Tag: gluten free

You exist….

Henry its been a while since I have written my words to you, it’s not been out of not wanting too, it has not been out of not trying, I have sat and started and typed an ongoing letter, I have left it open to continue but if I am honest Henry, completely and utterly honest my anxiety has got the better of me, its got the better of me to the point I doubted myself, I doubted my words, I over thought, I thought no one wants to hear it, no one wants you to write, everyone thinks you should be getting on with things etc etc the thoughts, the doubt, the lack of confidence all of it just over took me.

We passed your 6 month mark, six months of you gone, six months from when we were supposed to be looking at introducing you to the world and bringing you home, not trying to work out how we tell everyone you weren’t coming home, not trying to get our heads around the shock of this and how it all happened, how it shouldn’t have happened. On the day we reached six months Henry I struggled your Dad and I both did. That day I said to your dad “I don’t want to be here anymore I can’t do this I just want to be with our little boy”. On that day I meant it.

I also cried that day Henry, I cried as I started spotting and thought to myself “here we are another month, another month missing you incredibly, aching for you to be with you, to not wanting to carry this heavy load we bear and then knowing another month has passed, another month of trying so incredibly hard and yet no siblings for you. It just adds another hurt on top of the pain we already experience. It often comes with mixed feelings of knowing if you were here as you should be we wouldn’t even be thinking of trying yet which then causes a whole other feeling of guilt that we are.

Henry I am often reluctant to write about how this journey affects our mental health, I have done though and will continue too, I have poured out my feelings, I have said when it has all been too much, I have talked a bit about panic attacks and nightmares, about sobbing in the bottom of the shower and not wanting to get up. At times Henry I find it difficult to put this all in to words as I worry, I worry about what others may think, that they think I won’t be capable, that they think I won’t want to do things, so they won’t ask me, I worry they won’t still rely on me to be a friend when they need something as they think I can’t do it, I can still do these things and I always recognise when I need to look after me,  it’s often these distractions that provide some relief. All the worry the nerves, the toughts its a part of the toll this trauma has taken, I lack confidence where I had it before, I question so much and feel like my brain is a steam train that has lost control and the brakes are broken.

I am learning Henry there is such a stigma around, grief, mental illness and the death of a baby of a child. it makes others uncomfortable, they don’t know what to say and that is ok, but sometimes its difficult because as a society it means they shy away from it rather than face that uncomfortable feeling which is what helps people in these situations through. There can be such a stigma that mental illness means you shouldn’t be able to function and some days I don’t feel I can, but for the majority of people suffering these illnesses you wouldn’t know, a bit like we never know whats happening for anyone Henry, in our culture we are all so good at hiding these things from the world. Maybe its time we talked more.

I listened to a Ted talk Henry on grief and the end of life, one line in that talk stuck out to me, the speaker said “That’s how we make it ok, even when it’s not, by saying it out loud by helping each other through” and its so true Henry, how do others know unless you say it out loud. How can they know unless we open up conversations and share.

Last weekend Henry your Dad and I dealt with a few things, we did some stuff we needed to do, lately we have found lots of mixed and confusing emotions. I think its been about recognising we can love you and grieve you, we can be grateful for you having blessed our lives and we can feel pain of not having you here, we can smile and be sad. It is trying to balance this, the fact that you will never be here in our arms and we carry that for the rest of our lives, always it will be with us, it’s trying to get to the point of wanting to live a good life for us and for you, while still dealing with the storms of grief as they pass over us. There will always be storms.

Then there’s the more complex layer, the layer of dealing with the damage the trauma has caused, the flashbacks that haunt me sometimes during the day almost always at night, these lead to my heart racing, me getting out of breath, of feeling like I can’t breath of ending up either in absolute sobs or in absolute panic. Theres the days where I still struggle, to leave the house to be around other people out in public to do the simple things such as order a coffee, to run to my car and breakdown as the simple tasks I used to do so easily some days are so difficult. Theres dealing with the days I can not move from bed of the depression sinking in, of not wanting to go on with life of not being able to pick myself up. There is so much more to it, I am doing what I need too, I am seeking help, I see my psychologist Henry, I talk to her mostly weekly, I do everything I can to help myself, exercise, I am trying meditation, however it takes a lot of time to work through those more complex things and they affect our lives.

A couple of weeks ago Henry I finally made a decision, one I had been putting off, I had been putting this decision off for many reasons, one in the beginning it had been one that had been too hard to think about, I couldn’t imagine myself going back to work, to doing what I do as it wasn’t what was meant to be, it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing, I am supposed to be looking after you… Then as a little time went on I procrastinated, I didn’t want to make the decision, I was anxious about it, I kept saying I will just wait for… There were many wait for things that I thought may help me make that decision, I will just wait until it gets to the end of the month and I will see if I am pregnant, I will just wait and see the outcome of certain things we were following up, I will just wait until after we get through Christmas. Plus Henry I didn’t want to make that phone call, the thought of that call made me incredibly nervous, I didn’t want to make the phone call as it made this reality even more real, I didn’t want to cry on the phone, I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know what choice was right, for me, for us.

I finally one day sat there, with tears in my eyes I sat there gearing myself up to make that call, I can not put this off any longer, I need to make a decision I said to myself, getting more and more worked up, my heart beating faster my eyes filling with tears. I phoned a work colleague and good friend first to try to calm myself, I told her how I wanted to call my manager to discuss things but that I was feeling so anxious about it that I felt like crying that my heart was racing. After speaking with her and gaining some reassurance I rang, the phone rang and rang and rang and…… no answer it went to message bank I let out the breath I had been holding in I left a message and sighed. All this work up to finally make the call and no answer.

