After Anabelle

I'm going offline for a while. I'm not sure how long. At least a week or two, probably more. We'll see. 

Last night I had given myself a shake and pledged to start an upward turn, to re-engage with the world.  It isn't quite working out so far. But if nothing else my babies deserve that of me. Not a Mummy constantly on the verge of tears. Friday when I sobbed Xander looked at me with big concerned worried eyes. Climbed up on to my lap and cwtched in close. A baby boy shouldn't have to be worried about his mother. 

My grief is very real and raw, and so close. 

I've suffered with nightmares these last two weeks. Visions of Belle as her body will be now and more flashbacks than I have had in a long while. I've reacted very violently to Anabelle's birthday this year. Grief is consuming and unpredictable. 

Three years but only really yesterday for me. 

Today's flashback is walking up the aisle at her funeral, clinging to my father. Barely able to keep my legs up and my feet moving. Bleeding heavily post birth and leaking wasted milk profusely. Feeling sore. Jon carrying our daughter ahead of me in her pink box. 

These are not just memories. They are vivid bolts to the chest as I'm thrown back there. As if I'm really back there and it leaves me choked. 

But I'm becoming acutely aware, without it ever being the intention, that my grief is becoming frightening for others, offensive even. Clearly it has become all too uncomfortable. I can't deal with that anymore. Feeling responsible for others when so much of my energy is needed to put my family emotionally back together right now. 

This blog used to be my safe place. Where spilling words onto a page could heal me a little, help me process the overwhelming pain, and function. So often others have told me my words help them process their own grief. But maybe its not a safe place anymore. I don't know where to go. 

Apart from offline, for a little while. At least from here and Facebook. 

So I'm saying bye bye, just for now and sending my love to all.

C x 

Baby is born. Alive. Everyone is happy. Everyone takes pictures. Everyone coos. Everyone congratulates the new Mum and Dad. Baby comes home. Everyone visits. 

The good life. 

Its so simple right? 

Then why wasn't it? Not for Anabelle. 

Baby is born. Dead. Everyone is broken. Only a few take pictures. Mummy takes weeks to be brave enough to share just some of those pictures in case people are not very kind. Three years later there are still hundreds she hasn't shared, too precious to share still incase people are not kind. Everyone sends sympathy cards and their condolences to the new Mum and Dad.  Baby doesn't come home. No one visits. No one coos. The only people who meet your baby, meet them led in their coffin in the chapel of rest. 

The nightmare life. 

Baby doesn't come home. 

Mummy and Daddy hold their baby for a few short hours before leaving the hospital empty handed. 

Baby is taken to the cold hospital mortuary. 

A funeral director picks the baby up from the mortuary and takes her to their cold chapel of rest. 

Baby is put in a tiny pink coffin. 

The last time Mummy and Daddy see their baby she is led in her coffin, just hours before the lid is going to be put on, with her name engraved on a silver plate and then she'll be in the dark forever. 

Baby is put in deep dark cold ground. All alone. 

Our reality. 

Mummy has nightmares and flashbacks. Relives and relives again. 

Mummy knows her beautiful tiny girl is rotting and decaying. Soon to be just bones in that dark ground if she isn't already. 

Mental images no mother should ever have of her child. 

I've been feeling mentally tortured, unravelling and dark these last few days. Hurting, then hurting some more. 

Unlike other years I felt little peace on Anabelle's birthday yesterday. We lit sparklers and candles at 00:08 to mark the moment we held her for the first and short time three years ago. We visited her, we decorated her grave in pink as we have every other year so far. We visited her mountain, where we wrote her eulogy and her brother sent her a balloon. Her brother played bells for Belle, we blew out candles and sang happy birthday. We decorated our home garden with pink flowers and decorations. 

But mostly I felt bothered, highly strung and jittery. Unwell. I don't feel well at the moment. Physically, mentally. Too much turmoil. 

