We forgot to go to Freddie’s funeral. We were busy, the girls were alive and needed us and life goes on and… oh my word, it was today and we forgot. Max was okay with it; after all, it was just a procedure, he didn’t need us there, the girls needed us. It was just a thing that had to be done.
We forgot. We forgot. We forgot. The one appointment he would ever need me to be on time for and I forgot to go. In 2 short weeks, I forgot him and left him behind.
Oh, the guilt. I’m moving on little boy. I’m leaving you behind.
****
I decided to keep him. I didn’t want to do that thing, the big and final thing to him. I wanted to keep him, keep him in a box next to my bed and just take him out for a cuddle sometimes. I knew he would be dead, but it would be better for me, surely, to keep him. He didn’t need a crib, that would be odd, but a folding crate by my bed? I cuddled him all night, took him out and dressed him in a babygro the girls all wore and held him on my shoulder all that night.
But in the morning he wasn’t there. Even though all night he had looked just how I remembered.
****
I went back to the hospital. There was a man, sitting on the floor in a corridor, with 4 little boys and a baby boy in a car seat. His eyes were red. He was telling his boys that Baby Sarah had died and mummy was having a chat and they’d go home soon. He was saying he knew it meant that they’d never have a sister now, but that a baby boy instead would be enough. It could be a family with all boys.
What clearer story could my brain tell me? Have your rainbow. Don’t expect to get it all. Be grateful for what you get.
*******
I guess determined optimism will only get you so far, even if you try. Three nights running my brain did this to me. Th first morning I cried and gritted my teeth. But I fretted, because the fluttery feelings I’d had had stopped. I held on – and that night, I dreamt I was carrying a dead baby around with me. I woke up, lay still to feel if there were movement, gritted my teeth and carried on. Eventually I cracked, dug out my old and damaged doppler, knowing it was a bad idea – and of course, I heard nothing.
But by evening, when everywhere was shut and my midwife off shift, I couldn’t carry on any more. And so, snotty and snivelling, a phone call landed me at the door of the delivery ward where Freddie was born. I got as far as opening the door, dissolved in hysterics and – thank goodness – a nurse who remembered me and a midwife with a heart of gold picked me up and took me somewhere that had no memories and no fast door through to SCBU and within 5 minutes a doctor with a patient and kindly face was scanning me and showing me a heartbeat.
I’m not really lasting very long between scans. I thought I would do better. I have NO faith in joining the women birthing live and kicking rainbow babies this week. Even though, in my soul, I do have faith in this baby.
14 weeks. A minimum of another 23 to go. And so much to get past yet.
I miss you Freddie. I wish you had stayed so we didn’t have to do this again. I’m so sorry I have to leave you behind, for a while, at least.
Oh Merry I get the dreams waking you up with you blood running cold, sending huge hugs to you and your little bean, hang in there.
Rachel
I am so sorry. Hoping the next 23+ weeks go well for you!
I feel you and know where you are coming from. Hang in there these coming long 23 weeks will both fly by and take forever.
Sending you the very best wishes.
I made it into double digits of scans. And that’s without even having one after 35 weeks, so I went five weeks at the end without (albeit with a fair amount of monitoring, though). So, yeah. I can relate to the not going long between scans thing.
Those dreams… I’m sure they’re haunting you. I’m sorry your brain is doing that to you 🙁 Even though I can understand.
xxxxx
Oh honey, the dreams, the doppler, the scans, and the panic, I remember it all so well. PAL is so so fucking hard. I’m sorry it’s this way for you too. x
Oh sweetie. Such dreams!! I am a firm believer in the healing quality of dreams though, that what we dream is essential to our growth and healing, even if they are not always very pleasant to dream in the first place.
And oh I well remember those feelings of panic and needing to know RightNow that the baby was okay.
Sending you much love. Deep breaths, Merry. Deep breaths.
Oh no, so sorry about the dreams and the uncertainty of it all, I hope time (and dreams) are a little kinder to you from now on. 🙂
Oh babe, I’m so sorry these dreams are haunting you. Every pregnant woman has bizarre and often scary dreams…..I can only imagine how much more awful yours must be. I’m so glad the hospital did what you needed them to 🙂
Oh goodness Merry.. I can only imagine. Sending you support form across the pond.
Oh Merry (((((hugs))))). Thinking of you x
Thinking of you Merry & sending ((((big hugs)))), will say a prayer & keep my fingers crossed for this little puddle bean. It’s a long road to travel with much to bear, but every second, minute, hour, day, week & month is a step closer to this little puddle bean becoming a puddle chick. xxxx
xxx
Ah Merry… these dreams suck… I have runs of them too… and I debate hourly whether to buy myself a doppler. I think it might actually push me over the edge, but I’m hovering anyway, so where’s the harm? ARGH. It’s all so difficult. Last night I had a dream I was delivering this new baby in the same room where I had Cat, but there were crocodiles all over the floor. Firstly, well, crocodiles? wtf is that supposed to mean? secondly, that hospital will be demolished by the time this child comes into the world (hopefully, obviously etc ad infinitum) During the day, I am usually fairly rational and civilised and generally optimistic and I think all the stress and pessimism just comes through at night when the day unit is closed and my barriers are down. Lots of hugs to you xxx
I shouldn’t have, but I did laugh at the crocodiles. hugs 🙂
Goodness, how I can relate. I’m sure I nearly blew my doppler up from reckless overuse in my pregnancy with Angus. And I made more trips to emergency for a quick scan than I can remember.
23 weeks. Seems like forever I know, and you’ve done this before so I know you *know* it can go fast. But they will be the longest 23 weeks of your life. I know you can do it though, and you have all the support in the world coming from me (and so many others who frequent here).
Hang in there, Merry.
xo
Ah Sally, thank you.
Wow – Freddie dreams three nights in a row! Your poor brain must be working hard on all of this – it is such a complex thing to be juggling grief and hope, not just for you but for the whole family.
I’m so glad the hospital people were lovely and that the scan was reassuring.
Sending love & hoping you also get some good dreams. xxh
Hey, you made it to my blog. Did you work out what had been stopping you getting in? 🙂
Sending you lots of love xx (p.s. you made me cry again, well I know there’s always a risk of that when I read your blog…)
lol, still waiting ofr that to be a blog award category.
Merry, again words abandon me, I want to reassure you, I want to hold your hand and say all will be ok, I am sure it will be.
Life is such a bloody horrid experience at time,
stay strong thinking of you
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Thank you. I really appreciate your support and care.
It is so not fair that our brains can do this to us and all we can do is hope that the memories of the dreams fade away. I”m glad you found some kind and understand healthcare providers to help you get the reassurance you needed.
I seem to last about 5 minutes before I lose the plot again, unfortunately 🙁