Later that afternoon Henry I got the return call, tears started in my eyes as I spoke with my manager, I spoke with her about the decision I had made and what I was thinking Henry, no more procrastination, Next week I will return to work, I know it will be a really difficult transition, I know it’s not going to be an easy task at all, but it is what I have to do for me and for us, I will start off part-time. I spoke with your Dad after the call I spoke to him about his first day back at work months ago, he told me, he told me how that morning he got up filled with dread and anxiety, about how hard it was and that when he got to work he sat in a room and cried, he spoke to me about how that’s ok and its normal and about how hard it still is some days. I know Henry, your Dad thinks I don’t but I do, I have seen the tears in his eyes some days before he leaves for work, he thinks I don’t know, but I know he cries, I am so incredibly proud of your Dad Henry for doing all that he does, I hope I can make him proud of me by trying.

That night Henry a sense of relief I had finally made that call and a decision, is it the right decision? we don’t know, but do I have to try, yes! I need to try. I felt proud of myself that night Henry for the first time in such a long time I was actually proud of me for having done it, considering I had put it off, considering nothing made the decision from like I had hoped and considering that weeks ago talking on the phone was something I found difficult and yet that day I did all of those things.

On friday night Henry we had dinner with some friends at their place, it was nice and a welcome relief from all of my thoughts, it was great to be with friends to share food to listen to stories and what others have been doing. Later in the evening another of their friends arrived to pop in, I had only met him once but your Dad knew him, he lives in Victoria and because he’s not someone we have seen often or that I don’t know well, he didn’t know. “Whats been happening for you guys?” he turned and asked us I stumbled I couldn’t get words out I didn’t know what to say, not the place to say it, not the time I didn’t want to ruin the evening. “Not much” your Dad replied, I felt so bad, I felt rude he was being so polite trying to make conversation and either of us could barely say anything, “It would be about 12 months since you got married?” he questioned us “I don’t go on Facebook anymore” he said, “two years” I answered again keeping conversation short as I just didn’t want to ruin anyones night.

Its moments like that I still get so unsure how to navigate, or later that evening when your dad and I went to leave and were giving another couple a lift home, we still have your car seat in the car, neither of us wanting to take it out so when they went to get in there it is and you just don’t know if anything will be said, if it is I am always happy to answer but it’s again worrying what people think, or how it may make them feel.

While your Dad was out the other day Henry I decided to finally put your hand and feet casts up on the wall, they had been sitting in your room, we had been waiting until we felt we could, that day I finally thought to myself, we could never put them up we could leave the beautiful framed casts away in the fear, the fear of the emotion that comes along with seeing them, the fear of it upsetting us of making us sad, of reminding us, making us cry… but you know what Henry we do those things anyway, they don’t remind us as we never forget, the emotions the sadness, the tears well that arrived whether they are visible or not, so I set about placing them up in the lounge room to acknowledge, remember and honour you, Henry our beautiful son. I stood back after with some tears but proud that they are up that they are there. Your Dad noticed them a little later after getting home “You put them up” he commented “I did” I replied I looked at the tears in his eyes “Its hard but good” he replied and hugged me.

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One thing that has happened in this last week Henry is that I won an instargram competition, I couldn’t believe when I saw they had tagged me in a post to say I had won. It was a competition four accounts had run for bereaved parents, my name was there. I have won some beautiful gifts to help remember and honour you. Some lovely affirmation cards for pregnancy and baby loss by Aila and Lion Megan created these beautiful cards after her own losses, c.l.keepsakes Charlotte and Lilly’s keepsakes Kellie named this after her two beautiful angels she creates a beautiful range of personalised keepsakes such as keepsake boxes, frames and other pieces, she is able to custom design and there are beautiful boxes you can purchase personalised for your child’s Christmas presents, treasure boxes to keep things for their 18th birthday and other lovely items. A beautiful album made by the talented Jenny McGregor her album love and let go has been created for bereaved parents as Jenny and her husband Ben have lost a child themselves all proceeds of her album go to red nose charity to support families through these times and a lovely remembering me book from Hapermartinau Shaela creates beautiful keepsake books to document the most precious memories, she worked with a number of bereaved mums to include their thoughts to create the remembering me book for parents who have experienced loss. I feel so humbled Henry that this community has come together, they came together to honour bereaved parents and create awareness and I feel grateful to be the one to receive these items even though there are so many deserving parents out there.

Your Dad Henry he has a habit of talking in his sleep, last week he woke me up during the night with his sleep talking, I then in turn end up waking him up as I reply thinking he is awake, we spoke about it the next morning “You woke me up” your dad said to me “I woke you up because you were talking in your sleep and I thought you were awake” I replied to him. He looked at me “If I ever want to talk to you during the night I will tap you” he said to me “ok” I replied. Well Henry that night then went something like this, I was drifting in and out of sleep your Dad taps me on the shoulder “Ask them do they want to move there” he says to me, confused by this comment and still half asleep trying to get my brain to work out what he was on about “What who?” I asked him “The emojis to the Almafi coast” “Huh what Almafi, emojis what emojis” I asked so damn confused “The thoughts in my mind like the Almafi coast” your dad replied, it was at this point Henry I realised that even though he had tapped me he was sleep talking, Oh dear…. It was funny telling him this story once he woke up.

I participated in an online support group this past week Henry, one of the things that came up during this was sharing, sharing about our children and how we do that, there was talk about how sometimes we all felt ‘were we sharing too much?’ the facilitator of the group spoke with us about this “If your children were here with you, you would be sharing with people, you would be sharing about milestones, funny moments, smiles, family holidays many events so why should a bereaved parent share any less, we still have children we still hold a parents love”. It is so true Henry I share because you are our beautiful son and you existed and we want to share you with our family and friends as any parent would. We just share in a different way.

