Even as their birthday approaches, my head is filled with William. The wonders and the what ifs and the guilt for wanting him here and things to be different. I look at them and my whole self swells with love and pride that they are mine. Would they even be here if William had lived? I’m not sure. Very hard to admit and my heart is heavy for thinking it. I love them but with conditions.
I have re - read their birth story, ready to put on the blog in celebration of these little beings but now I’m not sure. Is it really their tale or just more of William? I don’t think I have debriefed, dealt and celebrated their birth. It all happened so quickly.
Somedays, my body, mind and soul still feels as though it is reeling from the devastation of losing a baby, let alone the whirlwind pregnancy and birth, the whole NICU experience of Ivy and Noah. The thought of it makes me feel shaky and anxious. I wonder if this is a natural response to emotions that lie in the pit of you, festering, unresolved. I can only conclude yes. I have not done this before; grieved a dead baby at term. Miscarriage, yes, even late miscarriage, the baby perfectly formed but not this. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would have had to bury my son.
Lately I have gone in search and found blogs on premature birth, confronting it almost, daring it to come to the surface so that I feel something, anything about their nine weeks in the NICU, instead of feeling numb or worse still having a panic attack - the two extremes of the stick. Instead I stumbled across Sweet/Salty and Crib Chronicles. Two women who are confronting their grief head on in beautiful, heartfelt, heartbreaking words. Words, that could have spilled from my own thoughts.
Last night I cried for a very long time. I cried for the first time in ages, for William, for Ivy and Noah, for the other children and all that they have lost, for the women who I have met, who have gone through the same devastation, for my mum, who has had to do this twice over, in a time when grieving was swept underneath that proverbial carpet and I cried because I am so barren when it comes to writing my feelings down somedays and I know, just know that journalling through this blog is some kind of therapy and that the words I write and the words that I read will one day set me free.