Tag Archives: Baby loss

grief

Grief Timescale – We’re Not Ill

My grandparents are in a cemetery; my Dad is in the same one, burial spaces decades old. I don’t visit them often, not because I have forgotten them, or I am finished missing them; their cemetery is just outside of our town, it is not always easy to pop out to visit them.

I talk about them; share memories. People listen and they too share memories of their missed loved ones.

In the years since I have lost my grandparents, since I lost my dad, since my mother lost her husband; it never ever occurred to me that there was a time limit of how we grieve.

Of course the loss of these people, were – are very different to losing our daughter. Losing her and watching others go through the loss of theirs; the way in which society brushes off our losses.

When we visit our daughter, which we don’t very often these days; we do at least for special occasions; like her birthday, anniversary and Christmas; more often than not carnival and Halloween too. As we walk through the cemetery and see beautiful fresh wreaths places onto graves whose names have faded, or are decades old; still loved and still very much a part of whoever tends to said graves. I would never judge, or have ever thought of this as an odd thing to do.

I certainly would never question their grief, or that they still tend or speak of them. Every single person’s grief is individual, we all wear it differently.

What has led me to here? Well I came across a news article about a Mum wanting to decorate her baby’s grave. This isn’t an issue to me, or to anyone other than the family. But I made the mistake of reading the comments from the general public – our society; whilst I have no idea who the family involved are I think it effects every single bereaved parent.

There were comments after comments about the Mum needing help, counselling; how she should concentrate on the children she does have. That seven years is too long to be grieving or visiting a grave.

I don’t think it is because I am a Mum who has buried her child; but it would never, ever cross my mind to question the grief of anyone – to judge another person visiting a lost loved one.

Can you imagine going to someone and passing comment about how they visit their husband too much? Or that they talk about them too much now that they’re not here.

I genuinely cannot understand why society feels the need to judge on such a personal thing, an emotion often raw. I am five years down the line – almost six; but there are some moments that will catch me off guard and take me back to that raw emotion of hearing the words. “She isn’t going to survive.”

With me being five years down the line, I have questioned myself about whether I talk about her too often; whether I visit “too much.” I have also often wished this had never happened, that she wasn’t my daughter; I have also debated about never visiting her grave.

But I can’t simply block her out; and I am no one of those people who doesn’t believe she lives within us, if you have followed over the years; you will know this is something I have always battled with myself about.

Letter M in a garden.

When I don’t visit I get that huge guilty feeling, especially if it has been weeks on end; I also feel guilty if I don’t take her something; I know she doesn’t know any difference –  and I am painfully aware that she is dead. But I am her Mother; just as I feel guilty when I can’t watch my son’s choir concert, or forget his University show.

The times when I can’t afford to buy my eldest the latest Now album; or the days when I accidently don’t treat them all the same.

So, when I read how society believes I should be how they think I should be over her by now; how visiting however many years is unhealthy. Let me tell you, the only thing that is wrong here; is not that I cry for her occasionally; that I miss and talk of her.  Please help me to understand.

It is that she IS dead; there is absolutely nothing I can do about that; but I will forever be her Mum. I can’t cuddle her or tuck her in to bed, I can’t see her walk across a stage ready for her Nativity; or hear her sing out of tune.

I can’t have a school report; or see Christmas Cards for her from her friends. I’ve never held her hand to walk across the road; just like she will never have a sleep over or taste ice cream.

She, we will have never experienced any of these things.

So if I am still visiting her grave; or including her this year – five years on or in 25 years; please don’t judge; be kind; don’t assume that I am ill.

I am her Mum; the only thing that is wrong about this is that she died.

M in forest

Post-Neonatal. Fight or Flight

When we walked out of the hospital after the death of our daughter – Post-neonatal death; I never expected to spend the years afterwards in what feels like a fight or flight mode. Nearly everywhere we turned there was nothing, and I have said this many, many times. I think I have repeated this, because I cannot get my head around how little support there is for babies who lived, then died, the ones who never came home.

