Coral: Right Where I Am 2016: 2 years 4 months 23 days

It’s been too long going in life broken-hearted. Learning to live with a part of me missing is the most difficult thing I have faced in my existence. I feel conflicted by it because there’s some sort of gratefulness despite the tragedy. You see, before I couldn’t bear when others called me strong. Now I understand why others see me as such. This challenge that life threw at me has taught me to face the impossible. How can you live despite having a loss so big that defines you? I’m privilege to have the answer. Even though I wish I could go back in time to change the outcome, the lesson learned is invaluable.

My love for Luna continues growing with time. I learned that she doesn't have to be physically here for me to love her. I’m fortunate to understand this, because the meaning of love has been forever redefined. It means an essence so powerful and strong that even death can’t break it. I guess my eyes are now open to see what’s in front of me, understanding God’s love.

Two years and a half of constant change; because relationships, dreams and goals were somehow shaped the day she died. Now I only care about being true to myself and live freely. I’m more aware now of the things I can control to give meaning to my life. I quit my profession knowing the passion for it was never there. I find myself cutting all negative relationships to build a better future with those who truly care while I continue educating others about seeing death as a natural part of life. At times, I forget that I am a mother, there’s no vivid reminder except for the stretch marks marked on my body. This is the part that truly scares me, not feeling connected to motherhood and waking up one day without thinking of her. Even though she is always in my mind and not a day goes by without me missing her.

~~~~~

You can read Coral’s previous posts here:

Right Where I Am 2015: 11 months 2 weeks 6 days
Right Where I Am 2014: 4 months 28 days

Claire: Right Where I Am 2016: 4 years 3 months

Since losing Laura I've gone on to have twin boys who are now 2 and a half years old. They fill my days, often with tantrums and demands but just as often with laughter and squeals of fun. I talk to them about their older sister, although I know it will be years yet before they understand. They know where she is though. We visit her grave around once a week, often before I take them to playgroup, as the cemetery is on the same road as the Children's Centre. They say her name as we pull into the road. They say her name when I buy flowers. This much they understand.

Laura would be the age now that I was when I started school. She would have been starting primary school this September had she lived. I cannot help but wonder how she would have felt about this. Would she have be confident like her older sister, or would she have worried about being separated from me.

There is not a day that goes by without me thinking of her. Last thing at night especially I feel the need to think of her. Sort of like a mental 'tucking in'. I know nobody thinks of her like I do. I know people actually forget that she ever existed. I've come to terms with that now. That's their problem, not mine. I was lucky enough to have her. Lucky enough to feel her moving around inside me and lucky enough to cuddle her for those first precious hours before we realised she was so desperately unwell. She has changed me without a doubt. I have no idea whether anything exists beyond this life but I am actually ok about this. What else can I be?

On the days where my twins look at me and their faces are identical to their oldest sister, I wonder what my only dark haired child would have looked like. I miss her every day. I'm grateful for having had her, for the lessons loss has taught me and I'm grateful for the friendships I've made along the way with other mums that just 'get' me.

~~~~~

You can read Claire’s previous posts here:

Right Where I Am 2014: 2 years 2 months 3 weeks
Right Where I Am 2013: 1 year 2 months 2 weeks 2 days

Julz: Right Where I Am 2016: 4 years 3 months

Inside Out. It's a Disney film, about emotions from the emotions themselves.

Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear and Disgust.

All important roles in how our moods take us. Most importantly how we cope with things that change our lives, and almost break us.

Having seen the film, several times over now, I can understand the feeling of losing one's marbles.

My personality islands collapsed, the day she died. No warning, I couldn't stop them. Lost, forever.

For me, 4 years into this journey, I can associate myself with all 5 of the emotions. Some less than others.

Disgust, I guess how some parents take their precious children for granted. I feel disgusted in myself sometimes. When I have days, where I'm not quite coping. I shout, I snap. I somewhat alienate myself.

Fear. It goes without saying, the fear of not only losing my other children, but my husband, my friends. Fear paralyses me at times. I have to control it. It can take over, but it isn't allowed.

