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

Tuesday 26 November 2013

Holding baby

Today I faced a very big hurdle; for the first time since Bertie, I held a baby. A little boy, not quite eight weeks' old.  I've been very anxious about this for a long time, all through my friend's pregnancy and since he has been born.  How will I cope? Will I be able to visit? Will I cry if/when I do? How much will this hurt? Today, it felt like time.  Maybe the therapy helped, maybe it was just a step I needed to take now.   I knew I couldn't live in fear of this forever.  I couldn't avoid all babies and all friends with babies until my rainbow arrives. 

I wanted so badly for the next baby I held to be my own.  Life wasn't to allow me that. I felt bitter about that for a long time, I don't mind admitting. Haven't I been through enough? I asked, over and over. In a way though, maybe it was better this way. Maybe I needed to hold anther baby, before I could have my own.  Would I really want to face that fear right after giving birth? Would I want to remember Bertie's last breath and fear my rainbow was about to do the same?  I don't want fear to spoil that moment when my dreams come true.  And now, maybe it won't.  The fear has been faced, conquered, put in it's place.

Visiting and chatting was fine, I was anxious but OK as my friend held and fed him.  We both knew what was going to come and I guess we were both a little anxious about it. I honestly didn't know until she asked me whether I wanted to hold him or not.  When the question came, I felt the anxiety rise, the familiar tingle in the heart and sharp stab of adrenaline running down my arms. I surprised myself when I said through stifled tears....yes...I do. And I did. I really did.

As she handed him to me and I settled him into my arms, I felt fine. Peaceful. The anxiety melted away.  The tears came when I gave him my finger, and he squeezed.  That was the moment I was back with another little boy, gripping my finger with all his strength.  But I was able to seperate the two. I could remember my son, and talk to and enjoy holding this little boy at the same time. I could be present in the moment and remembering another moment all at once. This wasn't Bertie, nor was it my rainbow, but that was OK. It was still lovely to hold this tiny life and have him stare at the crazy lady talking gibberish to him.  Then, tears from him....back to mum.

Later, I held him again, to give his mum a loo break! This time I kept hold a little longer.  This time, I rocked him and walked with him to try and settle him.  It worked, and I felt I was a natural! Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  So strange to see myself holding a baby. Beautiful and painful all at once. A stab in the heart but also elation.  Thinking: This will be me. This will happen. I will be holding my own baby soon. Look how perfect it looks. How right. How it is meant to be.  I do believe it is meant to be. It will be.  It should have been. Bertie.

It was healing. And I am grateful for that.








Thursday 14 November 2013

I have a box of memories...


It's here, at last. The memory box we commissioned for Bertie has arrived. I love it. It is exactly how I pictured it. He whispered to me, helped me find the right man to make it. It is beautifully crafted, it really is stunning. The wood is so smooth, the marquetry looks like it could have been printed on. I am delighted with it. So why am I sobbing?

I must need the release. The memory box has triggered the memories.  It has reminded me of his missingness. Of the memories we haven't made, won't make. Of the toys I wish I were buying him instead.   Can we really be approaching our third Christmas without him? Can this really still be my life?

I haven't filled it yet. I can't bring myself to do it. That means going through his things, his little life, and putting them away into their new home.  It needs time. It needs respect. It needs my full attention and love. It demands the raw hurt and tears that I can't face right now. Just having it is bittersweet enough for tonight.
 
My son. His life story in one box, his body in another. To others, a name, a memory, a whisper. To me, the world. 

I just want to hold him again.



For Robert

So now I’m an angel mummy
My future dreams all gone
I have a box of memories
Of my perfect, precious son

Photographs just aren’t enough
I want to hold you near
I want to see your toothless smile
And gaze at eyes bright and clear

I wish that I could see you grow
And comfort all your hurts
But that was never meant to be
What pain could ever be worse?

We’re grateful for the time you gave us
You really, truly tried
You squeezed my hand, you knew my voice,
Our little soldier, you filled us with pride

You looked at me with your daddy’s eyes
And stole my heart away
I picture your face, looking back at me
Each and every day

To me you’ll stay forever perfect
At peace forever more
My heart will yearn for you my son
Until I’m with you once more

Robert we’ll love you forever
In our hearts you will live on
For you are part of our story now
And you’ve made it a magical one.


21st October 2011. 

Saturday 9 November 2013

Quiet.

I am currently having a fair amount of therapy. Some of it my Christian friends don't entirely approve of, but, I am delighted with the results of it so far. I feel better. I am finding that the inner voice that constantly tells me negative things has, well, shut up. Or rather, I am more able to shut her up more often, which is huge for me.

I should feel really crap tonight. I just found out that our last cycle of the current treatment didn't work. Again. This means having that scary op that I really don't want. This means a twelve week wait to even HAVE that really scary op I really don't want.   I should be a sobbing wreck. I should be saying it isn't fair over and over and over as two more people in my life announce easily-won pregnancies. But I'm not. I feel.....quiet. Peace. My mind is changing. The therapy is working.

I feel God is working things out for me. I can hear Him louder, clearer.  I still have a few issues with His timing, and His apparent unfairness in dishing out the miracles....but we are going to get ours, I believe it now. I realise that I didn't for a while there.  It helps enormously that we have had some really good news this week...not THE news of course, but great news all the same. News that almost makes it OK that I am still not pregnant.  And I can't help but think...maybe, just maybe we will be that couple who after months of infertility treatment, manage to get pregnant once they stop.   

Maybe.