After Anabelle

A familiar ache has developed in my chest today. Grief mixed with desperation mixed with fear.I want my babies. I want to physically be Mummy. My arms are empty and all I want to do is cuddle my children in. 

Yesterday I caught myself looking at Anabelle's photo a lot. Especially the ones where me and her Daddy are holding her. We could only hold her for such a short time; the briefest of moments with our newborn.  

There is so much I wish I'd done more of with Anabelle. 

I wish I'd held her longer and not put her down at all from the moment she arrived to the moment we had to hand her over. She was so fragile. The short time she was in her moses basket was while we were waiting for her clothes to arrive to dress her. She'd been held for hours and her skin was breaking, it looked so sore; we didn't want to hurt her anymore. So we gave her a little break wrapped up warm in her blanket with her teddy.  Wanting to protect her; but today I ache to hold her and feel I wasted precious moments that I had.

I wish we'd kept her with us longer. Anabelle was born at just gone midnight; at just gone midday we made the decision it was time to hand her over. 12 hours. We were trying to be brave, we knew the time had to come, we knew her tiny body was reaching the point where it would be safer elsewhere.  We were trying to do the right thing for our daughter.  Today I wish I'd had even a few more hours with her. I've since learnt about 'cold-cots' that some maternity units have. Special cots for angel babies that keep them safe to give their parents all the time they need with them.  We weren't offered a 'cold-cot' - I can only assume our hospital didn't have one, because I'm sure if they did it would've been there. The hospital offered us everything they could; a blanket, hat, tiny teddy for her and a moses basket. They were very kind, we can't fault them.

I wish I'd visited her more in the chapel of rest. I wish I'd gone every day. I'm not sure why we didn't. I guess we didn't want to overly pester the funeral directors. So instead we didn't see Anabelle for 5 days. She was left all alone for all that time and I feel so guilty. I should've been there more for her. 

I wish when we did see her in the chapel of rest I'd picked her up and held her one last time. I held her hand in her coffin but daren't move her. I wasn't sure that we were allowed too. How silly does that sound now? Why wouldn't I have been allowed to hold my daughter?  But in that hour we spent with her there, the night before her goodbye, I knew she was all prepared for her funeral and I thought that was it; she was in her coffin, I thought I had to leave her there. 

I wish I'd kissed her little face just one more time before I walked away from her. 

I wish Jon and I had carried her coffin on our laps in the car instead of her travelling in the back of the estate car infront.  I wish we'd slowed the bit down between her service and burial. Just to give us a couple of minutes alone, just me, Jon and her coffin.  That bit feels so rushed now, she was out of my reach too quickly. We arrived at the cemetery and she was carried over and passed down. I wish I'd had a moment with her before she was put in the ground. 

Most of all I wish she was here. 

I can't change any of these things and it hurts. I'm so desperate to hold Anabelle, and so desperate to hold Alexander. Desperate for a squidgy newborn that needs me. I want my babies.  

I'm not sure how I feel today. A bit sad, a bit strange maybe. Mostly I think deflated.

This is the first significant date in our round of 'seconds'. Anabelle's due date. A year ago today she was due to be born, a date that had held so much anticipation for so long, the date our dreams were built on; but of course she'd been born and buried for more than six weeks by the time August 7th had arrived.

Will today always feel like this I wonder? Will it change a little? Its significance always remembered?  But what is the significance now? I'm unsure. What do babies due dates really mean in the years after they are born? Would I be at all bothered by this date today if Anabelle was here? Would it have even crossed my mind it was her due date if she was here?

Last year we had a whole plan set out for today. Her day.

We went to Build-a-Bear-Workshop and made her Angel bear. The special teddy we'd been planning to go and buy with Anabelle, one of our first family trips after registering her was going to be there. We went without her, and made Angel bear for her, on her day.   We took Angel bear to Anabelle's garden and sat with her a while, on her day. We ate out at Bella Italia and I wore the pink dress I'd bought for her funeral, on her day.

Today we have no plans. Maybe that was a mistake.