Hormones, still ongoing pregnancy sickness much later than I've ever had before, many an unsettled tummy this week and so tired. The physical manifestation of grief and pain.  

Today I've been obsessed with cleaning and tidying our house. Early nesting perhaps. Or maybe I'm trying to  regain some control of the chaos that my mind feels in.    Today we've been back to where we got married, where we spent so much time in the quiet in just each others company  in those early weeks after our baby girls death. At the moment it could easily be the early weeks again the turmoil I feel in. Today we're trying to find some emotional calm and peace, just as we were three years ago. 

But we've survived through to the weekend and I only hope as we pass the anniversary of her funeral next week and June now becomes July I'll start feeling a little bit more together again. 

What did you buy your daughter for her birthday this year? 

I bet it wasn't pink garden lanterns and flowers. 

That is what we've bought our daughter for her third birthday tomorrow. 

I didn't want to get up this morning. My eyes didn't want to open. Not because I was tired, or had a bad nights sleep, but because my heart is so heavy with grief and hurt. Because I didn't want to have to face today. Hurt. Today isn't fair, tomorrow isn't fair, the day after that isn't fair. None of this is fair. Why is my daughter dead? After three years I know that today, the day before, will be harder than tomorrow. I know that the day after will be harder too. I know the lows will hit either side of the 'big' day. Knowing doesn't stop the sheer pain though. 

Raw. Reliving. This time three years ago I was finally in labour after five days of trying to get me there. Anabelle was on her way. From waters breaking to her being born took five hours and eight minutes.  Those eight minutes taking her into the next day just after midnight. 

Three years later I'm not wrapping birthday presents in pink paper like I should be. Instead I'm lighting candles and making pink decorations to pretty her grave with. 

And I'm so angry. Because this isn't the way it should be. Why us. Why her. 

Three years. 

Being three should be about starting nursery class at school. 

Being three should be about a Disney Princess obsession. 

Being three should be about loving to dress up and discovering role play. 

Being three should be about learning numbers and letters and how to write her name.

Being three should be about being a threenager. 

Being three shouldn't be this. 

Having a little girl shouldn't be like this, because I don't really have her at all. 

...in more ways than one. 

Sometimes, when I feel that I couldn't hurt anymore and I'm teetering on the brink, my lovely boy is a beautiful distraction.  This week is one of those weeks, Anabelle's upcoming remember day and birthday and everything in between is hitting me hard. I'm overwhelmed by things I cannot control. I'm tired. If possible, this third year is hurting more than the years before. Is this the pattern to come? Each year feeling harder than the last? Who said time heals when my heart feels raw and broken as if she died yesterday? 

Today has seen every emotion; tears, pain, happiness, excitement. And my solace? The company of my boy. 

Today I felt relief when I picked him up from nursery.

For a little while nothing else mattered, me, my boy and playtime. Exploring his new sand and water table! He has been a delight this evening; cheeky, inquisitive and loving. My boy. Right up until bedtime, playing  boo with himself in the landing mirror; something I will have to catch on video if I can! 

We are blessed to have him. 

We were, we are blessed to have Anabelle, if only for a short time. 

We are blessed to have this baby. 

Today, three years ago, was the pivotal moment for my daughter's fate.  

On the 6th June back in 2010 I was admitted to hospital threatening pre-term labour with Anabelle. With every tightening of my stomach her heart rate fluctuated and dipped. She wasn't happy. 

The Doctors were treating me to stop the tightening's while starting to prepare for a possible section at the same time if her heart rate didn't stabilise soon. 

It did stablise, we were relieved, then we thought she was too tiny to be born, but now I look back on this as our first warning sign. I wish we had got her out then, while she was still alive. 

A change of events at this point, on this day three years ago, just might have given us a different overall outcome. I know premature birth could have also risked her death, I know she might have been poorly. But a different decision, sparking a different chain of events and our daughter might have survived. 

Instead, ten days later she died. It could have been different. I miss her.

