They say that grief comes and goes in waves. This is true. Most days I 'cope' and I go to bed at night feeling relatively 'okay.' It the other days, the days when grief comes bounding in on the waves that causes your whole world to crash. It creeps up on you when you least expected it. Today the grief has got me, its got me in its grasp and its not letting me go. Its scary and overwhelming. Today, my missing you has engulfed me. Today I really, really miss you.
Someone might wonder how you can miss someone who wasn’t born alive. Is there enough for you to even miss in the first place?
There is so much, SO much that I miss of you.
I miss being pregnant. I miss feeling your movements. I miss wondering what position you were lying in my tummy. I miss your sister calling my tummy a baby and I miss wondering what you looked like. I miss the joy and the anticipation which came with carrying you.
I miss your smell. I have one hat and two blankets that you were wrapped in, tightly folded away in your memory box. When I smell them, I smell you but I don’t do it often for I am terrified of losing that smell. It is the smell of a new baby, the smell of my baby.
I miss your little face. I miss analysing EVERY SINGLE part of your perfect little face. I miss kissing your cold little forehead. You were so cold but I miss it so much. I miss holding you close to me. I only held you close to me for an hour or so before you needed to be placed in the cold cot. Once back from the post mortem you were too delicate to lift out of your coffin.
I miss feeling the weight of your body in my arms. I miss cuddling you and having you close to my heart. I miss you being whole. I still have you but it isn’t the same anymore. I cant see you and it kills me.
I miss expecting you to be here. You should be here soon. I should only have about 6 weeks left to go until we would meet. I miss the future that I was expecting to have with you.
Missing you only seems to get harder as time goes on because my life is going on. Every day I have to live without you, I miss you more. The missing you never stops and sometimes the weight of it seems too much to bare. Grief doesn’t get easier as time goes on and time isn’t a healer. I am only learning to live with the grief, it is becoming a part of me but it doesn’t ever stop. It is terrifying when those moment of reality strike, my reality.
Grief has got me good and proper today.
Today, I just miss you.
11/18/2016 08:41:42 pm
My heart broke for you reading this, how desperately sad it is to hear that anyone has lost their child, a feeling which I know all to well having lost our son Joseph, stillborn at full term, in 2006. There is nothing that anyone can say to make it better, but I found that writing it all down, sharing our story, accepting the love and support of others, it all helped us to find a way to move forward. I can't lie to you, still hurts a decade down the line, and we have been through some very dark times, but there is happiness ahead of you, I promise. Sitting here as a Mummy of five, four in my arms and one in my heart, I can laugh and smile and take pleasure in life again, something which I really didn't think I would ever be able to feel, and my heart is healed by the love and the kisses from my children, the rainbows on the days when I'm really struggling, and by the fact that I know Joseph is always near.
Leave a Reply.
On the 7th September 2016 at 25 weeks gestation, Holly was born, still after a battle with complete heart block.