Friday, 11 March 2011
Grief Makes A Promise
I feel like I'm going crazy.
[Grief speaks] Come sit down, let's talk.
Not you! Leave me alone! You have moved into my life and you won't leave. Everywhere I look; there you are, staring me in the face, filling my life with pain.
[Grief responds] I know. But just hear me out, okay?
I'm tired of listening to you. Tired of feeling so many things; Confused, sad, hopeless, angry, anxious, guilty, helpless, isolated, empty, alone, exhausted, lost, and fearful.
[Grief firmly] You're supposed to have feelings. You're human.
Look you don't understand. My baby who I love and care for very much has died and it HURTS-- It hurts so badly I can't stand it. Sometimes I don't even want to be here anymore.
[Grief comforting] I hear you. But if you never loved, you'd never grieve. What you feel is normal.
No, it's not. Everyone says I'm--well--they say that I'm grieving too much. They are worried about me. They say that it's time to move on. They said to me: "It's time to put closure on this". "It's time to heal, accept, recover, and get over it".
[Grief softly] And you can't.
Well, no. Not like they want me to.
[Grief speaks] Come sit down, let's talk.
Not you! Leave me alone! You have moved into my life and you won't leave. Everywhere I look; there you are, staring me in the face, filling my life with pain.
[Grief responds] I know. But just hear me out, okay?
I'm tired of listening to you. Tired of feeling so many things; Confused, sad, hopeless, angry, anxious, guilty, helpless, isolated, empty, alone, exhausted, lost, and fearful.
[Grief firmly] You're supposed to have feelings. You're human.
Look you don't understand. My baby who I love and care for very much has died and it HURTS-- It hurts so badly I can't stand it. Sometimes I don't even want to be here anymore.
[Grief comforting] I hear you. But if you never loved, you'd never grieve. What you feel is normal.
No, it's not. Everyone says I'm--well--they say that I'm grieving too much. They are worried about me. They say that it's time to move on. They said to me: "It's time to put closure on this". "It's time to heal, accept, recover, and get over it".
[Grief softly] And you can't.
Well, no. Not like they want me to.
I can't put closure on my love. My love did not die. I can't wake up one day and suddenly exclaim," I'm healed". I'll never completely heal. I certainly will not "accept" or "recover" from my baby’s death. And, I will never "get over" it, as if my grief is a problem that can be fixed.
[Grief whispers] You don't have to.
What do you mean?
[Grief takes a seat] Everyone grieves differently. And you have the right to grieve however you're going to grieve. You had an unique relationship with your baby-- a relationship that no one can ever fully understand.
So, what am I supposed to do?
[Grief moving closer] Five things.
First; grieve; feel your grief. That's why I'm in your life. So you can begin to feel again. Even though you don't like what you feel.
Second; talk it out with people who are willing to listen and not judge you. Find a way to get all those bottled up feelings out so they don't go round and round with no place to go. Find those people who will really listen. They are out there. DO IT.
Third; realize that everyone grieves differently. Respect this.
Fourth; Live. Even though at times you don't feel like putting one foot in front of the other. Your job is to live your life, despite all the changes you've gone through, despite all the pain.
And fifth; talk about your baby. Say his or her name. Tell your baby’s life story. Your baby lived a life. Find people who will listen to the stories and who will in turn tell you their stories of your baby .Your love for your baby will never go away. You will always carry it in your heart.
[Grief offering a handshake] And, finally, I make you a promise.
[Shaking hands] You? Grief? Are making me a promise?
[Grief] Yes, my promise to you is:
As terrible as you feel now, you will not feel this way forever.
There will be times that you will laugh. Times where your confusion, your sadness, hopelessness, your anger, anxiety, guilt, helplessness, isolation, emptiness, loneliness, exhaustion and fear will not feel so intense. Don't get me wrong. You will never forget your baby. And feeling less grief does not mean that you are forgetting him/her. Now, I want you to say your baby’s name.
Go ahead, say it.
"Anabelle"
[Grief] It's a precious name. Take the memories. Put them in your heart, feel them. And know that your baby will always safely be in your heart.
Always?
[Grief] I promise.
[Grief] It's a precious name. Take the memories. Put them in your heart, feel them. And know that your baby will always safely be in your heart.
Always?
[Grief] I promise.
To those in my life who understand and allow me those five things and more. Thank you.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
My Birthday
It seems almost wrong to be saying it; but I’ve had a really very lovely birthday.