Anger. I don't get that raw anger very often any more. Because we should have had a different outcome, the anger was eating me, tearing me apart bit by bit, as if the bigger picture of our daughter dying wasn't enough, but the anger, drilling through my very being. Don't get me wrong, I get angry, really bloody angry at the whole having a dead child, I'm allowed, but it's far more contained. I'm lucky to have a husband who will let me release it, by talking, crying. It's not often any more.

Joy and Sadness.

Together? In the head of a bereaved mum.

Maybe.

As above I said my personality islands collapsed, fell silently away, as she died in our arms. There were no controls, no brakes. It happened.

I've had to start again.

New hobbies, new train of thought, new friendship circles, and how I spent my time with those friends, family. The shape of our family changed.

I never expected joy to be part of my emotions again, ever.

But I refuse to have Melody be the little blue person.

This time of year, I find just as hard as the part of the year my brain associates her with.

September to May. There is always something attached to her, from a positive pregnancy test, to her birth, her anniversary, discharge date and due date. I no longer make a big deal over the smaller dates, I always will for her birthday and anniversary. But they're all still related in some way.

So, when June arrives, it's like a strange come down. Every thing I do gets touched by sadness, core memory after core memory affected by sadness.

It shouldn't be. I've, we've been punished enough.

I do believe joy and sadness can coexist. There's a balance.

But people have to remember everyone grieves differently.

If I want to ball my eyes out 4 years after my daughter dying. I will. I don't need therapy or medicine.

But laughing doesn't mean I'm over her either.

I've found a good balance, albeit right or wrong. It is right for me.

Right now. I'm missing Melody. That will never change.

She is my bundle of joy, cuddled in a blanket of sadness.

~~~~~

You can read Julz' previous posts here:

Right Where I Am 2015: 3 years 3 months 26 days

Right Where I Am 2014: 2 years 2 months 3 weeks 4 days

Right Where I Am 2013: 1 year 3 months 4 days

Stacey: Right Where I Am 2016: 3 years 3 months 2 weeks 2 days

Another year has passed so quickly, here I am again sat staring at a blank screen, with deafening silence all around me, wondering what on earth I’m going to write this time. When you spend almost everyday trying to build up your walls so you can’t get hurt it’s often difficult to then brake them down to figure out how you’re actually feeling.

Apparently, there are 5 stages of grieving; shock/denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. So maybe this is chance for me to explore which stage I am at. My initial thoughts are I’ve reached acceptance, I’m there finally, I have created a post babyloss life and I am genuinely happy. I have 2 healthy rainbows, Florence (October 2014) and Albert (January 2016), I have trained as a SANDS befriender and with the aid of my amazing colleagues have set up a local playgroup to support families whom have lost children/siblings/grandchildren/nieces/nephews/cousins. I must have reached acceptance to be able to do those things right??

(Picture credit to tweetconnection)

Shock/Denial

No way, the sonographer is wrong, my baby is fine there is not a chance my baby is going to die, she has got this wrong, any minute now she is going to stop telling me this and laugh it will all be some sick cruel awful joke. This is not happening to my baby, this happens to other people not me.

I definitely went through that stage.

Anger

Why did my baby have to die? What have I done so wrong in my life to deserve this? Why didn’t we get to keep her, she was planned, loved and wanted. Why me!

It’s safe to say I went through this stage as well.

Bargaining

Please let this be a dream, I’ll do anything.

Depression

Blanked out from my memory, but yes that horrific stage definitely happened.

Acceptance

Maybe I’m there but I’m still experiencing elements of anger and bargaining.  Do we ever truly reach this stage or do we always flit between the stages?

Perhaps next year I will have the answers. But for now I’d give anything to have all 3 of my children.

~~~~~

You can read Stacey’s previous posts here:

Right Where I Am 2015: 2 years 4 months 3 weeks 5 days

Right Where I Am 2014: 1 year 13 weeks 6 days

Right Where I Am 2013: 15 weeks