The 3 month anniversary of Elijahs birth and death looms and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to sleep or distract myself. Hence it’s 3am on the 18th and I’m awake writing this!
I’ve been lying here berating myself. Yep, I know it’s ridiculous but I read blogs written by other mothers who have lost their precious children and they are organising marches, selling paintings, doing something! I envy that.
I need that.
I feel I should be running a marathon in his name or setting up a foundation or doing SOMETHING! Instead I’m spending my time watching endless repeats of Frasier and browsing Rightmove for houses way out of my price bracket.
Im filling my time because in fact, all I have now is time. Right now I should have a 3 month old, depriving me of sleep and filling my days with nappy changes, feeding, baby clinic visits….I should be moaning about how hard breastfeeding is and how I just need some sleep. I should be annoying everyone with endless Facebook photos of Gabey playing with his baby brother and annoying everyone with status updates of how just incredibly cute and funny they are together. He would have had a great sense of humour being a redhead. Every redhead I know is great fun to be with and I know he would have been a redhead as I kept a lock of his hair. Sometimes in the absence of being able to hold him, I hold that tiny little piece of him up to the light and imagine him gurgling at me from beneath that beautiful head of lovely red hair. So now, instead of a gurgling redhead, all I have is time. The next year that should have been filled with the hardwork and humour of having a newborn, stretches ahead of me.
What do I DO now?
I’ve reduced Gabeys hours at nursery so we’ve got more time together but he’s almost 3. He needs that time away from me plus he LOVES nursery and who can blame him when he has the young, fabulous, creative, energetic Hayley to run around with. Maybe I should sign myself up for a few sessions at Little Oaks Nursery 😉
Is it really fair for me to take him away from that place he loves, where he gets to paint with jelly and sing songs about ants, just because mummy now needs to fill her time.
Friends have said why don’t you go back to work. I’ve considered it. The problem is that nothing feels right now. I don’t feel right and I dont feel confident enough to convince an interviewer to give me a job above another candidate. Who on earth is going to hire a recently bereaved mother? Lets face it. Would you?
So here I am, 3 months without him and facing the very scary and very enormous task of rebuilding my shattered life and my shattered self into something useful with purpose. I keep hoping that purpose will become clear with time as surely PLEASE there has to be something else for me beyond this loneliness, loss and devastation. In the meantime, its Frasier, Rightmove and maybe (taking a leaf out of Gabeys book) painting with jelly.