Love Letter (Capture Your Grief Project - Day 23)

Dear Freddie,

You are my only true love and you are my proudest creation. I know a mother is always biased but you were the most perfect baby I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon. 

I love the way your skin was so soft and smelt of that beautiful newborn smell. I love your hair, how the midwife said "it's strawberry blonde!" but really it's a light brown. A perfect blend of mine and Mattie's. I love the way it's tufty on the top but thicker and curly at the back. I love your face. I could write that sentence 1000 times over. Your little button nose, your furry little eyebrows and your chubby cheeks I would have never stopped kissing. Your mouth is my favourite thing about you, it is so perfect and pouty, again it was a gift from your Daddy. I love how grumpy you looked, it always made me laugh. I love your beautiful hands and how perfectly they fit into mine. I love your funny little, well actually not so little, feet and your squashed little toe, I love that it made you special.

I wish I could talk about your eyes, I bet they would be big like mine but blue like Mattie's.

I wish I could have heard your voice, that scream I waited 9 months for but it never came.

I love you so very much Freddie Richard Jenkins. I will never love another more than you and I will never stop loving you.

Do I Not Deserve To Have Another Baby?

It's been 4 months tomorrow since I've been trying for a second baby. Nothing. I know to many 4 months is a drop in the ocean in terms of trying to conceive but to me it's a lifetime. Freddie was conceived after one month (and I was on the pill) which makes this length of time even harder to accept.

I don't understand why my body won't allow it. I don't seem to understand much anymore actually. I don't understand why people that are unhealthy can have babies at the click of their fingers and I can't. I don't understand why people that don't even want children can have them with ease and I can't. I feel like a child recently. Constantly complaining that everything is "unfair" or asking Mattie "why am I not allowed?". I feel pathetic. I've become one of those miserable people that thinks the world is against them. I would just like to add at this point that telling someone who has lost a baby, "at least you know you can get pregnant" is quite honestly, stupid. I had one baby, and I lost him. I am not guaranteed to have another, it is not a given. And I find that so very painful. What if he was it? My one chance to have a baby? And my body failed him. I let my one chance at happiness die and leave me. I don't know that I can get pregnant whenever I want, and right now the evidence would suggest otherwise. What I do know is that I can lose a baby. And no matter how many children I have in the future (if I have anymore) I will still be waiting for them to die. I might cling onto the hope that they'll be OK and that I'll get to watch them live but there will always be that nasty, painful feeling that I'm going to lose them.

All I want right now is to be pregnant, to be given the opportunity to prove to myself that I can give birth to a live baby. To be given the chance to hear that cry when they're born.

I held a baby for the first time since Freddie was born yesterday. She was the sweetest little thing and she made my heart ache so much, for Freddie and for another baby. And she left me thinking that maybe I just don't deserve a baby. Maybe I would be a bad mother. I don't think I would be; I've always loved children and I love them so much. I always played with dolls as a child and people often commented how natural my maternal instincts were. I always believed I was born to be a mother. I never really wanted to go to University like my friends. I was tempted but all I really wanted to do was "settle down". I wanted to find someone who wanted a family and a house and a dog even from the age of 18. When I fell pregnant with Freddie my mum asked "did you want to get pregnant?" I said no but of course I did. Even though I was on the pill and I wasn't actively trying, I would have loved a baby.

I've done bad things in my life, I've made mistakes but I just can't think of something I've done that's so terrible, terrible enough to mean that I don't deserve a child, to be pregnant. People murder, abuse and mistreat other human beings and they can still have children? Why?

I'm in a strange place right now. I'm settled with Olive, with our new house, with how my relationship is now, with friends... I'm doing well. I'm getting through life, one day at a time. But at the same time there's an underlying level. A feeling of angst and frustration. Mostly aimed towards myself and partially aimed towards the world.

I'm not saying having a baby will make it all go away, it won't clean my slate so that it's shining and new, but it'll give me a feeling of peace, of acceptance. It'll dull the feelings that currently eat away at me.

I wish this was a more optimistic and cheerful post but I can't pretend my life is a picnic, I can't pretend that losing a baby isn't a big deal and I can't pretend that trying for a second is easy. It's hard. it's really fucking hard and it's even harder when your body won't co-operate.

Grief.

Is My Body Giving Up On Me?

