Dear Me

Dear Me,

How are you doing? Not so great, I thought that might be the case, that’s why I’m writing you this letter. Remember how excited you where to finally start trying to have a baby? It felt like we where due a break, a bit of good luck with that area of our body, ‘my vagina and uterus hate me’ has been a phrase we’ve said too many times, doesn’t feel like it’s going away anytime soon, but we where happy almost positive. It’s not that we don’t know that not all pregnancy results in a baby, I mean we’ve watched too many women go through that, its just that we thought it would for us. That feels like such a long time ago now, I almost feel stupid and naive for thinking this would be easy. 3 losses and that naivety has certainly gone,

that joy of a positive test now replaced with fear and an anxious knot,

the happy smiles on families faces when you tell them you’re expecting replaced with an anxious smile and worried eyes, loss has taken soo much from us, and day by day it feels like it chips away a little bit more. Each new pregnancy announcement, each woman that passes rubbing her glorious bump, brings forward those ugly feelings and makes you feel like you’re losing yourself just a little bit more.

We where always the one to jump up and be excited at any happy news, watching one born for fun, sitting and wondering what my labour would be like, how my husband would react, imagining that first time my baby is put on my chest. I know now what my labour would be like, it’s in a hospital room wishing more than anything that I wasn’t going to meet my baby this day, it’s too early, knowing they wouldn’t be put on my chest but in a cardboard toilet pan and then into a tiny bed, knowing that I wouldn’t be taking them home. Those memories are all we have now, and a feeling of emptiness and the never ending question of why?

Why did this happen to us? Why is it so easy for everyone else? Why didn’t the medication help? Why was our baby boy perfect but taken from us? The answer, nobody knows.

You’re probably wondering how this letter is supposed to be helping, the answer is its not, because nothing I can write down here can erase any of what’s happened, it can’t magically flick a switch like a reset. What I want you to do is sit and think of all the past experiences, let them sink in and make you realise that pregnancy or baby loss is soo much more than the loss of that baby, its the loss of dreams, hopes, exceptions and emotions. Its learning to navigate all of these things, to be able to ask for help when you need it, learning when to distance yourself from people and situations. It’s a relearning of how to get through the day and how to actually enjoy the little things in your day guilt free, because it’s hard to smile at that rainbow when yesterday an advert had you in tears for 10 minutes. Its accepting that this grief is valid and should be acknowledged, not only by the people around you but by you, allow yourself to accept that hard days are hard because of what you’ve lost, that you don’t have to ‘get a grip’ that you’re not being ‘dramatic’.

Feel your emotions, let them out, let other people see them, try not to worry about what other people think of your grief, it’s yours and yours alone, if you want to look forward and be hopeful for future that’s good to, there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Finding those coping mechanisms is challenging and can be trial and error, but look how far you’ve come already, give yourself a break and know that things will never be the same as they where before, you are changed, but you are still you and that’s the most wonderful thing about you, your uniqueness, your ability to get up in the morning and remember your 3 stars in the sky and know that although there is immense sadness that they are not here in my arms, I have soo much joy that I got to have you even if only for a moment, you where ours and I will love you forever. Love Mummy xxx

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