Week 4 is the week I no longer got to see my baby.
The days and week following leaving the hospital consisted of crying lots, looking at her photos and threatening to walk out. Fall outs with family, anger at our situation and guilt. I was happy when we visited her as I felt I was where I was suppose to be where my body craved.
But I couldn’t stay there.
All we had where photos, memories, prints. The fear we would lose these things. The task of saving them to my computer, to a disk, to a memory card and getting them printed off as cheaply as possible. As many back ups as I had access to. Craving her daily to be with me. The mornings where always the hardest and I felt suicidal openly suicidal. For some moments I knew it’s what I would do.
Giving that girl an identity having her recognised by law is amazing. It’s a comfort it really is but holds a lot of pain that in my hand I have a certificate that looks exactly like the boys birth certificated except it says stillbirth or stillborn across the top. At this time her cause of death was noted as small for gestational age. We picked her flowers out I had in my head pink and purple. Not pale like all the other baby bouquets but bright like I wanted. I can’t tell you how pretty they looked at that tiny white box. Devastatingly beautiful.
22nd October she came home. The empty hole I felt when here left me. She had come home briefly but it helped complete a cycle. Seeing her in her coffin wasn’t as hard as I thought it wasn’t a happy time but it was like a bed. She was taken out of it straight away and not put back till the following day. We took more photos. We realised this was our only chance of a family photo. The following day Jem was picked up early from school so we could get a family of 5 shot it was literally our last chance half an hour before people would arrive. We got it, it’s not pretty but I treasure it.
I have not spoken nor seen my dad since that day, I have not spoke to my mum but have seen her since that day. Almost a year.