I’ve given up on the October prompts. Nothing was grabbing me and it was a chore, I didn’t care that I’d missed one a few days ago I cared even less when I missed the next one and the one after that. At first I panicked that it was because I didn’t care about my babies, or that I didn’t care about baby loss awareness month. But then I sat and noticed the feelings and the reason for not caring. It was simply that I was not engaged with the prompts and I had different things that I wanted to write about. I’ve become impatient since March 2015, if something feels like it is wasting my time or I’m feeling constrained I switch off. I can’t waste time on things I don’t enjoy, life is too short. 

The ‘noticing’ thing has come from EMDR, during the wavy fingers bit an image or feelings will pop into my head, I’ll tell the therapist what is was or how I felt, we’ll discuss it and she will simply finish with ‘just notice’ and the finger waving starts again. 

A couple of weeks ago I walked past a massive bump in Sainsbury’s. I felt the usual jolt in my chest and an immediate need to be as far away as possible. But rather than walking away (like usual), I stood there by the pastries and the bump and I just noticed. I noticed how my body felt, what my feelings were. Physically I felt dizzy, my chest was heavy, I was nauseous. Feelings wise, I felt repulsion. Yes repulsion. I was shocked. For months, years possibly I thought the feeling about bumps was jealousy but in that moment I noticed that it wasn’t that at all. 

I mentioned it to my therapist at the next session. She was pleased that I had ‘noticed’ she was as surprised as me about the repulsion. Neither of had an answer, we still don’t have an answer but it’s on the list of things to tackle.

I’ve been noticing more lately. 

Babies are an interesting one. I’ve noticed that I can stand near a baby if it is just in its pram, detached from other people. But as soon as it is held, or cradled or cooed over I feel the usual dizziness, pounding heart and nausea. Again, I noticed that it is not jealousy, I don’t want a baby, I don’t want that particular baby.  When I look at a baby I don’t feel broody or a pull of longing for a new life. I don’t really feel anything other than uncomfortable. I noticed and tried to unpackage the uncomfortableness. I realised that nobody had the chance to get excited over Rory and Henry. I didn’t get to parade them around in a pram, take them into work, be asked how old they were, how big they’d grown.  I noticed the feelings related to this were really just sadness that my babies never had the chance to be celebrated in the way a new life usually is. 

The baby thing of course finally explains why I can stand in Paultons Park and be surrounded by babies, it’s because they are passing by and nobody is conversing about their age, how they sleep, the colour of their eyes. The school playground is a completely different dynamic. Parents compare notes, they share in the excitement of yet another new arrival. I can’t join in, I just feel sad and awkward. I thought it was just a case that I can cope when I’m outside as it’s easy to hide or run but it seems to be more complex than a simple location issue. 

Babies are on the list too, of course they are.

Forcing myself to evaluate my physical responses and my feelings has meant I am trying to expose myself to the bumps and babies more often. I can feel that things are changing, becoming softer and less frightening. We’ve still got a lot of work to do in the few remaining sessions. In the meantime I’ll keep noticing. 

Pregnancy Picture

I’ve been pregnant three times, you’d think I have tonnes of pregnancy bump photos but I don’t. 

With Toby I was petrified things would go wrong, I didn’t allow myself to record my growing bump with photos as I was frightend about having them if the worst happened. I have one bump photo taken at about 8 months pregnant. I did it as I thought I’d better have at least one record of his bump. I’m in our old lounge, I look a bit embarrassed but also excited and happy. I don’t have the photo to hand but it is lurking on the laptop – a picture of me and my small neat Toby bump. The bump that made it. 
With Rory there are some photos taken at Toby’s birthday party where you can see my 16ish week bump. In the photo I’m wearing a grey Next maternity top. I don’t have any other photos. I didn’t have time and my bump wasn’t big enough to do a proper bump shot. 