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I remember being pregnant with you, I remember walking in a store about a week before I ended up going in to labour.. We had walked in to get cake!! 😋 but there were also other items in the store, I stopped as I noticed your dad looking at a sign.. Boy noise with dirt on it, the sign said… see also little rascal.. I looked at your Dad in wonder “Do you want to get it?” I asked “yeah” he said and smiled, I remember in that moment smiling too as your Dad hadn’t actually chosen anything for you himself, I always asked his opinion on the items and set up for your room, but this was the first thing he chose specifically for you, it made my heart melt.

We recently finally completed one whole section of the screen for your garden Henry, your Dad and I have cut, screwed and placed together piece by piece to create it, it looks good. We are now just trying to source some more old fence pailings to complete the other part of the screen. We decided that seeing as Christmas is going to be tricky and really tough that we will spend the day finishing your garden together, that can be our project to keep ourselves busy and it is something for you. So I am hoping to find those pailings soon to have the screen done so we can on Christmas plant and put together your garden and hopefully by the end of the day we can sit together there to take some time to look at what we have achieved, our greatest achievement will always be you.

Sunday morning as we drove to the beach with the sun shining, such perfect weather an instant thought of ‘we would have been taking you to the beach today’ I felt sadness wash over me at that thought, we would have packed up all the extra things required to have a baby at the beach including the shade tent and taken you, I would have sat with you under the shade of the tent listening to the water while your Dad jumped in to capture photos, when he come out we may have taken you in the water together to at least feel it on your toes, to see your reaction, although I feel by six months we would have had you used to the feel of the water, we will never know if you would have liked it or not. All the never know, all the wondering, all the never will be, I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks as I thought of how it shouldn’t be this way, we shouldn’t be going to the beach to remember you, we should be there with you.

Your Dad and I Henry have some other plans, other ways to honour you while doing things that are important to us, we are taking our time slowly, to put it together, to create it, sharing ideas, thoughts. It has been a process and still will for some time, It will be good when we can share our ideas with all our family, friends and the world.

I have been making a habit most mornings now Henry of getting up to go walk on the beach here, it started because one morning I was having a really bad morning the thoughts started but I managed to catch them early enough ‘get up and walk’ I said to myself, so I did now I am going to try to do it everyday even before work, there’s always something calming about the ocean, the sound, the waves, the feel of the sand between my toes, the water when it rushes over my feet.. and I feel a closeness with you. This morning as I walked along the beach with a coffee in hand two whales a mother and calf kept breaching it is such an amazing sight to watch, their big bodies propel out of the water, I stood letting the water rush over my feet taking in the magnificent sight… it’s those simple moments Henry that mean so much in the days. The moments that help to ground me a little that help to ease the burden if only for that short time.

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After I got home this morning after having some breakfast, and doing some things I lay on the bed in your dads arms knowing he soon had to get ready for work “Don’t go today” I said “I don’t want you to go” “I have too” he replied “So we can have money to pay the bills” “I know” I replied “I’m just feeling really sad” I said some tears falling from my eyes your Dad looked down at me “Me too” he said his eyes watery as he said it we just lay there together until he had to get ready for work.  I stopped him from getting up. “You need to write a blog post” your Dad said to me, I explained to him my fears how I had been feeling, what I had been thinking…. “You need to do it for you” he replied and as I have been typing Henry I realise he is right. I’m not sure I admit that your Dad is right often, so I am lucky he still doesn’t read.

This evening Henry the sadness is the there, I feel the familiar ache right down to my bones, I feel the tears wanting to sting my eyes, I feel a heaviness in my heart. All I ever wanted was to show you a world of love, all I ever wanted was to give you the best I could be as your mum, to take you out, show you nature, enjoy our time with you, to support you as you grow. All we ever wanted was not to be the perfect parents as they don’t exist but to do what we could to make your life a meaningful one.. now we have to try to work out how we make it meaningful while remembering you.

As the rain pours outside and I hear the sound, I look for you but you can not be found

Not physically, no you are not here, but as I hear the rain I listen as it whispers you are near

When I see the waves crashing at the beach, as they travel up the sand over my feet, I am reminded of you

On days the sun shines, and I see a sunset or sunrise, the beauty of it it’s like you sent it just for us to see

At night as I look at the stars and say goodnight, as they shine so brightly, I look in wonder at all those stars and feel as though you are surrounding me

As I feel the wind hit my face as it blows my hair over my shoulder, I know it was you

You are all around me, in everything I do, You are in the rain, the sunshine, the waves, the stars and the wind.

You are in the beauty I see in a flower that has started to grow, you are in the bird which comes to sit by us, you are in the strange sounds we sometimes hear at night.

You are…. You may not be here physically but you exist, you exist in every aspect of my life awake and asleep when I dream of you.

You exist as you are a part of us both, a part of our DNA, you exist as I grew you, you were born and now you are not here in my arms, you exist in all of me, in everything. 

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Milestones and Meaning.

Making meaning when life feels meaningless Henry, We have had a tough couple of weeks Henry with so many ups and downs. This week I find myself experiencing so many thoughts, so many questions, confusion it has all been there.

Confusion when you wake up in the morning feeling somewhat ok then realising you feel ok, then questioning how I could be ok in that moment  when you are not here, then bursting in to tears because you don’t know how that is supposed to work and how you navigate that.

Thoughts and questions, thoughts and questions of how do we make life more meaningful again, how do we keep moving in a way which honours you and is good for our souls. How do we feel like it will get lighter when some days are still so bad, there’s still days the ache of not having you in our arms overtakes everything and I can barely get myself to get out of bed on those days.

The past couple of weeks we have had our wedding anniversary Henry, two years since we eloped to Hawaii not telling our friends and family and getting married, two years since we shared so much special laughter and joy on that day, two years since we stood on that beach reading the heartfelt words we had written for one another, talk of continuing to build a life together, of your dad saying to me ‘he wanted to create and support a family with me in a household filled with laughter’. We really wanted to make sure we laughed with you everyday Henry, now we find laughter is a rare thing.

