My new life

I have a new life now. I didn’t choose it or want it but I have it.

My child not yet 7 years old has experienced loss before. He’s been to funerals and we’ve always been very open and honest about death. So much so he openly asks questions without fear and to date has never expressed fear he will die. He’s never experience grief. Sure he loved those who passed but there wasn’t any profound connection.

Then he lost his sister. He didn’t know her as such, he’d never seen her face to face. He never actually felt her alive not like I did. Yet he grieves. He worries about love, about me, about how my sadness affects him. He tries to make me feel better saying he saw Elva (her grave) and he’s seen ladybirds.

Yet he’s naughty. He tests our boundaries more and more. You could say he’s acting normal yet I know he’s not. He’s closer to Leif for one he still enjoys winding him up maybe when he feel angry or hurt but he does it less and less some days. They hug a lot more and Jem goes to great effort to make Leif laugh. In turn Leif hugs Jem more. If he’s hurt he will accept Jem’s comfort and he’s more easy going with Jem’s full on attitude. They seem to be appreciating each other.

Jem expressed yesterday on Elva’s 4 week birth date he misses her. He’s asked for a picture of her to go in his room and he enjoys going to see her. He still asks if we will have another and has accepted the answer of yes.

As an adult you can’t deal with this alone, you can’t comprehend or understand why this has happened. Yet we feel a child can? When you’re young it’s more black and white but you still have feelings. Jem loves Elva and he misses her. For him that’s difficult how can you love and miss someone you never really knew. Love works mysteriously. As a result I’ve self referred us all for counselling because Jem needs more than we know how to give right now.

It feels wrong I’m referring my child for counselling something which I’d never encountered till my adult years.

I struggle to go out even 4 weeks on. I’ve not been anywhere on my own yet but I’ve been out to appointments and I cry every time. I see clothes I like that I thought I couldn’t wear this year but the rate I’m going I probably could. I don’t want to.

I read a book that said the only time a dad got to walk his daughter up the aisle was in a box. I felt my world crash once more. I realised I’d never feel better. The first year may be the hardest but their were so many more firsts that I will experience my whole life.

I was brushing Leif’s teeth saying you’ll thank me when your 18 and all the girls say what lovely teeth you have, then I thought but your 16 year old sister won’t be here.

You can’t control the feelings and thoughts. They are like rude uninvited visitors. They come unannounced when you’re in the middle of something, they don’t get the hint to bog off and they beyond a stain you can’t get rid of. Then they have the nerve to come again far too soon for a disliked visitor. Even a do not disturb sign doesn’t work.

I’ve been tidying this week could say I’ve been nesting because I never actually nest in pregnancy I usually do it when I’m down or stressed. My house looks ridiculously tidy now and I’ve made lots of pennies selling stuff. But it’s bitter-sweet. I’m selling fabric I bought to sew for Elva to buy scrapbook items to make a memory book. I’m selling wool I kept just in case I could use to buy pretty items for her fairy garden grave. I sold a wrap/sling to buy pretties to adorn my house in her memory. It feels so wrong. So so wrong.

You see babies and bumps and you wonder why it was you not them. You don’t wish it on them you just wonder what they did differently to you, how it came to this for you.

Others tell you it gets easier some how. The grief changes so it feels better. You soon realise this isn’t true you just maybe learn to be happy again and you start to see hope. You accept it because you’ve no other choice and it doesn’t change it continuing to want to change it. I’m not that far to say for sure but that is how I imagine it will feel.

tracy

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