This time three years ago
I was in hospital.
In the "sad room".
In shock.
Wondering how I would ever live without him. Really.
Three years. It seems so short and yet such a long time. How will it feel when it really is forever. Just yesterday. But so, so long ago. How can that be?
Oh how I love him still. Oh how my heart aches for him.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
It's your birthday.
My baby boy. How I miss you. How I love you so hugely. I'm still so very angry that you're not here. I'm not angry at you though, of course. I'm just angry that it can never be. I'm angry about every single bit of it. To write about it would serve no purpose, and is nothing that my friend's don't feel for their own. I know.
But sometimes it's so very overwhelming. Sometimes, as the love bucket for your brother grows and grows, so does the anger at the unfairness of why I can't have you as well. I could kick and scream and punch. But for what purpose would it serve. I don't have the strength to put into it to make me feel any better for the action.
My heart aches right now.
:::
I've been in a funk for a couple of weeks now. I'm up. But then I plunge again. I wondered for at least a week what was wrong. I looked up PND. I wondered if that was it. I actually still wonder, but the one question that is posed on the information site when I googled it, that really gets me stuck is "do you find yourself crying for no reason?". Well, um no... because although I cry a lot, there is always a reason. There are always a million reasons. How could I ever cry for no reason, ever again?
:::
How do I celebrate a little boy's birthday when he is in heaven and I'm still too angry? Every year I think we'll have a cake and sing happy birthday. But I can't. I couldn't get the first two words out. I can't visit him, because he's too far away. I'm not too bothered by that, and I wouldn't change it. I don't think of him as there, but rather as here. With me. And his daddy and his brother.
I thought we'd do balloons again. In the very least. He's three now, so I know he would love some balloons. And I wanted to watch Toby see them go up into the sky. But it's blowing a gale out there, and I don't think they would go up, but rather sideways into the closest fence or tree. So there won't be any balloons today little man. Mummy is so sorry. But maybe in a few days I will buy you something special.
:::
But sometimes it's so very overwhelming. Sometimes, as the love bucket for your brother grows and grows, so does the anger at the unfairness of why I can't have you as well. I could kick and scream and punch. But for what purpose would it serve. I don't have the strength to put into it to make me feel any better for the action.
My heart aches right now.
:::
I've been in a funk for a couple of weeks now. I'm up. But then I plunge again. I wondered for at least a week what was wrong. I looked up PND. I wondered if that was it. I actually still wonder, but the one question that is posed on the information site when I googled it, that really gets me stuck is "do you find yourself crying for no reason?". Well, um no... because although I cry a lot, there is always a reason. There are always a million reasons. How could I ever cry for no reason, ever again?
:::
How do I celebrate a little boy's birthday when he is in heaven and I'm still too angry? Every year I think we'll have a cake and sing happy birthday. But I can't. I couldn't get the first two words out. I can't visit him, because he's too far away. I'm not too bothered by that, and I wouldn't change it. I don't think of him as there, but rather as here. With me. And his daddy and his brother.
I thought we'd do balloons again. In the very least. He's three now, so I know he would love some balloons. And I wanted to watch Toby see them go up into the sky. But it's blowing a gale out there, and I don't think they would go up, but rather sideways into the closest fence or tree. So there won't be any balloons today little man. Mummy is so sorry. But maybe in a few days I will buy you something special.
:::
We did take something for him a couple of weeks ago though... a brand new windmill. And his little brother.
:::
Monday, September 19, 2011
The tale of four girls in the saga of miracles...
I was thinking this morning... about the words that we always hear. About how a baby is a miracle. I don't know about you, but to be honest I mostly hear it from women who haven't been touched by loss. I think to many women out there the word "miracle" equates with "beautiful little darling" or something aesthetic like that. And they've heard the word "miracle" spoken in relation to "baby" before, so it's a learned phrase. It's proverbial.
