Troubles in a bag

I have borrowed this from Niobe's blog but I want to share it because it made so much sense to me and it made me feel happy.
I had my first counselling session this morning and we talked about this story and I realised that I would not swap lives and experiences with anyone. Sometimes I can feel so much pain I just don't know where to turn, I miss Jamie so much and I can feel lost and depressed and confused but that is me, where I am now. I am dealing with my grief, I am doing well - apparently I am not insane! - but it is my life, my memories, my son. I have lost my son but I am surrounded by love and support and hope and laughter, I have to grab hold onto this. I have my memories of Jamie, they live with me every day, they are part of me and I don't want to lose them as well. I am grateful for what I have in my life - Jamie, Lucy, Alice, my fantastic husband and the army of friends who support me and get drunk with me on a regular basis.



There’s a story about a village whose inhabitants constantly and bitterly lamented the inequities of life and fate. Wearying of their complaints, the village headman told the villagers to each pack up their troubles into a sack and to hang the sack on the branches of the big tree at the edge of town. As the villagers stood looking up at the sacks hanging in neat rows, the headman told them that, while, in this world, everyone must bear some burdens, in the interests of fairness, he would allow each of the villagers a choice of troubles. The villagers circled the tree, checking the size and weight of the various sacks, loosening the ties and examining the contents. And, of course, in the end, each person took his own troubles back.

today i feel happy, content, focused, settled, hopeful, calm, relaxed, fulfilled, rested, ready, able...

I dream

of a beautiful, sandy beach with clear blue water. The sun is shining down and the 5 of us playing on the beach. We are relaxed, happy and together.
Maybe this is heaven.

Finding my perspective

I have been for a long walk today in the wind and the rain and the world feels a little less bleak and hard this evening. I need to slow down, cut myself some slack, enjoy myself a bit more and put things back into perspective.
I have tried to do so much over the last two years, I guess in an attempt to fill that huge gap in my life, that I have been left drained and stressed. I don't know how I am going to move forward but my instinct is to slow and down and see what happens.

pain

I feel so lost my gorgeous little boy. I love you and I miss you but I truly thought I would feel better by now but I don't. I replay your short life in my head and it hurts so much I can hardly stand it.
I am pushing everyone away and I have to stop. I hurt so much that I am sometimes scared about what I might do to stop that pain, so I look at your sisters, I cuddle them and I hold your dad to stay here and keep going. But still it doesn't feel enough.
I am so very scared about what the future holds, can I really sustain this pain for the rest of my life?
I miss you so much and I want you back.

I haven't shed many tears this month but I feel very lost and confused. I miss you and I really want you and I am struggling with the thought of not having anymore children. I need some time, some space, some cuddles, some love and some laughter to try to get my head straight.

I haven't been well this month and that has given me lots of time wrapped up in my duvet to think and reflect. I need to look after myself and focus on putting my head together. Sometimes, I am so wrapped up in missing you and feeling pissed off with everyone and no-one that I am missing the good stuff I have in my life. Your sisters are my life, they keep my heart beating, they are funny and silly and crazy and kind and caring and thoughtful and cuddly and just amazing.

Your dad is just the best man on the planet - he is loving and funny and thoughtful and strong and caring and romantic and sexy and clever and hard working and beautiful and he is my soulmate, my best friend.

But I feel hopeful for this year, I have given myself permission to take it easy, work towards getting better this year and to focus on my family, friends and my home - the good stuff.
You will never be far from my thoughts my beautiful little boy but I need to move on, I can't grieve like this forever, it just hurts too much and my heart is broken.

This week, I feel good. And this needs to be celebrated :-)
You have two amazing sisters and, despite all their squabbles and fights and refusals to do anything I want at all unless it involves watching tv or making cakes, they are my life and they keep me going on my darkest of days. A cuddle from them can make even the darkest clouds go away.

This week has been a big week for Lucy, she had her birthday party at the farm last weekend. It was a fantastic fun and sunny day. You were missed incredibly but the smiles on the girls faces just said it all. Lucy turns 5 this weekend and I just don't know where those 5 years have gone. It is also a reminder that, in many ways, my broken heart is never truly going to heal - I so wish we were able to have you here for your birthdays.

Lucy also learnt to swim this week - she did 3 lengths in the little pool all by herself. She was so exhausted she burst out crying at the end!