Fitting In

I have searched for statistics, for facts for something for us to fit in. Yet there’s almost nothing. It is bloody lonely.

 

Where exactly is it we fit in? I know people can’t help it, because I guess babies who are older than 28 days are more than likely to live – or are they?

I feel as though I am on a losing battle, talking about her. Even if I screamed in my biggest voice, would I ever get listened to? I know I do in a way; because people tell me so. But in a way to make change, to make neonatal and post-neonatal losses heard, to make their statistics drop.

If I have to be a bereaved Mum I at least want to fit in, to feel less alone. Can you imagine what it feels like to be told that when your baby dies, there seems to be a cut off for support, because she was too old? Or that we were bumped off or down the list? To have a session where not only was it in the G.U.M clinic (sexual health), but the person listening wasn’t massively interested in talking about our loss; but had an opinion about falling pregnant again afterwards.

Breathe.

Awareness

I have so much I feel I want to achieve. I have let fear get in my way for almost six years now.

Our daughter was born due to HELLP syndrome, a severe form of Pre-Eclampsia, a condition that is quite clearly STILL under researched – When I say clearly I mean being told by two different midwives that you don’t get pre-eclampsia before 28 weeks, the second time being after the death of our daughter (she also stated that you don’t get it twice). It can kill.

I want to help. (There have been in talks about case studies).

I suffered Hyperemesis throughout each of my pregnancies, each getting worse the more babies I had. Another under supported condition, a condition that leads women to abort, commit suicide or die from malnutrition, (a contributing factor to the death of Charlotte Bronte). That and living with mental and health issues afterwards

I will help.

Melody died at 35 days old, she died from overwhelming sepsis. 35 days. Post-Neonatal Death.

She had a good chance of coming home, but she didn’t.

I want to help lower the mortality rates of these babies. I want to show their parents that they really do matter; to be recognised more.

I hoped by setting up Little Daffodils that I helped a little in making that step towards supporting people, making sure people are never left alone.

Post-Neonatal

There is so much I want to do, but have no idea where to begin. I want to change so much, the maternity services, the bereavement services. I would like throw the text books out of the windows and burn them, because no BODY is the same. Women and families should not be treated as such.

Tonight I feel a little angry at the world, and how cruel it is to feel essentially thrown out into the cold, when all we ever wanted was the warmth that we watched others have*.

I need to now figure out the next step.

But maybe when I feel less angry.

Ideas are welcome, links to places I can contact. I want to do more.

*I was lucky to have online forums, people slate the online community a lot, but if I hadn’t had them I honestly do not know where I would have been.

 

Thank you for reading.

Post-Neonatal awareness

 

Clear and Let Go

Children’s Grief Awareness

Children’s Grief Awareness.
People struggle with talking about death, and in particular when it involves children’s grief.
I was a child when I lost my grandfathers.
One it was all terribly hushed, there was rarely any mention. When the other died I was told he’d gone to sleep. For me it made a natural thing difficult, would I sleep and never wake up? There was never any real openness about it, which in my mind, even now made it terrifying.

Sibling Grief

sibling grief

When our five week old daughter died it wasn’t me who told her siblings, it is definitely something I wish I had. But I couldn’t process what on earth had happened.
It certainly wasn’t something I could hide from them.
Unfortunately when it comes to the loss of a baby, of a child, society wants you to be silent; there’s a need to stop talking about the tiny person, to forget.

For us as a family Melody’s immediate family, made the decision to be open with her siblings.
A week after she died it was my oldest daughter’s birthday; there was no locking ourselves away, we had to return to normality. We’d already brought presents for her; in our minds we knew who was giving her what; which included a present from Melody – she wasn’t expected to die. My husband and I chatted between us made the decision that the presents would still be from Melody.
To outsiders this seemed strange, it probably was but there is no text book, no right or wrong when it came to early grief of our daughter.

