To those who wonder how I am doing:
Ever since I lost Sebastian I have been “busy.” Busy planning the funeral, busy healing, busy packing away his things. Ever since losing Sebastian I’ve had people saying “time will heal” or “when you go back to work you’ll feel better to keep occupied” or you’re got to have a goal, keep busy.” I’ve kept busy, went back to work, got a new job, sought help through bereavement counselling, joined an online community where other people have lost babies, joined a gym. Went on anti-depressants, came off them. I’ve had to sit and be happy for 6 pregnancies all around me as well as the ones I hear are now trying when I too want to be the one waiting for that lovely blue or pink line!
I’ve watched the ones who had babies after me and show them off to me with pride, like I would have done no doubt. One after the other, trying to be happy for them but each one a stab in the heart as that is what I wanted so badly. Now I am not so sure anymore. After all I did pray for my son to have the ‘perfect’ father and the prayer was answered. Not in the way I wanted. I have good days and on the bad days I keep my head down and go to the toilet for a silent weep when I need a release. I don’t know what has triggered this latest brick wall that has jumped in front of me and to stop me in my tracks when I was doing so well, leaving me with fresh wounds to tend to that are invisible to those outside of my body.
I can only put it down to being exhausted, weary, of the constant pretense that I have to perform daily so that others are not made to feel uncomfortable when they ask how are you? For me to smile and say “I’m ok”. Some don’t ask anymore, they see the smile and presume that all is great, life is moving on and the past is behind me. But is it really? How on earth do I begin to explain that they are so far from the truth. Every day is a harsh reminder of what we haven’t got, what we should have, the people we should be. Pregnant women in the street, crying babies in the supermarket, going to lunch to pick up a bite to eat and turning down the wrong aisle as the one you are in is for Mummy’s, the one for living babies who need nappies and formula. Not for me silly, mine is dead. People who ask do I have children and I have to explain without making them feel awkward that I have a son but he sadly passed away inside of me when he should have been laying in my arms as he was due any day. Adverts everywhere with cute babies taking their first steps, first smile, first word. Mother’s day, Easter, birthdays and Christmas. All the family events when I should have had my son with me but instead of buying presents for him, I buy something sweet and colourful to put in his basket of belongings. It’s not only the materialistic things that trigger a step backwards, it’s the physical too. Every day I look in the mirror and I see the small but prominent stretch marks where I carried my baby boy safely for 9 months, the breasts that should have fed him, I feel the heartache from missing him. I look in the mirror and wonder if he would have had my eyes, I never got to see them open. Would he have my smile or his dad’s smile? He was such a little active ball when he was inside of me. I see schools in the morning and wonder what he would have looked like stood in his school clothes for pictures. It’s been 9 months and yes to some it’s a long time but every day is a struggle, even the ones where I smile and it’s still so very raw, so very real. So please when you try to understand how we are feeling please just know that unless you are walking in these ugly shoes you will never know. And I pray that you will never have to know how it is to lose a child. Don’t try to understand just accept that this is what I am feeling and I am trying to deal with it every day and will every day for the rest of my life. Please just be grateful for what I do give and know that I try my best to overcome my loss.