I’ve not been blogging or networking much lately. I’ve been feeling run down, very low about Abi and generally snowed under with work and family life. I feel flat and pretty much overwhelmed as again we face more special occasions without our girl.
It’s particularly busy this weekend as it was my hubby’s 40th birthday yesterday and we are also having our children baptised… all three together … on Sunday. It should be a wonderful time of celebration and excitement, but when you’re living with loss, times like this turn into the bleakest of winter days.
The last event we organised was Abi’s funeral on 26th February last year and I have that very much on my mind. While what we’re doing is positive and cause for celebration, booking venues, buying flowers, arranging catering, getting together with all the family etc all take me back to the blur of those intense weeks after Abi died. Recalling having to arrange an event in the midst of grief and shock… I’m not sure how we did it (or without the help of our funeral directors and friends)!
I am looking forward to the baptism, it’s one of those things I’ve always wanted to do for our children and it brings immense comfort too. Abi was baptised on her death-bed, I don’t ever want to be in that position again. Knowing we have God’s blessing on them and us is so important to us. He gives me the strength to get through these difficult times.
Birthdays are horrible now. Just horrible. My hubby cares not a jot that he’s 40 and doesn’t want a fuss (men don’t do they), but I know he’ll be putting his brave face on and making out everything is great.
We used to spend ages choosing cards for each other. I still spent ages but for a different reason. When I saw all the cards, my mind went blank. I felt overwhelmed by choice and none of them expressed how I was feeling, so I chose something silly.
We also usually write long, loving messages in them, usually about how happy we all are as a family, but I just can’t put the words down now. The message I really wanted to write in his card was I’m sorry your birthday is crap but I’m breaking up inside. But I wrote something simple again this year, as I just don’t know what to say, when I try to think of the words I feel my heart ache, and I can’t not write about our loss, so I don’t write anything.
So his birthday was pretty flat, I had no energy or motivation to do anything special for him and I felt bad about that. So selfish in my grief. We had chosen a special new watch for him together, but I couldn’t even make or buy him a cake – I can’t bring myself to sing happy birthday. I feel so sorry for him as I know he looks forward to his day, but I can’t help it.
That’s the big difference in our grief as a couple. He wants to make things happy, for the children, but I want to run and hide. He wants to do things because of Abi, I don’t want to do things because of Abi. It can be hard to find a balance without one of us being upset.
I find the ‘pretence’ too much to bear at times and feel like I’m going crazy. I know it’s no good letting her death depress me, I know that it’s better for everyone if I’m happy, but it’s too much too soon. I miss her every minute. People think my rainbow baby should make it all OK, almost cancel my loss out! There’s no doubt he keeps me going and brings me new joy, but it so doesn’t change my grief. It so doesn’t.
I know too, I’ll be feeling anxious all through November as we prepare for what would be Abi’s 14th birthday – 14! I cannot believe she’s not here for this! And also Christmas, which I just can’t face thinking about at the moment. Yes, we did all these ‘firsts’ last year; yes, we should be feeling ‘better about it now’ (as someone only asked us yesterday) – but I don’t – it’s true, I’m sorry to say, but the second year is worse!