Criticism

As bereaved parents, we are often faced with lots of criticism from people who quite frankly don’t understand. They’re lucky they don’t.
We needed to be grateful for having our living children; or being over the death of our daughter.
We know she wasn’t here long, we are reminded of that daily.
“At least you have other children”
“At least she never came home.”

Emotion

Watching my children cry, sob because they had to learn the hard way that babies die, feeling not only helpless but guilty too…I’ve been made to feel like that many times.
Having to tell the children that she wouldn’t be coming home like she was supposed to.
Seeing a tiny coffin in the church; this was then placed in the ground.

We didn’t know if we wanted them at the funeral; but I guess we were selfish maybe in wanting to break without the children being there; we had no idea how we would be. But they did go, my daughter read a story.
There’s nothing least about any of it.
So, having made the decision to be open, we chose to be led by them.
Of course it was hard; we were never able to let grief grip us, there were no days in bed, no crying on the sofa for days on end.
Of course we cried, it wasn’t something we could control, we didn’t want to. Crying is normal and healthy thing to do.

They needed to know that they could cry.
They chose to be as open as they wished, we literally followed their lead. Things like talking about her or visiting her grave.
For me her grave is full of horror, I hate it. I visit because I’m her mum, but rarely.
But if the children want to, then that’s what we do. They’ve taken the role of tidying her, if my husband or I place items; they move them to a spot they prefer. They look out for her.

Off Days

 

But there is also the other way too; where just recently one of them didn’t want to talk about her. He was having a moment where he preferred he didn’t have a sister who died. From an adult point of view, from my own grief I quite often agree with him. There are days when people ask me how many children I have; and I lie or simply the days where I just don’t think about her. That is okay. He fears he would be bullied from his experience. But that is possibly down to the fact that there aren’t many of us in this situation. And society as a whole would rather we keep it quiet. Truth is told he is probably not the only one in his class who has lost a sibling, either through pregnancy or after.

Yet today he is asking to buy her an “M” ready for our crafting session this weekend.

Individual Grief

 

Grief is incredibly individual especially a child’s grief; there certainly are no hard rules.

Grief and death as a whole are both so taboo, yet it sadly affects everyone in their lifetime.

The taboo is even more so when it involves baby and infant death, it shouldn’t. To talk openly and freely helps those who are in the grips of grief. It helps spread awareness, often helps save others too.  Time is no way a healer; I wish that things were different, I wish that she hadn’t died; biggest wish is that I wish my children hadn’t lost their sister.

We are nearly six years down the line, I really am so proud of everything they have done since; how well they have coped. They have two new sisters, they now educate them of their sister “who lives in the clouds.”

Sibling grief

 

Melody and me logo, which is a heart with an adult and child hand,

New Questions. Siblings Love.

light up lettering, siblings

Losing Melody

We’re open about the death of Melody, we don’t hide the fact that she has died; especially to her older siblings. They met her and spent five weeks with her. Five years on, it is still the case. We can go weeks even months without talking about her, but can also go weeks where we talk about her daily.

It is something we have come to be comfortable with in our family unit. My son struggled just recently, saying how he didn’t want to talk about her; to me I am glad he was open and we as a family respected that. He went on to say that he didn’t want to get bullied about the situation and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about her. We have spoken through this; and he has since brought her up of his own say so.

I would never force her on the children; we have right from the very beginning been led by the children, often even before our own feelings.  I know people choose to believe otherwise – but unless you have been through losing Melody (not baby loss as a whole), but Melody then judging has no place in our home.

When I say “losing Melody”, I say this because each and every person’s loss is individual it is personal to them. Baby bereavement is incredibly complex without the need to judge how anyone glues themselves back together.

Siblings Lessons

Being open has played a huge part in our healing process. When you have a baby it is parent’s job to teach that growing baby about life, from walking and talking to colours of the rainbow, everything has to be taught.

