Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Patterns of Sleep
I’m here because I cannot sleep. I’ve been to bed, and quickly got up again. Unable to settle. I wonder what time I’ll be up to until tonight? My routine is all over the place and has been since the day Anabelle died. I seem to want to sleep all day and then unable to sleep at night. I’m tired all the time.
Last night I went to bed at about midnight and finally settled at about 1.00am. I used to settle straight away. Often I would go to bed before Jon and he would say he would be there in a few minutes. All it took was those few minutes for me to go straight sleep. I was a ‘soon as my head hit the pillow’ kind of girl. Now I lie awake.
This morning, my alarm went off at 9.30am and I woke up very tired. It took an hour before I was awake enough to get out of bed. Fighting that in between stage – aware of the world, but not quite in it yet. I spent the rest of the morning tidying my house and by 3.00pm I was shattered. I don’t think I slept very well last night. I don’t think I sleep very well any night – regardless of how many hours I sleep in one go. I never feel rested.
So I went to bed for a nap. Again. I slept for 2 hours.
It’s now just gone midnight as I type this. I should be asleep. I want my old routine. The routine where I would go to bed around 10.00pm, get up at 6.30am. Only the occasional nap in between.
I need to stop napping. I know it is not helping matters at night. I just don’t know how to fight it. I really am very very tired. Even if I’m doing nothing – the emotional energy is constantly used up.
I know this is all part of grief, but I’m tired of it now. I never did deal very well with my sleep being out of routine.
Night time arrives and the worries of the day play on my mind. Today I’ve worried about Christmas. Quite frankly I would like to cancel Christmas, I’ve always hated the cost and sheer amount of stress, but this year, I just don’t feel up to it at all. I haven’t got the energy to figure it all out. The present buying, the stretching the pennies, the writing cards, the celebrations. I just don’t want to be involved. There is no part to celebrate for Jon and I this year. Anabelle is not here to enjoy her 1st Christmas, her name cannot go on the cards, she’ll have no presents under a tree.
Christmas - the next major step to deal with – that and her 6th month anniversary day, all in the same week. It’s all looming. Please can we skip December?
At least Jon is asleep. I can hear him snoring.
Monday, 25 October 2010
Ready or not?
I probably sound like a broken record, but this is what life is like now. Broken. I had huge wobbles again last night. I really do need to pull myself together. If only I knew how.
Last night’s wobble was the result of an overwhelming fear that this could happen to us again. So overwhelming, the state I got myself into resulted in me being unwell. After you lose a baby there seems to be this natural desire to get pregnant again quickly. I can sort of understand that, the physical emptiness is astounding. Almost suffocating. Everything is empty. It’s not about replacing the baby that was lost, nothing and no-one will or could ever replace my Belle, but more it seems the body’s natural response to an unnatural end to your previous pregnancy.
But for me, there wasn’t that immediate desire. 9 days after Anabelle was born I went to the Doctor and asked to be put back on the pill. I didn’t want to be pregnant, at all. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted Anabelle to still be here. I’d already figured out that for me, another baby or being pregnant wasn’t going to make anything feel any better – it wouldn’t be able to fix me. Anabelle would still be missing.
So I went back on the pill and we decided we would see how we felt around Christmas about trying again. Christmas is approaching and I’m torn. Part of me is starting to desire pregnancy again and the hope of a new baby and a new year. The other part of me is so unbelievably scared I was ill last night. Some of the fear last night was my own stupidity. I was on the SANDS website. SANDS is a wonderful support tool, but, it opens your eyes to the literally hundreds of things that could go wrong. As well as dealing with the uncertainty of my own circumstances, I’m aware of everyone else’s too. The families who have 2 (or sometimes more) angel babies. The families who’ve managed to continue to survive after 2 or more tragedies. I’m not sure I could be that person. I’m barely surviving Anabelle’s death.
I know “What ifs” do not help anyone, but what if I cannot keep babies alive? It is a question that cannot be answered, because no-one can predict the future. No-one can promise me that next time it would all be ok.
I struggle with a guilt I cannot shift. I know deep down it wasn’t my fault, but I battle daily with the fact that I let Belle down and didn’t keep her safe. It was the only job I had to do and I failed. What if I am incapable of keeping my babies safe?