Our family life is a bit chaotic and, at times, frantic and emotional but it is a family of love and support and cuddles andfun and life. You would have enjoyed being with us, your sisters would have teased you rotten but you would have loved them for it. I would do anything just for one more cuddle.
If I could have a Groundhog day I would go back to the Wednesday, when your sisters met you and I got to wash your hair and your face. I couldn't hold you because of all the wires but this was the next best thing. These memories I will hold with me forever. I love you, my little gorgeous Jamie. I am so glad you came into our lives, even if your visit with us was brief.
xxxxx

I'm feeling ok, life is moving by and ticking over. But I feel very detached from life, like I am just going through the motions. Every few days I feel connected and energised and it feels amazing, like I am truly alive, but then I am back to feel distanced and separate from the world around me again. Is this grief or depression or both? I really don't know.
I miss you so much, words truly can't express how much my heart and my arms ache for you. I have to keep reminding myself how poorly you were, how painful and difficult your life may have been but that doesn't stop me imagining the troublesome, noisy, nosy little boy I should have with me now. I feel robbed of my much wanted and loved third child and I miss you so so much.
I really thought I would feel better almost two years later, and in many ways I do, but the wound is still raw and painful and I'm wondering how long, if ever, this healing will take.

walking in my shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others’ eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
Most people- they never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite so much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by
…..before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.
(Unknown Author)

It's March already...

I think about you every day sweet, precious boy. I so want to hold you, smell you and kiss you again and I'm struggling to understand that you are gone forever, that I can never do those things again.
Life still feels unfair and I still feel angry - at no-one, just with the hand I have been dealt which meant that we had to lose you.

I now feel that I cannot have anymore children. I am not strong enough to cope with another pregnancy, to worry, to have antenatal checks and tests, to wonder whether I will lose another child, to feel so scared and to fear the worst will happen again. You cannot be replaced. I don't have any desire to be pregnant or to have another baby. I want you back in our lives. I could love another child and I would be happy if we had another baby but there are no guarantees in life and we cannot guarantee a healthy, well baby. I have my two girls, who are happy and healthy, and they are my focus now and I do all I can to help them remain happy and healthy.

I now look back on your short life and the few weeks after your death and I wonder how I managed, how I cope, how I survived. I replay in my head everyday being with you in NICU, saying goodbye to you before your surgery and then you being handed to me shortly after you had died. There are things I wish I had said and done differently but I did everything I could at that time and I don't have the power to go back and change anything.

Life is ok, I am intensely proud of my girls - they are my life, I am loved and supported but this journey is hard and long and I wonder whether it will ever end. I miss you lovely boy and I wish you were here with your family.

It is the end of 2008

and you would be almost 18 months old now, into everything and driving your sisters crazy. Your sisters often ask about what you would be doing, what you would be like and I enjoy telling them what I think you would like doing now and what toys and games you might like.

You were very missed this Christmas, by me, daddy and your sisters - it still feels like you are missing, a gaping hole that cannot be fixed or healed. We had fun and games and laughters but something just wasn't quite right, you weren't there and we miss you beautiful baby boy.

After tomorrow I will no longer be able to say that you died last year. I will now have to say that you died in 2007 or say how long ago you died. It feels like I am moving further away from you and it will take a while to get used to. But you have a huge place in my heart and you always will live there. Your memory will never fade, I will remember those precious few hours with you for the rest of my life. I love you, my amazing brave boy.
xxxxx

as good as it gets?

I've reached a point where I feel like this is as good as it gets - I can function, I can work, I can get out of bed in the morning, I can coo over other babies, I love my children, I love my husband, I love my friends, I can laugh, I can be happy.
But my heart is broken and a piece will always be missing. Throughout a good day an image, a child, a song, a comment, a question, a thought can cause my tears to fall. My boy is everywhere I go. Maybe this is what it will be like forever - life going on but, out of nowhere, something triggers thoughts of my boy and what we have lost. I have always believed in fate, something happening for a reason but I struggle to find the reason why we had to lose our son - he was so wanted and so loved

I can't pretend to be the person I used to be, after you have cradled your dead baby in your arms it would be wrong to be the same person.

My heart also aches with the hurt my girls have experienced - they are both still dealing with their emotions about the brother they briefly met but never saw again. Sometimes I watch my girls playing and I am aware of the overwhelming sense that someone is missing. What would life been like, I wonder, had Jamie lived.

The girls still talk about Jamie often. Lucy was sad yesterday because her brother is dead but she likes to think of him swimming around the world and smiling when we think about him and talk about him. Alice is a little more complicated - she is a much more emotional child and she is still battling with thoughts and worries and new emotions about Jamie and his death, how that makes her feel and how it makes me feel. From a very early age, my girls have learned that doctors can't save everyone and that must be very unsettling. All we can do is continue to allow them to speak about him and to ask all the questions they need to.

We are now approaching our second Christmas without Jamie. I feel a mixture of lost and found, happy and sad. Life is going as well as it can be - my girls are fantastic, I am busy, I have some great friends and the love of a good man but some days I feel so so lost and wonder whether that will ever end. For my girls, I am looking forward to Christmas but I know it will also be emotional and, at times, unbearable.

I would do anything to have my boy back with us again. I have to figure out how to close the gap in my life because some days it just hurts too much. Am I to experience this for the rest of my life? To lose a child has to be the hardest experience in the world because it lasts a lifetime, a wound that never properly heals.

I have to work out how to be happier - I have so much to be happy about but my head won't let me relax and enjoy life.