Another moaning and miserable post, shock! I honestly don't know what is going wrong with my body currently. I feel as if slowly but surely it's just shutting itself down like an old computer. Bit by bit, I'm breaking and I feel eventually I'll just switch off altogether.

Initially, I was so surprised at how well my body was recovering from giving birth. I had no tears so no stitches were needed and the bleeding stopped after 5 weeks, right on track. My periods began again, with only a 5 day late window. So far so good. My body slowly shrank back to almost my pre-baby body size. I still needed to tone up but I could fit back into my size 10 jeans after a week. My boobs probably took the longest to settle. I was still producing milk after a month and had to wear breast pads all day and a sports-bra to bed. Eventually they settled and give or take a few stretch marks (I went from an A/B cup to almost an E) they're back to normal. We were given the green light to start trying again from both my doctor and consultant so we did. Everything seemed to return to normality, or as normal as life can be nowadays, and my body was doing just fine.

Then came the back pain. It started in the last month of pregnancy with Freddie. The place I work for are honestly nasty people when it comes to pregnant women. It's nothing against the people I work for, they're fantastic. But the company needs to seriously change how pregnant women are treated. I was heavily pregnant and on my feet for 8 hours, with a 45 minute break. I wasn't able to sit at the till and had to always be busy...tidying, cleaning, fixing displays etc. I was at breaking point by my last shift and my back has paid the price. For the first month or two when Freddie was born the pain went and I thought it had gone for good. But it has suddenly returned and it's worse than before. I've tried yoga, exercise, long walks, changing posture but it's still there. An acute ache. To top that off, I think my wisdom teeth are coming through. I've had really painful jaw ache and my glands are the size of golf balls. Luckily this pain isn't constant and only seems to flare up in the evening and is quickly solved with a paracetamol and a cup of hot tea (how stereo-typically British is that!).

My most worrying issue at the moment is my period. Or rather, lack of it. It is now 2 weeks late. The latest it normally arrives, as mentioned earlier, is 5 days. And yes, I've taken a pregnancy test *5 to be exact* and no, I'm not pregnant. I know stress can alter your cycle but I've actually had a relatively stress free month. I've taken pre-natal vitamins, I've started fertility meditation (thank you Olivia if you're reading!) and I'm exercising and eating better that before I was pregnant. So I'm at a total loss. I've never had a period this late before, well apart from when I was pregnant. It's not like I'm even willing it not to come. If anything I do want it to come so I can get on with trying again. This just isn't like me at all and now it's starting to bother me. I don't know whether to go to the Doctors or whether they'll just dismiss it (like they always do). I don't want to go back on the pill to regulate them either.

Has anyone else experienced something like this or can anyone recommend something?

Normalizing Grief (Capture Your Grief Project - Day 12)

The first thing to clear up is that there is no path of "normailty" with grief. There is no set steps of grief. Grief cannot be put into a category as grief is different for everyone. You can't compare someone grieving the loss of a parent to the loss of a baby or the grief of a pet to the loss of a friend. You just can't. Look around you, everyone is totally different so why should we be expected to grieve the same? I remember trawling the internet when Freddie first died. I didn't know how to grieve. I wanted to know how I should be behaving. All I found were "The Five Steps Of Grief". Aka the biggest load of shit ever. Chances are, at some point you will feel those emotions. But definitely not in that order and almost certainly not one at a time.

I couldn't find a picture that showed how grief is for me. So I wrote about what it feels like, for me anyway. It's not particularly well written but I just wanted to get it out in it's most raw form otherwise it wouldn't be true to my feelings. Anyway, here it is. My grief in a very small and in a no way totally exclusive nutshell.

The Island 

Grief is a really hard place to find yourself in. It's like you've been shipped to a totally foreign island. No one there speaks your language. Sometimes a passer by might try to understand you but eventually they give up and walk away because they just can't get it. They can't understand you because they don't come from the same place. You're trying to find your way around this island but you have no map so you're totally lost. You wander in a confused daze while everyone around you carries on their day. Even worse, you don't know your destination. Everyday you try and concentrate on "where am I going?". You never find the answer so you just carry on, aimless. And this island is noisy, so noisy. There are voices constantly ringing through your ears and you don't know if those voices are yours or someone else's. You can't ever turn them down or shut them off so you can't ever sleep, not properly. When you go back to continuing your pointless journey you're exhausted and you can't tell anyone because they can't understand you. Maybe sometimes you find a fragment of a map and you think you're going to be okay only for it to be blown away by the wind or for someone to snatch it from you. Your hope is constantly taken from you in one form or another. Maybe sometimes someone offers you a tissue once in a while to dry your tears but then they leave when the tears don't stop. You hope that one day a map will arrive for you and you'll know your destination. You hope that maybe one day someone will arrive and they'll be able to speak your language. At times that hope is so very strong and you try to hold onto it with all your might. But at other times the hope drifts away and you let it because you're tired and you're broken.

