After Anabelle

What possession could you not live without?

My virtual world. 

Ok, so not so much a possession, but area of my life all the same. Sounds a bit 'sad' doesn't it I guess. Or does it?  Before Anabelle died I dabbled fairly frequently on Facebook and had joined an antenatal thread on Mumsnet, but my online usage was far far smaller than it is now.  After she died I barely existed outside of the internet. I frequented the Sands forum in particular for long hours each day, among a few other places. I completely immersed myself in the virtual world.  I started blogging.

It was where I felt safe. Safer than in the 'real' world at least. It was easier there. 

Today, of course I've moved on a lot from those early frightened days. I'm immersed in the real world now, but I still spend countless hours a week on the internet. My virtual world still has a huge impact on my daily life. I often think I need to cut down on my screen time, to spend less time on my laptop or the iPad. I don't think online usage has been helped by internet coming everywhere with me now on my iPhone. It is something I'm trying to make a far more conscience effort with this year; the iPhone not being an extension of my arm! 

However my virtual world is going to remain a big part of my life. 

The connections I've made with various people in various places are real. Namely my husband! Yes Jon and I met on Faceparty (the social networking site before Facebook...) seven years ago now, pen-palled for nine months before meeting in person and as they say, the rest is history. More recently some of the people I've met in my virtual worlds I've met in real life and now consider them real life friends. 

Blogging started as my outlet, my space to organise my thoughts, process the turmoil we were going through.  It helped me to connect with other angel parents at varying stages of their own journey. After a while I wanted it to be a blog that raised awareness; broke a taboo, that is why I've always tried to be so honest with my feelings, even when, and probably especially when they are at their most raw. Over time people started to tell me that my blog helped them. Fairly regularly I'm asked if somebody can send my link to parent they know who has been recently bereaved. I always say of course.

I've been thinking about it for a while, and a few days ago I decided to start setting up a Facebook page for my blog. There will be more information to follow about this in my next post!

What was the last major accomplishment you had? 

Um... 

Oh dear, this is not going so well. Question 5 on what should be day 10.   Certainly this venture will not be considered a major accomplishment. Maybe I could at least challenge myself to finish the months questions by the end of the month... we'll see. 

It is so difficult to celebrate your own achievements isn't it. As I sit here I struggle to think of something I could consider a major accomplishment. There are things I'm proud of no doubt; most recently, for example, my approved pay progression in work. But is it major? What constitutes as major? 

If I look back over our lives this last two and a half years I'm proud that we are surviving. We are holding our heads above water, but not only that we're beginning to sometimes float again.  

I'm proud of the day I first left the house on my own after Anabelle died. That was major. Major. From not being able to leave Jon's side, in hysterics if he hadn't replied to a message within a few minutes, imagining he was dead too, unable to cope with the noisy busy baby filled world, to taking a trip over to Asda on my own. 

I'm proud of the day I went back to work after Anabelle. Cutting my maternity that wasn't short, facing people, putting on a professional face again. In hindsight I was not functioning at work at full capacity for many many months after I returned, possibly not until I returned for the second time after Alexander's maternity leave, but I was there. I'm proud of my return to work after Alexander. I feel absolutely settled and engaged in work again, something I didn't really feel between babies. Although there are days when I feel guilty because I've only seen Alexander for an hour or two before bedtime, I know he gets the best out of me on the days I am home, work gets the best out of me the days I'm in work. For the most part I feel I'm achieving a fair balance. 

I was proud when I returned to university recently. When Anabelle died I was half way through my Post-Graduate Diploma in Special Education. After two years of deferral, I returned to complete the last three modules, and I hope my next accomplishment will be a graduation at the end of this academic year. Sometime in the near-ish future I hope to complete my Masters. Now for anyone who is subjected to my assignment progess tweet updates when I'm in the woe of essay writing will probably be thinking I'm mad, but I think it will be really good for my personal and professional development. I've always wanted my MA. I seems silly for me to get this close and not bridge onto a masters programme to complete a few more modules and a dissertation to turn diploma into masters. Of course, of first I actually have to pass the diploma!

