baby loss, grief

Burning Out and Healing

I’m not entirely sure where I am heading with this; so please bear with me. I am fully aware that to some this is probably not a problem and that people are going through worse things right now. But I am struggling.

Burnt Out, tired, heavy-hearted – nothing is ever the same.

Christmas 2018, the turning point for me. I love Christmas, even the first year as being a bereaved mother I still wanted to soak up the magic, savour every beautiful moment. But this last Christmas, I was there but felt nowhere near there. It was the first Christmas for many, many years that we had social plans I was able to spoil the children a little; to anyone looking in – to me, it looked perfect.

But I also felt numb, I don’t even know why; I began to feel heavier and heavier until I guess I had lost all feeling and was just going through the motions.

After the new year, days into the new year resolutions are thought of; plans being put together for another wonderful year of memories. One thing on my list is to be happy. Then I was hit, hit with the sadness stick, that sadness stick I get every bloody year as January hits because February is her birthday, the countdown begins. It was this that made me tearful, as I do every January, grumpy as I do every January “another year without her.”

Days into the new year I find myself telling my husband, the father of our dead daughter, that I no longer want HER in my life. I don’t want or care for being a “bereaved” mother. It’s shit, it more than sucks – sucks every bit of life out of me. A life sentence, I guess. (If you question the need for that sentence, you may not fully understand this post).

I am more than a bereaved mother – I am a Mother, a wife, a friend, a student and employee.

What kind of mother doesn’t want their daughter in their life anymore?

It’s the constant battle of guilt, love, and pain. Trying relentlessly to keep her memory alive, but who for? Sometimes it feels like nobody is listening anymore.

Fundraising right from her death, now a support group, which the group is a wonderful achievement, but sometimes – just sometimes I wish I didn’t do it alone or feel I must try and compete. It wasn’t what it was meant to be about.

And I am just causing myself pain.

I’ve never been in a coma; nor do I know much about them. But watching an episode of a TV show of a guy who had been in a coma for 16 years, to wake up and his family had moved on, nothing is the same.

Since I spoke to my husband and a friend who understands; it is like I have awoken. I don’t have this crazy amount of energy, but it feels like I have been asleep for nearly seven years and woken to change, family changes; different friends, old friends are gone, making new friends. Kids which have grown, but I feel like I have missed so much. Everything seems unfamiliar, not knowing entirely who I am.

We never asked for any of this. I never wanted her out of my life, my own child. But she is, the painful thing, the painful truth is that no matter what I do – there is NOTHING I can do to bring her back or stop being her mum. I need to live, not survive – I’m not a victim. I need a life.

Now I must rebuild and heal.

Relationships have I understand broken, moved on. But that also means I need to stop questioning people’s choices, stop blaming myself for every little mistake when relationships break down.

I need people to know that I really am not a bitch, that I am working on rebuilding the person I was before – okay maybe that is optimistic, as I can’t fully remember our life before; but I was a newlywed. I married my soulmate, I am so lucky that he is the ONE person to not walk away or expected anything other than love from me.

Most importantly it is bringing the fun back to motherhood, I always wanted to be a mother. That is what I am.

I am a Mum first. Melody is just a part of my story; I miss her – but I miss living that little bit more. (Don’t judge me). I’m afraid of being miserable for the rest of my life.

I will always love her because she will always be my daughter, she will always have a birthday and an anniversary. I will still say her name.

But I have to LIVE the weeks before those dates, and not simply exist.

 

I know I have pissed people off and hurt others, I am not the person I was; I probably never will be. I am sorry for that. I am trying.

As they say, you can’t sip from an empty cup.

Just be patient with me, I don’t expect it to be easy, sit with me in the dark, while I find the light. Because this past year I have laughed and lived so much, that I know there is so much more to me than pure darkness.

That is all I ever wanted, love, laughter, and happiness.

 

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