"To have a child is to forever have your heart go walking around outside your body"
-Elizabeth Stone.
To lose your child is to have your heart break, and for half of it to go forever to Heaven....
Grief, the ever present, but usually now quiet, companion has turned back into the all consuming monster today. Missing him never goes away, but today missing him has taken up a bigger part of my consciousness. It seems the build up to his birthday, and angelversary, has begun in earnest.
I am finding myself back in the hospital, holding him, saying goodbye. I'm walking away like a zombie, another mum touches my shoulder, she knows. It's like it was yesterday.
And I am still in the same place. Life has not moved on for us. Many people must think, it's been two years, they forget, they move on, their world still turns. Our worlds stopped turning, our lives were put on hold, and two years on, life has not begun again yet.
It's true that on the face of it I am functioning, I enjoy life more than I did, I'm a healthy weight and I'm for the most part, out of depression. But, I'm still a shell of the woman I was. I'm still striving for happy. I'm still waiting for life to begin again.
Next month, I'm another year older, then a week later my son....isn't. I'm so afraid people won't remember. One day soon I will make a second birthday decoration for his forever bed. I will wonder for the millionth time if I will ever celebrate a birthday with a living child.
And I just want to scream. Still. I MISS HIM.....I miss me. I want life to begin again.....I want what my friends have. I know I can't have Bertie back. I want my rainbow. I want to walk forever away from the edge of The Pit. I want peace, joy and above all....happy.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Sunday, 4 August 2013
Absconditus dues
The God who goes missing
It's Easter Saturday in my life, has been for approaching two years now. Easter Saturday is the day between Jesus' death on the cross, and His resurrection. It's the time of disbelief, of not understanding, of despair, of "where is God now?" It's a time that Christians who are going through a time of trial are reminded of. The difference being, of course, that the original Easter Saturday only lasted for 24 hours, not 24 months, or longer.
I can tell you, Easter Saturday really sucks. It's a time of testing, of asking "what are You up to?" but, it is also, paradoxically, a time of being closer to God. My faith, that for years I took for granted, suddenly made me sit up and pay it attention. I am talking to God more than I ever have before. And that, I suppose, is exactly what God is up to. Doesn't make it OK that my son had to die. But, is it ok to accept that sometimes, it doesn't make sense? Do we really have to show our faith by steadfastly looking for, and convincing ourselves of, God's work in amongst the crisis? Can I be allowed to be angry, to question why, am I being singled out? Why did I have to lose my son, and why am I being denied my chance to be a mother again? What have I done to deserve it?
Sometimes, He takes a step back, and makes us seemingly go it alone, in order for us to reach spiritual maturity, as the father who takes his hand away from the child learning to ride a bike. It doesn't make it any less frustrating and it sure doesn't make Easter Saturday any easier.
CS Lewis write: "When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of 'No answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.” Too right I don't.
Isaiah 49:14-16
Easter Saturday. I don't know what God is doing, all I know is this is really ****. I can trust that Easter Day will come, but not knowing when is so very hard.
It's Easter Saturday in my life, has been for approaching two years now. Easter Saturday is the day between Jesus' death on the cross, and His resurrection. It's the time of disbelief, of not understanding, of despair, of "where is God now?" It's a time that Christians who are going through a time of trial are reminded of. The difference being, of course, that the original Easter Saturday only lasted for 24 hours, not 24 months, or longer.
I can tell you, Easter Saturday really sucks. It's a time of testing, of asking "what are You up to?" but, it is also, paradoxically, a time of being closer to God. My faith, that for years I took for granted, suddenly made me sit up and pay it attention. I am talking to God more than I ever have before. And that, I suppose, is exactly what God is up to. Doesn't make it OK that my son had to die. But, is it ok to accept that sometimes, it doesn't make sense? Do we really have to show our faith by steadfastly looking for, and convincing ourselves of, God's work in amongst the crisis? Can I be allowed to be angry, to question why, am I being singled out? Why did I have to lose my son, and why am I being denied my chance to be a mother again? What have I done to deserve it?