These fears are irrational, but totally rational all the same time considering what has happened to us. I know the Doctors will monitor us and look after us closely when I fall pregnant again, but will it be enough? My anxiety levels are so high already in general, and about trying again, I wonder if I’m ready at all for the pressure of another pregnancy. I’m starting to really worry about the strength (or lack of) of my state of mind. I can be ‘ok’ and then it seems I unravel again so fast, I almost feel manic. Am I actually becoming mad? I need to try and reign myself in.
I know that my desire for having another baby one day is greater than the madness and fear now. And although I know this, I also know that the fear will not go away of diminish with time. It will always be there, whenever another pregnancy comes. I know it will be a case of ‘biting the bullet’.
It makes me so sad, and angry, that the joy of pregnancy has been robbed from us. Being pregnant with Anabelle was some of the best 32 weeks of my life. I loved every minute. It’s never going to be like that again is it?
Trying again will require courage, hope, faith, trust. I must learn to cling to God’s words and promises that bought me comfort. (Post: Blessings) I need to work on a positive mental attitude. I need to believe that this will happen for us and that Anabelle will be a big angel sister and we will be Mummy and Daddy to earth babies too.
Friday, 22 October 2010
Fragile
The pressure of my new life is relentless. Today I feel fragile. I often feel fragile – my nerves get the better of me, and anxiety builds up and I stop coping. The living this forever hits me again.
Tears, anxiety and panicky feelings seem to be part of the new me. It comes so easily. To the world I probably appear to be holding it altogether with remarkable ease, I think I’m good at that painted face now. But when I’m with just myself? That’s a different story altogether.
I’m convinced something else terrible is going to happen to us. I get myself worked up. While we were away I was a nightmare - Jon went for a ‘short’ walk in the dark with his new camera – over an hour later I was getting jittery, convinced he would be lying in a ditch somewhere – Dad had to come out with me in the pitch black to find him. Of course he was fine. Jon climbed to the top of a waterfall with Dad, I got upset, convinced he’d get too close to the edge, fall off and die. Of course he was fine. Mum and Dad turned up at the lodge an hour and half after they should’ve done, I couldn’t get hold of them, convinced myself they’d crashed the car and died. Of course they were fine.
At home I’m still a nightmare. Last week, I text Jon to see if he wanted to meet for lunch. He didn’t reply – for a mere hour and quarter. But to me it felt like forever, and in that time I’d gotten myself in a hysterical mess and convinced myself again that something terrible had happened to him. When he did phone me, I cried down the phone with relief. I know how silly this sounds. I’m sure Jon just doesn’t know what to do with me.
I don’t seem to be able to be rational anymore. I cannot help it. I don’t want to have these thoughts. I’m not sure why I do have them. But I know the thought of losing Jon, or my Mum and Dad fills me with dread and fear. How would I go on without them?
It’s not always about death though. Sometimes it’s just ‘normal’ life things.
In the very early days I couldn’t easily leave the house without Jon or my Mum. I was scared of what was out there and what I would have to encounter. Noisy and busy places had me in a panic. I needed peace and quiet.
I still often need peace and quiet. Loud and unexpected noise bothers me a lot. But things have progressed now. I still have my moments, but I can just about manage things on my own.
This week I did the Tesco shop on my own. Half way around it started. The shaking, the verge of tears, I felt hot and sick. I don’t even know what triggered it. Sometimes the trigger is obvious – babies, prams, Mummies, baby girl clothes. This day, there was none of those things.
I did finish the shop, but I did feel like I could’ve collapsed by the time I got back to the car. It took 2 hours led on the sofa, a cuddle from Jon and quiet before I felt better again.
Today I’m feeling weepy and nervous. But I don’t even know what of. I’m exhausted again. I’m fighting the urge to go back to bed. I have to stop going back to bed. It doesn’t seem to matter how much sleep I have anymore, I’m always tired regardless.
I just want Jon. I cannot wait for him to get home from work and make it all feel ok again.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
The 21st
Anabelle should be four months old today. Four months since my daughter was born. When she was first born, I used to count the weeks. I still know how many weeks it is, (17 and a half), but it is the months that really stick in my mind now. Four months.
I still find it amazing how time keeps moving on.
