Tuesday, 11 August 2015

One Week (Written 7th August)

I keep finding myself measuring time in strange ways. People say the only thing that helps is time so maybe that's why.

5 anti blood clot injections, finished. The mark on my hand from my cannula, gone. The teabags we bought for my labour, gone. Finished, final, end. That's how everything feels. 

We registered his stillbirth last Wednesday. It is so lovely having official documents with his name on, confirming he was a real, proper person who mattered but it felt so final. Everything we do is one step closer to the end. One more meeting with the vicar to finalise his funeral means all we have left to do is the funeral itself. Meeting with the funeral director felt so final. We need it to be done and we need to be able to put his body to rest but I'm not ready for it to be over because all that's left to do after that is live. I'm not ready to live without my baby. I'm not ready for a week, month, year to pass without watching him grow and revelling in all the magical things he should be doing. 

One week since I brought our precious, soft skinned, big footed boy into the world. One week since we had to leave him. One week until his funeral. One week after that until we go away for one week. And then there's just time, lots and lots of time. 

Clothes are horrible. My maternity ones are too big but I'm not ready to put my pre-pregnancy clothes on yet. I don't want to not be pregnant. Material sags where my bump should be and drapes over my reappearing waist. I can't bear to look in a mirror yet, it's just too soon. Haydn put me in the bath last night and I covered my belly with a towel because I can't bear for him to look at it. He knew though and took my towel away and gave my tummy a kiss. He's so good. I don't know how I would get through this without him. You hear about couples who don't make it through the loss of a child, who grieve separately and grow apart. I was worried that would happen to us but it has only brought us closer. We are clinging onto eachother for dear life and it is working. It seems cruel though that something good can come from something so horrific but I have so much love for him at the minute. It's as though all the love we had stored up for Aneurin is being poured into eachother. I'm amazed at how much love I felt for my baby, when I was pregnant, when he was born, when I held him and even now he's not with me, it's so powerful. 

I thought the day we heard the words 'I'm sorry but your baby has died' would be the most difficult day. Then I thought the day we came home without him would be but it just keeps getting worse. Planning our baby's funeral is something we should never have to do. It's not the natural order and it feels so incredibly wrong. I wonder if that will be the most difficult bit or if actually just waking up every morning to the loudest lack of baby cries and knowing I will never hold him again is the hardest. 

It's only been a week, I know it's not going to get easier yet but I wish someone could tell me when it was. My whole body aches with sadness.
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3 comments

  1. There are no words to say to this post. Sorry isn't good enough, and any of the acceptable social terms like time will heal are things you shouldn't have to hear. Cry, talk, and discuss every part of your son, because he was here, you and your husband created a new person, and it's shit what has happened to you both, but he was here, no matter the length of time. Huge hugs.

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  2. Nothing I can ever say will make it better but I am so sorry this happened to you and Haydn. I hope it gets better/easier for you all x

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  3. Just cried my eyes out reading this. The world can be really shit at times (especially to good people). This is one of those times. Don't really know what else to say.....

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