Sometimes, He takes a step back, and makes us seemingly go it alone, in order for us to reach spiritual maturity, as the father who takes his hand away from the child learning to ride a bike. It doesn't make it any less frustrating and it sure doesn't make Easter Saturday any easier.
CS Lewis write: "When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of 'No answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.” Too right I don't.
14 But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me.”
the Lord has forgotten me.”
15 “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.
One last thought on this topic. A song, which when I heard it made me cry in it's appropriate answer to my pain. The Fray- Be Still
Easter Saturday. I don't know what God is doing, all I know is this is really ****. I can trust that Easter Day will come, but not knowing when is so very hard.
Helpful Books
I have read many books in the 23 months since Bertie died, all coming at the problem in a different way, but I was drawn to each in my search for answers: for help, for "how do I get through this", for "am I crazy?" moments and "can I put myself through this process (trying to conceive) again?" feelings. I feel that maybe it's time to compile a list, for others in my position, of titles I have found helpful and why. Over the months, I have come very many times back to a feeling that I want to write my own book. I want to create a sort of "survival guide" I suppose, a practical I wish I'd known this then.... sort of thing. I don't know what has stopped me so far. Maybe it's the fear of rejection, of people hating it or not even noticing it. Or perhaps it's the dread of knowing that to do such a book justice I would have to willingly throw myself back into The Pit. I would need to re-visit those dark feelings and remember how it was in the beginning. I am not sure I am ready to do that just yet. So, for now, I offer you my recommendations. I hope you find something that helps you as they did me.
I will come back and add to the list as my journey progresses.
Empty Cradle, Broken heart: Surviving The death of your baby Deborah L Davis
This is the first book I read, in the very early weeks after Bertie died. It was a comforting read, because it made me realise that I was normal. the feelings I was having, that I couldn't make sense of, that scared me because I felt out of control, they were Ok because I wasn't the only one feeling them. In amongst well meaning family members trying to make me go back to work, to try to get back to "normal", this book was a welcome reprieve that said "nothing's normal any more".
Thomas: A Lifetime Denied Shelly Wilkinson
This book is the story of a mother and her stillborn son. She bravely tells her story of loss, in her case due to medical negligence, and how she coped with the months and years that followed. To be honest, I didn't find this so helpful, as the story was very different to my own, and focused more on how she coped with the fact her son's death was down to medical negligence. But, I want to include it here, as it will be helpful to others, and also because it of what it represents: Reading anybody's story. In the early weeks, I wanted to read and read and read about all these other families, all these other babies who had died. It helped me feel less alone.
When Bad Things Happen to Good People Rabbi Harold Kushner
This is a very comforting book, and I read it at a time that I needed to read it. Rabbi Kushner lost his son to a terrible illness, that the family knew would take his life at a young age. The book is his way of trying to make sense of how a loving God could allow this to happen. A little further along in my journey of grief, and faith, I no longer agree with his conclusions, but at the time, they were what I needed to hear to enable me to continue on in a relationship with God.
God on Mute: Pete Greig
This is a helpful book for Christians going through a tough patch of unanswered prayer. It explores many reasons why we face these times; some of which struck a chord, whilst others didn't. I particularly liked his section on "Easter Saturday" the time of despair between death and resurrection, the time I feel myself living in at the moment.
The Shack William P Young
Another one for Christains, this book tells the story of a little girl who is abducted and murdered, then follows her father through "the great sadness" to a weekend with God. It doesn't offer any real answers, but it is faith enhancing and comforting to read.
The Dance of Fear Harriet Lerner
This one is a self help book on overcoming fear, anxiety and shame. It doesn't speak directly to baby-lost parents, but it does help with practical advice on coping with the emotions that follow.
