One year on
And the pain is still as raw
As is if you died just yesterday
I cannot tell your story without crying
Though I proudly shout your name
I cannot bear pregnancy and baby stories
Even though I have my own to tell
I struggle with babies 9 months old
The age you will always be
Seeing a toddler the age you should be now
Feels like a punch to the stomach
A dagger through my heart
Time is no healer for me
I miss you as much now as always
I am still so furious that you died
I still don’t understand why it had to be you
I hate the me that I have become
I have lost all chance of ever being carefree
Too scared to read a book if I do not know how it ends
Running from a place where someone shares your name
Terrified of seeing babies
Afraid of being expected to coo, fuss and cuddle
I don’t know how we go on from here
I am not willing to leave you behind
I feel like I am frozen still
While the world marches on about their lives
I am in black and white
Against the multi colour of the world
And I feel so so so so alone
No one knows what it is like to be me
Not even those really close
Not even those paid to try and help
No one knows how it feels to be me
And there is no control over how I feel
I cannot pretend it is all okay
I cannot try and make it better for others
I am only just able to remember to breathe
I am only just getting through each day
I imagine people talking about me
Thinking how silly and selfish I am
But do not dare to judge me
Until you have decided after which of your children dying you would be okay
Pick one!
It does not make it okay because I am pregnant again
It does not make it okay because at least I have Esther and William
She was my daughter
Is my daughter
And will be as important and as much part of our family as the others
Until my dying day!
Do not try to compare your grief or feelings to mine
Until you have held your dead baby in your arms
Until you have loved and nurtured a baby for 9 months
To have her die in her sleep with no reason or warning
No one knows what it is like to be me
No one knows how it feels
I am in black and white
As the multi colour world turns
And everyone in it moves on
My baby will never get older
She will never have a birthday or a party
She will never walk or talk
She will never grow
My baby died
And until that has happened to you
Do not dare to think how I should live my life
I am just grateful that I am alive
Or am I?
I am alive
Hanging on by a thread
The world as you know it is poisoned when your baby dies
Nothing
And no one
Can ever be the same again
Everyone and everything marches on
Leaving me desolate, alone, behind
Oh Jennie – those of us who read your blog – we don’t know how you feel but I think we do understand. Your honest, raw, heartfelt writing helps us understand. We can only begin to imagine what you are going through but we only hold that feeling for the time we are focussing on it, we can’t imagine what it is like to live every minute of every day like that. People do not have a right to judge you or to make assumptions – you are certainly not selfish or silly. I haven’t met you but you are one of the bravest people I know of. I sometimes don’t comment because I am so afraid of saying the wrong thing, of upsetting you, of my words being misinterpreted (I hope I have never done this) – because I don’t know, I haven’t walked in your shoes – but I do try to understand xx. Please don’t feel that you are alone xx
Though I cannot know how you feel, and only you yourself can, you are not alone. You have so many who love you and are here for you, to help you try and get through each day. Thinking of you & Matilda Mae every single day. So much love, hugs and hope being sent for you xxx
I don’t know how you feel and I would never pretend to.
I know how it feels to lose someone but not a child. I can’t even begin to imagine how that feels.
There is a poem that helps me. It helps me a lot when I miss someone very very much. I’m not saying it’ll help you, but I wanted to share it with you.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
Sending love lovely Jennie xx
Much much love thoughts and prayers as always x
This post is written as though it is directed at someone you know, or as though someone has made an assumption that because you have E, W and bump that you can move on from losing Tilda.
I think of you more often than you will know – I don’t know you, but your blog and your writing will stay with me for the rest of my life. I can only even think about the edges of your grief because if I get too deep in i start to sob for you, for your loss and for how dark the world must be for you at times.
Little Tilda will always be loved and remembered – you are a fantastic Mum to all of your babies.
Thinking of you xxx
Hi Jennie I have only recently come across your story and blog via fb. I too lost my baby daughter Ellie last year to sids and though reading your words is painful it helps because I dont feel quite so alone. Am so rubbish with words at the best of times but I really struggle to even find the words for myself with what is going on in my head. Everything you say rings so true though. It is so hard to comprehend it has happened and I still think I might wake up from this nightmare. I have also read some of your posts re messy play with your gorgeous Esther and William, so inspirational (I have a 3 year old boy as well) and you should be so proud of them. For both these reasons I wish I had found your story before now. Xx
Nobody will ever know how you feel about anything because you are you. There is only one you. And the you that is here today is wonderful, bit selfish or silly. There is nothing I can say or do but I can listen and I can try to say the right things. As for understanding? I do not. I cannot. Please don’t let accusations from others bring you down. You are grieving and whatever you feel right now is right. Whatever you do is right. There are no rules and nobody that loves you expects you to do anything other than to grieve.
Xxx
Ghostwriter is right.
You are you.
We care.
And we love you and always think of Matilda Mae.
