I know it is going to be a bad day when I wake up and forget she is dead
I am lying in the exact position I was when Matilda would have been beside me
Looking up at me with adoring beautiful eyes
I try to claw the day back
But it never works
My heart is broken anew as I tell myself to stop being stupid
I cannot feel her warmth beside me
My daughter is dead
Then Esther will wake and start whining
Every sound she makes grates on me
William wakes and starts to cry
Seems my children are having a rough start to the day too
On my bad days I am no comfort to them
I struggle to have them near me
Every touch burns
Rough tough toddler skin
All I want is my soft, smooth baby.
The tears scald my cheeks
I cannot stop them falling
What kind of terrible mother am I?
I am so wrapped up in my own self pity.
My own grief.
I feel irritated.
Angry.
Cheated.
Disgusted.
And so achingly desperately sad.
Why me?
Why my baby?
What is it we have done that is so so wrong?
When a mother loses a baby
She does not just lose the baby
She loses part of herself
And part of her ability to love and trust others
She loses heart and soul
She loses the ability to function in a normal way
Because nothing is normal for me anymore.
I feel broken beyond all repair.
It has been four and a half months.
And I am nowhere.
Grief is ever present.
And the happier you pretend to be in the daylight
The tighter it grips you in the dark
The stronger it holds you when you are on your own
And there is no one left to pretend for.
Grief is cruel and unforgiving.
It does not care if you are trying to chat to friends, drive your car, care for the children you still have living
It sees you vulnerable and it takes you down.
Grief is uncontrollable.
It fights you and you fight back, but it, grief, always wins.
And when you give in and accept it and allow it in
In the hope it will make you feel better.
The crashing crushing waves just make you feel worse.
I look at myself
And I see a tiny girl curled up in a ball in a dark dark room
Wishing for a streak of light
To show her a way
To give her some clue of what she is supposed to do now.
A tiny abandoned girl
Lost in a labyrinth of loss and loneliness and darkest despair
Wishing that she could find a way to make this whole sorry nightmare go away
And bring her baby back.
If I could I would take that tiny scared little girl
A tiny flickering flame
I would wrap my arms around her
And hold her and let her cry
And I would make sure she knew that though things will never be the same again
There will be something in the future
To make her smile
That in the midst of this suffocating darkness
There will be soon a glimmer of hope.
And one day she will see her baby again.
And it will be wonderful.
And she must hold on to that.
Because no matter how dark or cruel or cold the world around her
There is always that.
I miss you and love you so so much Matilda Mae x I don’t know how to be without you x
Sending endless love and hugs x
I am so sorry for your loss. Matilda-Mae was so beautiful, her eyes were amazing. I can’t imagine what it must be like and I know no words will be of comfort but I felt compelled to leave a comment as your words touched me deeply. Heaven has another little angel to watch over you. She will always be in your heart, keeping her spirit alive.
My sincere condolences and hugs to you xo
Huge hugs x
Jennie I am so sorry for you your grief is normal it takes to long a time to move forward. You are doing so well x
You’re writing bring tears to my eyes and I wish I could share your grief. You are a wonderful mother to William and Esther and don’t ever doubt that they feel any different.
Matilda Mae was a gorgeous little baby and she is an equally lovely cherub in heaven – with angels to take care of her.
Lots of hugs
I know it doesn’t help at all, but I am crying with you as I read this. It is the most unutterably crushing thing that can happen to a mother. One day you will meet again, face to face, radiant and glorious, and she will be able to show you around heaven like a pro. Until then there will be some very dark times, like today. xxxx
Thinking of you as always x
Love and hugs to you Jennie xxxx I’m so so sorry xxxx
I know that nothing I say will ever change things, or make things better. This is one of the most movingly beautiful things I have ever read and I wish so much that it just wasn’t true. I wish I could help. What kind of mother are you? One who loves all of her children very much but one who is struggling. And that is ok. That is understandable. You don’t need to do all of this alone.
xxxxx
Such an amazingly powerful post, Jennie. It’s heartbreaking. I’ve never read words like it but then, I’ve never had a friend go through losing a 9 month old baby. It’s not self pity, it’s grief. It’s a powerful thing and this post describes it perfectly. I wish every day that I could do something to help you. Sending you all the love in the world as I really don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry xx
Jennie,
This post breaks my heart, having been there I completely understand the emotion in this post.
Have you had any counseling? There are trained befrienders at the Lullaby Trust that you are able to talk to. The befrienders are all bereaved parents that can go some way to understanding how you feel.
