I haven’t written a blog post for a while because I’ve been stuck in a rut of not wanting to deal with my emotions and wanting to immerse myself into reality TV shows. I’ve pushed myself to write today because I have come to realise that writing helps me deal with my emotions instead of letting them build up into one big explosion, like I had a couple of weeks ago.
May has come, Riley’s due month. His due date was the 20th but I had a feeling he would be early because of how fast he was growing. I wanted him to be here on or before Mother’s Day because I selfishly wanted to have my first Mother’s Day this year instead of waiting a whole year. I always joked about him being born on Star Wars Day (May 4th) or May 8th (Australians call it ‘Mate’). So now that these dates are coming up I feel guilty that I wished for an early baby so that he could have a cool birthday date and that I could celebrate Mother’s Day for myself.
Now that it’s May I am reminded constantly that I should be preparing for him to be here any day now. I should be finishing off his wardrobe, packing my hospital bag and attending birth classes. I should be extremely uncomfortable with swollen feet, swollen fingers and a lack of sleep. All through my pregnancy I was waiting for the colder weather; I should be complaining to Matt about how it’s supposed to be cold by now and that I’m sick of this strange heat that we’re having this autumn.
Instead I sit at home most days in silence or with the background sound of some ‘Real Housewives’. I walk past his room and see his cot, his change table, his basinet and his pram that will sit there until we work out what we’re going to do with it all. I see all the stuffed toys in his cot and the space for where Matt was going to build a bookshelf. Sometimes I forget and I briefly think to myself “I can’t wait to see him in his cot and playing on the floor.” Then I’m reminded by our Bear of Hope sitting on his window seal of our reality and he is never going to be able to enjoy his room.
Every day I am battling between thoughts of having another baby, not having another, waiting until after we’re married, waiting until we get the autopsy results, the possibility of having another still born baby or the possibility of never being able to have another.
Now that it’s May, I know that June is not far off and we will be getting Riley’s autopsy results on the 1st. I am terrified of our results. I do not want to be told that I will never be able to carry a baby full term. I do not want to be told that genetically, Matt and I can’t have babies. Sure, I want Riley to have a result of his death, but I also can’t bare the thought of being told that the problem is me. The one thing I have always known is that I am supposed to be a mother and I am petrified to be told I can’t be.
This month has made me realise that my grief is only just beginning and that I have a long way to go. It’s true when they say that grief is a rollercoaster. For a while in April I thought I was doing quite good. I was able to get up and exercise, be happy; I would even dance around the house some days. But as soon as the days crept closer to May I could feel myself getting lower into the depth of depression.
Sometimes I wish I were never pregnant in the first place, because I wouldn’t feel this miserable. But then I think, ‘how could I not want to have known Riley?’ I would have never known this type of love for a being, whom is not here, but still is in so many ways. I would have never known a mother’s love for a child and the heartache of grief. I am thankful for him but also so extremely, painfully, sad that I cannot hold him forever.
I’ve accepted that grief is a rollercoaster and that I’m never going to ‘get over it’. It’s now apart of me and who I am now. Sometimes it can hit me like a freight train when only a short while ago I would have considered myself ‘fine’. Sometimes I want to scream in frustration because I don’t want to be going through this. Sometimes though, I accept the cards I have been dealt and I am thankful for my little boy and the opportunity to help other bereaved mothers. I love the community of women I have met in the last couple of months and I am astounded by the amount of love and compassion that there is from these women.
If you are reading this and are feeling alone, please reach out to me. I cannot change your circumstance but I can offer support and advice in some areas. I’m still very new to my grief, but I’ve learnt that reaching out to others who know the level of grief that come when losing a child provides the biggest comfort.