My Blog, My Grief, Me

No mummy should have to write their baby’s funeral

No mummy should have to grieve for their child

No mummy should have to find a way of coping with their grief

No mummy should have to find a way of making sense of such a cruel cruel loss in their lives

How would you feel if your baby died?

You do not know.

You cannot know.

Unless it has happened to you.

Perhaps you do not want to know.

Then please stop reading my blog.

This is my personal writing space.

To read what I write you have to choose to come here.

You have to open the page and read the words that appear on the screen.

If you do not like what I have to say.

If you feel that I am acting in an undignified way.

Then please find a happier story to read.

A less bumpy road to follow.

I am a mummy who is struggling.

I am grieving the only way that I know how.

I am in the arms of my online friends.

I am standing shoulder to shoulder with other parenting bloggers.

People who are proud to stand by my side.

If this rocky road is not one for you.

Then please feel free not to read.

I am not writing this for you.

I am writing it for me.

I am writing it in the hope that one day my children will read it and know why mummy was so sad.

Why for just a few weeks mummy was not as funny or as enthusiastic about marching to The Grand Old Duke of York.

Why Granny took over the running of the house for a while.

Why mummy cried and hid herself away in Baby Tilda’s empty room.

I am writing this for those poor mummies who will tread this path behind me.

In the hope that I can help them, as others have helped me, to not feel alone.

To know that there is no wrong or right way to grieve.

There is just this.

This.

And whatever you are.

Whatever you do.

Whatever you need to be.

Is okay.

Because no one can know what is right for you except you.

No mummy should have to mourn their child.

Grieve for a tiny baby.

But too many mummies do.

And they are welcome here.

Here I hope people will find courage and hope and inspiration and ideas.

And safety.

And know that in their darkest darkest hours they are not alone.

This is my blog and my grief.

This is me.

57 thoughts on “My Blog, My Grief, Me

  1. You’re right. It is okay. So keep writing. We are all here with you and holding you in our thoughts. I wish I could do more but I can’t, so I’m telling myself that is okay too. Sometimes a comment, like this, is just enough to let you know you’re not alone. xx

  2. Amazing with a capital A, Jennie. I never understand why people feel the need to scorn anyone for what they write on their blog. We all have our very own but of cyberspace to do with how we please. Personally, I think what you are doing is incredible and will help, not only yourself, but so many people who will suffer such a loss in the future. Keep writing, keep sharing, keep the memories of Baby Tilda alive. Much love xxx

  3. Dear Jennie you have been amazing and brave your
    Story and everyone is wishing you well and sending you love. I cant imagine how you feel but with every post I have tears and feel
    Some of Your pain. If sharing your story ans feelings helps, we are
    All here to listen and support. Natalie x

  4. It’s not easy to read. Of course it’s not. But it’s our choice to read. I don’t want to even imagine what you’re going through. But my discomfort is nothing. If you need to write. Write. If you want to write. Write. We are here for you. x

  5. It’s always good to talk and I am so glad that you have found a space where you can share your feelings. You are travelling down a road I cannot imagine but I can only think it is a road made easier when you can stand shoulder to shoulder with others who care.

  6. Dear Jennie,

    Your writing is beautiful, a truly lasting tribute to Matilda Mae and a legacy for Wiliam and Esther. You are all in my prayers and thoughts a lot. God bless you all

    S.A.M xoxo

  7. Throughout these terrible weeks, your blog and your online presence have helped you to cope. No-one should ever judge you, nor can they even begin to imagine how you feel. This is your space and you must always use it in whatever way you need to. You’re never alone, the whole community is behind you, and love you, and will give you strength x

  8. Oh Jennie, some people are so insensitive at times. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief; there is no right or wrong way. As writers, we all understand why you’re writing this down, and it’s much more “healthy” than keeping it bottled up inside.

    My thoughts are with you, and I’m sending so much love to you all for Thursday. I can’t possibly even begin to imagine how utterly devastated you must feel every second of every day, in every bone and every fibre of your being.
    Much love xxx

  9. keep writing jennie, your love shows through in every word you put down. yOu have such a way with words and your writing will help other mums who come later to know that what they are feeling is normal.
    I hid my writing away in a book and still find it hard to look back on but wish I had been more open and shown that grief, anger, numbness, questioning everything and nothing, believing everything and nothing is normal.
    I stand right beside you and hope that in a small way you can see that although never the same life will keep going and you will always be a mummy of three xx

  10. I cannot know how you feel but I will stand with you online through this terrible journey you have to go through. It is o.k, but it’s not o.k that baby Tilda is gone.
    I think about you and your family’s loss every day, hoping that by keeping you all in my thoughts you can all feel a bit of strength and encouragement, we’re here for you however you feel.
    xxx

  11. I find it outrageous that anyone would be so crass as to criticise the way that you are dealing with an impossibly difficult time and can only hope that karma will hunt them down. You do what you need to do. As you say, many will follow in your footsteps and I for one hope that they find you and are helped in some small way by this blog post and the others that you have written since Matilda Mae left you. You are doing a remarkable job and anyone who says otherwise can deal with me.