Job The Bible
An essential book to read for any christian who is suffering. It's a frustrating book actually, in the responses of Job's friends to his situation "well God is good so you must have deserved this..." and in the non-answer Job eventually gets from God himself. But, there is comfort at the end, when Job is blessed even more richly than he was in the beginning. He still paid one enormous price, as have I, and all baby lost parents, but Job teaches us that whilst we won't be exempt from suffering, if we persevere, we will eventually be rewarded.
Disappointment with God Phillip Yancy
Another good book for suffering Christians. I found myself nodding along to a lot of this book, "yep I feel that too" moments. Again, its good to know you are not alone in feeling the way you do. However, he tries to remind us that "Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.” And that sometimes there are no answers, but, like Job we must try to endure patiently.
I will come back and add to the list as my journey progresses.
Empty Cradle, Broken heart: Surviving The death of your baby Deborah L Davis
This is the first book I read, in the very early weeks after Bertie died. It was a comforting read, because it made me realise that I was normal. the feelings I was having, that I couldn't make sense of, that scared me because I felt out of control, they were Ok because I wasn't the only one feeling them. In amongst well meaning family members trying to make me go back to work, to try to get back to "normal", this book was a welcome reprieve that said "nothing's normal any more".
Thomas: A Lifetime Denied Shelly Wilkinson
This book is the story of a mother and her stillborn son. She bravely tells her story of loss, in her case due to medical negligence, and how she coped with the months and years that followed. To be honest, I didn't find this so helpful, as the story was very different to my own, and focused more on how she coped with the fact her son's death was down to medical negligence. But, I want to include it here, as it will be helpful to others, and also because it of what it represents: Reading anybody's story. In the early weeks, I wanted to read and read and read about all these other families, all these other babies who had died. It helped me feel less alone.
When Bad Things Happen to Good People Rabbi Harold Kushner
This is a very comforting book, and I read it at a time that I needed to read it. Rabbi Kushner lost his son to a terrible illness, that the family knew would take his life at a young age. The book is his way of trying to make sense of how a loving God could allow this to happen. A little further along in my journey of grief, and faith, I no longer agree with his conclusions, but at the time, they were what I needed to hear to enable me to continue on in a relationship with God.
God on Mute: Pete Greig
This is a helpful book for Christians going through a tough patch of unanswered prayer. It explores many reasons why we face these times; some of which struck a chord, whilst others didn't. I particularly liked his section on "Easter Saturday" the time of despair between death and resurrection, the time I feel myself living in at the moment.
The Shack William P Young
Another one for Christains, this book tells the story of a little girl who is abducted and murdered, then follows her father through "the great sadness" to a weekend with God. It doesn't offer any real answers, but it is faith enhancing and comforting to read.
The Dance of Fear Harriet Lerner
This one is a self help book on overcoming fear, anxiety and shame. It doesn't speak directly to baby-lost parents, but it does help with practical advice on coping with the emotions that follow.
Job The Bible
An essential book to read for any christian who is suffering. It's a frustrating book actually, in the responses of Job's friends to his situation "well God is good so you must have deserved this..." and in the non-answer Job eventually gets from God himself. But, there is comfort at the end, when Job is blessed even more richly than he was in the beginning. He still paid one enormous price, as have I, and all baby lost parents, but Job teaches us that whilst we won't be exempt from suffering, if we persevere, we will eventually be rewarded.
Disappointment with God Phillip Yancy
Another good book for suffering Christians. I found myself nodding along to a lot of this book, "yep I feel that too" moments. Again, its good to know you are not alone in feeling the way you do. However, he tries to remind us that "Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.” And that sometimes there are no answers, but, like Job we must try to endure patiently.
Monday, 29 July 2013
The sublime ridiculousness of well-meant advice
I had to laugh today. And I am sharing it with you because I don't get to laugh so often these days. I am laughing at how ridiculous all the well-meaning advice I have been told becomes when it is put together. Quite simply: You are contradicting yourselves.