Why is there guilt involved in happiness now? There is a part of me that thinks it is somehow more appropriate to say I had a miserable birthday, after all my daughter is dead. I’m not really supposed to be happy. But the truth is I think that yesterday was the best birthday I’ve ever had.
Only one thing could’ve made my 26th birthday better and that something I can never have. Anabelle back. There is nothing I can do about it, apart from accept it. That was one birthday present that was never going to happen, the birthday family day out we’d planned once upon a time long forgotten; and so we indulged ourselves in London and my lovely Jon spectacularly spoilt me.
Yesterday morning we visited Hamley’s; and marvelled at all the toys. A big kids paradise when you’re a 30 year old man looking for a new helicopter! I enjoyed it too, was sold by the nail art kit being demonstrated and had my photo taken with the men dressed as toy soilders outside the shop. But then for a moment, on the girls floor, surrounded by the pink and pretty things I was overwhelmed by the sadness that is always so near. We can never take an excited Anabelle to a world famous toy shop. It is always going to be there isn’t it; the daily missing out reminders.
My brother and sister-in-law spoilt us with a voucher for afternoon tea in the Georgian Restaurant in Harrods; very posh and very lovely and we finished the day off in the front row of the Apollo Victoria Theatre watching Wicked. It has only taken Jon 5 years to take me theatre, but it finished my birthday off perfectly.
It was just a really very lovely day. I can only hope the rest of being 26 will remain the same.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
The Month of March
March has traditionally been my favourite month of the whole year; even this year it appears it will be no exception. March this year is full of birthdays, weddings, memories and future.
March starts on day one with St David’s Day, the national day of Wales. I have fond memories throughout primary school dressing up, celebrating, taking part in the Eisteddfod. I was bard poet in Year 5 after writing a poem all about rainfall! Now I’m a teacher I continue to enjoy the first week of March with my class; today we painted red dragons and I took an assembly on ‘Welshness’, exploring all things welsh, daffodils, leeks, welsh cakes, music and anthems.
March starts on day one with St David’s Day, the national day of Wales. I have fond memories throughout primary school dressing up, celebrating, taking part in the Eisteddfod. I was bard poet in Year 5 after writing a poem all about rainfall! Now I’m a teacher I continue to enjoy the first week of March with my class; today we painted red dragons and I took an assembly on ‘Welshness’, exploring all things welsh, daffodils, leeks, welsh cakes, music and anthems.
Of course, Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant is closely followed by my birthday. Or ‘our’ birthdays since I’ve been with Jon. His the 6th, mine the 7th March. As I said Monday, this year I turn 26, Jon turns 30. My sister 21 on the 9th. I’ve always been a person who gets ridiculously excited about my birthday. I love birthdays; not just my own – birthday celebrations in general. They give an excuse for a get together, to wine and dine out, to be spoilt.
I’m surprised that I’m excited and looking forward to my birthday this year. It is obviously something I’m just not going to grow out of! Feeling excitement is progress, especially since our birthday plans are so different to what was anticipated this time last year, I wasn't expecting any joy.
With Jon approaching the big 3-0 I was already planning a big celebratory family day out. Booking Jon a surprise somewhere and standing on the sidelines with our baby as he enjoyed his treat. Of course, this won’t be happening; there is no surprise for Jon planned anymore, instead we’re going to London for a few days over our birthdays; taking advantage of the perks of me now only working part-time.
At the end of 2010 I wobbled dramatically. I wasn’t ready to let go of the year that belonged to Anabelle. I feel so differently about year I was 25. Even though the year I was 25 was all things Belle I’m ready to see the back of it. I suppose, 2010 belonged to her, being 25 belonged to me. Being 25 was the time in my life I’ve hurt the absolute most; it will always be remembered as the year I became a Mummy and that is incredibly special but I’m ready for being 26 to possibly signal something different, something new, something as well as Anabelle.
Jon has big plans for his photography. http://imageryinspired.blogspot.com 2011, being 26 and 30 is the year we’re going to have our own business. It very early stage planning but we’re determined; we have a dream for it, a focus and a goal. We have our beautiful Anabelle to thank for that. Without her we’d have never have been inspired to go for it. Here or not Anabelle manages to positively influence our lives.
Here’s to very nearly being another year older, wiser and celebrate that we've 'survived' it.
Monday, 28 February 2011
Post-Baby Body
I think ‘muffin-top’ is the official phrase. The way my stomach wibbles, wobbles and squeezes into trousers since being pregnant and having lovely Anabelle.
Despite being lighter in weight than I was before I was pregnant, my body shape has changed drastically. This is still taking some getting used to. I feel bigger than I ever have before; mainly because of the fleshy Mummy tummy that has been left behind.