We received lots of beautiful wishes for our anniversary Henry, and we spent that morning driving over an hour to an appointment, an appointment we shouldn’t have had to be looking at again, if you were here, yet here we were faced with that appointment. We spent that appointment going over again the circumstances of what happened, we spent that appointment with me explaining and your Dad crying, I then spent the next hour answering question after question about my health, my history, different diagnosis, my family history all painting a picture.

I then got the fun of enduring some invasive women’s things  and then a blood test, poked, prodded, happy anniversary…. thanks… now what is wrong with me and how come we can’t seem to fall pregnant 😦 its working on ways to move forward with some things, but we shouldn’t be moving forward Henry because we should have you.

Happy Anniversary indeed Henry…. not so much happy about it at all. Your Dad and I did go to dinner that night, we did enjoy some nice food and drinks together, we discussed though how if you were here we probably would have been looking for someone to look after you for a few hours while we went to dinner, we would probably be looking forward to the break as our role from parents to you and for that few hours being Tim and Kristy not mum and dad… Yet here we both were desperately wishing it was the other way around.

Emotions have run high since that day Henry, I have had phone calls to update me of the progress of certain things I have in place, hard discussions, Last Saturday I went to an event to try to connect with some others, I was able to last Sunday have coffee with a beautiful lady I had connected with online, then we got to the Monday ‘Pregnancy and infant loss awareness day’ and a wave of light at 7pm that night, the wave of light starts at 7pm in each different time zones and candles stay lit for an hour to acknowledge and remember the precious babies and infants gone too soon. The wave of light continues across the world for 24 hours, as we were blowing out candles at 8pm another person was lighting theirs. Your Dad and I felt it important to acknowledge, we felt it important to participate.

I explained to your Dad what I wanted to do, I explained to him that I had the night before written the names of the many babies I know gone too soon, the names of beautiful babies who I knew their parents in real life or had connected with them online, I explained to your Dad I wanted to have a candle for each name, to set them up in a heart shape with Henry’s name in the middle. As we began to set it up, as I placed each name down with a candle beside it, your Dad and I looked at one another tears in our eyes “There is too many names” I said to him “it’s so sad” he nodded unable to speak, too many families hurting Henry why is life so unfair?

Once the heart shape was set up I placed a special candle in the middle with your name and a white rose for you, as 7pm approached I lit each candle one by one tears streaming down my face and your Dad close by and then helping, as all the candles we used to create the heart were alight we stopped took a deep breath and I lit your special candle the candle for you, your Dad and I cried and cried together next to each other as we looked at your name and the many names around yours honouring you, honouring all of these little babies and the sad thing is Henry we know there are so many more names out there.

I need to thank our many friends Henry, friends who also took the time to light candles in your honour, they sent us pics, tagged us in posts it was so beautiful to see you so thought of, I spent the evening sending photos to those who’s children’s names I had included to let them know they were in our thoughts too. Neither your Dad or I slept well that night, neither of us could sleep at all and I haven’t much since then.

The next day we both found ourselves drained, physically and emotionally, I still went to my PT session on little sleep and made it through.

Your Dad had a really flat and bad day Thursday Henry, he woke up in tears, I had a few appointments to get to but the moments when I was home with him, he just lay on the lounge trying not to let the tears come to the surface, we talked a little its been hard on him too Henry, well its been hard on both of us but especially with his work at times, I know in the past few shifts he has had to deal with a lot of children at risk, seeing that, doing that takes its toll, he says he feels fine at the time but its later when the thoughts are allowed in and there is just so much injustice, so much unfairness of how we would have provided such a loving and warm home for you yet that was stolen from us and then to see other children in a situation where they are not cared for.. that can be a hard pill to swallow. It seems so unfair they get their children only to not care for them and well we, we don’t get to love and look after you as we would have. I can understand why your Dad was feeling flat, why it was all too much.

Thursday night Henry we both didn’t sleep, we tried and couldn’t, I even made jokes with your dad as I have bought a special light to try to assist my sleep it has certain colours and different settings which I have to do some more reading up on, but it has a green glow to it which I had on last night, your Dad got up to go the bathroom when he returned to the room I asked “Are you ok?” “yeah” he responded “Are you sure?” I asked “yeah why?” he asked back with a puzzled look “Cause you are looking a bit green” I said to him joking about the dim green light that lit the room, he shook his head at me hopped in to bed and cuddled me as we laughed at the bad joke.

Friday I just missed you, I just wanted you here and I always will really. Not much sleep combined with emotion and the grief meant I woke up crying, your Dad held me close, we decided to go down the beach then when we got back showered but as we got back home the tears started again as I had flashbacks from the hospital of the pain, of the different interactions of being ignored, of being on my own when I was told your heart wasn’t beating anymore, I got into the shower and sobbed and sobbed as the hot water ran over me, I couldn’t stop, I don’t know how long I was in that shower Henry, but I know it took every ounce of my strength to get myself together to get out.

We got ourselves together and went to get some breakfast, then headed off to go see some gardens for a garden show, hoping that it might give us some inspiration for your garden, but as we walked around these gardens, as the sun became hotter and it became more muggy, I found myself although we were taking in these beautiful gardens, I was hot, bothered, tired and just missed you. We completed the gardens where I then got home and the tears hit once more, they poured down my face as I talked to your Dad about how lost I felt, about how I found it hard to make decisions, about how pregnancies of friends we found out during the week were hard news, not that we weren’t happy for them but it just happened so quickly for them and here we are still struggling with having had struggles to fall pregnant with you, then now to not having you here and still desperately trying to fall pregnant with siblings for you, none of it seems fair, I feel like the world hates me at times.. my mind runs away with me wondering what did I do to deserve this… But the thing is Henry there’s no rhyme or reason to it, it is what it is and it sucks.