Before I discovered blogging, in those early weeks I wrote a few poems. I can't actually remember writing them; part of the haze, the hurt. But I wrote one for Anabelle's due date; it is almost painful to read now. It puts me right back there in the rawness, confusion and bewilderment of it all.

But it is as true today as it was last August 7th.  Our baby girl is an angel.

Been a bit of a rollercoaster of emotions this week on the blog hasn't it? Lots of gushy mush, lots of anger. Might as well keep it up then; I'll go back gushy mush today!

There is a type of love that is impossible to describe until you've experienced it for yourself. A mother's love.  The type of love that reveals the lioness in you. It is all consuming and powerful; rising from the innermost parts of you and overwhelming everything else. The love that keeps on growing. They type of love that would make you kill and die to protect if you had to, make you vicious if you had to.  A don't mess with me, my babies or my family type of love.

The type of love that made me pull no punches in my post yesterday. Hurt me, my husband or my babies; you will pay, your comeuppance will arrive. A mother's love.

Nothing can really prepare you for the feeling. Anabelle was growing and I was falling more and more in love with this tiny little thing inside me I hadn't even met yet. I knew I already loved her unconditionally and then she arrived; Wow. The rush of love was something else. I was in awe of this beautiful tiny baby that Jon and I had made; how on earth did something so precious and perfect belong to me? Mine, ours. I cradled her and wanted to protect her forever. So much love and nothing more I could do for her. There is a saying isn't there; "If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever."

I love Anabelle so much I wondered how I would ever have anymore love to give to anyone else. Infact I worried if it would even be possible to love any future children anywhere near the same amount, was it possible to share? It felt Anabelle had taken it all.

I needn't have worried.

Already it is obvious my love for Anabelle does not impinge on my love for Alexander and vice versa. He has his own immense amount of love already there in abundance; different, seperate but equal to Anabelle's. Evidently each baby brings a whole new individual love with them. I love him for who he is, just like I love his sister for who she is. Between the two of them it is a wonder I haven't burst yet.

I can't wait to feel that 'wow rush' again. The moment I meet my beautiful boy. A mother's love; infinite, immeasurable.

10 and a half weeks to go my little man.

To explain the parents we want to be, lets give a  not so shining example of everything that is opposite to that. 

Who would want to be the parent who abandons their child in their greatest hour of need? Who would want to be the parent who is so bitter, twisted, selfish, childish that their own petty self-centered vendettas are more important to them than the death of their son's child? Who would want to be the parent who dares to criticize their son's child's funeral?  Who would want to be the parent who intentionally hurts their son just days and weeks after said son has just buried his child?  Who would want to be the parent who is proved to be totally selfish and unreliable during the absolute worst thing that could've happened to their son? 

Who would want to be the parent who puts their own needs and feelings first? Who, especially, would want to be the parent who is incapable of putting their grieving and heartbroken son first?  Who would want to be the parent who cannot take any responsibility for their nastiness but instead lays blame at everyone else's feet?   Who would want to be the parent who thinks 'blood' absolves them of everything, and that it gives them the right to treat their son how they like? 

Who would want to be the parent who has the audacity to seek out others to take below the belt cheap shots at their son's wife, the grieving mother of their sons dead child? Especially when said parent has proved themselves to have absolutely no conscience or moral fibre to be in the least bit self-righteous about.  Who would want to be the parent who cares so little that his son has been to hell and back many times in the last 12 months but instead harbours on with the same old and boring vendetta? 

Who even thinks this person sounds like any sort of person who has the right to call themselves a 'father' at all? Such titles are earnt after all, not given. It makes my blood boil that my beautiful husband grieves his loss of expected fatherhood when such undeserving lowlifes still see fit to abuse theirs.

Who would want to be a parent who is so obviously poisonous?

No-one?  Thought so. 


I really could go on and on. The list of abuse is quite endless. 

Our beautiful Anabelle, Alexander and any other children we have in the future will NEVER be subject to such behaviour from us. 