Now I don't want the purveyors of such advice to be offended by what follows, I appreciate the sentiment with which the advice is given. But please, come on, have a read, and laugh with me. Because then I won't feel quite so crazy for a while.
Sooooooo....
need I go on?
If anybody really wants to know how to help, properly, there is some very good advice here.
Otherwise, please just know and accept, as I must, that you cannot fix this. You cannot make my pain go away....but you can listen, and you can, I hope, offer sympathy, and an attempt at understanding- without feeling so uncomfortable that you feel you have to try and find a solution. TALK about it. I sure do!! And your silence bothers me more than anything. Don't be afraid to get it wrong, just don't dole out cliches. Just listen, nod, and say you're sorry for my pain. And I will cry tears of relief that finally. Somebody gets it.
Now I don't want the purveyors of such advice to be offended by what follows, I appreciate the sentiment with which the advice is given. But please, come on, have a read, and laugh with me. Because then I won't feel quite so crazy for a while.
Sooooooo....
Apparantly I am to think positive whilst not being too hopeful; to keep my eyes on the prize whilst not thinking about it all the time; to FACE MY FEARS, but avoid STRESS; Not think too many steps ahead...but tell you what happens next if this treatment fails; reeeEEEEEELAXXxxxxxx !; Think of how much worse it could be......but listen to you tell me about so and so who conceived quintuplets naturally after 10 failed IVF cycles; count my blessings! whilst somehow avoiding thinking about what is missing.....
need I go on?
If anybody really wants to know how to help, properly, there is some very good advice here.
Otherwise, please just know and accept, as I must, that you cannot fix this. You cannot make my pain go away....but you can listen, and you can, I hope, offer sympathy, and an attempt at understanding- without feeling so uncomfortable that you feel you have to try and find a solution. TALK about it. I sure do!! And your silence bothers me more than anything. Don't be afraid to get it wrong, just don't dole out cliches. Just listen, nod, and say you're sorry for my pain. And I will cry tears of relief that finally. Somebody gets it.
Friday, 26 July 2013
No more silent screams
This morning, in the car, I screamed. Properly. Loudly. WHY WHY WHY??? Why am I being so tormented? Punished? Why am I being denied my chance at motherhood? Why are my earnest prayers going unanswered, again and again and again? I JUST DON'T GET IT!!!
Then I cried, the whole journey to work. And tried not to have an accident.
Do I feel any better? No. But it does beat holding it in.
This month's failure has hit me particularly hard. This time I followed everybody's heartfelt advice and "thought positive". I relaxed, as far as is possible, and just hoped beyond hope that it was going to work. Afterall, the evil drugs are working in my body now, so we actually felt like there was a chance. So the crash down has been, and continues to be, terrible.
There are many positives. The drugs are working. We are so much closer than we were....close, but no cigar! It simply isn't enough. Not good enough. This isn't just something I want/wish for/hope for. I'm not a newly wed trying for a baby for say 3 months and getting frustrated. This is something I NEED. I have a physical need to be a mother again. I am supposed to be one, let's not forget. And that boy, my boy, who is mine but not mine- he turns 2 in September. And my arms are still empty.
Time is not making this easier. It's making it worse. And I don't know what to do. I am scared stiff I'm heading for a nervous breakdown. I have tried everything there is to "relax" and "take my mind off it" and now we're starting again on the same things, becuase we've tried them all. Acupuncture, relaxation MP3s, holiday booked for my birthday/his birthday week- did that last year and here we are again! We adopted our cat, becuase I was at my wits' end and desparate. She's been with us 7 months now. How is it I'm still standing?
What is it I am meant to do now?
People say I am so strong, and handling my situation with grace. I am not. I am slowly going crazy inside my head, one negative test at a time.
Then I cried, the whole journey to work. And tried not to have an accident.
Do I feel any better? No. But it does beat holding it in.