As I sat at the table editing a photo for your Dad tears streamed down my face a knock at the door, your Nanny and Poppy dropped by. I quickly tried to wipe the tears from my eyes and put on a smile, made tea as we all talked. After they left your Dad and I worked on your garden some more, though the hot sun, me being extremely tired and emotional and feeling just generally overwhelmed, after a couple of hours I just had to give in, let my body just sit on the lounge and maybe even try to sleep… I had a big drink of water then another knock at the door interrupted those thoughts.

Friday night Henry, more tears because the ache is heavy and I felt overwhelmed, unable to bear the burden, unable to carry the weight, Feeling like I was stuck underneath it almost crushed to the ground and I couldn’t lift it off to move to get up. It was crushing me, I could barely breathe. I sat wondering how do we keep going, keep moving when it feels as though that feeling will last forever.

Sunday I battled through another day, I went out to do some things and found a moment of anxiety, a moment so intense Henry, that I found myself unable to do simple tasks I would normally do, I lost my confidence not that it really exists anymore, doubting myself and retreating to the car where I just burst in to tears and cried in to my hands. I spent all that afternoon being so hard on myself for that moment, I spent the afternoon getting frustrated and annoyed as I thought why can’t I do what I normally do, but Henry since losing you I don’t have any faith in myself, it’s trying to build that back up but not knowing how, speaking with my PT about it this morning she said “I hate that its like this for you Kristy I hate seeing you like this as I know what an independent person you normally are, it must be so hard to feel that way” and it is Henry its such an internal battle every single day, everyday I have parts of me that hold frustration, that I battle with that say you should be able to do all you normally do and do it well.

I discussed with my psychologist today that the thought of returning to my job scared me, It scared me because I always liked to try to do my job really well, I had a strong work ethic and I worry when I return that I won’t be capable of doing my job as I used too, then that will create an extra stress that I don’t need, more anxiety, I feel as though I may break.

Then there’s the lead up to Christmas to realising that all the plans we had discussed last Christmas while I was pregnant with you will never happen, we had talked about how every Christmas Eve we had wanted to give you a book and that Christmas eves every year would be spent cuddling up together on the couch to read you a story and eat some chocolate, you would have been too little for chocolate this year but we still would have read to you. We had talked about how Christmas Day we wanted to start a tradition with you of waking up to watch the sunrise on the beach with you and come home and make pancakes for breakfast, at Christmas time you would have been 8 months old, old enough for us to let you try pancakes and share that with you, we had talked about how we would only buy you four gifts, one being the book, one being something you want (although you would’ve been too little to choose for a while) the other being something you needed and then an outfit too.

So many plans Henry, so many discussions so much we had looked forward too, and it will never be, we won’t have that Christmas this year, we won’t have that any year with you, tears are streaming down my face as I write this, as I tell you about those plans we had for you, and I don’t know how we navigate Christmas Henry, but I guess I don’t know how we do any day. But to sit and watch nephews and nieces open presents and run around, to watch the joy on faces, to see the family photos, I’m not sure Henry if it is something that I feel strong enough to face.

We have a hard day ahead on Thursday Henry with something we have to do, I know it will lead to a follow through of emotions on Friday and I know I’ll struggle through them as we do. Then another milestone, Friday marks the day you would’ve been 6 months old, half a year, Half a year has passed already, six months without you being here in our arms, 6 months of navigating this journey of trying, and yet it feels like the whole world has gone on but stood still for us.

You are whats missing, you are what is missing from everything, from my camera roll, I shouldn’t be posting blogs and quotes, instead it should be a thousand pictures of you. Instead I come across quotes or type words that try to explain how I feel, so this is what I share. But words are not enough I want you. You can never be replaced, words will never be enough.

All my love every day it goes to you, it goes to you in the way you are my first thought every morning, in the way I remember you as I make breakfast, in the way that I continue on working on the garden we are creating for you, in the way I tend to your room, my love it goes to you as I speak your name, it goes to you each night as I look up at the stars and say goodnight, it goes to you as I settle in to bed and tears fall, it goes to you as I dream of you. All my love goes to you.

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I opened that drawer.

I will love you until the moment I pass from this existence to the next, and then I will find you again and love you some more.

‘Wyatt’

I opened ‘that’ drawer last night Henry well there’s more than one of ‘those’ drawers in our house this drawer is in the kitchen it’s one of our large pot drawers, I absent-mindedly went to look for something in there that used to be there, forgetting that before I had you in those last couple of weeks I’d cleaned it out. I cleaned it out to create a space in the kitchen for your things.. I opened that drawer without thinking Henry and there staring back at me, more reminders of the plans, the life we thought we’d have but don’t, the one where you’d be here. A drawer with bottles, a breast pump, breast milk bags to freeze milk I was going to feed you with, bottle cleaners, containers planning ahead for when I would make purée food for you, the one special bottle I had included in your dad’s gift basket I had put together for him, with items for you and him, with the tag I’d attached saying ‘so we can be drinking buddies’.

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I’d known how much he’d wanted to be involved and be able to feed you too, so I had the plan if it worked out to pump and freeze, so he’d be able to give you a bottle here and there I know that plan may not have worked but we were so keen to try. I opened that drawer Henry I saw all of that stuff and my heart ached, I froze stopped in time I saw that one tag on that bottle I’d got and put in the basket for your dad and I broke, closing the draw I broke down right there, falling and sitting on the kitchen floor in tears.

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There’s other drawers in our house Henry… they are there, there’s one in the loungeroom which contains precious things like your tags from the hospital the card which says how much you weighed the hand and footprint stamps, the cards we got from people sending love and condolences instead of congratulations, photos of you we have that drawer too. Then there’s the drawers in your room with all those tiny clothes we lovingly washed before you arrived I’d sorted the drawers too, the first two had 0-3 months clothes the third contained the 3-6 months and I’d put the few 6-12 month items we had in a container aside planning to change and rotate the drawers as needed.. We were prepared so prepared for you. Who knew we’d only need one draw would hold all we had left of you, who knew the other drawers wouldn’t be needed. Who knew those plans would never happen not us.