I hate June, but love that this is her month all the same.

Today I remember Cerian, on her 3rd birthday. 
Born sleeping on the 6th June 2010. 

That time of year again. June approaching. 

Just over a month until my little girls third birthday and torturing myself begins. Torturing myself in John Lewis with my eyes flitting to beautiful summer dresses on display. Mentally deciding which dress I might have bought her for her party. Torturing myself in toy shops, wondering what my three year old girl might have liked for her birthday. 

I'm tired already. 

First birthday was going to be hard. Second birthday hit me harder than maybe I expected it to.

This year I have no expectations that it will be otherwise. This is it. This is June. This time her third birthday. 

I know the pain of June is coming. I know the re-living those dates is coming. The 6th, the 16th, the 21st, the 28th and everything in between. 

I've been a pretty rubbish blogger of late. Two weeks have slipped passed without me even attempting to write a post. Instead I've been trying out earlier nights to bed, being busy in the day and having a weekend away.  

I think its about time I got back into it, so I decided now was as good a time as any for Alexander's 18 month update. Yes my baby boy is a year and a half old! 

Isn't this just a gorgeous age? Yes, the 'terrible' two's have most definitely started early; the little man has perfected 'no' and he gives some Oscar award-winning strop performances. He is clearly learning his limits, boundaries and responding to the new range of frustrations and emotions he is experiencing. His communication ability has reached a tricky phase. He still mainly uses gesture to 'talk' to us, but he has ideas now that exceed his language and gesture capabilities. I think this frustrates him and he resorts to stropping quickly because its get a reaction quicker! He is discovering his sense of self, what he likes happening, doesn't like happening and therefore what he does and doesn't want to do! He is strong willed and determined but mostly easily persuaded with a bit of distraction, care and attention.  

Alexander is such a little sponge right now.  Delightful, beautiful and mesmerised by everything!  He is such fun to spend time with, every day is a new adventure! I love watching him play and discover his world. He is so cheeky and happy! 

He is such a loving little boy and gives the best kisses and cuddles. His word for everything love is 'awww'. For so long he gave kisses by holding out his cheek for you to kiss, but these last few weeks he leans in open mouthed to give proper lip kisses! It is beautifully cute and heart melting. 

He took his first independent steps on the 27th February at 16 and half months old. He was slowly slowly on his feet for a month, only willing to walk between two people for somebody to catch him but suddenly there was no stopping him! Today it is difficult to remember the little boy who didn't walk. He is a proper little toddler now, wanting to walk more and more. Now he wants to walk outside without holding hands too! Just this evening he wanted to wander around the block with Daddy for half an hour.  I love watching him wander around, it is so cute watching him walk with his hands slightly up and to the side as he balances himself!  He is so proud of himself and often coos to himself as he's walking along!

As I said above his communication has reached a tricky phase as he masters the journey between gestures and words. He still only has a few words and doesn't use them often (apart from the word Boo, because that is one of his favourite games!). His current favourite words seem to be Daddy and No! He has said Mumma, Daddy, something that sounds like iszh for Fiz, Bampi, Nana, boo, up, no. He has tried to say down, stop, jump. But he is getting 'chattier' by the day and appears to be saying his own words to himself while imitating the intonation and syllables of  words in some of our language. Today I've watched him 'read' a book to himself and 'count' to ten while watching Show Me Show Me, making his own sound for every number as they counted along on the show.   He is experimenting with his voice. 

His receptive language is way ahead of his expressive. I'm convinced he understands nearly everything and will follow simple instructions within a routine. Give Mummy/Daddy/Fiz a kiss/cuddle Xander is met with "Awww" and leaning in opened mouthed to us.  Tell him its time for bed and going upstairs and he'll walk over to the stairs. Ask him if he wants to go to bed and he'll walk to the stairs. Tell him its time for dinner and to get in his highchair and he'll walk over to his highchair. Tell him we're going out and he'll walk over to the door.  

