Today I got out of bed just before midday, which isn't too bad for me at the moment. I don't feel any need to get up, whats the point? It's been 6 weeks since I gave birth to my precious, perfect sleeping beauty Beth at 39+3 weeks. She is my first born, my little lady I had been keeping comfortable and safe for 39 weeks. My little angel who liked bath times where I played her my cheesy music in exchange for her kung fu kicks, my little plum who I told stories to and whose nursery was filled to bursting with all the little dresses, baby grows and items I would need to keep her warm and happy, and bath stuff that would make her smell delicious enough to eat. I couldn't wait to meet her. I was scared though. I am 30 and work as a paediatric nurse, so I knew how sick and poorly babies could potentially be. Even if I had to stay awake for the first week or so I would make sure she was safe and watch her every breath. That was my plan. But all that changed.
I went in with reduced movements at exactly 39 weeks .. Beth was more of an evening wriggler, whilst I was watching TV she would let me know she was there. But that evening my partner and I tried all we could and she would not move, so we called and went to labour ward as advised. I thought my girl was quiet as it might be the start of labour or maybe she had turned or something. I had a scan and was told her heart had stopped beating.. I'm sure mine did too at that moment. I wanted my baby out there and then... Maybe they could resuscitate her, I could help. But no. She was gone. There was nothing, no pain no bleeding... Just reduced movements and it was already too late. The hospital was only 5 mins from us I couldn't have got there any quicker.
A few days later I did it, I gave birth to my baby, my daughter, my Beth. One of the many worse days of my life but also one of the happiest. I finally got to meet her. To see her. Her beauty was astounding. Family and friends came to see her and said how much she looked like her daddy and how stunning she was. We stayed with her for 2 days, it would never be enough.
Fast forward and here I am 6 weeks later. We have an album full of pictures, two picture frames hung in the living room, three picture frames on the sideboard and three canvasses above our bed. We have a memory box and Beth's ashes. Her body home at last. I take her ashes up to bed with me every night, I promised her I'd never leave her alone again at night. I had her for all of her life and she will have me for the rest of mine.
The crying continues everyday, the sadness, taking over my whole body at any given moment. I try and stop these tears but I can't. I can't control the endless grief that has consumed my life. The endless forums and groups I've joined are now my life. Like many bereaved mums have said… A part of me died with Beth. I want to tell all these expectant mums to be careful - they might not get to take their baby home - not to get too happy. I can't see anything positive ever happening. I want to scream and shout, I want people to ask if I have children so I can say yes and tell them about Beth. I want everyone to know she was here and she will always be my life and my baby but I will never hold her again. I will never hold my Beth, her body is gone. I still can't accept it. I still don't want to believe it I wish I could be with her. I would swap places anytime if it was possible.
I was always scared of death, but now if that means I'll be with my baby then I'm not scared. To hear Beth laugh or cry, to see her eyes open and to watch her grow is all I want. I just want to be normal again.
That's where I am...
I want to change the past. I want Beth alive and snuggled into me. I want to kiss her nose and her cheeks and never let her go. I want her body to be warm against mine and her cheeks rosy and pink. I want her so badly.