One in, one out

Fay Powell - 18 Mar 18

This is my first ever blog so please be kind. At the time of writing this my 2 year old is wiping snot on my leggings and demanding satsumas!

After some years trying for a baby we welcomed our beautiful boy into the world in January 2016. The feeling was one of unexplainable joy, love and happy emotion.

I arrived home 7 days after giving birth following some post birth complications. The days passed so did the many visitors, feeding was going well and sleep deprivation wasn’t too hellish. My husband and I were living in our utopia.

Although we were in our little bubble in the back of my mind was the worry for my younger brother, this worry had been with me for years. It was hard to believe that at my happiest time in my life my brother was having his most difficult. I knew my family were hiding his mental state from me as they are lovely and wanted me to enjoy precious moments with my baby with no stress. I knew though something was wrong.

It was Tuesday 09:00 3 weeks after giving birth, my mother was on the phone, this was the first phone call of the morning to her, she had arrived at my brothers 40 miles away to take him to his scheduled appointment with the mental health team. I couldn’t help but call her to check everything was going to plan. My brother wasn’t at his house his house mates had said he hadn’t come home, they had tried calling him, his dinner was on the side from the night before. I told my mum to wait a bit longer, he would turn up.

I waited for mum to call me with an update. Looking down at my gorgeous son patiently waiting and feeding him, I wondered where my brother was. Was he scared about his appointment had he hidden somewhere or worse been in an accident, arrested, my mind raced with the possibilities.

I hadn’t thought about the next scenario, it just didn’t enter my mind. I answered the phone to my mum the second call in 20 minutes. I couldn’t understand her, she was screaming, crying, speaking words that made no sense. I knew what it meant just by the sound of her broken heart echoed in her voice loudly down the phone. My brother was dead. He had committed suicide. I continued to feed and stay as calm as I could, dialling the phone to my husband I asked him to come home from work, I told him what had happened, that we needed to pick up my father from home, tell him my brother had died, keep him as calm as possible and get to my mum as quickly as we could.

My legs and feet felt heavy like lead, the feeling you get when you have one of those dreams where you are running from someone but not getting anywhere, or when you think you have heard something in the middle of the night but you cannot move from your bed for the fear.
Its difficult when you are potentially at your most vulnerable , emotions and hormones running high post birth, people watching and waiting for you to crack, females telling you, you are likely to get post natal depression because they did so you are bound to in this situation. Unhelpful comments and knowing people are thinking that because you are not cracking up, medicated or breaking down in front of them you must be a cold hearted bitch. Do you know how hard it is to cry with grief when you have just had a baby without being labelled or judged.

I cannot change what my brother did, I beat my self up and I know my parents and sister do because we couldn’t save him but in the long run what will it achieve. We are here now, living. I have responsibilities, I am a mother so that is what I need to do. I have stopped looking into the future I’m not Mystic Meg, over thinking mental health, triggers, how will my son deal with everyday life, the list goes on.

Giving birth to my son and my brothers suicide have changed me as a person. I now know the true value of friendship, that sometimes family may not act or support you like you thought they would at your time of need. The need to live the best possible life you can is now the number one priority and putting two fingers up to the bull shit and living in the here and now is essential.

It is easy for us to criticise each other, to judge and to obsessively self examine ourselves. I know my worth, just because I am forward thinking, practical and realistic doesn’t mean I am not emotional and loving, I just show these when I am comfortable with people.
If my brother was still alive I don’t think I would have looked closely and taken stock of all aspects of my life, to question happiness and what makes me happy. As a result in a couple of weeks I am leaving my well paid respected job in local government. After 17 years of hard work in a front line role I am going to work for myself, go it alone and let work fit in with life. I think about my brother every single day, each day brings with it emotional challenges but as the days pass a tiny bit of my mind becomes a little bit more settled and at peace.

Whatever your challenge is in life look back at what you have already dealt with, when you thought you couldn’t get out of bed and face the day, you did ! Everyday I look at my little boy and thank my lucky stars he is with me and every night when I go to bed I look up at the stars and say ‘good night’ to my brother.

Remember ‘We are all Wonder Women’ we can do this.

Fay Powell

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