Now I must be honest, I’ve done nothing to even attempt to make the muffin top go away, so really I shouldn’t complain about it. In the 8 months since Anabelle died I don’t think I’ve exercised once, unless you count ice-skating at my nearly sister-in-laws hen day. I know sit ups and hard work are required to tone back up but I’ve zero motivation to do anything at all.
So my body image isn’t great. Would the muffin top have bothered me if Anabelle was here? I think it would’ve been a much lesser extent. I would’ve had far more pressing priorities than to worry about what I looked like. I would’ve been busy being a Mummy.
I have a post-baby body without my baby. The scars of pregnancy are left behind. I realise there is the highest likelihood that my stomach will never return to what is was; it grew a baby, I’ve got a mother’s body now.
I look at photos of me from this time last year, and I look young, fresh and sparkling. I don’t think the same is true today. My eyes look older, I look aged. There are more lines, darker bags; probably from all of the tears.
Next Monday I turn 26. Jon turns 30 on Sunday. I think both of us feel and look far older than our years, we behave it too, our life experience has made us this way. Since our last birthdays we’ve had to grow up fast; there has been no time for immature games and light-hearted fun. We’ve had our daughter to bury, her grave to visit, her headstone to order, our horror to survive.
Old before our time? Definitely.
Friday, 25 February 2011
Fundraising
Just over a week ago we sent out our fundraising letters for Anabelle’s Angel Day. Already I am overwhelmed and encouraged by a fantastic response. I’m so excited that people are getting on board and supporting us.http://www.justgiving.com/anabelles-angel-day
Just this week alone we’ve received £15 giftcard from Peacocks, a meal for two at the Toby Carvery, a meal for two at the Parkway Hotel, 2 tickets for 2 hours of laser tag games at Taskforce, a family ticket into Techniquest and a whole load of bags, clothes and hats from Animal! Add this to the afternoon tea for two at the Hilton, Sunday lunch for four at the Holiday Inn and dinner, bed and breakfast for two at the Cwrt Bleddyn Hotel that we had previously received and we’re well away already with raffle prizes.
Additionally this week, Glitterbugs (a children’s hair and party salon) has been in contact and want to join the day by providing facepainting and sparkly tattoos for children!
When we first started planning Anabelle’s Angel Day I’m not sure what sort of response I expected. But I’m truly amazed and ever so grateful for all that is being donated our way to support our fundraising and make Anabelle’s day truly memorable and successful.
Today, Sands have released a statement regarding their work with stillbirths worldwide. Reading the worldwide figures made me sick to my stomach and has made me more determined than ever that my little bit of fundraising make even the smallest of difference to the awareness and funds that need to be raised.
Each day in the UK alone 17 babies die as a result of stillbirth or neonatal death. Shockingly worldwide figures, for each day reach 8700 babies. It is estimated that each year, across our world 3.2million babies are stillborn.
I despair that 3.2million babies are dying every year across the globe but that stillbirth continues to be a silent issue. I despair that in 2010 my own daughter was just one of these babies in this astronomical statistic.
Do these lives not matter? Why is there next to no awareness? Why is there shoddy reporting after a celebrities loss? Many of these babies die unnecessarily so what makes other research more of a priority than this one?
Please do not be fooled into thinking that this is mainly a horrible thing that happens in the third world. Remember that 6500 of those deaths are right here in the UK every year. 3.2million includes babies across America, Europe, Austrailia and the rest of the developed world with our outstanding and available medical care. This is worldwide, developed and underdeveloped alike.
Stillbirth needs to be higher on our own governments agenda. Sands needs support to make this happen whether it be through raising awareness or fundraising for research. Please visit the Sands websites today and see how you could help. http://www.why17.org/
And so I implore you to pledge your support to Sands, remember Anabelle and all angel babies and make people take notice.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Ah facebook. We have a bit of a love-hate relationship going on. In the very early days it was the source of a lot of my hurting; the photos, the negative status updates about offspring, but a lot of that has faded now. I accept the family photos and pay no attention to negative status updates.
All I have now is level of distaste for facebook full stop but can’t seem to keep myself away. Because even though I don’t think it does me a lot of good for the most part it does keep me connected to people, and I have plenty of support there too.
On facebook there is Ally, who has spoken to me nearly every day without fail since I returned to my page after Anabelle’s death. She seems to know exactly what to say and is never dismissive or uncomfortable with anything I say. Ally doesn’t give me platitudes, she listens and gives a considered response, not just what she thinks she is supposed to say or what I want to hear. Ally has been one of my biggest virtual and real life ears and I wouldn’t have had that without facebook.