I am proud that we have very nearly raised £10,000 for Sands since June 2011. Anabelle's Angel Day, her version of a first birthday party, was incredible. The support was incredible. I was gobsmacked on the day when the first count came to just shy of £5000. With part matched fundraising since, gift aiding and other separate donations we are approaching the 10k mark. Her fundraising page is still open at http://www.justgiving.com/anabelles-angel-day. Sands do a wonderful work. Immediate support for families by providing memory boxes for bereaved parents at the hospital which allows precious one time moments to be caputred. They provide 'befrienders' available online, telephone and local support networks and groups for families, they provide support through a next pregnancy, and indeed support with being a rainbow parent too. In the early days the online support forum was my sanctuary. Today I visit there less but I know it remains important to very newly bereaved parents, as well as continuing to support the longer bereaved if they continue to want it.  They organise national and local remembrance services which provide comfort to so many families.  This is without mentioning the research they fund to reduce the number of babies dying to stillbirth and neonatal death.   As I mentioned in my previous blog, next month I plan to access the rainbow baby support group, even two and a half years on from Anabelle death I need Sands and the services they provide. I hope Anabelle's 10k has helped to make a difference somewhere, what an amazing thing for little tiny baby to accomplish!

What do you think my major accomplishment is?

(I rarely edit my blogs other than to rectify glaring grammar or spelling errors! Tonight I've edited to add about Sands and the fundraising! I can't believe I had forgotten to write about it as something I'm proud of!) 

... or 'Is he your only one?'...  perfectly innocent questions, normal questions, along the same vane as do you have any children I used to be asked. It is a question I used to struggle with though, still do to a certain extent. Only now I'm asked if Xander is my first baby. I dread being asked but know I'm going to be time and time again.  Every time we go to a new mother and baby/toddler group,  or strike up conversation with somebody at soft play, and today, with a worker at the bank. 

I can't deny Anabelle, I just can't.  

Alexander is not my first baby. 

I've learnt to be fairly matter of fact about it for the most part, but you can never quite predict how the answer is going to be met. I still don't have a 'standard' answer as it were.

You can guarantee people are going to be completely apologetic that they even asked. Some people stutter and stammer and don't know what to say to me. They struggle to even change the subject so you are met with awkward silence. To be honest this has been the worst bit about mother and baby groups, feeling sometimes like a bit of a social outcast.  I sometimes wonder if people think being a bereaved parent is catching. 

Some people over compensate and go on to say how extra special Alexander must be then. Of course he is, but he would've been special if his sister was alive too. 

And sometimes people know how to sensitively carry on a conversation with me. Today was one of those days. 

I had to visit the bank to sort out Alexander's savings account. The lady had a baby only a few weeks younger than Xander, infact her son had been born on his due date! We exchanged '14 month' only stories, as you do when talking to a mother of an infant of a similar age. Then she asked the question.

Is he your first baby? 

Today I answered 'No, he is actually our 2nd. We have a little girl but we lost her toward the end of pregnancy.' 

Of course she was apologetic. That she was sorry to hear that, and that Alexander must be a real ray of sunshine then. The usual response. 

But then she went on to tell me about her friend who's little girl had died at a month old. Common ground, someone in her circle has experienced infant death too.  Part of her was able to empathise with me; through her role as a friend. She sensitively asked how I had coped being pregnant with him and if we had been well looked after. She asked if we planned anymore. She was warm and open and just really easy to talk to. I didn't feel awkward talking about Anabelle, to a complete stranger!  I had only gone to move money around Alexander's bank accounts! I hope she didn't feel awkward either. 

In daily Mummy and baby life I have two options. I can either pretend he is my one and only or I can be honest. Its not always easy being honest, sometimes I'm just too tired to reassure other people they haven't said the wrong thing. On the odd occasion where I've tried mutely grunting and not going into the truth about my children I've felt wracked with guilt afterwards. Sometimes I haven't felt strong enough to talk dead children with random strangers, but on those few occasions I've deeply regretted that I let her down. I'm not ashamed of her. I don't want there to be a stigma because she is dead. 

I couldn't go today, but next month I've decided, as part of my healing and healthier grief in 2013, that I'm going to join the local Sands Rainbow Babies monthly meet. A mother and tots group of sorts; stay and play in a family friendly cafe with hot drinks for the Mums and soft play and toys for the babies. I'm nervous about going, but I think it will be really good for Alexander and me. Surrounded by people who totally understand the mixed emotions of being a rainbow as well as angel parents, Alexander playing with other rainbow babies. No-one asking me if he is my first baby, because without me even needing to say a word they'll know, just because I'm there. Instead of being asked if Alexander is my first I may be asked instead about my first. My Belle. 

A new avenue of support, maybe an easier type of Mother and Baby group. 

