I sat down yesterday to write a blog post. As some of you know, I retired this blog a few months ago when I realised that my grieving process had taken a turn and that I had found real purpose and joy in my writing. I decided to direct the limited spare time I have to focus all my efforts and energy into creating the book I promised Romy I would write.
Sitting down and writing a book caused me to take a real look at who and what I am, which of course also showed me how much has changed in me since Romy died. However, I am also surprised to find that some things have not changed. I have written often about Romy’s role in helping both Darius and I to realise our truth; our purpose in life, but I have struggled with coming clean with mine.
I could sit here and write about what a dismal Christmas I’ll be having this year. Once again, Romy is not here. Once again, we have chosen a beautiful tree ornament in her memory and as the rest of the family settle down for an afternoon of films in front of the fire I will once again make the journey to the burial ground to leave roses for my youngest girl and reflect on what sort of Christmas we might be having if she were here with us.
As a child, I loved Christmas. Continue reading
I am not a political person. Not even slightly. The news is never on in our house and we don’t buy, or read, newspapers or subscribe to online news websites. It is still a source of amusement and consternation in my family that I was two whole days late to the party when the news of Osama Bin Laden’s death came out.
However, for the first time in my life I am about to comment publicly on a political event. Continue reading
Today, October 15th, is International Infant Loss Awareness Day. At 7pm across all timezones worldwide, bereaved parents and their families and friends are invited to light a candle in memory of a precious child or baby who has died.
On October 15th 2014, just 3 months after Romy died I lit our candle. Continue reading
It was a long, lazy summer and during it I made the decision to cancel all counselling. It’s a bit shocking, to see it written down in black and white, but after two years of endless varieties of counselling with women, men, on the phone, in person, talking about it and sitting in silence I have finally admitted it: I am counselled out. I have counselling fatigue. I need counselling to help me unravel all the counselling theories I have amassed. Continue reading
I have sat down to write this post as we approach tomorrow, the second anniversary of our daughter’s death feeling that I must commemorate it, and her, in some way, but words are failing me this time.
Exactly two years ago today, I was in the middle of a living nightmare which has endured to this day. Continue reading
Two days ago, we returned home from Spain. Not a holiday, but a trip to visit family. We last travelled there together in early July 2014, with Romy. Last year I couldn’t bring myself to visit Spain, where my husband’s mother lives and where his sister, who lives in the US, visits each summer with her family. Although by then pregnant with M, the idea of being where Romy had been so soon before we lost her was unbearable. This year, D went ahead and booked himself a solo flight knowing that I wouldn’t be able to face it. Our youngest is now nine months old and the parallels are many.
Despite this, Continue reading