32
      So sorry to hear these sad stories. Last September our 37 year old niece went for her 20 week scan, she was pregnant with twins, only to be told they had both died.They never intended to have any children, but when they found out she was pregnant, they were delighted. Both seem to have recovered well from this.
      Sometimes I forget to like posts,but that doesn't mean I don't like them.

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        #33


        Sending you all love and (((hugs))) xxx
        Bring me sunshine in your smile.

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          #34
          My son's name was Ross. This year he would have been 35 years old. His birthday is on the 4th October. It's a very sad story so I will leave it for another time. XXX
          Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. T.S Eliot

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            #35
            I miscarried after my first child. I was in ward filled mostly by prostitutes. It was so hard that I was coping with so much anguish but surrounded by 'The regulars', (a name given by the nurses). I spent quite a while on bed rest but to no avail.
            To make matters worse, when I was waiting for the ambulance to take me to hospital I asked the then OH to nip to my friend next door to see if she had any tissues. His reply...'You'll be wanting the bl***y priest next!" When I eventually got home my MIL said she was glad I was home. We'd never really got on & I thought she'd mellowed cos of what I'd gone through. Then her next words were, "I'm glad you're home because you can tell he's not getting any". 'He' being her son.

            Such a heartbreaking time. I've moved on now, but I still remember him/her on the anniversary.💗
            "Good friends help you to find important things when you have lost them....your smile, your hope, and your courage."

            (Doe Zantamata.)

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              #36
              ((((Nana , and everyone who has experienced these sad losses))))
              “A grandchild fills a space in your heart that you never knew was empty.” – Unknown

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                #37
                Nana XXX I understand XXXX
                Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. T.S Eliot

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                  #38
                  So many sad stories, but what the all have in common is a kind of sad wistfulness for what might have been.

                  My DIL1 miscarried after having 2 sons. It was around the time that Gs1 had been diagnosed either ASD so a difficult time. It still feels that there is of done missing from their family.

                  My love and hugs to all of you. Xx
                  "Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognise how good things really are. "

                  (Marianne Williamson)

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                    #39
                    Some sad stories,but all you ladies must be remarkably strong.
                    Sometimes I forget to like posts,but that doesn't mean I don't like them.

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                      #40
                      Thank you. I also believe that it's heartbreaking traumas like this that make us strong. My niece has had one miscarriage & then gave birth to a beautiful girl, now 3. She's not long since come out of hospital after loosing her baby (9wks pregnant). She's a gutsy girl & I can't imagine she will linger. Fingers crossed.
                      "Good friends help you to find important things when you have lost them....your smile, your hope, and your courage."

                      (Doe Zantamata.)

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                        #41
                        My dear sister Valerie died in 2005. Today would have been her birthday.

                        Sadly she was very ill indeed but a secondary tragedy is she had been working for at least 4 years on a novel based on the characters from the Lymond sage of Dorethy Dunnet. It was a much
                        darker tale in which Lymond was cursed by his youthful beauty and his great intelligence. He was abused by dozens of men in his childhood through no fault of his own and against all odds became a great military leader of men on the troubled border region of England/Scotland.

                        Val was a truly gifted writer. Her intelligence level was through the roof! She was also an alcoholic and the years of alcohol abuse had led to a massive deterioration in her health. She was only 56 when she died. So much talent wasted.

                        Val actually died through carbon monoxide poisoning. She was writing her novel alone on her narrow-boat moored near Abergavenny in Wales. She had been drinking and it was cold at night, and she forgot to turn off the engine. The windows were closed and sealed as was the door. Her husband found her the next morning.

                        I would like to include a poem she wrote in 1968, in memory of her life and her talent.




                        > 'Palentine', was born out of a visit to Rome.
                        > (1968)
                        >
                        > They make efficient guardians of your temple,
                        > These tortuous alleys I presume to trace,
                        > Luring the sacreligious to frustration,
                        > Diverting prying lenses from your face,
                        > I tried them all, and, all as one, they led me,
                        > Reeling, foolish, to my starting place,
                        > Defeated, tired and finally abandoned,
                        > Smarting like an infant in disgrace.
                        >
                        > I who have scaled a dozen pale cathedrals,
                        > and thumbed my nose at Madonnina's pride,
                        > am I to be thwarted by your watchdogs
                        > of all the treasures you so fiercely hide?
                        > Oh - I was strong, but you were calmly stronger,
                        > a humbled supplicant, I crept at last
                        > To where you stood, disdainful in your splendour,
                        > Inclined a lichened head and let me past.
                        >
                        > But oh, how much more merciful to leave me
                        > Fuming in some cobbled city square,
                        > Than let me wander yearning through your courtyards,
                        > Enslaved by graces I could never share.
                        > Thus hidden from me like the waiting spider,
                        > You wove of subtle silk a tender snare,
                        > Then cast it forth to slide its arms around me
                        > and hold me helpless in the swooning air.
                        >
                        > But was there ever so content a victim,
                        > Was ever such a gentle capture made?
                        > I knew the answer as your secret being
                        > Took shape before me in the purple shade,
                        > and from your crumbling sculptured lips you whispered
                        > Tales the cradle of the world had known,
                        > Printing all the pulsing soul of empire
                        > In bright mosaics on the living stone.
                        >
                        > The last rays of the dying sun forsook you,
                        > The urgent murmurs of the past were still,
                        > and as a crimson dusk received your image
                        > you loosed your hold upon my subject will.
                        > My heart embraced you, all my being praised you,
                        > across a thousand miles I bore you home,
                        > and in a chill suburbia I cherished
                        > a little of the glory that was Rome.
                        >


                        Rest in Peace Val. I do miss you. XXX
                        Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. T.S Eliot

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                          #42
                          I lost my sister when she was only 30. It is very hard. I'm sure, like me, you have many happy memories to treasure.
                          Grandmothers are just antique little girls - author unknown

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                            #43
                            My sister died in 2004 aged 52 I miss her every day as im sure you do your Dear very Talented Sister Elisi a great talent taken too soon xxx
                            Im not fat just 6ft too small

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                              #44
                              Sympathies for you all, it must have been so hard to lose a sibling.
                              Sometimes I forget to like posts,but that doesn't mean I don't like them.

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                                #45
                                Love and Hugs to you all who have lost beloved sisters xxx
                                Thank you for sharing your sisters poem, Gilly. She was a talented lady xx
                                “A grandchild fills a space in your heart that you never knew was empty.” – Unknown

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