Day Five Journal #Captureyourgrief

In March 2012, my husband gave me two journals, a pair; a gift for Mother’s Day from Melody. She was already a couple of weeks old by this point; 
I wanted to write her story. 
A story of how I fought every single day of my pregnancy suffering with Hyperemesis, then contracting HELLP and almost dying myself. 
I wanted something for Melody (and her siblings), to read when she was older. 
Being a NICU parent is incredibly hard, family life torn in two. 
A time where you have absolutely no idea whether you are coming or going. 
Exhausting. 
Writing in my books gave me an outlet, where most people could never have understood, unless you’re a parent of a child in hospital. 
A place to empty my head of scary thoughts, scary thoughts that often was other people putting into my head. 
Countless of un-supportive relationships. 
It was supposed to be a journal about her life, our life in the NICU. 
The 100 hundred days we were given. 
65 of those were stolen from us. 
The rest of her life was stolen from us. 
35 days, was all we had, a hope given, taken away. 
Stripped. 
So going from an almost happy journal, writing about how feisty she was;
to the agonising pain of hearing that she wasn’t going to survive. 
Walking in to NICU, expecting to be told, she had been naughty and pulled a tube out, or that the hospital needed to move her. 
We never, ever expected to be burying her 12 days later. 
My writing helped me to carry on, a form of therapy, when some professionals turned their backs, 
left us alone. 
I carried on, pushed through, days of feeling ashamed in my own thoughts, 
days where it hurt to breathe. 
Days where I wanted to run far, far away. 
Taking me to my pregnancy with Melody’s sister. 
After a lot of persuasion, I self-published it, 
re-writing, re-reading it is one of the most difficult parts, so I don’t. 
It’s the bare minimum of editing, stripped bare to my true thoughts and feelings. 
Finding comfort in pain..
It’s named after a very special forum I was on whilst I was pregnant with her, and they looked after me in my most darkest of days in grief and in pregnancy with the next baby. 

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