When you have a small baby, less than a year old, and someone asks you how old your baby is, you answer in months. The months are important this year. Will the 21st always feel like this? Always feel so painful? Or as time goes on and we reach Anabelle’s first birthday will the months become like the weeks have come – still known, but it’ll become the years and half years that stick in my mind? I suppose that is the natural way, as with all babies and children.
Oh how I miss her.
Four months today, also means its eight months until her birthday. I’m determined her 1st birthday will be memorable and special for all the right reasons. I have a lovely friend who has thought about ideas and offered her help this week already! Anabelle is going to have a big birthday party – it’s going to celebrate my beautiful daughter, it’s going to raise awareness of all angel babies and it will raise money for SANDS. I need this focus. I need her birthday to be special.
I think ahead quite a lot, I think I have to, it prepares me for what I know I will find hugely difficult. Significant dates and times of year are important. Soon we have Bonfire Night, which is significant to me for reasons other than Belle, and then Christmas which I would like to avoid this year if at all possible, and then our birthdays, her Daddy is 30 next year – its special, and then my brother’s wedding for which Anabelle should’ve been a gorgeous little flower girl, and then Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day – already breaks my heart so much.
Infact the mere thought brings a lump to my throat. There is so much still yet to cope with. To always have to cope with.
Somebody in my virtual world today suggested that we do something special for Belle on each 21st, – and to mark the day. I do not know why I hadn’t already thought of marking the date in a positive way. It’s something I know will comfort me because the 21st is hugely significant to me every month at the moment. And so it should be.
So the 21st November will be different, it will be more positive, with a focus, we will do something for Belle. Buy a special candle for her that is only lit on the 21st of the month, take a drive over her mountain, look through her memory box and books.
I’m going to light a candle now and imagine my little daughter dancing around. Happy four months sweetheart. Mummy and Daddy love you, always. xXx
Monday, 18 October 2010
Mummy or Daddy?
When a baby is born everyone spends time trying to decide whether they look more like Mummy or Daddy. This was no different with Anabelle. Daddy was the one in our case, apart from her mouth. Her little mouth was strikingly identical to my newborn pictures. Mummy’s mouth.
This morning I looked at Jon led there with his eyes closed and all I could see was Anabelle. I think she looked so much like her Daddy. Even at our 20 week scan I was convinced she was going to have Jon’s nose – her profile was so clear, it was a beautiful scan. The “Our Pink Baby” scan. When she was born her nose was identical to his just like I thought. Anabelle would’ve been such a Daddy’s girl in every way I’m sure.
She had tiny little hands and feet. Infact her feet were no bigger than my thumb. We have her hand and footprints. I wear her little handprint every day. The little piece of her that stays with me. After she was born we sent her handprints off to a jewellery company. They engraved a miniature replica of her tiny handprint onto a charm for a bracelet for me to wear.
I wonder how she would’ve looked as she grew? I know she would’ve been tall – because she was already tall! Anabelle was 44cm long when she was born. Tall, again, just like her Daddy. I would’ve been eventually the shortest in our family.
Would she have been blonde like me and her Daddy were when we were little? Would she have had the same blue eyes as we’ve got? I expect so, but we never saw our daughter’s eyes. Her eyes never opened.
Would she have been a girly girl like her Mummy? Would she have loved pink like me? I'd like to think so!
I suppose it is futile now to wonder like this – because Anabelle is what she is.... I will never get the answers to my wonderings, because as unfair as it is, she will never grow or change. Anabelle is forever my beautiful baby girl, but I really look forward to seeing her pretty eyes in heaven.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Vows
Sometimes, when I sit and think about what life has thrown at Jon and I since we’ve been married, I can hardly believe we’re still standing at all. Together we vowed to stick by each other in the good and bad times, in sickness and in health, and believe me, we’ve lived the truth of those vows ever since.
Our wedding day was magical, truly the best day of my life and everything we dreamed it would be. I would marry Jon again in an instant. But it isn’t the wedding that makes the marriage. Marriage is so much more than the beautiful white dress, presents and being centre of attention for a day. Marriage is two people living it. Staying together, strong, faithful and true whatever life may throw at them.
