Yearning, still.

  
 My heart is aching today. Just aching to hold my babies close, to feel their warmth and breath. I’m so lucky to have the privilege of watching my eldest grow, watching him learn and become a wonderful, kind, imaginative young person. To hear his wisdom as he learns and his nativity as he questions the world from his child perspective. But I yearn, beyond the imaginable, to be able to do the same for my babies. For Elliot, for Caius, taken from me by life’s cruel reality. A failing, somewhere in the miricle of the creation of life; a mistake that can never be undone. The cost was a life left completely unfulfilled, a tiny being unable to flourish. 

It pains me to know that I should have a 3 year old and a 2 year old, that my house should be even more chaotic than it is. During school hours there is silence when there should be noise. I miss them so much, and I haven’t allowed myself to do so, for so so long. I yearn to see their faces, what would they look like now? Would they have the same complexion as their brother, or would they be pale like me, starting to get freckles? Would they have be bold and sociable, or shy like their father. Who would they each have been? 

Years on, and there are still so many unanswered questions, and my heart aches, forever. Elliot. Caius. Always ❤️

Migraines 

I haven’t written anything for a long time. It’s been over a year since I started trying to figure out how to get this new normal.

After my last miscarriage, I think I kind of crumbled. Writing down my feelings & my journey got harder and harder, and I think that’s when I started acknowledging my unwelcome friend, anxiety. Since then I’ve been on this journey of figuring out who I am, and of survival. Because if we are still here on this earth, after losing a baby, somehow overcoming the impossible, we must be survivors. It’s hard to know where to begin. 

Last night I went to bed early with a migraine. I’ve become aware that my migraines are a manifestation of my grief; uncried tears, a strong indication that I have been bottling up my feelings once again, quite often subconsciously. I woke up this morning & the migraine was still there and it was hard to function. My oldest son is now at school so I got him ready and walked him there, and then returned to bed again and slept until I had to go and pick him up, then counted down the hours until my husband returned home. 

I lay in bed once again and tried to figure out what to do. I felt nauseous and the migraine was still there. I meditated for a while & tried to release some of the emotions that I knew had been building & felt the migraine start to ease. 

The River

I haven’t written in months. And the truth is, it’s because I didn’t know where to start. I haven’t been able to understand grief, and part of the reason for that is because I didn’t really understand myself, but I’m starting to. It’s hard to write about grief when I haven’t really been feeling it. I haven’t let myself.  Continue reading

Two lines

One week ago I got two lines on a pregnancy test. Today I am having a very early miscarriage/chemical pregnancy.

I’m not sure how I feel. I’ve been so mixed about how I felt about potentially being pregnant, that there’s a tiny little sliver of relief mixed in with the sadness and the disappointment. I tried to stay pragmatic, but I couldn’t switch off the emotions completely, as much as I wanted to. 

I’m so incredibly disheartened by my body’s inability to function. Meanwhile I have a 3 year old randomly blurting out that his baby brother died in hospital to anyone who will listen. I don’t know how to handle stuff anymore.