I am not a befriender with LT but if you do want to talk to a parent that can begin to understand your pain I am happy to let you have my phone number for a chat.
Take care of yourself.
Louise
xx
Think of you often, so sorry…. so unfair. Nothing I can say but can’t read something like this and run 🙁 xxx
Jennie, on days like this call in the reinforcements, pass on Esther and William to grandparents, friends and let yourself grieve. Walk and cry and drive down to the beach on your own, sit watching the waves pound, the rain and wind battering you.
…even if these days happen often, eek out the space for yourself. It’s ok to claim that time, for it is investment in your and the children’s future.
I don’t think you can ever make sense of the WHY?, but you will learn to cope, to carry on…in time. It is by allowing yourself to give in, feel the immense depth of that loss that you will eventually be able to find that flicker of light.
I believe that you will be with her one day, with my brain, my heart AND my soul, even my DNA resonates this belief like they used to say, “I feel it in my bones”. I don’t know if it helps at all that someone else believes too, not because they want to or they must, but just because they do… X x x
Jennie, grief it’s that huge river that takes you out of your depth and makes you feel like you’re drowning. It overwhelms you. But Jennie we are all here for you trying to keep your head above the water, paddling away until we can get you to the shore, til you are safe. Matilda Mae will be forever missed, forever yearned for but things ease with time. There will always be times when that huge wave of grief hits you again but knowing that it does subside gets you through it. Hugs and a handhold. X
Jennie, If I could, I would wrap you in my arms and hold you, but since I’m on the other side of the world, please tell David to do it for me 🙂 Then close your eyes, have a cry, then picture this:
All of your friends, family, online friends and followers holding out towards you
A tiny flickering flame
We all want to make sure you know that though things will never be the same again
There will be something in the future
To make you smile
That in the midst of this suffocating darkness
There will be soon a glimmer of hope.
And one day you will see your baby again.
And it will be wonderful.
And you must hold on to that.
Because no matter how dark or cruel or cold the world around you
There is always that.
And in 70 or so years time when we are all in heaven together, we will all be around you and you will be beaming! With your angel in your arms! And we will be saying, “See?!”
And in the meantime, your clue as to what to do next is this. You need to somehow get some rest. Grief is exhausting and so is raising twin toddlers! You’re doing BOTH! (And have been for 4 and a half months). You must be burnt out! How do you get rest with twin toddlers? Take people up on their offers! When they say, “let me know if there’s anything I can do”, they really and truly mean it! People are good and they really want to be able to help by sharing some of your burden. Take them up on it and ask them to sit with E&W for a couple of hours while you take a nap (or at least a bath or a walk or a movie). Accepting help is the first strength which will allow some rest and further strengthening which will then allow other moments of amusement, love and beauty to pop up and begin to warm your heart, and gradually and slowly, your sun will begin to shine again. Then one day, when you least expect it, you will find yourself in a state of peace that you will recognise as a glimmer of happiness. You may even momentarily feel a twinge of guilt when it happens but then, you will just as quickly, realise that that is how Matilda would want you to be-her happy Mummy. You will get through this. It may not seem like it now but I promise, you will get through this.
Sending hugs and flickering flames xx
You are very much in my thoughts. Sending you peace and comfort. X.
I think this is one of the most heartbreaking posts I have ever read, I’ve tears streaming down my face-but nothing compared to yours. Although I don’t know you in ‘real life’ I wish I could give you a big hug, hold your hand and show you the light. You are not a bad mother at all, you are grieving for your perfect little girl, and the twins are at a challenging where they like to make themselevs heard and try to push boundaries (if they are anything like my son anyway)age too which can’t help. Thinking of you xxx
So so sorry Jennie, thinking of you and sending you much love xxx
No words. Just hugs and kisses xxx
The love you feel for Baby Tilda resonates so strongly in all your writing, your posts are literally bursting with love for her. You are an amazing, inspirational mother. You filled Tilda’s life with love and happiness and the closeness of her family. She’s always with you, you made her. She’s in the DNA of every single cell in your body, you can’t be separated. Be kind to yourself, 4 and a half months is no time at all. xx
I think of you everyday and wish there were something that I could do
Sending lots of love and hugs xx
Heartbreaking. If there was only something I could do to take away the pain and bring her back to you I would do it in a heartbeat, you have been dealt the cruelest blow and my heart breaks for you every day you are without your beautiful daughter. Don’t be too hard on yourself, you need time to grieve and to be selfish (which you’re not by the way!) and to get lost in your thoughts – it’s just tough that you’re trying to do that while also being a mummy to your twins. Big hugs xxx