"I will praise the one who's chosen me, to carry you"
-Selah: I will carry you

Tuesday 31 July 2012

Getting to know him

Bertie's personality is starting to show now.... no, really, bear with me here.  I wrote a while back about getting little signs from him, knowing the difference when it is him and when it isn't....well he is getting more adventurous with his signs...or I am getting better at spotting them.  He was always going to have a wooden train set.  All through my pregnancy we said, boy or girl, this baby is getting a wooden train set! I don't know why, it's the one thing we decided on and stuck with right from the start.  So after we lost him, we bought his wooden name train, which sits on the drawers in his bedroom.  His headstone has a beautiful carving of a little toy train...his coffin has toy trains all over it.  Trains are Bertie's thing. On friday night, driving down the M6 to visit him, right across the sky was a trail of clouds that looked just like his train.  I noticed it, and at just the same time, my husband did too, and he commented, "look-it's a Bertie train!" And it really was.  I had to take a picture.  I imagined him playing the driver, bossing about all the other angels, making them be passengers...I could picture his cheeky little face lit up with childish glee at getting to be the conductor and taking everyone's ticket.  He likes his trians. I am so pleased.

When we went to see him, the sun came out as always...but this time, this time he was really showing off....the sun fell across his bed only, the rest of the churchyard was under a cloudy sky.  A little sunlight fell on the two sleeping angels next to him, and their windmill was spinning round, had he brought them to see his mum and dad?....but his bed was bathed in glorious sunlight. That's my boy, the cheeky little show off.

I love getting these signs from him, but it makes me sad too, makes me miss him all the more, especially now that I am "getting to know him" in a sense.  I would hate to stop feeling him around me, but I just wish so much he were here. It isn't enough-here it is again, that word...happysad.

It's funny how I can write about this stuff, and people, lots of people will read it, enjoy reading it, think about it perhaps, think nothing of it perhaps...maybe leave a comment....But if I sat and told you, face to face, would you feel comfortable then? My experience so far suggests not. People don't know what to say. They look at their hands and shuffle in their seat.  Why is that? Is it because I can articulate it better as a blog post? Is it becuase reading it as text makes it somehow less real...like a work of fiction? If I sat and told you, would you believe me? Or would you think I am crazy? Maybe I am, but where's the harm? "If it makes her feel better, let her think what she wants". Good, glad that is sorted in your mind.

Maybe I am a little crazy.  I know a community of women who can relate to that.  In fact, I think that every woman who leaves hospital without her baby should leave instead with a standard issue straight jacket.  Yes, I did just say that, I am allowed. Black humour is allowed when you are the butt of the joke.

The Bertie train has been spotted in Edinburgh now.....we think they are off round the country to say hi to all the angel parents.....if you see them, blow a kiss, wave, smile....just think of them...and send him home to me in time for his birthday please.

Friday 20 July 2012

Feeling happy makes me a brighter shade of blue

http://www.disneyclips.com/imagesnewb/imageslwrakr01/clipeeyoreheart.gifI have been thinking about this post for a while....I didn't know how to get it started...then in town today I saw this quote on a little notebook with a picture of Eeyore "Feeling happy makes me a brighter shade of blue" and I thought YES, that's it! (never mind that the REAL Eeyore is actually grey!)

So, to the point.  I came to the realisation this week that I no longer consider myself depressed.  I have my sad moments, days, weeks, yes, but day to day I no longer feel as if I am depressed, just sad.  There is a big difference between the two.  In the last few weeks I have had a haircut, shopping spree, arranged an anniversary treat for my hubby and I in the form of a west end theatre trip-something we love to do- and booked a holiday. A holiday which I can't wait to go on! Simple things, I know, but to me it is a big deal. There was a time when I never thought I would enjoy those things again.  Suddenly, not only do I know that I am allowed to live life and enjoy myself, I am actively seeking out and looking forward to doing nice things, without even thinking about it.  This is a major breakthrough for me.

This does not mean that I am "fixed" or "better now" or "back to normal" but it does mean I am learning to live again, properly live, not just waiting for life to start again like I was, not so very long ago.

I also realise that this may not last forever, before long it may all come crashing down again as I revisit rock bottom.  But I suppose it is about making the most of the brighter shade of blue whilst it lasts, and learning to ride the grief wave when it hits......rather than living in constant fear of the tsunami.


Sunday 8 July 2012

Guilt vs shame

One of the sessions my husband and I had with our counsellors talked about the differences between guilt and shame, and how to deal with each of them. Last week at housegroup, I addressed them again, in a more general context, but all the same, feelings I have not been allowing myself to feel recently have resurfaced.

I have been thinking about this for a few days; These are difficult feelings for me to reflect on, so this post may not be written as eloquently as usual, and it may turn out to be quite hard to read. But, I feel a responsibility to my readers, and to myself, to be honest and true, so here it is.

Guilt is the feeling of having done something wrong. Shame is the feeling that you are something wrong.

I have felt both since losing my son, and in that context, I will try to address them.

Guilt, yep. That's one I have felt, still feel, and I have posted about it before. Guilt that I let him down, that my body failed him, that I didn't do my job. That if I had only kept him inside for even another week, maybe he would have lived. Robert was perfect, nothing wrong with him, nothing wrong with the placenta, no infections were found. He didn't have a genetic problem, this wasn't "nature being kind" to give us both a chance. If I had gone to term, I would have a perfect baby boy now. And so all that is left to me is to feel guilt, and blame myself. I have no other explanation. It still doesn't give me a "why" it just leads to more questions. Did I work too hard? Was I too stressed? Did I travel about too much? Am I just one of those women who can't carry to term? Any of these lead to guilt, self blame, "if only".