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Yesterday Henry, the casts we had organised to get done of your hands and feet arrived, we had organised this within days of leaving the hospital and over 5 months later they arrived, we had forgotten they would be coming, it was so bittersweet. As I stared down at those precious casts of your hands and feet, as I stared down they were in exactly the same position as we had left them that day, exactly as I remember them. I looked at the hands and feet in the frame so incredibly perfect, so beautiful, so heartbreaking tears streamed down my face so very quickly I couldn’t stop them “I’m sorry” I apologised for crying to the lady who had done the casts and handed them to me, “It’s ok” she said sitting next to me. She handed me a little wooden box with your name on it, she handed it to me underneath your name the words, ‘Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart’ I saw those words and more tears its true, you have all of my heart Henry always.

Inside that little box she explained were the original casts she took “So you can hold them” she said to me and she had done replicas for the frame, I ever so carefully unwrapped the tissue paper from one of them holding the little hand in mine, it’s exactly the size I remember your hands to be, I remember holding your hands in mine, I remember looking at your long fingers in awe, I remember the feel of your soft soft skin in my hands, it took me back to a place I wish I could still be those moments with you. I was taken right back to those moments I got to hold, cuddle, kiss and take you in. Tears just kept pouring out “thank you” I said “Thank you so very much you have no idea how grateful we are and how much these mean to us” I said between tears “and thank you for delivering them” … “It’s my absolute honour to be able to do these and I can not even begin to imagine” she said back to me. As she stood to leave “can I hug you?” I asked “Yes she said I gave her the biggest thankful hug I could. Amber has a Facebook page for her casting business and has done some beautiful work. Cast a memory Shoalhaven 

After she left Henry I realised your Dad had disappeared ‘where are you?’ I messaged him, he reappeared minutes later tears streaming down his face his eyes red, we sat on the lounge hugging each other and just crying and crying together “they are really special” he said to me rubbing my back “They are” we just sat looking and crying. So damn hard Henry as I wish you were here, I wish with everything you were here and we didn’t need casts of your hands and feet but you are not and these little casts mean so very much.

Last night Henry, last night I couldn’t sleep, your Dad snored beside me, I tried reading, I tried all sorts of things, the first ultrasound we had with you came to my mind, I remember we had an early one as I had, had some bleeding and was so sick, The first ultrasound “We may need to do an internal if we can’t see with this one” she had said but no that wasn’t needed she put the gel on my stomach and then started moving the wand around and there you were, there you were to me you looked like the shape of a frog at that stage. “There’s your baby” she had said “all looking good” , “there’s only one in there?” I asked her as I had been so sick already I wondered if maybe there were two “only one” she confirmed your Dad and I looked at each other and we smiled. We got ready she printed a picture for us and we left to go home. I remember all those moments Henry, the milestones, moments we saw you on-screen, all of it sticks so vividly in my mind.

Thoughts of you swirled in my head and I couldn’t sleep at all, I decided to get up, I walked to the bathroom after this I went to sit down on the lounge your Dad woke up “Where are you?” he called out “I can’t sleep” I said to him “come back” he said I instantly got frustrated and upset “but I can’t sleep” I replied “whats the use”.. “come lay down with me” he replied as I made my way to do so Henry I could hear Snikkers wag her tail it making a noise against her bed I bent down to pat her, she is my follower Henry and it that moment I started to cry as I pet her because I knew, I knew that if you were here she would have been by my feet any time I would’ve gotten up to feed you, she would have moved with us and stayed with us and I know she would’ve been protective of you. I held on to her and cried and cried until moving to the bed with your Dad as I got in he pulled me close I put my head in to his chest and broke even more “I don’t want to do this anymore” I said to him as I sobbed “We can do this together” he said to me, but the hurt Henry the pain I don’t want to do it anymore.

As we lay there and I couldn’t stop the tears that feel so fast and so furiously down my face your Dad tried to calm me, trying to get me to breathe “Follow my breath” he said breathing deeply in and out “I’ll be your app” he said as I have been trying to listen to a sleep app lately to help with sleep. Your Dad breathed in and out slowly then all of a sudden he said “Allen’s lollies eat redskins special 2 for $5” I slightly laughed “pay for premium access without the ads” he then said “I am being the app” I laughed a little more he then continued to breathe for a few more moments “berry donut van delicious donuts eat responsibly” I laughed a little bit more and hugged your Dad tighter “I’m tired and I am tired of fighting with myself day after day after day” .. “We will get there” he said to me “We will do it together picking up each others pieces”

We talked some more until your Dad fell back asleep and I lay there for some time still awake, until finally somewhere in the early hours of the morning my exhaustion allowed me to fall asleep.

This past week I have struggled with some days Henry, I have fought hard with myself on the days where I haven’t felt like doing much at all, I’ve had a change basket arrive this week I ordered it before you were born and it got put on back order, I had forgotten and it arrived, and that was hard, seeing it opening it and then putting it in your room, where it just looked perfect, it went perfectly and I felt all the emotions at once, so fucking sad that I didn’t get to be using it with you, angry I was placing it in there and you aren’t here, pain as I wondered will we ever get to use it for siblings with you and just that complete and utter love that I have for you.

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That change basket arrived on Friday and Friday night your Dad was at work, while he was at work I received a phone call regarding some things we have been looking at and doing the phone call was a really difficult one, after I finally held it together on the phone afterwards I put my head in to my hands and cried, Snikkers looked up at me concern in her eyes and I placed my had down to pet her head and I continued to let tears fall. I sat wondering whether things were worth it, was everything we were trying to do is it worth the hurt, pain everything. Sometimes I wonder, in fact I always wonder how?