  12. I find it hard to believe that anyone would criticise the beautiful words you have written in the last month. I have followed your blog for a while and your words have always been your own and in happier times were a joy to read.
    Yes it is hard to read what you are going through at the minute and it makes me so very sad but it is nothing compare to how hard it is for you and the sadness, pain and grief you and you family are going through.
    As you said if you don’t like it don’t read it!
    I, for one, hope that by being here out in cyberspace thinking of you and your beautiful Matilda hope that that the love and support make each day a little easier for you.

  13. Your blog posts and tweets always stop me in my tracks. They are so important and I am sure they will be helping people for years to come. Keep going. Thinking of you especially over the next few days x

  14. You shouldn’t have had to write this – you should use what little energy you have to simply function. You are living every parents worst fear and should be supported in however you decide to express your grief and survive this horrendously cruel hand life has dealt you. Please take comfort from wherever you can find it and know that even people you have never crossed paths (online or otherwise) will be praying for you and thinking about you when you say goodbye on Thursday. Stay strong xx

  15. Keep writing, keep grieving how you need. No one has the right to tell you otherwise. Honoured to be able to walk this road with you and share in your grief. We continue to pray for you and your family. X

  16. Don’t ever stop writing Jennie. Do whatever helps you the most. Your words are heartfelt and honest and I always have to stop whatever I am doing just to read them. The love you have for Matilda Mae shines brightly through your writing, if people don’t like what they read then they should simply stop. I think you are an inspiration to others and so so courageous. Please be sure that you have the support of so many people even if we have never met. You and your family are always in my thoughts. God bless Matilda Mae xx

  17. Hello Jennie, I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear Matilda Mae, your beautiful daughter. This is an amazing post. There is always, sadly, someone following behind on us on this horrible path and your words will be a source of strength and sustenance to those parents walking this road after.

    This is your grief, for your daughter, expressed in your word, in your place. And I don’t think that anybody else gets a say in that. I’m sorry that anyone had the nerve to tell you otherwise.

  18. I am so sorry to hear of your loss…to call it a loss is an understatement. A vast understatement. I do not know what to say but you express yourself however you bloody well want. Nobody will judge you, hun, nobody. Your grief is your own and you do what you want with it. So so sorry xxxxxxxx

  19. Well said Jenny, we all choose to come here and read what you have written and support you. No, i cant say i know what you are going through cause i don’t. But i do understand how writing everything down is helping you grieve so don’t stop, write away and like you say one day two of your children can read back and try to understand what has turned your world upside
    down xxxx

  20. Keep writing Jennie this is your blog and your words and your grief and you can deal with it in any way that you wish there are many who are supporting you i wish there was more taht i can do i am allways thinking of you x

  21. Jennie, you are right to keep writing, to keep telling your story. You are doing what you need to do to be as strong as you can be for Esther and William. And you are sharing your love for Matilda Mae, speaking her name, showing the world that she is and always will be a part of your family. I believe she knows and is proud of you. Everyone has a choice whether or not to read it. Like many others, I am proud to stand by your side xxxx

  22. Dear Jennie

    I am one of those who stumbled across your blog shortly after you lost your precious Matilda Mae, and I have been following it ever since. We’ve never met or corresponded before but I have been so sad for you and your family. Please don’t stop writing if it helps you through this awful time and please don’t take any notice of those who aren’t supportive. As you say there is no right or wrong way to grieve, it is a very personal thing and you need to do what is best for you. Thanks to you and Matilda, I have been hugging my daughter even more and am planning some of those wonderful activities for her that you have written about. Am thinking of you and sending all my love to you all, especially for tomorrow. Xxx

  23. Hi Jennie! I agree with all of your comments in this post. Expressing and sharing your grief in this blog in the way that you have has been incredibly important and valuable for you as you struggle to come to terms with your terrible loss. Language allows us to explore emotions and to understand feelings and hopefully ultimately to make sense of tragic experiences like losing a baby. As you say, your experience of losing your precious daughter is personal to you, but also this experience is sadly common to many others. We are all potentially vulnerable to this and therefore we can engage with what you are saying. Your blog posts on this subject over the last few weeks have provided all of us with a vivid, straight-from-the-heart insight into the rawness and pain of the grieving process and the challenges it has presented to you with respect to your beliefs and views. Life can be fragile, and it is clear from your beautifully expressed blog, that however much we try to put safeguards in place to protect our loved ones, there are some things we cannot control. Your daughter was given a lovely life in an amazing family. What else could you have done? Please keep up with the blog. It is valuable to you and to all who read it. Xxx

