There is a site that I have been frequenting.

I go there most days.

It is a place I feel as though I belong.

A place I can grieve.

Every day if I want to.

I can reflect on the feelings that interrupt my day, instead of pushing them away. 

Six questions have been asked and today I will answer them here.

Today because I am reading William’s notes that our doctor smuggled away for me.

Today because I have sick babies curled up, under piles of blankets, wishing away the Winter with me.

Today because I am fragile and I am having a day of self loathing and flagilation.

How would you describe your relationship to fear before and after the loss of your baby?

Fear.

I have always lived with it. Not in the same way I do now.

Before William died, I had thought I had triumphed over many of my fears. I thought I could stare fear down and it would retreat.

Now fear and I walk hand in hand most days.

When I was pregnant with Ivy and Noah I made myself quite crazy.

With fear.

I still do.

I could not lose another child and survive.

I know I could not.

It took and still takes every ounce of strength that I hold in my being to overcome the death of  my son.

That is my biggest fear; that I will lose again.

When people insinuate that I am over protective of Ivy because I lost William it hurts.

Partly because it is true.

Mostly it’s because I’m frightened.

Is your lost baby/are your babies present in your life? In what way?

William is with me everyday. I see him in Noah and in Ivy.

I have all the physical signs that a baby boy was born four years ago, keepsakes, photos…things but the most vivid and obvious reminder of William are the babies that came after him.

Especially Noah.

It’s pretty complicated, multi faceted if you will.

I look at them and I can’t imagine a life without them. I love them so much it hurts but the harsh reality is that, had William lived, Noah and Ivy may never have been.

I don’t have to make that decision.

That was taken away from me but I wonder often, if I had to choose, which would it be?

Perhaps they would be here too, who knows. It is a hard thing to think about.

They won’t live in his shadow because they are their own people but they do remind me of the boy who hardly was.

Tell us about something said or done after your loss that left you feeling nurtured or supported.

I remember going back to my in laws house after Will had died. David’s parents and his sister Amy were there, the girls and homemade chocolate chip biscuits. That memory is so clear. There was nothing to say but just being with family and those biscuits made me feel loved.

The other thing that really stays with me is that the minister who married us and who had christened the girls also went out of his way for us. He had moved on from his the church to take on a position in the Police Force. We asked him to christen William for us and he did, he came up to run William’s service for us. He was there that night when we came home from the hospital. Open and honest. I will appreciate that forever.

Tell us about something said or done after your loss that left you feeling marginalized or misunderstood.One of the things that really got to me was people trivialising his death. People telling me it was Mother Nature’s way was the pits. The women up at the school, physically getting up and moving to the other side of the room, like I had something catching.

My father, who had been through the deaths of his own two sons. He didn’t get it. He never did.

   What’s taken you a long time to do again? How did it feel, if you have?It has taken me a long time to trust again. Myself mostly

and doctors. I feel very cautious handing over my trust to anyone.
How would you describe yourself as a partner before, and after?Before William, I think I was a good mother and a good partner. I was good at looking after everyone. Organised, in control.

For me, keeping David happy was something that was important.

Post William me is different.

Somedays it’s all about self preservation and David and I have a different bond now.

I love him and I think he still loves me but we grieved differently and some of our relationship was lost in that.

I would not say I am a good wife now.

I’m often disorganised.

Definitely more needy.

I would say I am  an adequate partner, that I listen less to the little things because sometimes I think he didn’t  hear my big issues.

In some ways we are closer but in others we are yard sticks apart. Maybe that makes me seem less caring, I don’t know.

It’s just the way things are some days.