For Melody’s younger siblings that is the case, to them Melody is nothing but a fairy tale; a picture in the frame, a name or a letter we include to remember her; headstone that needs to be decorated. The older two siblings however between them they made the decision to not hide Melody from the younger ones, to be open with them, to teach them about the sister they will never meet.

The older out of the two youngest, is 4, she was born 11 months after Melody had died.

She has started mentioning her, when we see garden ornaments or flowers; her sister will say “Aw that would be lovely for Melody.” She is very sweet.

She knows about her, or at least as much as we can explain to her. The painful thing is that her older brother had already learned about baby death at her age now. It wasn’t something we could hide from him.

Questions

Today she started asking questions; right from the very first Halloween after loss, we have always included her, we always decorate her grave; this year we haven’t, we haven’t been up for several weeks now – I know I should; but I just find it hard. The children were doing their pumpkins; we always do one for Melody.

“Did she laugh?”

“Was Melody in your tummy?”

“Did she say Daddy?”

“Did she say your name Mummy?”

I had to stop her there.

“No; because you have the biggest giggles now.” I replied.

I always knew what to say before, but now I am not so sure. These are the same questions but they are new. They are new to them.

Answers

I don’t understand myself why we never got to hear her laugh or hear her say Mummy and Daddy. I am stumped. My older children knew she didn’t laugh, her siblings knew she never spoke a word. We as her parents have slowly come to terms with never hearing her voice.

Now, these new questions, although I guess expected have caught me off guard. I will be as honest as I can be.

How can I say to her that no, your sister born before you never had the chance to say a word, never felt the first belly laugh from deep within. She never got to leave the hospital, despite the odds being in her favour.

I never got her hear her say “Mama.”

We know that we will answer them in a gentle way, that Melody was here for a little time, but she had to go and live in the clouds (where she thinks she is). I know it will pacify her enough for now, and for a little while longer. At least until she’s older, until they’re all older we get the real questions on why she died.

We don’t know, I don’t think we will ever understand.

Little girls sat on a headstone, belonging to their sister.

If you have missed my recent posts here is the last one I shared…

Melody and me logo, which is a heart with an adult and child hand,

Baby Loss – Jordanna’s Story

Our Story

Our story began on October 25th 2016..we had been trying for a baby for 6 months when we found out I was pregnant.. I had all the symptoms up until about 5 weeks when everything eased off and I felt good, I just put it down to every pregnancy being different that I’d lost all my pregnancy symptoms but it turned out that was when our baby stopped growing… it was another 4 weeks before we found out…

The Long Few Weeks

Those weeks were plagued with no sleep I couldn’t settle or relax in my head I knew something wasn’t right. On November the 17th the bleeding started a small amount getting heavier.. I rang 111 in a panic then they referred me to the doctors who gave me a appointment for the early pregnancy unit at Musgrove the next days. The next 24 hours were torture..

Knowing that the outcome wasn’t going to be good but hanging onto to that tiny bit of hope. We arrived at the hospital sat in a waiting room with expectant mum’s all glowing and excited. I knew we had lost the baby. I was took into a room and scanned I was told my baby had stopped growing weeks ago and that it wasn’t growing where it should be. I was asked if I wanted to see I declined if I didn’t look it wouldn’t be real.

Baby Loss

The sonographer handed me a leaflet on miscarriage but I declined as our baby was still there it hadn’t happened yet they might have got it wrong.. we had to return in a week to check that it happened naturally. I broke down leaving the hospital after that I went into shut down it was only months later it hit me like a ton of bricks,crying day in day out; blocking pregnant people and baby’s from my Facebook news feed,crying at other people’s pregnancy announcements; angry that everyone had moved on but you haven’t.

Why is no-one else mourning but I am..a year on I’m still feeling that way but the tears are less and some days are better than others..now we are crossing our fingers for a rainbow baby..it’s the hope of one in the future that keeps us going.

