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Back to reality with a hard bump

1
They say the first few weeks of becoming a mother go incredibly fast and before you know it, your brand new, tiny, pink, squishy baby is not so small anymore. Your time is filled with feeding, bathing, dressing and cleaning, all to the soundtrack of the washing machine that is on constantly.

I can honestly say that as a new mum yes, it has gone incredibly fast. Yes, it has flown by. And yes, now I’ve been slapped in the face by the cruel hands of reality and mother nature.

Just over a month ago, 37 days to be precise, at 4:35 on a Thursday

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morning, my first baby, my beautiful boy, was born sleeping. Only 36 weeks old, Moses was all brand new, tiny, pink and squishy. He was perfect.

In my devastation I found joy in being able to give Moses a burial; I couldn’t give him the perfect start in life as his was taken before either of us were given the chance but I could give him a perfect day for us all to say goodbye. And so I filled my time with organising his funeral – flowers, readings, poems, everything.

I kept wondering when the grief would hit me. I was waiting for it but it didn’t

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3
seem to come. Maybe after the funeral, I thought. But straight after the funeral we went on holiday – another welcome distraction. Maybe when I get home? Nope, I immersed myself in organising and cleaning the whole flat. Grief was still nowhere to be seen.

And then, one of the most simple of things brought grief, my new best pal, knocking at my door…

My partner went back to work.

Utter devastation. 

We’ve been together through all of this, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and now I’m left to my own devices. The house is silent. I tried the

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usually good distraction thing – I signed up to Sky, I started planning our wedding, I got everything for the house from food right up to a mirror and a really ugly painting we don’t need. I even took a pregnancy test believing I had all the symptoms only for it to come back negative and for my long forgotten period to show up a few hours later – thank you Mother Nature for yet again confirming I’m childless.

Until today, I believed grief was here to stay. It’s still lurking, still here, but I realised something. Deep down I know what the problem

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5
is, I just didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to face reality.

The problem is that my baby should be here, at home. And he is not. 

More often than not I feel sadness, loneliness and above all, failure. Failure as a mother and as a partner.

I suddenly have no purpose, no plans. 

But really I do have a purpose. Moses might not be here physically but he’s somewhere, watching over us, and in that thought I find I can still be a mum to him. I can make him proud by being a family and living my life as best as I can.

Grief is still here

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and I’m sure it will be for a while. But in this darkness you find little cracks of light. And mine is my family, my home.

I can’t make Moses proud of his mum if she’s sitting on the sofa, in silence, eating strawberry Cornettos and Googling strange things about the Illuminati for hours on end.

Instead of seeing all of those little things I’ve been doing as distractions, I’m seeing them as living life. A life without my baby but still a life.

Oh and yes, the washing machine is still on constantly, it’s just not full of baby clothes. It’s

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7
full of my better half’s endless supply of black socks.
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- 7 May 16

They say the first few weeks of becoming a mother go incredibly fast and before you know it, your brand new, tiny, pink, squishy baby is not so small anymore. Your time is filled with feeding, bathing, dressing and cleaning, all to the soundtrack of the washing machine that is on constantly.

I can honestly say that as a new mum yes, it has gone incredibly fast. Yes, it has flown by. And yes, now I’ve been slapped in the face by the cruel hands of reality and mother nature.

Just over a month ago, 37 days to be precise, at 4:35 on a Thursday morning, my first baby, my beautiful boy, was born sleeping. Only 36 weeks old, Moses was all brand new, tiny, pink and squishy. He was perfect.

In my devastation I found joy in being able to give Moses a burial; I couldn’t give him the perfect start in life as his was taken before either of us were given the chance but I could give him a perfect day for us all to say goodbye. And so I filled my time with organising his funeral – flowers, readings, poems, everything.

I kept wondering when the grief would hit me. I was waiting for it but it didn’t seem to come. Maybe after the funeral, I thought. But straight after the funeral we went on holiday – another welcome distraction. Maybe when I get home? Nope, I immersed myself in organising and cleaning the whole flat. Grief was still nowhere to be seen.

And then, one of the most simple of things brought grief, my new best pal, knocking at my door…

My partner went back to work.

Utter devastation. 

We’ve been together through all of this, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and now I’m left to my own devices. The house is silent. I tried the usually good distraction thing – I signed up to Sky, I started planning our wedding, I got everything for the house from food right up to a mirror and a really ugly painting we don’t need. I even took a pregnancy test believing I had all the symptoms only for it to come back negative and for my long forgotten period to show up a few hours later – thank you Mother Nature for yet again confirming I’m childless.

Until today, I believed grief was here to stay. It’s still lurking, still here, but I realised something. Deep down I know what the problem is, I just didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to face reality.

The problem is that my baby should be here, at home. And he is not. 

More often than not I feel sadness, loneliness and above all, failure. Failure as a mother and as a partner.

I suddenly have no purpose, no plans. 

But really I do have a purpose. Moses might not be here physically but he’s somewhere, watching over us, and in that thought I find I can still be a mum to him. I can make him proud by being a family and living my life as best as I can.

Grief is still here and I’m sure it will be for a while. But in this darkness you find little cracks of light. And mine is my family, my home.

I can’t make Moses proud of his mum if she’s sitting on the sofa, in silence, eating strawberry Cornettos and Googling strange things about the Illuminati for hours on end.

Instead of seeing all of those little things I’ve been doing as distractions, I’m seeing them as living life. A life without my baby but still a life.

Oh and yes, the washing machine is still on constantly, it’s just not full of baby clothes. It’s full of my better half’s endless supply of black socks.

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Cat sitter and tea lover! Living life after loss.

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