We continue to work on your garden, I picked up some rocks for that this week, I continue to go to psychologist appointments to talk and help navigate my grief, I do all I can to keep going through each and everyday. Theres moments of laughter still lots of tears hurt and pain. I say to your Dad often I need direction, I feel so lost, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how I return to a job that demands travel, being away from home so often, its hard enough when your Dad is on shift work let alone being hundreds of miles away from him especially when those big waves of grief hit. Let alone being out in childcare centres all day, being around other babies all day, being reminded of what I am missing so much with you. But these are all decisions I face Henry, things I have to think about and will have to do, we need our income.

Today Henry we have taken it easy, today I have tried to rest. its been raining lightly but consistently. Today your Dad talked with me about how this day two years ago he went to watch the Bathurst race with friends at the pub and he spent the afternoon writing his wedding vows on coasters. I smile at that memory, I smile at the memory of him pulling them out that day we had eloped to Hawaii and married on the north shore. I remember his heartfelt words ‘I promise to create and support a family with you in a household filled with laughter’ some of his words, which is what we had longed to do with you ‘I will love you faithfully through the difficultly and the easy’ he has certainly proven that Henry, through this most difficult time ever your Dad has done nothing but show me love. I think about how he said those words how much we used to laugh and it just makes me sad we have lost that laughter that fun, the spark we used to have and it feels like we will never find it.

We talked about how this time last year your Dad had stayed home with me to watch the race as I was so sick with HG I had been vomiting most of the morning and was on the lounge, he stayed with me to support me through it, get me anything I needed to care for me as he always has. This time last year I was 11 weeks going on 12 weeks pregnant with you we were looking forward to our 12 week scan in the upcoming week.

So many anniversaries still happening still coming up, so many moments I remember, I want to celebrate them but at the same time they bring the pain of all we thought would be, I want to celebrate you but at the same time it brings all of the overwhelming feelings of how we have lost you, how we never get to watch the milestones we should be, how we never get to hold and watch you grow.

I look at your room and as the months pass of siblings not arriving I wonder should we keep it set up as it is or do we pack it away, I can’t bring myself to pack it up and I feel close to you in there and sometimes I have so much hope that it may one day be filled with your siblings, yet other days just seeing it, just walking past it hurts I break down. I walked past the other day and the pain, that ache it hit me hard like a hard punch to abdomen it took my breath away, taking me by complete surprise I was reminded, about how much I long for you, I just had this urge to be in your room doing something, yet there’s no point, there’s nothing to do in there, as you are not here. I can’t look after you so your room remains untouched, it remains in immaculate condition, untouched, clothes, bedding, toys, books, shoes all unused. All I can do in there is dust, vacuum and water the plant or sit and reflect on what is, how I feel and what could have been.

I was recently talking to a friend Henry and her mum reads my letters to you, she had said to my friend “Kristy much just feel like a cicada, when I met her she was lovely, so nice and smiling and at the party had a lot of fun, chirpy like a cicada, now she must just feel like the shell of herself, just like the cicada leaves a shell behind” It was one of the best ways I have heard it put Henry, I do feel like a shell of my former self no longer the happy person I was just who I am now after that one moment that changed my life.

I miss the me that laughed so much, I miss the me that would want to get out and try something new, the me that was constantly on the go and busy, the me that would plan and plan and get things done, I miss the me that would make a decision and go ok I am going to make this happen… Go back to that, do that people might say what they don’t realise is I can’t, I cant be that person as I am changed, it’s not to say that some of it wont return, but at the moment some days just getting out of bed is all I can do.

Another week almost over, another about to begin.

Another week further away from you, another week in.

Another month slowly passing, yet months have disappeared before my eyes.

Another day, hour, minute, second without you.

Henry, I love you.

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They don’t know.

Henry, Henry, Henry, hours turn in to days, days turn in to weeks, weeks have turned in to months and I am so fearful of when that turns in to a year and then many years. I just want you here, I want you back, every inch of me just wants you and that’s something I have to remind myself daily I can not have.

Days start off generally the same, with me waking up and I am instantly reminded, there’s no reprieve, no break, instantly I am reminded I have to get up and face another day without you. This is my life now, this is it, that will never change, it will always be the case and I wonder each day what that looks like? how that looks? how we keep doing it. The pain is still there, the pain of missing you, I have certainly learned to start to function better, however there are moments when the grief hits and it’s still so crippling, sometimes I can not choose when that is, where it may occur and often it is times when I quickly still need to retreat from somewhere or situations before the tears start.

Your Dad consistently over this past weekend asked several times “What do you want to do?” “What do you want to do?” he asks again, my answers are always similar either “I don’t know” or sometimes “I don’t care” …. I don’t care what do we do Henry, I want to be looking after you, if you were here I am sure we would never be bored, we would have walked with you to the park, taken you to the beach, on days where it rained we would have put a large rug out on the lounge room floor to lay and spend time playing with you, we would have danced with you in our arms in the kitchen, we might have taken you outside to see and feel the raindrops on your face, body, hands, see them fall on to your nose, watch as you may have screwed up your face as they fell on you not knowing what to think, we would have laughed, maybe you would have too.

Maybe we would have even taken you away somewhere for the long weekend, maybe we would have went camping, stayed somewhere we could take and show you something new. Walked through the bush, explored the trees, let you feel the grass and dirt under your toes. Yes Henry we could still go away, we could still go for walks, we could do all these things, but I don’t want to be doing them just or the sake of it, just to be busy. Sometimes I feel like I do not even remember what your Dad and I used to do, how we filled our days.. Perhaps it is because our lives were so busy with work, with me working away usually once a fortnight, your Dad doing shift work, it meant there was limited time together to get things done, so we were caught up doing what we needed to.

