Feeling Lighter…
After Marty died so many people said to me “you will carry it with you forever, but it will get easier.” Carry. It. God, that sounded bloody awful to me. It sounded difficult, heavy, threatening some how, and something I didn’t want to do – carry it. I decided I was going to “carry him with me forever”, that sounded so much more pleasant to me. I was quite happy to keep my boy with me. As for it getting easier, in the early days I had no idea how that happened or how that would feel (early days she says, only 4 months in). I just couldn’t see it.
That’s what I struggled to get my head around the most. What happened is so all consuming; my mind, my heart, my body, my husband, my daughter, my family. My present and the rest of my life, I won’t be ‘over it’ in a few months. I find it even impacting my past which I know is a bit daft (and impossible), but I’d look at photos of Mark and I on holidays, our wedding day, at Glastonbury, with Robyn, and find myself thinking that we had no idea what lay ahead for us, no idea at all. All of those happy times, and now what? Now that sounds a little dramatic but this didn’t just feel like a small ripple of disruption in our lives.
Marty’s due date seemed to be the first big hurdle for us to overcome - Christmas, birthdays, Mothers Day and Fathers Day still to come. I hadn’t considered it until my midwife told me I’d probably find that a difficult time so I think I built it up a bit in my head. What to do on your baby’s due date when you’re not pregnant anymore? Mark took the day off and we went for a walk, we chose pictures of Marty and Robyn to go on the wall, we went for lunch and then picked the girl up from nursery and took her to a local farm. It was an odd day, it felt like we should mark it some how but of course we shouldn’t be celebrating. So we just spent it together. I didn’t actually feel any more upset than normal. For me, because Marty had already been born, we had time with him, I already felt like he should be with us. I didn’t need his official due date to make me want him or miss him. One thing that really made me smile that day is the rainbow hand painting Robyn brought out of nursery. Brighter days will come, and we’re so so lucky to have our gorgeous girl to help us through this, I absolutely know that.
The week after Marty’s due date I got part way through a day and realised I felt a bit different – the only way I can describe it is, lighter. Maybe they were right about that carrying after all. I don’t think anything in particular made me start to feel that way, maybe the build up the due date passing? I went to do a food shop, I had a quick go on the spin bike, I just felt….a bit better. Better but still like I could be knocked flat again at any point; I think that may always be the case. A certain fragility about me. And that’s kind of sad to think.
I went to the hairdressers the day after I acknowledged this ‘lighter’ feeling. I was not looking forward to it, the four hours of them dying my greys but also knowing I’d sit down and my lovely hairdresser would ask me if I’d had my baby. Three months in and I’d still successfully avoided saying it out loud too many times. I reckon I could count on one hand how many times I’ve said “my baby died”. But enough times to know that I wanted to work out a way of saying it that actually explained what happened, didn’t make me cry, and didn’t make the other person want to melt into the ground. I was nervously prepping for it as I walked to the salon, its crazy the small everyday things that have become a big deal for me to overcome. I can’t actually remember exactly what I said to her but I didn’t cry. I was happy enough with that. It felt like a step forward, and with a bouncy blow dry.
As I write this I’m 4 months in to saying goodbye (and hello) to Marty. I have recently been in touch with some women who have lost their babies more recently than me, and even though I’m in the same crap club as them, I still find it so hard to know what to say. And this piece of ‘advice’ is so tricky to say, I know I didn’t believe it a few months ago because I just couldn’t picture the future. But if you’re reading this and have been through something similar, if my experience is anything to go by then I promise, it does get – lighter. I still think of Marty every. single. day. but with small steps I can start to picture our future – I am living it after all.
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