‘We don’t know what the body count is yet’
This quote from The West Wing is playing heavily on my mind at the moment.
People think that life is getting better for us now.
The more that time marches on the better we must be.
Time is a healer, so they say.
But for me, for us, I think some of our darkest days may still be to come
We do not know what they body count is yet
When a baby dies
Your world changes forever
You change forever
How you view the world and people in it changes forever
There is no going back after a baby has died
You cannot make things right again
There is just no way
No matter how many people wish it could be so
Instead you plod on slowly
Forwards into the unknown
You have days when you believe you might be okay
And days when you are floored by fear and hatred, anger and sadness
There are days when you question your relationships
Some friendships strengthen
Others fall away
Some family bonds are damaged
Others made stronger as the time passes
No one truly understands how you feel
Only a few are even willing to try
People make concessions for a little while
But they soon forget as their own happy, busy lives rush on
Meanwhile we are still reeling
Fights and arguments over silly things
Emotional outbursts by day
Terrifying dreams at night
Toddlers scared that they they too will go away
That we might go away and never come back
A family trying to function without it’s heart
Panic attacks, tantrums, struggling to breathe
Up in the night with a terrified son
Wondering if he will be the next one
We don’t know what the body count is yet
One 9 month old baby
Fell asleep and died
One newly conceived baby
Also gone to the sky
Too much pain and anger
Too much fear and rage
For a mother and father to cope with
Let alone toddlers of their age
Who knows what the damage will be
The total repercussions caused by death
How much counselling, therapy, play
What will it take to get through each day
Time is not a healer
Not in this case
We are finding new hurting
With each new day
Another event to get through
Without our baby girl
Separation anxiety
Fear of being alone
Scared of being the next one
Frightened people will die and be gone
On the outside we are all coping
We laugh we smile we play
But all of us are struggling
To make it through some days
All of us are struggling
To sleep well in bed at night
Time is not a healer
When a baby dies
The future is uncertain
How will we turn out to be?
Can we survive this all together?
Will one of us turn and flee?
Can we keep hold of the friendships?
That we so desperately need
Or is it best to let them go
If they cannot understand how we feel?
Every day brings questions
Brings problems and challenges new
And sometimes when your baby has died
You just don’t know what to do
You end up standing silent
Tears rolling down your face
You look at the people around you
And wonder would they cope in my place?
You want to scream and shout and rage
I am hurting, so badly
It does not go away
We are hurting
Our family five
Especially the ones
That are still alive
We are hurting, we are crying
We’ve all died a little inside
Time is not healing our pain away
It just makes it easier for us to hide
Easier for us to stay away
Keep ourselves to ourselves, together
Because we are all that we truly now have
We must protect one another forever
I think we have done the best we can to protect
Our children, our family, our friends
But it keeps going round and round in my mind
We don’t know the body count yet.
I just don’t know what to say, but I couldn’t pass by without saying something. I check your blog every day. Sometimes someone will look at my screen over my shoulder and without exception all will say, “what a beautiful baby, who is she?” and I tell them her story. I see things in the shops decorated with stars and I think of Matilda Mae. Sometimes I light a candle for your family. I can’t be the only one who cares silently. Who has never met you but who cares. Matilda Mae has touched many more hearts than you might imagine. You are all held in many people’s hearts Jennie. (((((hugs)))))
I’ve no idea if you have had this already/if you even want to, but do they do a grief counselling for the whole family anywhere near you? It’s horrible to think that the twins are worried that they will go too, must be so heartbreaking for you and David to see. Thinking of you xx
It must be utterly heart breaking when you can see the effects on the twins. Sending lots of love and hugs, I know, useless to the situation but know that people are thinking of you and the whole family xxx
This is such a powerful sad post. The impact on the twins must be heartbreaking to deal with never mind your own grief. I don’t know what to say, Jennie, to make it better. I know I can’t say anything. I know that the only thing that would make it better is to have Tilda back in your arms again. I also know that behind every smile, every email, every tweet you are in searing pain and it pains me to know what you have been through and what you have yet to face. All I can do is send my love to you. Now and always xx
I doubt many people would be coping in your place. You really are doing the best you can in the face of such heartbreak. I cannot imagine how horrendous it must be to see the twins frightened and confused, on top of your own pain.
You don’t have to do anything to keep my friendship. I know can’t possibly understand what you are going through, and I know I sometimes do or say the wrong thing. But I hope that at least by saying and doing something, you know I’m here and always thinking of you, and all 3 of your beautiful children. Love always xxx
Every time I read your blog Jennie my heart breaks for you but this post especially so. Thinking of you always xxx
I cannot even begin to imagine how utterly awful you must feel, every day. Your words give a sense of it, and my heart breaks for you – for all of you, but we cannot truly know. You are doing an amazing job helping the twins to cope but it is impossible to protect them completely. Have you considered one of the charity’s like Winstons’ Wish that help bereaved children? Time will not heal the loss, you will feel it every day – how could you not? But I hope that you will somehow find a way to live with the new reality you have been thrown into, without it hurting quite so much – and this is what time will hopefully eventually help with. But it is such early days – and you have all the ‘firsts’ to contend with in the coming weeks and months. One breath at a time is all you can do. My heartfelt hugs xx
Time is not a healer, time lots of time is maybe a diluter, but not yet maybe not ever.
She is gone and that’s so wrong.
The only thing I do know that through what you are doing the body count is reducing.
You are saving lives with the money and awareness you are raising.
Maybe we will never know the impact Matida Mae has had.
But you are amazing you are using your grief for the greater good, and as painful and as hard as that is, you are doing great things, not in spite of grief, but because of it.
And that’s a very powerful thing.
I always begin my comments saying “I cannot imagine..” and I can’t. It’s just a given.
What I do know is that you are passing on your strength, character and love to your children. They will ALWAYS know and love Matilda Mae, and they will claw their strength from you both xxx
You write so beautifully and your words truly express your pain. I just wish that I could ease it and make it better for you. I am sending you love and strength always.
I have no words Jennie. I always say ‘I can’t imagine…’ because you can’t physically begin to even comprehend or understand. But I couldn’t read this post and not say that Matilda Mae has affected me more than I ever thought so. We have only met a few times but your story is one that has made me question so many things about the world and my parenting. I can’t begin to even slightly imagine what it is like for you, and your family, and how you begin to carry on with life with all those feelings, worries and memories. This comment is rambling and not making sense. But I just couldn’t read this and then not tell you how much I think of you. Which is probably not comforting in the slightest but I know so many that do too. x