Once you get to a certain stage of grief, people think it should be over, you should be all better.
You see when you lose a child you see the world in a completely different light.
A hope that you were born with, a belief that all of the nicer statistics make the hope easier.
Say like when in pregnancy you get to 20 weeks pregnant, your baby has a sex, a personality forming from deep within. The tiny hands on the screen waving back at you.
You get past the half way mark and you think, brilliant that didn’t take long it’s all down hill from here. A finish line is insight.
24 weeks is the next goal, the goal that is the magic number, that if baby is born now then it’ll be ok, it’ll be healthy, the hospital will save the baby’s life.
Bated breath and you get past this, successfully, unscathed 37 weeks is the apparent full time, where the time is now to get things started.
Baby arrives everything is fine, is perfect. You cannot understand why you were ever worried.
“Bad things” never happen to me.
But what happens when actually, you’re not a happy statistic at your 20 week scan, your baby gets to 26 weeks past ‘viability’ but your babies STILL die, you get to 40 weeks and actually you still don’t get to take your baby home, how is that right? You’ve done your ‘time’ of being pregnant embracing your moving bump, only to be left broken empty armed.
It doesn’t stop there as babies, infants, young children, children, adults. Someone’s child.
You see burying a child you have given birth to, gotten to know, fed kissed, changes you.
Only you don’t know the devastation until you’re thrown into the devastation.
The heartache and pain that you can’t actually describe, because the people who truly understand are the ones who actually doesn’t need it describing.
I’ve changed, I’ve become cold…I’ll admit that.
But when you lose part of yourself, you truly do lose something else too, it may be different to everyone. And for me it’s a certain warmth I had once upon a time.
But luckily for me I have people in my life, whether it’s my support to them or them to me, reassuring me that actually, it is ok to change.
And those who will stick around will understand, stay and embrace the new you.
Those who don’t, don’t matter…
I am broken, but not beaten.