One morning I was trying to snooze with Toby when Shane came sneaking in and snapped this pic. One thing that I just love about my little boy is how he sleeps with his head turned toward me in bed. I can't imagine him sleeping away from me... it's going to make it interesting when he starts bringing girlfriends home, don't you think? Hang on, what am I saying? I can tell you that his girlfriend's will not be having sleepovers!
Anyway, the reason that I wanted to post this photo is to show you my bedhead. It's normally a little tidier than this, but the truth is that over the past few years it has become a real illustration of my life. The pile of books that you see cover everything.
There are novels there, waiting for me to read as I am an avid reader.
There are books on grief.
There are books on "trying again" after loss. Yes, I was still looking for solutions. How to fix the broken. How to get pregnant when no method was working. How to stay pregnant. How to survive.
There are books for the innocent. On being pregnant.
There are books on birthing. On labour. On hypnobirthing techniques.
Do you see that I'm a control freak? I need to understand and control what is happening.
And then there are the "new additions". The books on babies. Real live ones. What to do when you actually have one. Because they don't come with a rule book. And I still need to have control over everything.
Note to anyone about to rush out and buy said books.... they still don't give you the instructions!
I can see a ribbon bookmark hanging from one of the books. It has a felt heart on each end, and the ribbon is rainbow colored. It was our "gift" at our first SIDS memorial service after Ciaran died. It is still part of the illustration of my life.
The white little bear is Teddy. My Nana gave him to me for my first birthday. I slept with him until... well... probably my twenties truth be known. Not that I needed him to sleep, but he was just always with me. He's a special little bear, and he's soaked many tears up. He's forty years old now.
And then there's Pooh bear. Ciaran's Pooh. He plays Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It's a trigger song for me. I don't press his middle unless I'm ready for a cry. My mum bought him for Ciaran the day that he died. I find it incredibly painful to remember her returning to me in my hospital room with this and another couple of bears for him, so I'm not going to describe it. It's painful enough to make me feel like I want to vomit.
Suffice to say that a little Pooh went with him, and this one stayed with us.
This Pooh was cuddled to sleep for months. This Pooh has both of our tears in him. Shane and I used to lay in bed and cuddle him. We almost fought over who would cuddle him.
This Pooh sat on Ciaran's casket in the church.
This Pooh sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to our firstborn son one last time in the funeral car as we drove through the street of my hometown, to his final resting place.
This Pooh was buckled into the back seat of our car on our "holiday" to Tasm.ania when the funeral was over. Because we couldn't buckle in our son.
On his head is the little white hat that Ciaran wore from the hospital to the funeral home. It has a blood stain on the back of it. The nice people at the funeral home thought they would be helpful and washed it before giving it back to me. I'm still angry with them for that, but I know it was with good intentions. But that hat could have had so much more for me. It might have had his scent. It might have had his invisible skin cells. The blood stain is washed and faded. Thank God it's still there.
Around his neck is a St Gerard medallion that my best friend's mum, my "second mum" from my formative years, gave to us for Ciaran before he was born.
Pooh sits on a little box.
It's Ciaran's memory box. It has his hand and foot prints in it. His hospital card. The little quilt that covered him in the hospital. Our hospital ID bands...
The blue bear represents Ciaran in our family. It arrived in the mail the day we left to drive the four hours to bury our son in the cold earth. It was sent by a lovely lady that I have met less than a handful of times. With a beautiful card that said on the front "Dream".
And the blue bunny on the end. Is Toby's.
It's the bunny I spoke of, that we bought before he was born. That we dared to dream with. It was his gift for his first Easter.
My bedhead tells the story of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment