One year ago to the day my heart was ripped out of my body along with my second child. It has felt like the longest year of my life, emotionally. It has changed me irrevocably. I can no longer return to the care free person I was before. My positive attitude has been chipped away and replaced by a cynical one. I carry this sadness with me now wherever I go. The tiniest thing to someone else can be a huge deal to me and I’m right back to that night, exactly one year ago.

I remember it was about half way through the year and Stuart was struggling to cope with how distant I had become. I had tried so hard to hold it together for everyone that I didn’t realise that that was in fact just as bad as letting it all out. He didn’t expect me to still be battling hard with it all and that isn’t his fault. There isn’t a right way or a wrong way to grieve through something you have never experienced before.

He was telling me about how he was feeling and I just broke down. I had cried about it in front of him before but this was different. It was the kind of crying that no other person should witness of another. I screamed at him, couldn’t he see that if I let it all out then this is what would happen. This wailing, blubbering, snotty mess was how I felt inside, all of the time and I was afraid that once I had started it was never going to stop. I was physically exhausted from having to hold it all in, which was my choice. I thought that that is what I needed to do in order to still be the best mother I could to Ivy.

The other morning I was sat on the couch with my little girl on my knee while she watched some cartoons. Her curly hair brushing my cheek smelled so lovely of lavender and soap. It was one of those perfect, hazy moments where you realise how lucky you are. Only I knew how lucky I was but I also felt like the world was so unfair. All I could feel was this immense sadness and it came rolling down my cheeks and Ivy looked at me and said “oh, mama cryin’?” and well that just made it worse. I told her I was sorry but that mummy couldn’t hide it this morning.

I still don’t know what set me off then but it made me realise that grief doesn’t end. It creeps up on you even in the most perfect of moments. When you go through something so gut wrenching, it makes you feel like you are torn in two. You’re a walking juxtaposition. One half of you so grateful while the other half is cursing the world. Outside you are smiling but inside you are screaming. Some days I feel like I am okay, like I am holding it together, other days I feel like I am walking around in a daze and then there are the days that get so dark that I can’t ever see a way forward.

Not only do I feel this grief but I struggle with it. Some days I know I have the right to grieve this loss but other days I just don’t know. What am I grieving? The tiny blob that went circling down the plug in our bath? The tiny blob that contained all of our hopes and dreams for the future? The tiny blob that was our second child? Every time I write a post about it or mention my miscarriage to friends or family I feel like they’re thinking “oh this again?”. Or they think I am so ungrateful because I have a healthy child. What they don’t realise is that that is why I feel the way I do. I know what could have become of that tiny blob because I have a living one to compare it to.

Then there are the days when I feel jealousy, which is an emotion that I hate. So when I feel this emotion, I genuinely hate myself. I can’t look at pregnant women or women pushing brand new babies around in their pristine buggy’s without thinking that that should have been me.  I don’t always feel this way towards them, a couple of my friends have recently had babies and I have been to see them and I have held them and I can honestly say in those moments I am genuinely happy for them. It is in my darkest days that the jealousy rears its ugly head.

Honestly, I do have more good days than bad days and in those moments, I am proud of the person I have become because I went through this traumatic thing and even though I am still living it, I am making it through. It has made me stronger and it has made me appreciate the little things a lot more. I won’t ever take life for granted because I know how quickly it can all be taken away.

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Posted by:ivyandiblog

Mother. Partner. Blogger. Coffee addict (show me a mother who isn't!)

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