Our beautiful baby daughter Anabelle was born sleeping June 2010.
Blessed with the screaming arrivals of our gorgeous rainbow sons,
Alexander October 2011, Zachary November 2013 and Lucas July 2016.

After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows
Heartbreak. Joy. Death. Life. But most of all Love.

Thursday, 23 May 2019

The Garden

Belle's first bloom of the year, in May. I thought it was going
to bloom in April this year when lots of buds appeared.
This plant keeps us guessing every year! 
Three years ago the song "The Garden" by Take That spoke to me like a bolt out of the blue. The words shouting at me to sort myself out from the latest crisis I felt completely unable to process and deal with.  

You know, it was that time when we had been told Lucas was a girl, (click to open) and then just as we had started to take that reality on board, and so ridiculously allow ourselves to wonder and hope,  it was swiftly taken away again. The next scan identified they had gendered our baby wrong and he indeed did have a winky. 

There I lived a few weeks of anger and brokenness.  I felt like a cruel joke had been played at my fragile expense.    A whole host of broken emotions I don't think I would've felt if they had just said boy right from the start. I had expected another boy, I was ready for that, anticipating three boys and imagining a life of a boy trio. Where as I hadn't prepared myself to be told girl, and certainly hadn't prepared myself for the gender to change on the next scan. 

A girl for moment and then he wasn't. 

And I didn't really know what to feel. Guilt was high up there. I had this tiny growing baby that for a moment I felt like I had completely lost my bond with. When all that had changed was this one scan. He hadn't changed. He had always been he in reality.  I had forgotten how to feel. Almost like I had become completely detached from myself and any other reality. Almost like watching myself from a distance. There was some crying, that turned into numbness and I kind of got stuck there for a bit.  And then fear. Fear that this unfortunate event would have a detrimental impact to how I would love my baby after he arrived. I wished hard they had just told me boy in the first place. It wouldn't have been like this had they just not got it wrong. 

Of course those fears we unfounded. Of course there would be no question of bond. He arrived and completed us perfectly.  Almost three years on and he most certainly has me wrapped around his little finger. Charming me endlessly, loved beyond measure,  my baby and Mummy's boy, and he definitely knows it! And what is with this business of him coming up three? Not really a baby at all! 

From the moment he was named I felt myself calm and settle. Almost like magic. This blip vanishing as we decided on Lucas Elias. Just like that I felt bonded and reconnected once again. His little person and identity.  And then by the time he arrived a few months later it was almost like there had never been this anguish of mistaken identity at all.   

And now three little rainbow boys that I couldn't want any other way. My little band of brothers. Unless of course the big sister accompaniment was here. 

But I remember it and how awful it felt to feel like it. 

That wasn't me. 

In amongst it all this song played in the car. And I remember crying to the words. Shouting at me like some sort of sign that someone seeing the wrong bits on a scan wasn't worth breaking my heart over and I most certainly needed to pull myself together, to open my mind, to put to bed the girl that he never was and concentrate on who he is. Lucas (although not named yet) needed his mother. 

Three years on, whenever the album is played in the car, the words are the same reminder to me again. A message I guess, to keep trying to heal. The life I've been given. 

"This is the life we've been given,
so open your mind and start living,
we can play a part if we only start believing.
This is the life we've been given.
So open your heart and start loving,
we can make a start if we only learn to listen." 


There are parts of the life I have been given I have accepted in abundance. My wonderful little boys, mine. I can be a boy-Mum, I can accept the world seeing me as an only-boy Mum, even though it is clear that is far from the real truth.   I could accept that I needed to start living. And not just living in the breathing sense; but really living, a full and joyful and wonderful life. Accepting that I could feel complete in my day-to-day life while feeling universally incomplete all at the same time. I accepted I was allowed to feel great joy along with carrying great pain. Neither negated the other. Finding some way to carry it all together. Just there hand in hand.  I have accepted how my life feels almost like two versions. Parallel, intertwining, colliding as they do at this time of year.

But how do I ever accept that this life only exists because my daughter died? How do I accept that she died. And I don't mean in a reality sense, because I know my reality. But how on earth do I ever truly make my peace with that. This huge overwhelming reality that brings chaos to my entire self for all of this time every year.  When too many emotions over-spill and I feel like I'm thrown back in time.

A month yesterday and she will be, would be, should be nine.

Today wasn't my best day. I didn't feel myself today. Almost like I was processing the 21st the day before and the 'month to go' had passed. Distant and detached maybe. So tired. Feeling incredibly low on motivation and energy to do the big stuff.  Whilst forcing myself to get through my never-ending personal and work life to do list.

The next shift in the downward turn I have no idea how to fight. When to be honest, experience tells me that fighting the feelings only makes it worse for myself in the long run anyway.   Ride the storm.

This year so far the symptoms appear to be feeling tired, not just tired, but drained, exhausted, heavy, (yet not being able to sleep well, and yes I should be in bed). Feeling detached.

 On the cusp of the 23rd May and already in the last 23 days I have lost count of how many times I have written or typed the date down as 2010 and having to correct that 0 to a 9. Like a subconscious reflex.

This period of the year that has moved on, but hasn't really moved on at all. Right there, here I am in 2010. Living it all again.  Such a pivotal point in my life. Before and after.  The moment of growing up. The life that would've been vs. the life that is. This is the life we've been given. Blowing my mind that I cannot imagine life without three little boys who only exist in the way they do because their sister does not. A 2019 that would've looked so very different if the dice had fallen a different way in 2010. It is always 2010 this time of year.

At least tomorrow I can say I am tired because I stayed up far too late, rather than tired just because I'm tired.

"You and me, we just lay down in the garden." 

0 comments:

My Photo
Caz
After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
View my complete profile
Instagram

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Blog Archive

Followers

Mumsnet Badge

mumsnet
Written by C.E Morgan. Powered by Blogger.