Those thoughts lead me in the direction of statistics. The fact that one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. That's 25%. Only 75% of pregnancies MIGHT end in a live baby. I mean a take home one. Oh, but wait... then you need to remove the stillbirth statistics, and the neonatal statistics. Perhaps at this stage we should also take out the many other statistics for abnormality, disease and anything else that means our babies won't make it to an age where they can leave the nest to die in car, plane, boat accidents. Doesn't that make you feel sick? It does me.
So, there is a further understanding, a deeper, more meaningful understanding of how babies are really miracles, right? Except it's still only something that happens to other people. Not for us of course. But the type of thing that someone can also tell you about their uncle Bob's cousin's brother in law's wife, you know?
What I'm getting to with all of this, is that those thoughts lead me to those who I know. Not the ones who I have met through the loss of our beautiful boy. But the ones from before.
I was particularly thinking of four friends. Where a story began forty odd years ago.
First there was Wendy and I. We were "friends" from babyhood. She used to beat me in the baby contests apparently. We had our ups and downs of course, and some major blowouts from when she wouldn't play with me at kindergarten, to when I ducked and weaved from her at high school one recess to hang out with the "cool ones" because I was welcome but she wasn't. Oh, the shame. Wendy is still my bestie, I'll let you know right now!
Then we started primary school, and after the school year began, a new girl, Sonja, started and we became a threesome.
Sometime after that, a month, a year, I don't remember, another new girl, Ranjana, arrived, and we became four.
Sonja left our town when we were about 14, but we've stayed in touch. Ranjana left a year or two after she arrived as her doctor father was only on contract for that time. We lost contact and it was only a year or so ago that she found me through fac.ebook.
There is the four. Among us we have six children including a preemie, two dead neonate babies, several miscarriages and many failed IVF treatments.
What were those stats again?
Those thoughts lead me in the direction of statistics. The fact that one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. That's 25%. Only 75% of pregnancies MIGHT end in a live baby. I mean a take home one. Oh, but wait... then you need to remove the stillbirth statistics, and the neonatal statistics. Perhaps at this stage we should also take out the many other statistics for abnormality, disease and anything else that means our babies won't make it to an age where they can leave the nest to die in car, plane, boat accidents. Doesn't that make you feel sick? It does me.
So, there is a further understanding, a deeper, more meaningful understanding of how babies are really miracles, right? Except it's still only something that happens to other people. Not for us of course. But the type of thing that someone can also tell you about their uncle Bob's cousin's brother in law's wife, you know?
What I'm getting to with all of this, is that those thoughts lead me to those who I know. Not the ones who I have met through the loss of our beautiful boy. But the ones from before.
I was particularly thinking of four friends. Where a story began forty odd years ago.
First there was Wendy and I. We were "friends" from babyhood. She used to beat me in the baby contests apparently. We had our ups and downs of course, and some major blowouts from when she wouldn't play with me at kindergarten, to when I ducked and weaved from her at high school one recess to hang out with the "cool ones" because I was welcome but she wasn't. Oh, the shame. Wendy is still my bestie, I'll let you know right now!
Then we started primary school, and after the school year began, a new girl, Sonja, started and we became a threesome.
Sometime after that, a month, a year, I don't remember, another new girl, Ranjana, arrived, and we became four.
Sonja left our town when we were about 14, but we've stayed in touch. Ranjana left a year or two after she arrived as her doctor father was only on contract for that time. We lost contact and it was only a year or so ago that she found me through fac.ebook.
There is the four. Among us we have six children including a preemie, two dead neonate babies, several miscarriages and many failed IVF treatments.
What were those stats again?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
When September ends...
Last year I posted the clip of the song... "wake me when September ends..." because in many ways it's fitting, and I think it always will be.
This year though I'm torn because obviously I can't sleep through the month. But it doesn't mean that I don't want to. It's only a few days in, and my moods have already been tough to handle. I'm ok mostly on the outer. I'm ok with a distraction. But as I've said before, all roads lead to Ciaran. Always. Happy or sad. Tired and frustrated. Disappointed. Handling bad news.
I try a lot of the old "head in the sand" kind of stuff these days, but it doesn't work a whole lot. Even a turtle has to drink, and this turtle doesn't have a straw (so the head has to come out to deal with that).
