September 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
It’s almost three months since we buried Rèmy. The artificial flowers from his funeral were starting to deteriorate, so we removed the bulk of them on the weekend. We got a sculpture from The Warehouse of two Kea birds. We couldn’t agree on pots and flowers, and little shrubby things, so we got a weird garden sculpture. I quite like it now. We thought of it as representative of mummy and daddy, watching over our baby boy.
There have been some pretty big changes in my life in the past two weeks, namely my living situation has changed… for the better, and I finally have a dedicated space to work in. It’s awesome… I’m overwhelmed how great it is. When I was setting up my home office, I wanted something on the wall to remind me of Rèmy – not of his funeral, or his life before his death, but something else.
The hospital gives you this card after your baby dies, created by a great organisation called Sands Manukau – Baby Loss Support which has the date and time of your baby’s death, his weight and length and his little hand prints and foot prints. It’s such a sweet gesture, and we value it so much. I put the card on the wall of my new office, above my whiteboard. It feels so good to have it out and visible. I used to keep it in my diary. It did make me cry to put it up… a lot. But it’s just one of those things. I just miss him… I can’t help that. I feel like those tears christened my office and I love this space.
I went to an event last night where I knew I would bump into people who wouldn’t know what to say to me, knowing I lost my baby. There was awkwardness all round. I know it’s hard for people; they don’t want to not mention it, because they don’t want to appear uncaring, but then they know if they do mention it, perhaps it’ll open up a can of emotional worms… and take the conversation into even MORE awkward territory. So, some people didn’t mention it, but gave me knowing gestures (tilts of the head, warm and meaningful rubs on the back, sad eyes) and some did, and I delivered my well worn lines of, “I lost the baby in July… yeah, it’s OK… I’m OK.”
There’s nothing to say. Losing a baby is horrific. I don’t wish it on anyone. As time moves forward, you just get used to living with it.