I often feel like I’ve got to write to you as if you’re an almost 5-year old. But someone recently told me that I don’t have to write to you like this. That I can write to you the way I want to write to you. Communicate with you the way I want to. Obviously, I miss what we could have had, I miss you dearly. But life moves on somehow, somewhere and the broken puzzles pieces are picked up again.
When I was pregnant with you I always thought that you were a wise little soul and that I could talk with you in a way that I wouldn’t be able to talk to a normal child. Maybe I just treated you like a wise little man. Who knows?
Things haven’t been easy for me recently. I feel like everything is falling apart around me. Like I am having an identity crisis. Anxiety comes in like the tidal wave. My life is controlled around this anxiety and it’s awful. Simply awful. My twenties seem to be marked with broken trust and shattered dreams. The shattered dreams scatter all over the place. How I wish you were still here alive and well. Getting ready to go to primary school. Oh, how life would have been totally different. It isn’t like this. It’s totally different. I am not getting you ready to go to school or getting to do all the fun things a normal Mommy does with their child. It frustrates me that I cannot. It frustrates me that in a few days I will be 29. And what have I achieved with my life? Nothing. What have I achieved with my twenties? Absolutely nothing.
I always wanted you to have a brother or sister by this time. But I am still alone. Still single. Still struggling on. Moving forward. Sometimes I take ten steps back other times I move eight forward. But somehow, I feel like I am always at square one. I always seem to go back to square one and that is a painful realisation – that life hasn’t moved forward the way I wanted it to move forward. That I haven’t been the best Mommy to you that I could have been. That I have battled with depression on and off since your untimely death. Battled anxiety on and off since you died. I often say since I lost you. But I didn’t lose you in some big Tesco or Morrison’s shop. I didn’t lose you – because I didn’t even get the chance to be your Mommy. This sometimes makes me cry bitter tears of regret. Bitter tears of loss.
Almost five years since you departed this world and what have I achieved with my life? What have I done? Will it ever change? Will I ever get married one day, be a wife, be a Mum? Or will this never happen? Will I ever feel normal again?
Lately, even I struggle to be social. I have noticed that I am withdrawing more and more from life. That I don’t want to interact with people because I don’t trust them in the same way that I used to trust them. Everything is shadowed by broken trust. Broken by trust. On the flip side – there are a few people I trust. I trust Mum and Dad. I trust John. I am making a tentative step in making friends with Adele. I have a friend called Rob. Well sort off. But he’s fed up with me because I have cancelled on him five times in the past two months and I feel guilty for cancelling on him. But I couldn’t cope. I haven’t been able to cry like I cried when you died.
I remember when you died I sobbed these heart wrenching gulps. But even that seems impossible now. I do love you precious child. But I do wonder if things will ever get easier? Or if it will always be a challenge? Will peace come my way soon? I desperately want some answers. Desperately want God to hear me. Desperately want to feel at peace again. Will that happen? Or will it never happen? Who am I? If I am not a Mum to a living child – what is the meaning of my life? The purpose of my life? Will God ever grant me the desires of my heart? Or has he really abandoned me? Really and truly abandoned me? Who knows?
Maybe one day I will know the answers to some of the unanswered questions deep within my soul and I will have a deeper understanding of everything. Maybe one day life will be peaceful and enjoyable. What will my 29 years be like on this planet Earth? For being 28 has certainly had its challenges. From one crisis to the next crisis. From one painful moment to the next painful moment. Hopefully 29 years will be full of pleasant surprises and blessings. Please help me to find myself again. Please encourage me. I need some wisdom. I miss you, my dear precious boy.
Love you always.