 

Thank you Jordanna, for sharing your story.

Charity Awareness – PAIL Awareness

charity towards tomorrow logo

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Week

This week remembers and spreads awareness about the babies and children who have passed away. I have always been open and honest about my grief journey; my thoughts after Melody died. I don’t really need this single week to do so; however it gets people thinking, it gets people talking, it brings the taboo to the forefront of people’s minds. In the hope that one day the taboo will be a distant memory. We have a long way to go.

When we walked out of the hospital after Melody had died; it became apparent form very early on that the support as a whole for bereaved parents really is few and far between; even more so with Melody’s death. Leaflets, awareness, even charities concentrated on a few scenarios; which of course is amazing, the more awareness the more chances women and professionals will be able to reduce the rate of death. But it can leave parents like us feel alone, pushed out and even more isolated.

Charity

From the first few days I took to online support; but knew I wanted to help more; there’s so much more I want to do. I decided that I would like to try and get a group together. It was something I felt was missing. I ended up contacting Mel Scott of Towards Tomorrow Together, a charity who supports families who have lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth, babies with poor prognosis in utero and they included us. So essentially all losses, nobody gets excluded.

Little Daffodils was born; although it was originally named Melody’s Voices I came away from a prestigious baby loss event in 2016 – The Butterfly Awards and knew that giving support and making a difference was so much more than doing something in her name, and in her memory. Daffodils are the flowers for us who represent Melody but they give so much colour, but only live for a short time. I really want to make a difference; sometimes it can feel like I am hitting a brick wall; others when people message for support and then say thank you, I know something must be doing.

Towards Tomorrow Together provide Butterfly Boxes to hospitals to help families create memories in the short time after a baby or child has died. Unfortunately it isn’t something we personally received (back to the lack of support), but they do bring comfort to families who have to leave without their beloved children.

 

little daffodils logo

Education

Through the death of her own baby, Mel has worked tirelessly to raise awareness, put together educational sessions – I have even spoken at one; and in the midst of putting one together myself, with the help of Mel.

It is difficult to get across to professionals the real thoughts and emotions behind losing a baby; through textbooks there should be a time limit. There isn’t.

This Somerset run charity works a lot from fundraising, this year Little Daffodils as a team has made £1900 with various fundraisers.

There is so much more to do within the baby loss community, especially for infant loss awareness; it will take more than a week out of a year to achieve it, but we do need to keep talking, keep listening most importantly to not let any parents – Mums and Dads feel alone and unsupported. Their – our babies mattered.

She wasn’t “just” a baby. She is ours; she was here for five weeks. She is Melody.

 

Julz.

 

Neonatal loss awareness

Neonatal Loss Series – Marisa’s Story

12 Days – That Is All I Got

(By no means am I trying to discredit miscarriages or stillbirths.)

My loss matters too.

My son was not a miscarriage.

My son was not a stillbirth.

My son was a neonatal death.

My son lived for 12 days.

My son died in my arms.

My son should be here.

My son is gone due to medical error. I can’t believe I finally said it and wrote it.

Medical error.

Here is his story. Here is how my son became a statistic for neonatal death.

 

The year – 2010.

The emotions/ feelings – joy, happiness, love.

We were expecting our first child. A boy. A son we named Drake.

We did everything first time parents do; we enjoyed every moment of the pregnancy, we imagined which one of us he would look like, we had baby showers, we painted his room, we decorated his room, we went to every appointment together with our group of doctors, we told the doctors any concerns we had (such as my high pain tolerance and the chance of having fast labor – family history), we looked forward to seeing our son, holding our son, loving our son.

At 38 weeks pregnant that all that changed. At 38 weeks, I went in for my normal weekly appointment. At 38 weeks, we found out our son was in the Frank Breech position. At 38 weeks, I was scheduled for my C-section for 4 days before my due date. At 38 weeks I still trusted my group of doctors.