  24. it’s hard for me to come here and sometimes I have to skip parts of your posts. My partner tells me off every time he sees me reading you as he knows I’ll get upset. Still I have to come because I cannot help wishing you well and that one day you will find solace i life. I cannot help thinking of Matilda Mae everyday for the past month. I cannot help fear that path. It hurts every time I read your words but in a way I see you as a reference now, someone close who I wish I could hold and comfort on the darkest hours. what you are doing here is painful bot oh so beautiful.

  25. Of course you should keep writing – for as long as it helps you. Only you can know what you need and how you want to grieve. That anyone would have the callousness and total lack of thought to suggest that this is not right and that you do not have the right to grieve in whatever way you choose is outrageous. xxx

  26. Jenni I have no idea how it feels to lose a baby, especially as one as precious as your Matilda and I won’t pretend I know or understand but by me reading your blog I gain an insight, a glimpse into pain and a big understanding of grief and sadness but most of all I gain a compassion for you and any of my friends that have to walk that same path. grief loss and sadness can come at anytime, one certainty on earth is that we will all die, we will all face grief loss and sadness at some point in our lives, and no one knows how we will react or how we will deal with it and how in that pain how much we will need people and friends to stand with us. So ignore those hurtful negative comments and know that you have helped me and a lot of people understand, you have shown me that life is precious, fragile and way too short and we have to make the most of every second we have with our loved ones and our precious babies. I think you are an amazing lady and a wonderful Mummy and it is a priveledge to know you through your blog and walk with you and your precious family just for a little while, until the sun rises qagain. Will be thinking of you all so much tomorrow x x x x x

  27. Jennie, we will always stand beside you through thegreat ties gone by, and the very very worst times right now, and the times that get better. You do not need to explain or justify you will be helping so many people not only right now, in helping them to cherish their loved ones, but in the future for others who have to travel this awful path. Keep going, keep writing xx

  28. Dear Jennie I too stumbled upon your blog. I have been so so moved by the way you have talked about yor family and your precious Matilda Mae – your writing is beautiful, heartfelt and true. I cannot for the life of me understand those who have sought to criticise what you are doing, but I implore you to ignore and to carry on with whatever helps you to get through these darkest of days. I am keeping you in my thoughts and prayers, much love to you all xx

  29. You need to do whatever you need to do to cope and to continue. If it’s writing then write and ignore anyone that says otherwise. My mother lost her son, my brother, when he was 18 months old, in similar circumstances. She kept going for me, and I guess you will keep going for your children. Thinking of you x

  30. Keep waiting Jennie! You are completely right. This is your blog, your space, your grief. You are not banging on anyone’s door and invading anyone’s space. If people don’t like it they shouldn’t come here. Sending you lots of hugs xxx

  31. Dear Jennie, I only came across your blog after the loss of your little girl shook the blogging community. I haven’t commented or tweeted before as I know you have many good blogging friends who support you and I didn’t know of you before. However, when I first read about Matilda Mae I thought of you and your family all that day and even now I stop and think of you. I have no idea how I would cope with the grief of losing a child and I can’t imagine why anyone would think to criticise you. I am sure that your honest writing helps so many people out there and it makes me hold onto my little boy a bit tighter when I think of you. Tomorrow my thoughts will be on you and your family, keep writing x

  32. Dear Jennie,
    Firstly, I have to say, your darling Matilda Mae has touched my heart all the way down in Australia. I’ve never commented on any blog before but I have had yours open on my browser for the past month, too shy to comment, though wanting to every day.

    As you are going through one of the hardest days of your life, the sun had gone down in Australia and it is now the middle of the night but I cannot go to bed until I send my thoughts and support to you and I hope when you get home, this brings you some comfort…

    I fully believe your beautiful Matilda was born to be an Angel. All babies are beautiful, but there was clearly something special about your Tilda. Even in photos, something shines through that no earthly word can describe. The only words that come even close are “pure love”…a glimpse of Heaven; a reminder of what Heaven would be like.

    Your writing also characterises that same pure love. No wonder God chose you and David to borrow His special Angel for 9 months. I believe she was meant to shine through your blog to do good for the world, which she has already!

