Finding support for late miscarriage and loss of baby – A mother’s story

miscarriage support Brisbane

As I looked at the faces of the other people in room, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. For the past few years these faces and many others had been so integral in my life, knowing I would soon be leaving them filled me with bittersweet sadness, my time here was coming to an end and even though I know I must move on, I can’t help but wish I could stay.

Eight years ago my mother died. Four months after she died, my first child was born. Two years later my second child came along. When I fell pregnant for a third time my husband told me this was the last one. I secretly thought to myself, “That’s what you think, Buddy!” At 19 weeks and 6 days I woke up in labour and found out a few hours later my son had died. I will never understand how the world turned from sunshine to darkness in the space of one day, one hour, one minute, one second. A year later, at seventeen weeks, I lost a daughter. I plunged deeper into the dark. I could barely breathe for the grief I felt; it was crushing me and those around me. It seemed insurmountable. It seemed infinite. It seemed like there was never going to be a time when I could see the light again. A few weeks after a big night on the champers, I discovered I was pregnant again. I was terrified. How could I possibly face going through this again? How was I going to cope when yet another baby died? How would I tell the kids?

One of the midwives at the hospital told me there was a new support group starting that might be good for me to go to, a group called Peach Tree. They were a group who were offering support to parents with mental illness. I didn’t even know I had mental illness! Looking back I can see how unwell I was, I can see how fear, anxiety, depression and grief ruled my life. I didn’t want to go. I mean, I really didn’t want to, but I was willing to do anything I had to do to keep my baby alive so I went along that first day and as I sat, gripping my takeaway coffee cup, I wished I was anywhere but there. “I’m Jen,” I heard myself say, “I’m eleven weeks pregnant and I lost my last 2 babies in the second trimester.”

As the weeks ticked by I grew larger and every Tuesday I looked forward to going to see these ladies. We drank coffee, we ate cake, we cried and we made each other laugh. We shared what was going on in our lives, our heads, we leaned on each other so no one could fall. It was my lifeline. It was the thing that kept me going. It was the one place each week I could be truly honest about the “crazy” in my head and it was alright because we all had our own kind of “crazy” in our heads. At last, the day arrived. Just after 9am on my 35th birthday I was wheeled out of theatre holding my very beautiful and very alive new born baby son. If that wasn’t the best birthday present I’m ever going to get, I don’t know what is. I couldn’t wait to see the ladies from group to show off my rainbow baby. To see them celebrate his birth with me warmed my heart and made me feel like I was part of something bigger.

When he was a few weeks old, I was asked if I would like to facilitate the Peach Tree group I attended. I was excited to be asked, I was excited to be part of something special that offers support and hope to parents. Without Peach Tree I’m not sure how I would ever have come through the hard times. It has taught me that whilst we are all on our own journey, none of us can do it alone. It has taught me that we all have bad days and bad things still happen but facing them with someone in your corner makes it so much better. It has taught me how to give support to others but also to allow others to give it to me. So often we think we should be able to cope alone. Life is so much easier when we ask for help and allow it to be given to us . I have now facilitated for just over two years, in that time I have seen many faces come and go. I have been touched by the stories of so many families. I have laughed, I have cried, I have been touched at the way that in times of need people will be there for each other. I have seen how mental illness affects families and I am honoured to be a part of such a group. I am honoured to have met each and every person who has passed through the doors of Peach Tree.

In a few weeks time I will facilitate the group for the last time. Recently, I introduced the new facilitator, I’m glad everyone likes her. My heart breaks at the thought of leaving but my life must take a different direction. My husband and I have decided to have a tree change and move away from the city. I will be opening a grief retreat for people who experience baby loss and provide a space for people to cry, to scream, to mourn the loss of their baby, the life they thought they would have but sadly will not. I want to provide a beautiful memorial garden, a place that honours your baby, a place that acknowledges that your child lived and in turn, died. I want to help break the silence on baby loss, I want to speak out on behalf of all of us with empty arms, to say my children matters, your child matters and they will never be forgotten.

You can follow my story by signing up to my blog at and my Facebook page

Peach Tree Perinatal Wellness

Jen is a volunteer at Peach Tree Perinatal Wellness. Peach Tree is a local Brisbane charity that offers education and support to parents and expecting parents regarding emotional health and mental wellbeing. The organization was founded and is operated by Mums who have lived experience with perinatal mental illness.

If you’d like to contact Peach Tree for support for late miscarriage, or make a donation, please visit

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