The little things

Its the little things that I often find the hardest. The things that should just filter into my mundane and steady life without incident, packing for a week away, making dinner, washing clothes - it is all so much harder than it should be simply because it is so normal.

Going away with my parents, 4 adults will fit easily in a car and yet this simple fact is so heartbreaking that when I thought about it, the pain hit me so hard that I had to rush to hug my husband to avoid the panic attack that I knew would want to come. I should have been tearing my hair out trying to work out what to take for Isaac, nappies, food, clothes, pushchair - even writing the list makes me sad; all the things I won't take because Isaac is no longer here.

Being able to do things that others take for granted is just awful - each time I go out without needing to arrange a babysitter, I can get drunk without worrying, each day that I go to work . I so want to have the running around that comes with a child, feeling tired, stressed and desperate for a spare moment. I feel so cheated when i read statuses on Facebook complaining about motherhood - I guess its harder looking at people with innocence who don't know what its like to lose the single most important thing in the world, to have your body turn into a coffin  and question everything you did over 8 months - well its just heartbreaking.

I struggle with parents who complain about their children, I struggle with my good friends with postnatal depression - I get so angry and want to shout at them and tell them I'll swap with them, I want to say to people "A bad day huh? let me tell you about my bad day - which would you like first? the day I found out that my sons heart had stopped beating inside me? when my whole world started crashing down around me and I had to tell my parents who were on holiday that their first grandchild had died, or how about the day I gave birth to my first child - Oh but he had already died; or how about leaving hospital and having to leave my child behind? or Isaac's funeral? watching his Daddy carry him in his tiny white coffin and the leaving his coffin behind." I know its not fair to feel angry at them but I do sometimes and I hope they would understand why Im angry; Im not really angry at them or at anyone - I'm angry at the missed opportunity, and envious of the late nights and dirty nappies. I'm angry that my child is dead, its such a final word and I barely use it but he is gone forever and I wish to god it wasn't so.

You aren't supposed to lose your baby at 36 weeks and 4 days, its supposed to be safe then - he was supposed to be safely tucked inside my belly growing big and strong, I wasn't prepared to lose him - not that any parent is ever prepared to lose a child, but if I'd lost him at 12 weeks - I would have been prepared, it had happened to my friend when she had her 12 week scan so I knew to expect that; but I was in the home straight - planning on breaking up from work, getting ready to nest.

Tonight i've lit a candle for my lost boy, hoping he'll find his way to shine over us tonight.