At 39 weeks, 2 days – I went into labor at home in the early morning hours. We timed my contractions for 20 minutes and upon realizing they were less than 5 minutes apart, we called the doctor’s office and spoke with the nurse who said she would have the doctor call me (the same doctor on-call was the one who was to be doing my C-section in 2 days’ time).

My biggest mistake.

The doctor called, listened to what we said and decided that we should continue to monitor my contractions for another hour. Well as new parents, we listened. The biggest mistake ever because you see – 45 minutes into that hour my water broke and my son’s feet came out. (During this time, we called the nurse to have the doctor call us and we never got a return call until several hours later.)

Naturally once his feet came out, our next call was to 911, by the time they arrived my contractions (with no help from me) had pushed him out to his ribcage. The EMTs decided to try and help us finish delivering him on our bathroom floor – so we got the rest of his chest and his shoulders out. We could not get my son’s head out, so we were loaded on a gurney with his head still inside and taken to the hospital where with the ER doctor we finally got my son’s head out – but by now he was no longer breathing.

One of the EMTs was able to resuscitate him long enough to be placed on a ventilator.

Neonatal Unit

Within a couple of hours, he was transported to another hospital where there was a NICU. I had to stay at the hospital I was at, they finally released me after 15 hours and we made the 45-minute trip to see him.

You know your son is truly hurt when you walk into your son’s NICU room, surrounded by other babies, and the night head nurse tells you:

“Out of all the babies here in the NICU, your son is the worst one.”

Drake spent the next 12 days in that room. I could go on about the tests he had, the meetings with doctors we had, the talks with the nurses, the meeting with a local organ donation company (my husband and I are organ donations and we wanted information in case Drake did not make it).

No matter the tests, the meetings, the discussion – the tears, the anger, the silent screams; the end result would never change.

You see our son was

BRAIN DEAD.

Goodbye

The lack of oxygen he endured while he was stuck inside me caused brain damage, he would never breathe on his own, the doctors gave us 2 options:

  • Allow him to stay on the ventilator and allow his body to deteriorate and die.
  • Pull him off life support and allow him to die in our arms surrounded by love.

My husband and I talked for many hours – we made our decision out of love. Love for our son. We had no idea what pain he may have been experiencing.

We chose to say goodbye, to allow him to go, to relieve him of pain.

At 12 days, 12 hours old, we pulled Drake from life support. He lived another 4 hours before he finally passed away in my arms.

This was 7 years ago and I think about him every day.

 

Thank you to Marisa of Life by the Dreams for sharing Drake’s story.

neonatal

Baby Drake

Capture Your Grief

For The First Time – Capture Your Grief

first time. the letter M

First

Today is the first time I have lived the 7th October 2017. I have never lived this day before. I won’t be trying anything in particularly new today. It is an ordinary day for us. The children are displaying in a carnival and we’re on a constant time watch to be ready to go. Things to get ready, helping to get 30 children ready today. So for me to physically go and try something new today would not happen.

I woke up this morning after a lovely evening out for the first time in what seems like ages, I laughed and felt on top of the world. I went to see a show, I never thought I would ever go and see. It was hilarious. Of an adult content, but it was so funny.

The first time I saw Melody I was strapped to the bed, wires and leads every where, she had been taken out via c-section, there was this giant green screen dividing my head from the working end. The room was hot, it made me feel faint, there were people everywhere, there wasn’t space to move in the room or add any more people. We could tell the operation had begin because the room had fallen silent. I remember begging the midwife stood next to me to tell me that she was alive.

“Is she sleeping? Has she been born sleeping?”

The midwife would take a second, which felt like hours to peer, I knew she was concentrating, but I needed to know. Her heartbeat was on the CTG moments before, but we knew she was fighting.

As I asked one more time, a squeak came. It was loud enough to fill the deafening silence; it was loud enough to be heard to fill my heart with love.

“No she hasn’t been birn sleeping.” The midwife said to us in her really soft voice; the Dr deliviering her confirmed so when she said the Melody had given her a kick as they lifted her out.