Bastards

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7708398.stm

I feel physically sick. How can someone torture a baby? How can that happen? Why wasn't he rescued? Rest in Peace Baby P
xxxxx

I will always love you
xxxxx

I had a special moment with my littlest girl this morning. Cuddled up in bed Lu told me so loved me, and after a huge hug she told me she wished Jamie was still here because she misses him. Lucy had only just turned three when Jamie died and we really didn't expect Jamie to remain in her thoughts. Lucy told me about visiting Jamie in hospital - she can remember touching him, she can remember the special bed he was on and all the wires and tubes he was attached to.

I have always felt blessed for having Jamie for those three short days but never more so than now - he has had a huge impact on his sisters, more than we ever imagined possible. The girls talk about Jamie with so much love, tenderness and, sometimes, humour. I love talking about Jamie with them, it means he was here, he touched us, he isn't forgotten but it just breaks my heart that he isn't here to argue with and tease his sisters. We will never get to hear him laugh, to see him giggle, to hear him say his first words or to see him make his first steps. My heart aches with the desire to see him and hold him again - when I close my eyes I can see him, I can smell him, I can feel his skin on my lips and I can feel his soft curly hair.

My precious boy was so poorly, he wasn't meant for this world - he stayed with us for as long as he could and left us with some beautiful memories. I miss my boy, I wish he could have stayed for longer, I wish I was snuggled up to him now.

when i think about the last 15 months, I really don't know how I have survived. There have been some very very bleak, depressed times when the pain has hurt so so much I have felt nothing but despair. But then, somehow, I have clawed my way back to positivity and I have coped again. My girls are amazing creatures and they have really kept me going on a day to day basis.

I have discovered how strong I can be - I have coped with situations that some people would run away from. I have befriended the woman in the playground, whose 2nd baby was born a week after Jamie. We didn't know each other yet our oldest girls were in the same class and she didn't know what to say and she always stayed away when a group of us mums were talking. We are now friends and she has since had another baby.

When people find out what I do for a living, they always ask why I want to work with pregnant woman and new parents. It is certainly not out of any misplaced yearning to fill a gap in my life. I love my job, I love being with parents as they embark on this new chapter of their life. It's very special and it means a lot to me.

I am immensely proud of myself for coping as well as I have done so far. I haven't fallen apart. I do have times when it is difficult to cope, I do have times when I feel like I will never stop crying, I do have times when I am so immensely tired with just coping that I feel like I could sleep for a week, I do have times of huge anger that many of the people around me can continue with their lives with no great gaping hole in their lives and I do have times when all I think about is Jamie and how I would love to hold, smell and kiss him again. I replay his final day in my head and wonder what life would have been like had his operation been a success.

I sat and cuddled a new baby today and, afterwards, it dawned on me that I held him for longer than I ever held Jamie. I'm not upset about it, it's just a sad fact.

do you know what...

I'm not brave or strong or amazing - I am a mother who is missing one of her children and it hurts like hell. I cannot explain the pain I feel on most days, the panic I often feel when I first wake in the morning at the thought of not having all my children with me. My thoughts often take me back to being with him in hospital, to saying good bye to him before his surgery and to holding him in my arms and kissing his head after he died and then seeing him in his tiny white coffin.

I am surrounded by love, tenderness and support, I consider myself very lucky but I do sometimes wish people wouldn't expect so much from me. I am going to have bad days, sometimes I am going to be depressed and low, I am going to be angry, I am going to want to cry, I am going to want to withdraw from people.

Despite my fight, my determination to be busy and happy I struggle on a daily basis to keep my head together, to stay on top of my feelings, to not crumble under the weight of all the grief I feel. Most days I feel confused, clumsy and a little lost, despite my loud, confident and happy image.

Why was my son taken from me? why was he born so poorly?
I miss you Jamie, my heart, my arms, my life aches for you but all I have is your memory.
xxxxx

I love my girls, I love my boy, I love my husband, I love my friends and my home. And I quite like me as well.
We're in a good place
xx

I'm kind of in a good place, I'm not dwelling on my boy, on my grief, on the gaping hole in my life, I'm focusing on the future and on the good stuff. The crap will hit me again eventually so I'm not willing it on!

I have been in a few situations recently where I have been asked how many children I have and I have struggled with this since Jamie died but on these recent occasions I have only mentioned my girls. It doesn't mean I don't want to mention to Jamie or that I am forgetting about him I just want to be treated as a normal mum, not to be pitied. I don't want to shock people or make people feel uncomfortable around me. When I know people well enough, then they will be introduced to my son, he won't be a secret but I am learning that there is a time and a place.

Now that a year has passed, I am starting to receive questions about trying for another baby. And the truth is that I really don't think we will do that, the baby I want is Jamie, he cannot be replaced, but we can never have him back, we only have his memory left with us.
I don't think I have the emotional strength to carry another baby, I have 2 girls to think about, care for and remain sane for. If someone could gaurantee me a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby I might think about it, but there are no guarantees and I need to focus on what I have, rather than what I have not.