I'm not sure if grief will ever truly be normalized. We accept that people grieve and we try to help as best we can but there's only so much a person can do when they aren't feeling that same feeling. As a person that is grieving I think that's something we have to accept. Unfortunately, we aren't designed to take on another person's emotions and feelings. We can sympathize, we can try to help but we can't read minds. We can't absorb grief, even though we wish we could if it meant we could fully understand or half the pain of a loved one. That's one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn about the grieving process. You can't force someone to understand, nor can you expect them to. That's just how grief works. It's never going to change so I had to.

Trying To Conceive Again

Ugh. I wish I could just end the post there. I think that sums up nicely how I feel about this. Just ugh. I'm fed up of "trying" already and it's only been 3 months. A fellow bereaved mumma recently informed me that on average it takes a woman nine months of trying to get pregnant. I was honestly shocked. Freddie was a happy accident. He wasn't planned but so dearly loved and so very much wanted. I got pregnant so quickly AND whilst on the pill. So now that we are actively trying and waiting for that big fat positive, it feels like we've entered a time warp. It feels like all I do is wait to get pregnant. 

One thing I am sick of is being told to "stop trying". I don't get that, I really don't. As children we are constantly being told to "always try your hardest". Then when you're older and you try at something, you're told to stop. It's very easy for someone who has had a succession of happy pregnancies and no problem getting pregnant to say this, but it's not as easy for the person receiving the information to accept. 

It's honestly all I think about these days. I downloaded 3, yes you heard me THREE fertility apps on my iPhone. I diligently log my information with them daily and follow their advice religiously. I should go for a run whilst eating an avocado? Done. I should bathe in a pool of goats milk? OK, sure. *Please note none of these actually improve fertility...I don't think anyway*. I've recently ordered myself vitamins to help with conception and I've started gymnastics in order to get myself back to full health. I want this, so much.

I feel like I should just say that my desire for a baby is in no way me trying to replace Freddie. That's totally impossible and has never been my intention. He was my first son. I will never get that back, ever. But I do so desperately want to fill the emptiness in my arms and in my heart. I am a mother and I want to be able to mother. There's only so much love my dog will accept! It's what I'm here for, I know it and I feel it. Even when I was little, I spent hours playing with my dolls. Caring for them, dressing, washing and feeding. All of it. I have 3 younger siblings and I loved helping my mum look after the youngest two. I was shocked when I went to a pregnancy class and found out so many new mums-to-be hadn't ever changed a nappy in their lives! Motherhood is something that has always come so naturally to me and now I'm having to fight to have that opportunity. It is so very unfair.

Trying to conceive is also seriously testing my patience. I'm currently at a loss. I tested early and got a negative so waited patiently for my period to arrive. A week after it was due and it still isn't here. I tested again and got yet another negative. I feel like my body is mocking me. I just want my period to arrive so I can go again but it's just not happening. 

So that's where I am with trying to conceive again. Essentially, I am no where. I'm starting to lose hope. I know that having a bicornuate uterus can affect conecption and I'm starting to wonder if that was it. My one chance to have a baby and now it's gone. I'm trying to stay positive, I'm trying not to "try" too hard, I'm trying to not stress but it's so hard. It's almost impossible when the only thing you want in life seems out of reach.

Little Baby

I haven't written poetry since I was in Year 8 and I won a poetry competition at school. I had to get up in front of the whole school and shake some rugby player's hand. I was totally mortified and it's clearly scarred me as I haven't written anything since. I don't really know why I felt so inspired to write this tonight but whilst Mattie played Fifa 16 *yawn* it just spilled out of me. I can imagine my English teacher tutting over my shoulder; it's hardly written well but it's real. It's raw and it's from the heart which is really what poetry is all about. Feel free to take it, share it or use it...I know it applies to so many of us.