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

Sunday 29 December 2013

Gratitude.

Another Christmas over, another new year approaching, another chance to reflect on another year gone by. We are about to enter into our third year of trying again. We never imagined it would take this long, never imagined what we would have to go through to get our rainbow. It's been tough, really tough, on top of the indescribable grief of losing a child. And yet, I am reminding myself, once again, of all the things I have to be grateful for. I guess doing so prevents me from falling back in The Pit. Back into despair.  It would be so easy to let go and fall back in, to wallow in the tar, but I won't let that happen. I will think, briefly, of my friends' rainbows growing up, of other friends, and family who didn't have to try, of all the people I know who, for one reason or another, had the most amazing 2012, 2013...whilst I, well, didn't. And then I will stop, take stock, and reflect on what I do have. What I am grateful for, and I surprise myself, that actually, there's quite a lot...

I am grateful for my husband.  I have lost count of the times he has held my heaving body as I sob at yet another failure.  Another dissappointment. How many times has he told me he doesn't want another woman, one who would have given him a baby by now? How many times has he told me I am not broken, that I am perfect as I am, that he loves me. How many times has he sat in silence. Out of words. Broken by grief and disappointment himself but unwilling to show it as he knows I will just blame myself all the more. I am so grateful.

I am grateful for my marriage. Same thing in a way, but not.  How many couples have split over the stress of either child loss, or infertility? How many would survive both? I know we will never face anything worse than we already have. We buried our boy. If we can do that we can do anything.  We are solid.  How many people do I know who long for that? Trust me when I tell you that I do not take it for granted.

I am grateful for my family, especially my mum and my sister, who show their love for my son nearly as much as I do.  They understand what I need and they do it.  Others support in their own way too, and again, I know many people who do not have the support network that I have.

I have a roof over my head, and what's more, I own it. (well, a few bricks of it at least).  Many of you know I've been complaining a lot over the past year about not being able to sell this place, and now, thank God, we have. And I am so grateful, to even have it, let alone to have sold it. We get to have a fresh start, in a new home, leaving behind the sadness these walls contain.  I know how lucky I am in this respect.

I love my job. I do! How may people get to say that? Yes, since my world fell apart, there are aspects of it which I find hard...but on the whole, it is challenging, engaging, interesting, well respected and well paid.  Plus I get a great pension deal! In a country where unemployment is high, and job satisfaction is low, I am one of the lucky ones.

I'm grateful that I live in a country where treatment is not only available, but free. I love the NHS. It frustrates the heck out of me at times, but we are so lucky to have it.  When I get frustrated talking to american friends about their latest treatment and that they get it pretty much instantly whilst I have to wait weeks at a time, I remind myself just how much they are paying for that treatment.  I wonder often, what we would have had to pay for our two days with Bertie? Would they even have given us two days, or would we have had to prove we could pay first? Could we have paid? It doesn't bear thinking about.   Nor does the end of the line with help trying again. But I know that the end of the line would have come a lot sooner for us if we didn't have the NHS helping us on this journey.

I am grateful that I had him. Not that I lost him, never that, but I am grateful I got to experience pregnancy, and moreover that I got to meet him. I am grateful for the ways in which he has changed me, I believe for the better, you may not agree.

I am grateful for my faith. Although I question it daily, I am so grateful that I know he is in Heaven, he is watching me and waiting for me, and that I will see him again. Without that, I don't think I would have survived this.

So please don't think me maudlin, or grief-focused, or ungrateful. I am not. But. Despite all of this, my son is not here, and I would give up all the material stuff in a heartbeat to have him back.  The one thing in the world I want is being denied to me, despite having all my ducks in a row, despite being oh so ready to be a mum.  Yes, my husband and I have each other, and yes, I have a nice life in other ways. But had Bertie lived....I would still have all of those things and so much more. I'd be whole.  Had I been blessed with a rainbow...I'd be broken but patched up. I would have a purpose.



Monday 23 December 2013

Christmas pain

It's come, the grief wave. As I expected, though I thought not yet. Not yet, I thought I had a bit longer to cope. It hits unexpectedly, in a moment, in a kind gesture from a friend. The missing him. The missing piece.

For so long now I have been so focused on the next baby. I must get pregnant again, then it will be ok....but it won't will it? The grief will still be there. Christmas will still be painful.  One photo, one beautiful/painful memory and I'm in bits. Longing to hold him again, longing to smell his hair. To feel him wriggle free because he's a big boy now and he wants to run, not sit on my knee. My heart torn once again when I remember he will never run.  That tomorrow I will take his Christmas gifts of red and white carnations and sparkly red robins to his grave.  Christmas eve because I can't bear it on Christmas day. I can't bear the missing him and I can't bear the guilt.

I can't bear it.

Never. ending. torture.

I miss him.

Sunday 22 December 2013

The third Christmas

I want to tell you, those of you who are not as far on their journey, it is easier this year. Or more truthfully, it isn't so painful. I haven't spent the last six weeks dreading Christmas, but nor am I looking forward to it. This year, I feel mostly apathy.  Well that's progress, right? I've put up the tree, and enjoyed with happysad tears watching Bertie make his candle dance in his excitement. I have started a new tradition of buying a toy for a disadvantaged child his age- man was that tough, and I have managed successfully for third year to get everything done early enough to avoid all the hype in town.  But I'm not excited. I am not looking forward to it, I just want it over.

I'm keeping it short and simple this year, family stuff 24th-27th then back to home turf, can do. Yep. Going to be totally fine.

Isn't it?

There's another side to it for me. This is not only the third Christmas without our son, it is also the third without the hope of a rainbow. I am telling myself for the third time, next year will be my year.....It's getting old. It's getting hard to believe. Not only do I cry over missing seeing his excitement as I turn on the tree lights, I cry as I wonder if I will ever see the excited face of my child at Christmas.  Will the only gift I will ever by for my child be decorations for a grave?

And I don't understand it. I just don't. I ask of God, wasn't taking my son enough? Why are You putting me through this torment, again and again?  People tell me I don't deserve this, and it isn't a punishment...well it sure feels like it! If God is in control, and I am not being punished....then what the heck is going on here?

A year ago today I wrote about it being Bertie's due date, and I didn't know how much more my shattered heart could take. Today I sit here writing that I have only just realised what date it even is....but my heart? Still shattered. I'm still desparate, still bitter, still exhausted, and still angry. I feel broken, physically, emotionally, faithfully.

Christmas. "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given".  Only not to us. Never to us.