There are also many people send me kind messages through my facebook account that I wouldn’t receive otherwise and these messages are encouraging. Only this weekend three different people have taken the time to send words of hope, encouragement and understanding through my inbox.
So for all the hurt facebook has caused over the last 8 months it has also been an avenue of constant support from others.
When I started blogging I was initially nervous of publishing my posts to my facebook wall. I’m acutely aware that in this blogspot; my space, I am hard hittingly honest about my life and hurt and grief now. I am aware that this probably makes for difficult reading and probably makes some uncomfortable if it challenges them to confront their own actions and attitudes around grief, or me. Maybe it pricks peoples conscience.
But you know what, I’m also aware that for so many bereaved mothers, we are expected to conduct ourselves in a way that puts other people at ease, it is the expectation that our own upset and anxieties will be put aside and we will not makes others uncomfortable with our grief. And so we’re expected to be fine and ‘behave’.
The courtesy of putting us, the grieving mother, at ease is rarely extended. Unintentionally as it may be, it is as if the general opinion is “it our problem to deal with”. I know people, for the most part, are unintentional with their insensitivity and thoughtlessness but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be challenged or brought to attention.
For too long the bereaved mother has been voiceless. Expected to move on from her despair and get on with life without there being too much acknowledgment or mention of her child’s existence.
I’m not going to be that mother. This blog is my voice, my outlet for letting go of bit of my grief and hurt at a time. I will never apologise if my hurt makes somebody else uncomfortable, because I would challenge them to try and see the bigger picture.
It is one of my greatest hopes that my stark openness helps others to relate to bereaved mothers, raise awareness to turn thoughtlessness into thoughtfulness. And so I publish my blog to facebook and twitter hoping for most the insight into a bereaved mother’s life is insightful and educational. Creating links rather than barriers.
Because above all, a little bit of thoughtful courtesy and a little bit of understanding goes a long way in my world now.
Monday, 21 February 2011
Babies
Babies are everywhere; every time I leave this house there is almost 100% guarantee I will be confronted by the sound or sight of a tiny infant. Even this weekend, at the evening celebrations of my nearly sister-in-laws hen night there was a baby.
For the most part now I deal with babies pretty well I think. I’ve learnt to expect babies in the supermarkets and out and about and so feel less phased by them, I feel more able to go into my neighbours houses with their babies who were born days either side of Anabelle, I do ok with the babies at church. I do ok because I expect them to be at these places, a sort of knowing what I’m letting myself in for and being prepared for it.
But Saturday night I didn’t do very well. Not as bad as the early days when there would’ve been a complete meltdown, but not brilliantly all the same. You see it hadn’t occurred to me at all that I had to steel myself for the sounds and sights of a baby that night and as such I was left unprepared. After all hen nights are not the usual places for finding babies.
In many respects I probably came across as rude, I didn’t make that much of an effort with others for the meal, but inside I was desperately trying not to cry. Baby cries and noises leave me feeling anxious, a painful reminder of something we never had. We never heard Anabelle make a single sound. I know I have to get better still with dealing with the unexpected but small babies and heavily pregnant women just serve to remind me of where I failed and how our lives are left empty while other people’s families fill up some more.
The first time I saw another baby after Anabelle death was at my cousins wedding. It had been 5 weeks, I’d barely physically recovered from giving birth let alone started to deal with my emotional wreckage. I knew there was going to be a tiny newborn girl there but for some reason I felt I needed to be at his wedding regardless. In hindsight attending was a really stupid thing to do. The fact that I was barely holding it together most days as it was should’ve been reason enough not to go and make my life even more unbearable. So the barely holding it together turned into unravelling fast before the ceremony was even over. Watching another baby girl be cooed over while my own was still fresh in the ground; I hated everyone that day. But I guess I thought if I missed my cousins wedding, I missed it forever. It was once in a lifetime and I thought I needed to go.
So my brother’s wedding draws continually closer. In just under 5 weeks I will be at another wedding. There is much to prepare myself for – 25 invited babies and small toddlers on mass. I’m hugely anxious about it and how I will cope. Surrounded by families when all we want is our own. I continue to struggle with the unfairness of it all. The only small child that should matter that day is not there at all.
Today marks 8 months since Anabelle was born. 8 months into the rest of our lifetime of being a broken family in the worst possible way. Today my arms ache to hold her.
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- 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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