There is absolutely nothing that could happen in our children's lives that would result in them being treated so appallingly by us, their own parents. Our babies will always be secure in the knowledge, (as I am with my own parents - see Father's Day), that we will always put them, their needs and feelings first, we will support them in everything, we will never abandon them; regardless of situation or how old they or we might be.

Our babies will know nothing but our love, we will be selfless for them for the entirety of their lives. 

Our babies will know we will never intentionally cause them any hurt or distress, and in fact will do our utmost to remove all hurt and distress from their lives, taking any burden on for them that we can. And if, God forbid we did cause our children even the slightest of hurt we would be man enough to admit and do everything in our power to rectify our wrongdoing to them. God forbid my babies experience anywhere near the same level of grief and heartbreak we have; but if they do we will wrap them up so tightly to protect them from everything that we possibly can.  In all situations our babies will be secure in the knowledge that we will protect them.

Our babies will know we will be their constant and when everyone else has gone they can ALWAYS rely on us. Our babies will know they can turn to us about anything and we will be there. 

Our babies will know there is far more to being good parents and family than 'blood' and that said 'blood' does not equal the right to treat them in any way other than the right way.  Our children will know that love, respect and trust is a two way process, between both parents and child. And that we, their parents, regardless of 'blood' must earn these things from them based on how we treat them and our actions.  

I want our babies to have high expectations of us; because they deserve the very best.  

Our babies will never experience poison at the hands of us, we will never allow anyone poisonous to be anywhere near them. 

Anyone can father a child, all that takes is a sperm.  But it takes a real man to stand up and take responsibility and love their child unconditionally for the rest of their lives. It takes a real man to put their child first even through into adulthood, providing support until their dying day. Parenting; being 'Daddy' (or 'Mummy') does not stop at 18. Your babies never really stop needing you.

Abandoning even a grown up child is abhorrent. Whatever the circumstances. Particularly low life when the circumstances are the death of your child's baby. It is astounding really isn't it, that such unbelievably selfish people in such circumstances even exist.

Jon already is, and will always be millions of times over the 'father' he has had the unfortunate experience and example of.  Jon already is and will always be millions of times over the husband example he grew up with. 

We know we will be good parents because above all else our love for our babies will always be unconditional . Everlasting. Precious. 

I may speak in different languages of people or even angels, Bit if I do not have love, I am only a noisy bell or a crashing cymbal. I may have the gift of prophecy. I may understand all the secret things of God and have all knoweldge, and I may have faith so great I can move mountains. But even with all these things, if I do not have love, then I am nothing. I may give away everything I have, and I may even give my body as an offering to be burnt. But I gain nothing if I do not have love. 

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not boast, and it is not proud. Love is not rude, is not selfish, and does not get upset with others. Love does not count up wrongs that have been done. Love is not happy with evil but is happy with the truth.

Love patiently accepts all things. It always trusts, always hopes and always remains strong. Love never ends. 

There are gifts of prophecy, but they will be ended. There are gifts of speaking in different languages, but those gifts will stop. There is the gift of knowledge, but it will come to an end.   The reason is that our knowledge and our ability to prophesy are not perfect. But when perfection comes, the thing that are not perfect will end. 

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I stopped those childish ways.   It is the same with us. Now we see a dim reflections, as if we were looking into a mirror, but then we shall see clearly. Now I know only a part, but then I will know fully, as God has known me. 

At this point, two years ago, I was busy having my hair and make up done and being turned into what felt like a princess. I was just a few hours away from marrying my lovely Jon and becoming Mrs M! 

Full of excitement for our future; never could we have anticipated what would happen 10 months later. 

I'm still excited for our future. It isn't the future we imagined and our lives will never be complete; this is something we have to accept. Grief and the absense of Anabelle will affect us forever, but we have each other. Through it all.  There is so much left to live out, plan, grow and experience. 

1st August 2009 will forever be some of my happiest and fondest memories. I would love to rewind and do it all again, although one things is for certain - I wouldn't be fitting in my beautiful big white dress today would I! 

I know every bride says it; but it was one of the best days of my life. 

 I meant every vow then, like I mean every vow now. I loved every minute of our day and would marry him all over again in a heartbeat.