With things being the way they are, I very almost didn't go to the SIDS memorial service this year. So close. I mean, on top of everything else, where we are living now is about two hours from the venue. Add to it that it's not just me that I need to get ready in the morning, and it sounded like a good excuse really.
But I woke up at 7.20am - I had planned to be up more like at 6 or before, and for a moment was almost relieved that with only an hour to get ready, there was no way we could do it. But then I thought... this is one thing that I have done, without fail, absolutely and totally for Ciaran. To honor him and remember him and grieve for him. To let the waves wash over me once more. And now I have my rainbow, how could I not go, for the first time in three years.
So, somehow in that hour I managed to iron three outfits, feed myself and another mouth, shower and dress two of us and get to the car. Admittedly I didn't wear makeup other than a dash of lip gloss, and I let my hair dry naturally in the car on the way there - I tend to mainly wear it back now anyway, with little fingers learning to grab and pull.
The service was a little bland I thought, compared to other years. But it was still what I needed it to be. A chance to be in a room with other bereaved parents. To light a candle. To hang a message to my boy on the Christmas tree. To meet my bereaved friends, who we see once a year but are in contact with any day we wish to thanks to modern technology. And to wish each other a gentle holiday season.
I did cry. I kissed Toby a lot. A whole lot. He played, oblivious to it all. But he kissed his mummy a few times too in that.
But I notice that there are a lot of new faces. I notice that there are not so many of the "old". I wonder... are they "over it" now? Have they "moved on"? I know that the answer to that is no. Not really. We don't. And I also know it because I know some of them. They are just in a different place, and not needing to be there. Perhaps one day that will be me too. But the new faces make me feel sadder. It's still happening, this "baby dying" thing. It hasn't stopped. I know it never will, but... well, you know.
And it made me feel very conscious of having Toby there. There are a lot of children, of all different ages, but all I can think of is that very first year that we went. A lady came and sat in front of me, greeted the people around us, who she obviously knew, and settled into a conversation with someone about her baby boy in her arms. So I not only had to sit and watch him, but I also learned that he was just a couple of weeks younger than Ciaran should have been. And as much as I tried to remember that this must have been her rainbow baby, and as much as I tried to take it as a message of hope, it just plain old hurt.
So this year, I was afraid that was me. Shane is not very "attentive" at things like this. Too much like a church service I think. And also, he is the proud daddy, so he wants to... well, maybe show off a little with Toby. I tried to subtly remind him a few times that getting Toby to giggle while someone was reading a poem wasn't really the done thing. He's such a man (pffft!).
This year, just for something different, I was also conscious of how my life has changed. Whilst I mingled with my bereaved friends, and we spoke of our angel children however briefly, we also spoke of our rainbows. We did what most "normal" mothers do, and spoke of routines, solids, toilet training. It's an abridged version of that movie "Sliding Doors", I think.
:::
We are still jobless and homeless. I have no real updates. Shane had hope for a conversation today to come off with something good, but nope. So, we are still where we were three days ago. Stuck.
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