Monthly Archives: January 2018

Melody and Me

Different Year – Please Bear With Me

When I woke up with my pregnant bump on January 2012; I never imagined that we’d have a funeral rather than a baby. And since then January has always been different.

I like January, my son is a January baby; there are lots of magical New Year’s resolutions and plans for the year ahead. Some see it as just a day while others see it as an opportunity for a fresh start. January 2012 gave me her 20 week scan photo, and a birth date to plan for, even a start of a birth plan, with a growth scan date to break the wait up; that January we were so excited celebrating the fact we’d be having a baby *that* year. I remember it so clearly – well, almost.

The New Year brings us to that step onto the uphill climb to her birthday in February; March the month she was alive and the crash of April remembering her death, and the aftermath.

Each year I say to myself I will be okay; I will talk less, I will try to forget a little; make it easier on myself on other people around us. But I can’t. I try to keep busy – this year I have already made plans of redecorating and throwing myself into birthdays, her siblings’.

Believe me I have tried to be “over it”, to move on “I hate to see you hurting.” I don’t want or need treatment to forget her; that is definitely not something I want (at least right now).

We’re coming up to the 6th year, and this time of year for me sucks. No matter how busy I make myself; how much fun and laughter I have – it sucks. 80% of the time I think I am ok, I do just fine; but then there are other parts where I don’t and can’t cope; it is hard for people who haven’t switched their child’s life support off to really understand why six years down the line and I find certain times of the year shit.

I can be a bitch, over emotional, quieter than normal. But I can also laugh until I cry, until it hurts to breathe. It is hard.

With it being six years I can also know when people are fed up of me; they’re not too obvious, to give them the benefit of the doubt they may not even realise they are doing it but I know; like when the messages of comfort are less, people stop mentioning her, or squirm and fidget when I do – the eye rolls.

Because that’s enough now isn’t it? I have told her story so many times, shared her a lot, I have been open.

While I am being a bitch, over emotional, quieter than normal, who also laughs until I can’t breathe, I am trying to hold on the only memories I have, the only timescale of months that I can connect with her. The scan, her birth; her discharge date and cuddles, her death, her funeral and the May due date she never reached. They are all I have on repeat; I have nothing new to say – to most they must be boring.

But it is all we have.

I don’t always bring her up to the people I meet, in fear of scaring them off; but I am not strange because later down the line it is discovered that our one of our daughters died.

So please bear with me, while I wade through these next few months coping the only way I know how to by winging it and remembering to breathe.

Just don’t walk away. Please.

 

We’re not ill.