This month's failure has hit me particularly hard. This time I followed everybody's heartfelt advice and "thought positive". I relaxed, as far as is possible, and just hoped beyond hope that it was going to work. Afterall, the evil drugs are working in my body now, so we actually felt like there was a chance. So the crash down has been, and continues to be, terrible.
There are many positives. The drugs are working. We are so much closer than we were....close, but no cigar! It simply isn't enough. Not good enough. This isn't just something I want/wish for/hope for. I'm not a newly wed trying for a baby for say 3 months and getting frustrated. This is something I NEED. I have a physical need to be a mother again. I am supposed to be one, let's not forget. And that boy, my boy, who is mine but not mine- he turns 2 in September. And my arms are still empty.
Time is not making this easier. It's making it worse. And I don't know what to do. I am scared stiff I'm heading for a nervous breakdown. I have tried everything there is to "relax" and "take my mind off it" and now we're starting again on the same things, becuase we've tried them all. Acupuncture, relaxation MP3s, holiday booked for my birthday/his birthday week- did that last year and here we are again! We adopted our cat, becuase I was at my wits' end and desparate. She's been with us 7 months now. How is it I'm still standing?
What is it I am meant to do now?
People say I am so strong, and handling my situation with grace. I am not. I am slowly going crazy inside my head, one negative test at a time.
Friday, 5 July 2013
Panic.
Yesterday I experienced the second most frightening thing that has ever happened to me. I had a panic attack, alone in a train carriage. For those who have never experienced one, you may think "so what?". Trust me, it's scary.
So now I am left to process, "why did that happen?" And looking back I realize I should not be suprised. My anxiety has been building for a while now. I am terrified. Terrified of what the future holds, or doesn't hold. I thought that finally getting some help with fertility treatment would help me. It hasn't- quite the opposite. There's now so much riding on each month. Will it work this time? Will I have to move on to more aggressive treatments/how long is it all going to take?.....
It isn't just that. I know it seems from my posts lately that all I am thinking of now is trying for another baby. It's true, that is pretty all-consuming. (show me a woman who's been trying this long for whom it isn't, and I will salute her) But that doesn't mean I have forgotten Bertie, or that I'm done with my grief. He is still my first and last thought. And several in between. I still stand at his grave, looking at his name and thinking "how can this have happened" whilst silent tears run down my face until I can't read the words anymore through the waterfall. I am still transported back to that day, watching strangers lower my son into the ground. I am throwing the first handful of soil, I am wishing I could get in there with him.
It's a delicate balance, the two major players in the game of my mind. Grief and infertility. No wonder I had a meltdown. But how can I change it? Reminders are everywhere I go, everywhere I look. I can't "put it to the back of my mind" since I can't escape from things that bring one or the other back to the front.
Walking through town. At work. With my friends. On social media. Babies. Pregnant women. Happy families with toddlers Bertie's age and another on the way. All reminding me both of what I lost, and what I still don't have, 22 months on. I may not run away now, but it still hurts just as much. It still gives me the same, now familiar stab in the gut.
Chester mystery plays are being held this week. It's quite a production. Written to bring bible stories to the people, they are put on every five years. This year they told the whole bible from Genesis to Revelations in one hit. And hit it did. During the incredible crucifixion scenes, I was not watching Jesus. I was transfixed on Mary. The actress portrayed the mother's grief so strongly, I couldn't take my eyes off her. I cried with her. I remembered my own pain, my constant companion.
And yes, I am afraid. I am so afraid. Of two possible outcomes. That I won't ever get pregnant again, or that I will, but I will lose the baby again. These fears are so ingrained that as I sat, literally paralysed in two hands and one foot during my panic attack, my first thought was "what's happening to me, am I having a fit?"....and the second: "Oh God, will this mean I can't have another baby".
I simply can't convey to you in words how much it means to me to be a mother. I simply cannot make you understand how worthless my life feels without it.