Now I get those things done and I’m not sure what else to do, I just want to escape at times, I just want to run, other times I want to hide, I do this dance between the two, I dance between thinking I am so capable and could do so much too being so overcome with grief and feeling like I can’t do anything but basic day-to-day tasks. I am so lost.

You used to SUP, garden and swim, people might say, you used to share stories and pictures of the puppies, I do know your Dad and I did things Henry, and I know we are still doing and need to do them again, what can be difficult for others to understand is that right now, those things are effort, but they are things you used to enjoy others might say, whats hard now is, well everyday is hard so even things we used to enjoy, it can be hard at times to find that joy in them.

Last night Henry, last night as we got in to bed, flashbacks from the hospital straight away, my breath got faster, my mind kept going, I felt out of control and as my heart-felt like it would beat out of my chest, sobs large loud sobs started, your Dad turned to me pulling me towards him and held on to me so tightly “Breathe, deep breaths” he tried to remind me, the sobbing continued “It hurts, it hurts” I said to him between sobs, “It does every second of the day” he replied. I couldn’t stop the tears, I couldn’t fight the pain, your Dad just held me as tight as he could “I don’t know how to do this” I said crying harder “We do it for each other, we do it for him” your Dad said to me, I cried until I fell asleep.

This morning I woke with puffy eyes, this morning I woke to my reality, this morning  Henry the same feeling that’s there, its is there everyday, my eyes as soon as they open I wish they would close, my eyes as soon as they open I wish somehow I might have slept a little longer, my eyes as soon as they open, I know you are not here where you should be.

Today we went to the beach, we went to your beach, the beach we have spent so much time, the beach your Dad and I swam at while I was pregnant with you, where I rode the SUP in on my knees, where we watched you move in my belly as I got in the cold water and where we later cried tears as we said our final goodbye to you.

Your Dad he got in the water there today to take photos, as we walked down on to the sand there were families everywhere today, being school holidays they were there on the beach, we walked past a blue tent as I went to sit down I noticed a mum with her baby sitting under the blue tent…. Trigger, I had to move….

As I sit on the sand and tears fall behind my sunglasses, they don’t know. 

The mother sitting under the blue shade tent with her baby, she doesn’t know – she doesn’t know we have a blue shade tent just like that which remains unused as we had planned to do the same with you.

The father running across the sand, running across the sand with his toddler chasing him, he doesn’t know – he doesn’t know we’d pictured this moment in our minds with you.

The grandmother holding her grandchild hand as they walk along to find the perfect place to sit their belongings, she doesn’t know – she doesn’t know that we had thought we would do this with you. 

The Dad holding his baby in the water letting the waves splash lightly on to their faces, holding his baby so closely ever so carefully and smiling, he doesn’t know – he doesn’t know your Dad and I had talked about how he would do this with you.

The Mum who’s little one wants to touch the water so she cautiously stays next to them as they run to the water’s edge, she doesn’t know – she doesn’t know I wish that was me.

The families sitting on the beach having picnics, they don’t know – they don’t know we want to be doing this too.

The families watching the waves come in as they decide to swim, they don’t know – they don’t know we scattered your ashes in that very spot, in the water, they don’t know that’s where I broke down as the last of your ashes fell from the urn.

The parents sitting in the sun watching their children build sand castles, they don’t know – they don’t know that’s where your Dad and I stood in that sunny spot on the sand releasing butterflies in your honour, one by one as the butterflies flew from my finger in to the air and away.

they don’t know, none of them know, they can’t see the tears behind my sunglasses, as I sit on the same beach as them, they can’t see our empty arms, our broken hearts, our pain, our hurt. They don’t know, all they see is a childless couple on the beach, some of them maybe even look and envy us as we walk on to the sand together, some of them may think we are ‘lucky’ to have freedom to be doing ‘what we want’, some of them may think we are carefree, they don’t know, they don’t know we would give anything to be them, to be that family with you here. 

This afternoon a little laughter Henry, some small joy and smiles in our day. We went with your Nanny to see some lambs, two sets of twins, two only two weeks old and the other two, three weeks old, I got to hold them, cuddle them, have them nuzzle in to my shoulder, they were so very cute, we also saw alpacas, baby birds, roosters and chooks. It was nice, nice to explore to see the animals to hear about their stories. It was nice to smile. As always though a piece of me wishes we had been taking you to see the animals to share that experience with you.

Today marks the start of my period, again, again Henry another month no sibling for you, another month of facing that disappointment on top of our grief, another month of wondering why? and will I ever get to hold your sibling in my arms, or will that not happen for us? Were you my one and only child? and I don’t get to have you here? can the world be that cruel? can it be that cruel to someone who has all this love to give?

Your Dad Henry, the beautiful man that he is, he recently entered a competition through a gluten free magazine called Austrlian Gluten Free Life I didn’t know he entered this competition, it was to win a hamper from Byron Bay cookie company  I didn’t know he had entered until I saw an email in our inbox to say he had won. I looked at the email wondering what is this, then Henry, then I read his entry….. Tears, tears streamed down my face as his simple entry it talked of you, it talked of how much he’d love to spoil me with some cookies on your beach, so we could sit and enjoy them together thinking of you. I cried as he is so thoughtful, I cried as he included you, I cried because it was so lovely he had done this and I cried as he won. Today that hamper arrived so we got to be at your beach at sunset to enjoy some of the really delicious cookies together, and although we wanted to eat them all at once Henry, we thought we better ration them out.

Your Dad Henry he is amazing.

Tomorrow is another day Henry, but I have to get through tonight first. Tomorrow I wake up to this reality, the one I am unsure how we survive, tomorrow I make myself get up again, to do the day, to feel however it is I find myself feeling, to fight, to battle through. Tomorrow I will still love you. The last line of my wedding vows to your Dad was ‘I swear I couldn’t love you anymore than I do now and yet I know I will tomorrow’ the same goes for you our beautiful boy.

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