The two week wait

Happy Easter everyone, I hope you are having a pleasant long weekend and indulged sufficiently in Easter eggs and hot cross buns! I've been spending a lot of time in the garden, we are preparing the ground for turf at the moment and it take a lot of time and graft!

I've felt reluctant to write this week, not entirely sure why. I guess the prospect of delving into those dark days is scary.

As we travelled home that day we didn't talk much, I looked out of the window and watched the world blur as tears filled my eyes and trickled hot down my cheeks. My head throbbed and my bones felt heavy, time ran ahead of me while I was transfixed on the spot in that moment when we were told Bean had died. I realise now that time did not move for a very long time for me after that moment. There was a song that has stayed with me throughout this whole experience and I remember it now as Bean's song. It came on the radio and finished just as we were pulling up to our driveway, it was Ghostpoet - Be Right Back, Moving House. I'd never heard it before but it really spoke to me this song, it repeats the lyrics "one day at a time" I took it as a sign and this song became part of my grief and a sort of mantra. 

The two weeks after the news of Bean's death were truly awful, I couldn't face anything, I informed my employer what had happened and my manager was extremely understanding and said to have as much time off as I needed. I barely left the house, in fact I barely left the sofa. I became numb and the world began to darken around me. I'd spoken to my mum and she told me about her suspected miscarriage before I was born, she didn't know she was pregnant at the time and went to the Dr after having an unusually heavy period, they said it was probably a miscarriage and nothing more was done. She hadn't even told my dad about it so that news came out all at the same time, my dad had lost a grandchild and possibly a child all at the same time. 

I became a shell of myself, I don't know how Rob coped, I wasn't there for him, I wasn't there full stop. I'm sorry I wasn't there Rob, I'm sorry you had to keep everything afloat on your own while having to deal with the news yourself. I just stopped functioning, it was uncontrollable grief. Uncontrollable shock. How could this have happened? I can't describe the type of anxiety felt when you dread going to the loo in case you see the start of a miscarriage in your underwear. The tumbling doom when you wake up from a restless nights sleep and you remember what has happened, that sickness in your stomach when reality hits and it wasn't a nightmare.

Christmas approached and we agreed not to bother with a tree or presents. We were thinking of not having a tree as we were very close to completing our house purchase so it wasn't a shock really. I'd had no signs of natural miscarriage, no pain, no blood, no nothing. Part of me thought maybe the Drs got it wrong, maybe Bean was ok, but that feeling would only last a few fleeting seconds and I'd crash down to earth again and be swallowed by grief. 

I started writing as an outlet and meditating to try bring down the stress I felt. I'm going to copy some of the letter I wrote to Bean now.

"I'm sorry I have taken so long to write. Like you I have been here and not here. It had been the worst time of my life. I have felt utterly useless and numb. I've hated myself for not being a better place for you to grow and thrive. I have cried and cried. I have blamed myself for telling too many people too soon. I have to-and-fro-ed about taking medical management so the process will be done and I can grieve for you properly. I've wanted to be so close to your Dad and on my own at the same time. I've wanted to hibernate until you are ready to come out. I'm scared of seeing you - what if I miss you and don't realise you have come out? I'm scared of the pain, where, when it will be, Christmas is so close. I want to run and sleep at the same time. I will run again but it's so hard to get out the door. I knitted clothes for you what do I do with them now? I had already attached them to you? Do hand-me-downs still work when the original recipient hasn't even touched them? I want to eat and starve, I feel I should punish myself.

I don't know how to end this letter. Apart from say how much Mam and Dad love you. And love will remain. We will never forget you. And I am sorry, I'm sorry I let you down. I will miss you forever, I'm sorry your life was so short. The universe is cruel. There will never be another Bean. You are Bean. I love you, I love you, my Little Bean. Love, Mammy xxx"

Reading the hand-written letter in a frantic scrawled manner has brought up a lot of feelings for me there. I can see already that I was going down the hole of depression, I wrote about punishing myself and I remember censoring myself in the letter because I thought Rob would read it but I felt suicidal. I had failed as a woman, I didn't carry a healthy child, I was ashamed and felt I didn't deserve anything. I wanted to hurt myself, I wanted to feel even more pain than I already did. I started saying "what is the point" to myself a lot. I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt to stifle the sobs, I pulled at my hair for the pain sensation. I peeled the skin off my fingers to reveal tender flesh below, I stung all over. 

Going back to those days is very painful but it really tells me how far I've come and how much stronger I am. I'm a strong woman! I mentioned at the start of this post that I was reluctant to write, but now I feel tough and powerful. Everything will be ok because the worst has been already. 

Thank you for reading,

Lots of love, Adele xxxx