The first thing to be thrown at our new marriage was our honeymoon. An exotic Carribean dream holiday – but it nearly killed my brand new husband. The first 8 days in St Lucia were just lovely; we enjoyed sunshine, cocktails, boat rides, a helicopter tour of the island. And then Jon started developing pains in his chest. It hurt him to breathe, the pain over the next two days becoming more and more severe.
Jon being Jon, refused for me to call a Dr while we were there and so we got on a plane to come home. The flight was awful, Jon was in so much pain he didn’t know what to do with himself. We landed at Gatwick and STILL he refused to go to the hospital there – I drove home, at super speed, to get him to our hospital because by now I knew something was terribly wrong. We arrived at the Royal Gwent and he was swiftly admitted and hooked up to loads of machines, being pumped with painkillers.
A few hours later we had his diagnosis; a pulmonary embolism and pneumonia. Jon had several blood clots in his lungs which developed on the 8 hour flight out to St Lucia – the Dr couldn’t emphasis enough how he was an incredibly lucky man to have arrived home alive. My new husband was very poorly and spent the next 10 days in hospital, and the first 6 months of our married life on Warfin, having to have his blood constantly monitored.
Of course amongst all this, we did create our beautiful Belle and she bought us so much happiness. In fact out of everything in the last almost 15 months we’ve now been married, Anabelle’s 32 weeks with us were the happiest of all.
But in April, our next major concern was thrown at us. Jon developed worrying sensory issues – and these have remained with him ever since. Jon can no longer feel his hands, he had no sense of touch, infact he often doesn’t know where is hand is of what it is touching, unless he is looking at it. He suffers great difficulties with fine motor control and he suffers with sporadic double vision. There has been other altered sensory awareness sporadically around his body, but his hands have been constant. For 6 months now. It’s incredibly debilitating and a constant worry to us both. The process of starting tests was very slow, I was getting more and more stressed, but Jon is finally under the care of a neurologist and we hope that a conclusive diagnosis will be imminent after a lumber puncture that has now been ordered. I just pray that the news is good because it is our turn for something positive.
We’re living in sickness and in health.
We’re living in good times and bad.
A major worry when we were waiting for Jon to be seen by someone, was me, his then at the time heavily pregnant wife. He was desperate to be fixed before our baby arrived. He kept telling our GP to hurry things along because we only had X amount of weeks left before our daughter was due. But Anabelle’s arrival didn’t stick to the plan...
Our baby daughter died in our first year of marriage. What greater trial can a new marriage overcome than two all consuming grief stricken people? We’re coping with our Anabelle’s death in very different ways, but throughout it all we’ve been very together. We are surviving and my darling husband has been my rock.
I find so much comfort in our rings – the unbroken circle of forever love, the rings that connect us and symbolise our life together. When we were in hospital having Belle and Jon had his arms around me, it was our hands and rings next to each other that still managed to give me some comfort. We were together in it and I really don’t think there is anything else like the bond between a husband and wife. Our hearts were broken but nothing could ever or will ever break our togetherness.
Vows are not just something you say in front of people because you want a wedding. The real meaning behind those vows comes through life, and the experiences that life throws your way. Vows only become real when you stick at them when the worst possible things are happening. When you continue to mean them and live them every day.
My marriage is strong and I knew it would be before I married Jon. Our relationship has always been strong from the very beginning. I love my husband very much and we’re living our vows, and we’re surviving. We’re more than surviving because we’re a marriage.
Even beyond death do us part.
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Friday, 15 October 2010
Wave of Light
Sweet little candle,
Shining so bright,
Please find your way to,
Our Anabelle in heaven tonight.
Sweet little flame,
Dancing all around,
Waving your pretty light,
With little flickering sounds.
Sweet little baby,
Sleeping so gently and tight,
Anabelle we remember you,
Tonight with candle light.
Sweet little angel,
Flying above so high,
Enjoying her beautiful wings,
Up in the big blue sky.
Sweet little daughter,
So loved and missed every day,
Mummy and Daddy so lost without you,
But trying to find our way.
Sweet little Anabelle,
Play with your angel baby friends,
Until we’re reunited in heaven,
Our family together forever again.
Sweet little candles,
All burning brightly away,
Honouring all angel babies,
On October 15th, Baby Loss Awareness Day.
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- 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
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