I am thinking of you always Jennie. Always. No one knows, no one really understands, but know that you are thought of by so so many. X
Jennie I am angry too. I am angry with whoever made you feel this way and I am angry that something so terrible should happen to someone as wonderful as you. What Suzanne said is right. You are not selfish or silly. You are grieving in the only way you can, the way which is right for you. You don’t have to do anything differently. You can still be thankful for all your other children without it making the slightest difference to your feelings for Tilda. How could it? Please try not to listen to those who are telling you how to do it. Do it your way. We love you. We care about you. We are here. You don’t have to change a thing. Just keep being you xxxxxx
Sending love and strength as always, and thinking of your beautiful Matilda Mae. Xxxx
You are never alone. Sometimes, to be alone would be preferable to having to fake it through with people every day. However much people claim to understand, you know they don’t, but that doesn’t mean nobody does. I met a lady who is 80 and lost a child as you did, who still cries to talk of her baby.
Infant loss is generation defying, taboo, culturally ignored, and ever present below the surface of more people than the untouched would ever want to know.
You’re never alone, not that it’s a comfort.
Keep going x
“I imagine people talking about me
Thinking how silly and selfish I am…”
WOAH… In all the parallel Universes that might exist, I cannot imagine one where anyone could think this of you! If they do, I would think they are not worthy of one second of your thought energy…
I really hope you’re OK, darling Jennie. This week seems to be throwing up some really difficult, tumultuous feelings in one go, whether it’s a natural post-one year anniversary emotional stage or dealing with pregnancy confusing emotions and grief all wrapped up in one, or whether it’s just that organic, natural time of your grieving journey for it to manifest like this right now, I don’t know and it doesn’t matter why, it just is what is. Hold on, hold on, don’t judge yourself, I promise we’re not… Love you and can’t wait to see you on 1st March. xxx
You are not silly or selfish I cannot stand the idea of someone, anyone implying that you are. None of us can understand. Not even those who have lost their own child would understand exactly how you feel to have lost Matilda Mae. This is your path and you walk it your way. I would never judge you for how you chose to grieve your daughter. I have zero time, tolerance or understanding for those who do xxx
There are days I feel a brightness in you, days I can sense you are uplifted. Today is not one of those days. Grieve when you need to grieve. It is very healthy that you let it all out. I can’t in a million years begin to imagine how you feel, and I don’t even try to, as I am not strong enough to carry the burden that you do. We are built to have good and bad days. I hope you feel stronger tomorrow. Much much love. I apologise if my excitement about your rainbow, meant I was here for the good times and not the bad. I will rectify that now.
Be strong. Liska xxxx
I could never ever imagine how you feel each day, how you get through each day.
I can try to empathise, but it would never even compare to how you truly feel.
I worked with a lady many years ago and we became friends. She sadly lost her 2nd baby half way through her pregnancy due to a heart condition. I tried to empathise with her – and she told me that having a miscarriage does no way compare to her loss. Sadly when I became pregnant with Abigail she cut me off completely. She was right though, the loss I feel does not even come close to the loss you deal with day in day out.
I am so sorry xxx
Hi Jennie
I have been following your blog for some time now and your post today resonates with me strongly. I felt I had to post.
You are right, no one knows exactly how you are feeling, no one, unless they have lost a baby girl, at exactly the same age from SIDS, could even have a clue of the pain you are going through.
The only reason I can say that is because seven months ago we lost our third child, at a day old. I often feel lonely even in a room of people. I feel that people no longer understand me. I can tell them how I feel and then they come out with platitudes, or stories of people they’ve known who’ve lost children years ago, but are ‘ok’ now. Or tell me how time heals. (One of the worst, worst, worst sayings ever). I now often tell people that they don’t have to say anything. Just listen. To me. I don’t need answers. Nothing you say will make me feel better. Let me grieve my child. This is a lifetime journey that I alone can make.
The most painful thing I find is that some of the comments hurt so much, they sting and tear me apart, destroying my paper thin skin already. When that happens it leaves me unable to face people. I now suffer from a kind of social anxiety, I guess. The once familiar is now estranged from me and I’ll never be able to find ‘me’ again.
Do you find that people look at you, as if to expect you to be able to get on with it now? That they expect you to smile, carry on, chin up? Even close family members expect me to do the things I once did, and when I tell them it’s very hard for me, the reply is “but the more you do it, the more it will be easier”. Easier said than done. Then when I try and tell them how I feel, it is as if I am being dramatic.
Oh Jennie, I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling, your love and grief for Matilda Mae are so unique (and so they should be) but from a fellow bereaved mother to another, I am here and I am listening.
I’m sorry if that doesn’t make much sense, but sometimes words don’t adequately describe the enormity of emotions….
Love to you xxx
Dear Jennie. There are no words and you are right, I can’t understand – nobody can. But I believe you must do whatever you can do to get by. There isn’t a right way to be for your circumstances.There can’t be. Please protect yourself from anybody who says or implies you should be doing anything differently. Sending you hope and strength, from one loving mummy to another xx