Shame is different. I feel shame, becuase I failed. I didn't do it right. I let everybody down. Myself, my husband, my family, my baby. I feel shame becuase I didn't do what society expected me to do. I was pregnant, but I didn't present my baby to the world; I told them about my angel. I made everyone uncomfortable by wearing my grief on my sleeve. I shared my darkest moments with everybody who would listen, whether they wanted to or not. I still do. I am living a taboo.

I told you this post would be a hard one.

So many people have told me this wasn't my fault, that I didn't do anything wrong, that I can't blame myself. I am his mum. It was my job to protect him, and I couldn't. Whether it was my fault or not, I still feel guilt and shame, whether I allow myself to acknowledge it or not.

For the first eight weeks or so of my grief, I told Bertie I was sorry every day. I felt like he had missed out on his life, and it was my fault. I felt like I didn't deserve to live, and I didn't want to live this life. I certainly didn't deserve to feel happy, or to treat myself. How could I enjoy anything when my baby was dead? I didn't feel like I deserved to be loved. I am happy to say that those feeling have eased. I now want to be happy again, and I want to live as full a life as it is possible for an angel mum to live. I want to live alongside the pain, not be drowned by it. I want to allow myself to feel loved, and I do. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling the guilt though, or if that one is here to stay, just a part of the new normal, a part of the new me.

Wednesday 4 July 2012

I am changed.


The last few weeks I've been thinking about how much I have changed since having and losing Robert.  I am a totally different person in so many ways, yet still me somehow.  A new version of me.  In some ways I have changed for the better, and I like to think of those things as his legacy. In other ways, the changes are not so positive.   I am less decisive, I have lost confidence in my decisions, I question everything I think, do and believe in.  My personality has become a series of contradictions as the old me fights with the new me and I try to find my place in this new world where bad things happen to good people who don't deserve it.  This horrible new world where my baby can die. This world where despite the fact that I would labour for 23 hours out of every day just so I could hold him for the last hour, there is nothing I can do to bring him back.  How could I possibly be the same as I was? Of course I have changed.  Who we are is made up of all we have experienced; it would be impossible to come through something like this and not be changed fundamentally. These two pieces sum it all up, the good and the bad changes.  His Legacy was written a few months ago, Contradctions, just today. I guess they reflect how I feel I have taken a few steps back, looking at how much more positive my writing was in January compared to today. 


His Legacy
There are some small gains from life's harshest of lessons,
I've grown in wisdom, as well as compassion.
I've learned the importance of family, who counts in a crisis
And that having loved ones around you is what's truly priceless.
He taught me what it means to be a mum,
He may be an angel, but I have a son!
I know the joy of creating new life,
But also the crushing pain of saying goodbye.
He's inspired my writing, an outlet for my grief,
Perhaps to bring another broken hearted mummy relief.
old friendships developed, others newly formed,
None of that would be if he'd never been born.
Instead of broken, my faith has deepened
My marriage is now stronger, rather than weakened.
And whilst none of these things could make up for his loss,
He's also shown me that I have the strength to bear this cross.
For Robert, 29th January 2012


Contradictions
I am sadder, yet I have more friends than ever before
I have lost myself, yet I am finding the new me
I have lost my zest for life, yet I want to find it again
I am less ambitious, yet I feel more than ever the need to prove my worth
I have cried more tears in 9 months than 29 years, yet I can still laugh
I am fatalistic and I just don't care, yet I question every decision I make
I am not afraid to die, yet I am afraid of living the worst case scenario
I am less confident in myself, yet I offer advice to others
I am more empathetic and compassionate, yet I have no patience for petty woes
I cry for others' grief, yet I wonder if they feel as bad as me
I understand depression, yet I don't know how to lift others' spirits
I exist, yet I am trying to live again
I am defeated, yet I continue to fight
I am impatient to feel better, yet I am not ready to let go
I have changed. Am I still me?
4th July 2012

"Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But, because I knew you, I have been changed for good" -Wicked

Sunday 1 July 2012

His name in stone

Robert's headstone was installed this weekend, so we went to see it for the first time. Such mixed emotions. I love it, I hate it. It's so much nicer for him, it's terrible. I'm proud, I'm crushed. I want to show it to the world, I want to smash it to pieces.

Our family name. Our son's name. In stone. On a headstone. It's no longer a forever bed, it's a grave. A hole in the ground with my baby boy's body in it. I want to scream at the injustice of this moment, this situation, this life.

I take some small comfort in knowing he likes it. We did our best, we put everything into it we could to make it his and his alone. Travelling down to see it, he thanked us with a rainbow, followed by beautiful sunbeams streaming through the clouds-his latest trick. His latest trick should be blowing raspberries!

It has been a long time coming. It took us three months to build up the courage to look in those awful catalogues, and another month to find the "perfect" choice. Then it took four months to complete as it is a bespoke design. I thought having it in place would be a relief, it isn't. It's a symbol of how much we love him, how important his tiny life was....a symbol that his life "was", not "is"

And still, I am trying to comprehend the enormity of it all. How can my baby not be here?