    Your writing will also be a beacon of hope for others in the future who will, in time, see that you made it through the heartbreak one day at a time. Clearly, your writing is also a gift that is able to reach and touch the hearts of many, as is the way you have always been able to capture simple moments of love with your photography and the activities that you do with your children. Yours is a special family, you are a special mummy and a very special person.

    From another Mummy on the other side of the world, holding out my arms to hold you over the miles, to buoy you with my prayers, asking God, Baby Tilda and all the other angels to wrap their love around you and comfort you and guide you each day. x

  33. Dear Jennie, I don’t know how you feel, and I hope never to experience what you have. But along with so many I have read every word you’ve written. Every word. As a community, we know you have needed us to, and so we do. I am glad that it has brought you some comfort.

    I’m amazed at some of the things you have had to write in this entry. i haven’t seen any of it, and I wonder at people sometimes.

    One thing that I and everyone here absolutely knows is that you are the epitome of dignity.

    I hope never to ‘know’ what you are going through. But if I ever have the heartbreaking misfortune, then I hope I would be able to do as you have done. And I know that your blog is one of the first places I would visit. So many will be helped through helplessness because of the eloquent, and yes, dignified way that you have expressed your grief. You have allowed close friends and strangers to share it with you and to offer words, even when none are sufficient to truly help – aside from those who have before stood in your shoes, of course.

    I’ve thought of you every day, and I’ll be thinking of you tonight and tomorrow. I hope that the funeral is everything that you want and need it to be. And in spite of my daughter’s jabs falling in the middle of it, I will be following and sending the odd tweet to commemorate your beautiful daughter, Matilda Mae.

    Christina x x x

  34. I have not experienced anything near your heartbreak and it is something that is impossible to imagine. Some days I find your posts too hard to read, the fragility of life terrifies me and I just cannot face the obvious pain you are going through. However, you are amazing for writing as you do and I am glad you are doing it and that it helps. Keep on doing what you need to do x

  35. You are incredible. Keep writing for you and for as long as it helps you and I for one will keep reading and keep praying for you, for your family, for MM. I don’t know you, I’ve never met you, but you and your family and MM are in my thoughts and prayers and in my heart xxxx

  36. I cannot know how you feel, even if this had happened to me (which it has not) I cannot possibly know how this feels for you.

    I changed my avatar on both Twitter and Facebook timelines, to show my support. This cannot change what is happening in your life…… but somehow, some way, it is a way of coping, showing that, as parents, we have been invited to share the impossible – to contemplate the loss of a child, to share a feeling of grief, to collectively come together and create a link that is visible and even overwhelming. Because in your time of grief, when everything seems impossible and nothing can change what has happened (oh God if only this were possible), you might find some solace in the knowledge that as you have shared your good times, funny times, moments of genius and practical parenting …… there are many of us that in this time with no practical advice to offer, that simply wnat you to know …… someone is still listening, watching, reading ……. and it’s not all about the good times and practical advice. Because, the day we started sharing the things we had to offer over this endless vortex of communication, we entered into a world of admitting we are not perfect parents and that it takes a community to bring up a child …. it takes a community to grieve for a child and today we can put aside all those genius moments and practical tips, all of the funny stories we are itching to tell and want to share …. today is a day to say “it’s OK to feel sad, to feel lost, to feel grief” From the bottom of my heart I am trying to reach out and feel your pain, so that you can somehow find a space, a moment or a part of you to remember all beautiful moments of Matilda Mae’s life and all the love of being a parent may rush through your very being and lift your sorrow. I wish for you a moment of solace, that as your tears flow, you will allow the happy memories to keep you strong.

  37. I totally understand where you are coming from, I too lost a baby, she was only a few hours old. The pain and grief is unbearable and very hard for others to understand or cope with. I only know that one day it will hurt a little less for you, but you will never forget your angel as I will never forget mine. My thoughts are with you x

  38. I’m sorry to have only found your blog on one of the hardest days of your life, your baby girls funeral. I am simply another mummy who finds it hard to comprehend the loss you must be feeling right now. And I want to say it’s ok. We all have to deal with what life throws in our own ways. Grief is a very personal journey. Allowing others to share in your journey, to share your emotions, and to support you along the way as best they can, makes total sense to me.

  39. You are an amazing woman, I have no doubt that your words will come as comfort or hope to someone else. It’s an unthinkable, terrible grief you are dealing with. I think you are incredible xx

  40. Crying at your words. You are so right to write. It is your right and you are incredible, helping others and yourself as you should. You are always in our thoughts and the blogging community is here for you x

  41. You keep going, we’re all with you, around you in the ether, sitting in the silence, listening to all you want to tell us. Every word will be heard, every tear mirrored and every anguish felt. We have our arms around you, just keep going.

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