He also showed us this week that he knows where his hands, feet, tummy, head, hair and very nearly nose are! I'm very proud! 

Talking of Show Me Show Me is it his favourite programme. The only thing he watches from beginning to end with such intense interest. He does the actions in all the right places, he wiggles his worms and waves hello and goodbye, he counts along with the lift, he is very excited and bops along to groovy moves, he tries to copy what they are teaching. This week we watched 'Bubbles' on iPlayer and he quickly caught on pretending to catch bubbles that pop (with a loud clap and shout from him!) He loves the programme so much we took him to watch the Chris and Pui roadshow for his half birthday in the middle of April. He was captivated and didn't take his eyes off the stage the whole time we were in the theatre! 

Xander has developed a love of music even more so than before. He dances along to lots of things now and has even been known to request music time by bringing a CD case over to you to put on. I have been taking him along to an early years music class and he is really enjoying himself and getting really involved with the dancing and exploring bouncy strings, instruments, parachutes and bubbles. I love taking him along to our Mother and Tots groups. We go to a monthly Sands Rainbow Babies group now and we also go swimming on Monday. He is starting to develop such confidence in the water; climbing the steps of the toddler water slide and sometimes trying to throw himself down the otherside, landing in the water with a big splash. He can hold onto the side himself, float around in a noodle, reach out for toys and starting to be brave enough to 'jump' off the side too! 

Alexander's play skills are fab. He completely gets how to use toys 'properly'. He is amazing at puzzles and shape sorters, he knows where all the pieces go. Infact I have a little video to share of him doing one of his puzzles recently! He loves anything he can build with and Duplo will keep him entertained for ages! He also loves books and is very proud of himself turning the pages; although he sometimes turns them too fast. 

Now he can walk properly he is becoming more physical. He is constantly on the move, climbing, crawling and becoming quite the daredevil. Visiting the playpark often has my heart in my mouth! Typical boy you may say?! 

I had always said 18 months was my upper-limit for breastfeeding Xander, but I needn't have worried about the possibility of weaning him myself. Alexander took the decision himself and stopped feeding  of his own accord at 17 months. As much as I loved feeding him there was something rather exciting about buying some nice new underwear and not wearing Mummy-bras! 

We're on tooth nine now. I've been surprised by the pattern of the last few coming through. Up until a month ago he only had the top front four and bottom front two. I expected them to keep coming up next to eachother, but instead his top two first molars have come through and the last week a bottom molar popped through. So now he has his front teeth, a big gap and his back teeth!  

When he isn't teething, sleep wise he is pretty good. Bad nights are fairly sporadic. We seem to go through bad patches that least days/week or so and then he goes back to sleeping through for a while. At the moment (touch wood!) we're in a good patch! He still doesn't self-settle and likes reassurance from us to go off to sleep but once he is asleep mostly sleeps soundly through. I don't mind staying with him until he is asleep, mostly he goes to sleep quickly with our company and the alternative takes so much longer and leaves everyone upset. In reality I feel he is still a baby and I'm still not willing to leave him cry . I just figure, as with everything else, he'll grow out of needing us there for sleep when he is ready. Mostly though he is still falling asleep or at least getting very drowsy with milk, although it is bottle milk rather than me now. We had thought we could change his routine when breastfeeding stopped by he is still so tired by bedtime he is milk and bed kind of boy!  

He has had a massive growth spurt recently and suddenly seems very very tall. We think he is approximately 86cm and the last time we measured him at 14 months he was 82cm. I'm sure its happened overnight though, suddenly over a space of a fortnight all his clothes went from roomy and long on him to needing to go up size! So now he has just this week gone into 18-24 month clothes and they look massive on him!  Currently he is between the 75th and 91st centiles for height and weight so he is perfectly in proportion! 

So I think that is about it. My baby has officially become a toddler and I'm so excited about this next stage with him! I'll be planning his birthday again next!