For the first time in days I felt relieved that she was born. That she had been born alive; we had no idea on how long we’d keep her, being a micro premature baby; nobody knew how well she would do.

The Doctors brought her to me, I could see her tiny pink face, she really was that tiny. 9inches of her…23cm.

The first time I saw her, I had no idea whether it would be the last time I saw her alive. I had to cherish it; I have had to keep that safe. She wasn’t meant to die.

 

Carly Marie Capture Your Grief

Day Six

Melody and Me.

Capture Your Grief

Belonging – Capture Your Grief 2017

 

Stranded

I never really felt like I belong anywhere; at least not until I met my husband and our family life became as complete as it’ll ever be.

There were friendships in school, but they weren’t always what they seemed; I have always found it particularly hard to make and then keep friends. I am shy;  sometimes people mistake that for rudeness; but I try not to be. With this in mind it has caused low confidence-low self-esteem. I really shouldn’t let this define me, but I do.

When Melody died we were faced with people crossing the street, people telling us they didn’t know what to say; family being unsupportive; it leaves you stranded and alone.

Community

 

Truth be told I wasn’t alone, I wasn’t the only one to have lost a baby, and I began to find other lost souls. Mums and Dads who were broken. They weren’t by my side but they were there, to listen, I could listen we could understand a little of what each of us were going through.

The online community became my safe place, my saviour I guess. It allowed me to be free; it allowed me to speak without judgement, the empty pities and with some understanding of what was going through my mind.

There have been things I have spoken about over these past few years, which I could never say to people outside of this community. I guess it is because just sometimes the things which leave my mouth can be so raw, that to anyone else, I could be seen as being crazy. But I am not.

Belonging

As well as this community, I am grateful to the people who have stuck around every step of the way, and even more so to the people I have met since she died, these people have listened or read about our story, yet they choose to stick around and be my friends. There aren’t many of them, but I value them. If it is yacking on a Friday night, or a trip to the park or shops, I am eternally grateful to them.

 

It is a lifelong thing, she’ll always be my baby; and I guess I will always grieve. But to have the few who remind me to keep going are really worth their weights in gold.

 

Thank you

 

belonging

Capture Your Grief

Capture Your Grief 2017 – Meaningful Mantra

Life

Finding my Mantra. I haven’t been well mentally recently, life has felt quite overwhelming. I end up being in tears, and there hasn’t been a week recently where I have seen it through without a tear or two.

Not because of Melody, but because there have been times where I feel that I am failing everyone around me, making me feel less about myself. I want to achieve so much; I wanted to pay an interest in my children’s activities, so I became a committee member. The need to help people and raise awareness in memory of our daughter to make sure other people felt supported and less alone like we did.

As I fail to take care of myself I end up letting people upset me, in ridiculous ways, ways where I wanted to leave the job I have fallen in love with. Walk away from volunteering with the children’s activities, to the point of crying and not wanting to leave the house.

Why?

Then it takes me to get to this point and question; how can I get upset by these insignificant people, when I have managed to carry on breathing after our daughter died? That is what they are to me they’re insignificant; yet I still let them get to me. I have made mistakes in the past, and I am only human but I deserve to be happy and loved too. I certainly don’t deserve to be hurt the way people think it is acceptable to do so.

 

So, I need to choose to not give up. To take better care of me emotionally, step away from these people, but it is hard. I don’t want to change who I am and become rude or nasty; I swear a lot but I am not a fan of confrontation; but I do need to stop letting them make me feel this way, because let’s face it if they thought twice about how much they upset people they’d not do it. Much more about them than me.

My Meaningful Mantra

So, I guess my Mantra should be to breathe for me. Not to waste any more tears on anyone who doesn’t deserve them. Most definitely DO NOT GIVE UP

 

meaningful Mantra. Keep going

Keep Going.

Melody and Me.