So now I am left to process, "why did that happen?" And looking back I realize I should not be suprised. My anxiety has been building for a while now. I am terrified. Terrified of what the future holds, or doesn't hold. I thought that finally getting some help with fertility treatment would help me. It hasn't- quite the opposite. There's now so much riding on each month. Will it work this time? Will I have to move on to more aggressive treatments/how long is it all going to take?.....
It isn't just that. I know it seems from my posts lately that all I am thinking of now is trying for another baby. It's true, that is pretty all-consuming. (show me a woman who's been trying this long for whom it isn't, and I will salute her) But that doesn't mean I have forgotten Bertie, or that I'm done with my grief. He is still my first and last thought. And several in between. I still stand at his grave, looking at his name and thinking "how can this have happened" whilst silent tears run down my face until I can't read the words anymore through the waterfall. I am still transported back to that day, watching strangers lower my son into the ground. I am throwing the first handful of soil, I am wishing I could get in there with him.
It's a delicate balance, the two major players in the game of my mind. Grief and infertility. No wonder I had a meltdown. But how can I change it? Reminders are everywhere I go, everywhere I look. I can't "put it to the back of my mind" since I can't escape from things that bring one or the other back to the front.
Walking through town. At work. With my friends. On social media. Babies. Pregnant women. Happy families with toddlers Bertie's age and another on the way. All reminding me both of what I lost, and what I still don't have, 22 months on. I may not run away now, but it still hurts just as much. It still gives me the same, now familiar stab in the gut.
Chester mystery plays are being held this week. It's quite a production. Written to bring bible stories to the people, they are put on every five years. This year they told the whole bible from Genesis to Revelations in one hit. And hit it did. During the incredible crucifixion scenes, I was not watching Jesus. I was transfixed on Mary. The actress portrayed the mother's grief so strongly, I couldn't take my eyes off her. I cried with her. I remembered my own pain, my constant companion.
And yes, I am afraid. I am so afraid. Of two possible outcomes. That I won't ever get pregnant again, or that I will, but I will lose the baby again. These fears are so ingrained that as I sat, literally paralysed in two hands and one foot during my panic attack, my first thought was "what's happening to me, am I having a fit?"....and the second: "Oh God, will this mean I can't have another baby".
I simply can't convey to you in words how much it means to me to be a mother. I simply cannot make you understand how worthless my life feels without it.
Wednesday, 3 July 2013
Child of mine
Child of my heart
Perfect, precious, tiny
You took my breath away
Those precious hours then
gone too soon.
Memories of that moment
Our first embrace and our last
Mine to hold but not to have
In too short a time
your last breath
Gone forever but always here
Your whispers in the trees, chimes
At your forever bed.
Silent tears as I remember
That day.
Child of my heart
My beautiful son
Never ending yearning
To hold you again
Child of my dreams
Will you come true?
Will I hold you and sing "at last"?
Your song I already know
I'll whisper the words to you.
Will I watch you grow, and play?
More than just dreams
Not just wild imaginings
Can my heart be healed by your laughter?
"Mummy" the sweetest sound.
Child of my heart
And child of my dreams
Both to hold my love, only one to hold my hand
I pray,
Let it be.
One day a mother?
Already a mother at heart
In love.
Perfect, precious, tiny
You took my breath away
Those precious hours then
gone too soon.
Memories of that moment
Our first embrace and our last
Mine to hold but not to have
In too short a time
your last breath
Gone forever but always here
Your whispers in the trees, chimes
At your forever bed.
Silent tears as I remember
That day.
Child of my heart
My beautiful son
Never ending yearning
To hold you again
Child of my dreams
Will you come true?
Will I hold you and sing "at last"?
Your song I already know
I'll whisper the words to you.
Will I watch you grow, and play?
More than just dreams
Not just wild imaginings
Can my heart be healed by your laughter?
"Mummy" the sweetest sound.
Child of my heart
And child of my dreams
Both to hold my love, only one to hold my hand
I pray,
Let it be.
One day a mother?
Already a mother at heart
In love.
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