:::
So we are back on the rollercoaster, where time marches on like the carriages being pulled to the top. I'm not sure where you would say I'm sitting right now, but the anniversaries have started.
I have said before that here in this babyloss world, there are some we tend to gravitate to and hold closer than others. It doesn't mean that the other mamas are insignificant to us though. And the reasons for the gravitation are many.
Right now it's the gravitational pull of the September anniversaries. They actually begin in August. Hope's three year birthday, just after my gorgeous little niece's third birthday. Jet's second year birthday. Keiki's third birthday. Peyton's birthday and the beginning of her anniversary journey because her date is just after Ciaran's. Zoe-Beth's fourth birthday. Silas' third anniversary. Levi's third. Liam's fourth. Joseph's third.
They all belong to my September sadness.
There are more, I know and I'm only listing the top few that come to mind immediately. So, why do some just spring to mind? I guess because it was the first dawning on me that I wasn't actually alone. I can't remember when I started blogging, but I was reading blogs not long after Ciaran died. Somehow I found people. I came across people in the world who not only knew my pain, but who were experiencing it at the same time as I was. They really knew where I was at.
The realisation that I wasn't alone was important. You can be told that you're not alone, but it means jack. Until you find that person who really gets it. So to read someone else's words, and feel in total amazement that someone you had never met was writing what was in your heart, that it was apparently "normal", that the best I could ever hope for was a level of "pretend" in getting over the pain... well, it was pure justification.
I like to believe that these children are friends in heaven. That they were brought together up there, to help their mama's on whatever level their mum's were needing the help in dealing with it. Because although I wouldn't wish the pain on my worst enemy, the fact that someone was feeling the total devastation on the other side of the world still blows my world apart.
So... sadly... who is feeling it today. Someone is screaming. Someone's world is upside down.
This year though I'm torn because obviously I can't sleep through the month. But it doesn't mean that I don't want to. It's only a few days in, and my moods have already been tough to handle. I'm ok mostly on the outer. I'm ok with a distraction. But as I've said before, all roads lead to Ciaran. Always. Happy or sad. Tired and frustrated. Disappointed. Handling bad news.
I try a lot of the old "head in the sand" kind of stuff these days, but it doesn't work a whole lot. Even a turtle has to drink, and this turtle doesn't have a straw (so the head has to come out to deal with that).
:::
So we are back on the rollercoaster, where time marches on like the carriages being pulled to the top. I'm not sure where you would say I'm sitting right now, but the anniversaries have started.
I have said before that here in this babyloss world, there are some we tend to gravitate to and hold closer than others. It doesn't mean that the other mamas are insignificant to us though. And the reasons for the gravitation are many.
Right now it's the gravitational pull of the September anniversaries. They actually begin in August. Hope's three year birthday, just after my gorgeous little niece's third birthday. Jet's second year birthday. Keiki's third birthday. Peyton's birthday and the beginning of her anniversary journey because her date is just after Ciaran's. Zoe-Beth's fourth birthday. Silas' third anniversary. Levi's third. Liam's fourth. Joseph's third.
They all belong to my September sadness.
There are more, I know and I'm only listing the top few that come to mind immediately. So, why do some just spring to mind? I guess because it was the first dawning on me that I wasn't actually alone. I can't remember when I started blogging, but I was reading blogs not long after Ciaran died. Somehow I found people. I came across people in the world who not only knew my pain, but who were experiencing it at the same time as I was. They really knew where I was at.
The realisation that I wasn't alone was important. You can be told that you're not alone, but it means jack. Until you find that person who really gets it. So to read someone else's words, and feel in total amazement that someone you had never met was writing what was in your heart, that it was apparently "normal", that the best I could ever hope for was a level of "pretend" in getting over the pain... well, it was pure justification.
I like to believe that these children are friends in heaven. That they were brought together up there, to help their mama's on whatever level their mum's were needing the help in dealing with it. Because although I wouldn't wish the pain on my worst enemy, the fact that someone was feeling the total devastation on the other side of the world still blows my world apart.
So... sadly... who is feeling it today. Someone is screaming. Someone's world is upside down.
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