What is your best memory of last year? 

Alexander's Dedication 

There were many highlights to 2012. Spending half the year on maternity leave with my beautiful boy encompassing it all, everything he learnt to do and the little baby who grew into a little boy. I enjoyed doing my Picturing Twenty Twelve  blog and taking notes of the little things every day. I really enjoyed our little holiday in Plmouth in August (so much so we plan to do it again this year!) and of course Alexander's first birthday, really precious times. But if I had to choose one event, I would probably choose

Alexander's Dedication day, a celebration of life instead of feeling broken. Equally for similar reasons his birthday, a celebration of what a birthday should be instead of decorating a grave. 

It just so happens his Dedication came first. 

The first time we stood in a church with our child we were about to bury her, we were there for her funeral.  Walking her down the aisle to 'give her away' for all the wrong reasons, it wasn't how it should be. It was incredibly important to me that the next time everyone was together for one of our children it was going to be because of a celebration of their life, a thanksgiving for their life, making a promise for his life. 

So, a year on from when we found out we were pregnant with him we celebrated baby Alexander with all of our family and friends. It seemed like a perfect end to the circle of a year and my memories of the whole day are very special, showing off our perfect little boy! 

Our little jar of awesomeness is going to make sure we keep all the memories of the special moments, big and small for 2013! I'm already looking forward to emptying it New Year's Eve and reminding myself of all the awesomeness that I'd forgotten! 

Are you content? 

I am but I'm not.  

Are there things I would change if I could? Of course! For the most part I am content. I'm content in my relationships with Jon, my family, my friends. I'm content in my role as Alexander's mother. I'm content in my job.   

I'm not content with my role as Anabelle's mother, it goes without saying how differently I wish things were. How I wish she was here. It is well documented here my struggle to accept being without her forever. 

I'm not content with where we live. I would love a family sized home now.

It does feel ungrateful to moan about my living situation when I know there are people much worse off than I am. I am grateful that I have a roof over my head, I do love our little home. The first home we owned and created our family in, this place is special. However, we have quickly outgrown our living space now and I'm increasingly frustrated with the housing market and our position in it. Our home is in negative equity, we have no savings to cover a shortfall in a sale or for a deposit to move on. Additionally as we bought through a first time buyers scheme, and are in a shared equity contract ; not only can we not sell, currently we cannot rent here out either as an option to move on. 

What was a 'starter' home has become a lengthy stay and with choosing schools for Alexander not far away on the horizon I had hoped to be living in a nicer catchment area for our children. 

There is absolutely nothing that can be done about it and our options are limited to none! 

However I appreciate if the worst I have to moan about right now is the size of our house and the catchment area it is in then I have a lot going for me, much more to be content about than not. I saw this on facebook earlier this evening and thought it made a good summing up for this post: 

Picks of the Week: 1st - 6th January 2013 

(Posted in retrospect, 22nd January 2013) 

What are you most grateful for? 

Alexander

I am grateful for many things in my life; my family, my husband, my babies, my friends, my job, the roof over my head, the food I eat, the nice things and comfortable life that I have. OK  so I occasionally moan about where I aspire to be and not getting there quickly enough, but I know there is lots to be grateful for. 

In a nutshell, if I had to choose one thing I was most grateful for it would be that we have Alexander. 

My beautiful son saved a piece of me, when everything in my world was broken and dark, he came along and helped me to heal a little bit, turned our world upside down and a little bit back together. However desolate things seem, however low or despairing I am feeling, he is the brightness that shines through it all. There we many time when I was pregnant with him when I wondered if we had embarked on a rainbow pregnancy far too soon after Anabelle, there was lots of fear, lots of not coping; but now I wonder how I would have survived this far without him. 

I'm so grateful that he was born screaming. The most beautiful sound in the world after a long eight months. I'm grateful we were blessed with an earth child to love and cherish, the preciousness of which will never be lost on me. Even now, over 14 months later I so often look at him with disbelief, that he is here and he's mine, still sometimes barely believing we'll be allowed to keep him, knowing there is so much potential danger and disease out there that could rob him from me. He has lots of growing up left to do, lots of me keeping him safe left to do. 

Alexander is the absolute light of my life. He has taught me it OK to feel absolute joy again, that it is OK to enjoy life. That it is possible to live alongside such searing pain. He gives us a reason to look forward again and we love the adventure of life we share with him. Here is the video I made for a celebration his first year: 

We love you beautiful boy!