Actually, I hate that advert. Too many pregnant women and daddy’s nestling their babies.
But I like the song.
Yesterday there was a loud knock at the door, I answered and it was the lady collecting electoral roll data. Naturally this year i really haven’t got round to filling that out. (This is blatant hiding of ineptitude behind tragedy, I NEVER remember to fill it out.)
I filled it in and she asked me if there was anyone else living there.
“4 children,” I mumbled.
“4?!” she said. “What do you have? Boys? Girl? or a mixture?”
I’m not really good at answering this yet, I haven’t yet reach a place where I can pretend Freddie never happened. Not sure if I will.
“Ah. Well. We did have 5. 4 girls and a boy. Now we have 4 girls.”
I know I should do better than this, but really… I can’t.
She looked me straight in the eye, put her hand on my arm and said “I had 3 boys. I got one of them, my eldest, to 44 years old. But last year…. now I don’t have him.”
We stood on the doorstep, two grieving mothers, holding hands and looking at each other.
“There are more of us about than you might think.”
No platitudes. No “you’ll smile again.” No “just have another one”. No “one day it won’t hurt so badly.”
Just honesty and understanding. Two mothers. A baby boy and a baby boy in man form. Both lost. Both huge holes blasted through two families.
That was one good thing.
Today was good too. We spent the day with friends and I got there and everyone had a nice time and I didn’t have to go and knit in a corner. I did have to knit, but I did it in company. I did have to eat on my own, but I didn’t have to hide.
I’ve got so many people trying to help me and I don’t know how to be helped. Somehow I have to work out how to accept the help on offer. It upsets me that I don’t know how to accept. It frustrates me to be back at the beginning of this process again. A process I’d already fought through once, cut myself off because of, been to the brink and nearly beyond. I feel like small and easily squashed animal, sat in the middle of a huge cavern. I know that the edges would be safer but the thought of moving, of risking the movement and what might happen if I do, seems an impossibly big step.
If I could just work out how to get there.
The girls had fun and learned things.
We have a new rabbit home with us, replacing the one who died in the Spring.
I chattered to two little people today and it didn’t hurt.
I did several things before leaving the house.
I read with Josie.
I tidied the living room.
And yesterday I finished this. I’m not entirely pleased with it, I really want my old neat, detailed creativity back, but I am pleased I DID it.
lovely day today 🙂
I love the tree. I particularly like the apples (i realise i’ve asumed that they are apples) and the detailing on the trunk.
lovely lovely electoral lady. THAT is what I think angels really are you know, people sent, like that. Though glittery pictures are lovely and all…
hugs
Lovely to have you all here. Huntigndon introduced a thign this year where if you didn’t need to change anything on the electoral roll form you could just ring a freephone number to do it – or online I guess,. nice and quick
Beautiful tree.
I would like to hug that electoral lady. I am so glad you shared and that in return it gave you both some grace today.
What a relief – to have someone who understands without trying to ‘fix’ the unfixable.
That feeling of being “small and easily squashed” – yes, exactly. Grief makes you so vulnerable.
Beautiful work on the tree.
xxxh
Hannah, exactly that I think. And also, in my head (because I know for me it was marginally not so awful to lose Freddie as it would be to lose one of my big girls), I think I do range myself up against people who have lost older children and find myself “lucky” by comparison. So to have someone who has had that experience acknowledge my grief and loss on such an equal footing was remarkably meaningful to me. And very appreciated. It’s the second time someone I hardly know has done that for me in real life and it was very healing both times.
I really like the tree, it’s lovely. How soothing it must have been to chat with woman collecting data, but it’s so very sad how many of us grieving mothers there are out there.
that woman on your doorstep, it nearly made me cry. i’m glad she acknowledged your loss like that.
Beautiful tree.