Today marks the first day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss awareness month. It is a chance to speak openly and share experiences; to break the taboo that is baby loss.
This is a project put together by fellow bereaved Mother – Carly Marie, a way to share thoughts on baby loss, sharing our babies and raise as much awareness as possible. I have once again decided to give it a go; I didn’t complete last year’s – it was the first year I didn’t complete it. So, I will take one day at a time.
First of The Month
The first of each month is always a reminder of the anniversary of loss, the first of the month when you’re excited for what’s to come as events move closer. In 2012 we had a discharge date of May 2012; it was our goal, what were all clinging on to – leaving the NICU behind us. Early April 1st of the same year I remember getting a couple of excited text messages stating she’d be “home next month”; we were all so excited, only a month to go.
Little did we know that after these messages were exchanged and that when we reached the hospital that morning, everything would be different. That May would come and go, a discharge date would just be a day in the month that only we would remember.
April 1st, she died. October will always be the half way point, six months since – six months until. I remember hitting six months, it seemed like such a significant time which had passed; yet felt like no time had passed at all. Wondering how we were going to get through each day, let alone another six months with Christmas and her birthday during the following six months.
I remember waking up from the first longest night after she died. My eyes were closed, but I hadn’t slept. Everything about my body felt heavy, weighed down desperately hoping to know that I had been asleep, and it was all a terrible nightmare. It was strange knowing there was a sunrise, yet our daughter had only just died the day before; it didn’t seem right, none of it did.
That year we had a heatwave during the whole time she was alive. When she was born Spring had arrived with her, she had brought glorious sunshine; there is stayed until her funeral. I got sunburnt in March and was wearing vest tops and flip-flops. Beautiful weather, it made our trips to the NICU bearable, dreaming together of what our sunny days would be like once she left, how she’d love playing with her brother and sister.
Just a couple of weeks prior to her death, she was able to feel the sun on her face through the window, she wasn’t keen, but we knew one day she would love it. That was the only way she ever felt the sun on her face, no and between her toes; or an ice cream by the sea.
She never witnessed a sunrise.