With Henry I hid my bump, I wore baggy clothes and scarfs to hide my increasing tummy size. A handful of times with friends who knew I wore a tighter top, but still a scarf to disguise the bump that was starting to form. I don’t have any photos where you can see that I was pregnant. 

I wish I’d taken more photos. 

Before Loss Selfie

Pictures record a moment, they speak volumes. This isn’t strictly a selfie but it is one of my favourite photos of me, it was taken about a month before we had our ‘Rory IVF’ cycle. Rory’s loss was pivotal, but us choosing to take the sibling route also weighs heavily on me. We were happy with Toby but we got complacent and we made a choice that changed everything. I worried about how I’d cope if the cycle didn’t work, I wondered if we were doing the right thing, I questioned whether I was a good enough mum to cope with two children. 

You can see the sparkle of a new life being planned in my eyes in that photo. I remember thinking that this was one of the last opportunities to do fun stuff as 2015 might bring a new baby. It felt like one last hurrah spending the day in London with a good friend. I think that was the last ‘fun’ day out I’ve had in London – 20 September 2014. 

Life changed little over a month later. I was pregnant, unbeknownst to me I’d set our family walking down a dark and scary path. 

Looking at this photo is more traumatic for me than photos where you can glimpse my Rory bump. This photo shows the end of my happy content life as a mum of one.

Favourite Grief Quote

There are so many amazing and inspiring quotes about grief, too many to mention in fact. The one that immediately popped into my head is this:

When Rory died it felt like I was drowning, the weight on my chest was heavy and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. 

I don’t like the water much and I’m not a strong swimmer, drowning scares me and losing Rory scared me just as much. 
Grief does indeed come in waves, it ebbs and flows and most of the time you can paddle in the cold water and you are absolutely fine. Other days the waves crash, you can see them coming and you can brace yourself against their force. You hold on so tight and you ride it out until the sun warms your face again and you can breathe. Then unexpectedly a tidal wave comes and it sweeps you up without warning, you fight and you struggle and you can’t break free, then it spits you out on the shore battered and bruised and gasping for breath. I’m not sure what’s worst – being swallowed up with no warning or seeing the storm about it hit from miles away. 

I’m not a strong swimmer in water but I have learned to ride the waves of grief. I’ve realised it is safer, easier and kinder to move with the waves rather than fight them. Being on top of the waves and bobbing up and down is far nicer than being under water fighting against the tide. 

Favourite Photograph

In October I usually follow ‘capture your grief’ prompts but this year they felt a bit over my head and I know I couldn’t do them justice so this year I’m doing a simpler version that suits my brain that isn’t feeling very creative at the moment.

The first prompt is favourite picture which is easy as I have lots and hard as even two and a half years on, I still worry what people think of me sharing photos of my (beautiful) boys. 

Earlier this year I was told that pictures of the boys weren’t nice to look at and they made people feel uncomfortable. I cried, I felt guilty for sharing photos of my family, I wondered if I was weird or wrong to do so. Then I realised that actually it’s them with the problem and if they can’t open their heart to see the beauty that I see then that’s not my fault. 

When I look at their photos I don’t feel sad, it just reminds me that they were real and they existed. Sometimes things don’t feel real so photographs are a great thing to have. I can see their faces, their hands and the clothes they wore. 

I know Rory and Henry don’t look ‘normal’, they are small, they are red, they are fragile but they are mine and I love them. I’m proud that they are beautiful, I find comfort in them looking like each other and they look like Toby when he was a baby (it’s the nose, they all have the same shaped nose, so cute).

I had a wobble about photos again recently, I had people coming over that I didn’t know well and I wondered to Matt if I should hide the photos on the mantelpiece. Luckily he told me I was being ridiculous so they stayed. 

I worry about play dates and Toby’s friends seeing the photos, I panic and think their parents will not want to come over again. I worry about upsetting and offending people. ‘Normal’ people don’t have to think about such things when they invite someone over to their house. 

Still, I can see the beauty in my boys and that’s all that matters.

This is my favourite photo at the moment…