Do I feel better about things?

In 4 days time, Jazzie will have been an angel for the same amount of time as she was here with me. I hardly know how to cope with this realisation. Part of me wonders if I should be starting to 'feel better about things'? Do I, in fact, feel better about things?

Well, I don't wake up, and feel disappointed that I woke up anymore. So the depression has clearly improved. I still wake up, and the first feeling is an ache, a knot in my stomach, a loss and longing indescribable to anyone who has not lost their own child, and instantly identifiable to anyone who has.
But, I'm 'used to it' After almost 21 months of waking up feeling like that, there is a kind of acceptance that this is how I will feel every time I wake up, until I stop waking up. And that is ok with me. I'd rather have Jazzie here with me, but as that is impossible, waking up every day missing her so badly tells me she'll never 'fade' in my thoughts, feelings, ..my mind or my heart. That's the thing all bereaved Mother's fear so strongly when it first happens. What if there comes a day where you don't think about your lost love? I know now that won't ever happen.

I know I am not alone in this world. I have met, and continue to meet, other parents who have experienced similar things. We support each other. We share our experiences. We want the knowledge 'we never asked for' to be put to good use. We vow to improve things for future children. We want our children to have made a difference for others, and to continue to make a difference through the work we can do. www.mothersinstinct.co.uk.

I have a solid marriage. This was either going to destroy us or make us stronger. It hasn't destroyed us. There are times we hang on by a thread, but we hang on. We are both committed to doing that. So we know things will get better. We have had the low point, we are slowly climbing up out of the pit. We haven't been blessed with another child yet. So we are exploring our options. We both feel we need Jasmine's brother or sister in our lives going forward. We are not afraid any more, we know there is room enough in our hearts that Jasmine won't be squeezed out to make room for another. She won't be forgotten, she is part of the family. They will know all about her, our future kids, and it will be nice to share stories with them.. "You had a big sister Jasmine, she was small and very funny" (If anyone reads Charlie and Lola...)

Losing Jazzie forced a 'life audit' somehow. Things became a little clearer... those things worth worrying about, and those things not. Those people worth staying in touch with, and those not. It's not that I have anything against the people that cross the road when they see me, the people who said "Anything I can do?"... and then I never saw or heard from them again, or the people who couldn't stand to be around me in my crazed, paranoid, angry, obsessive phase. I'm not fussed about those who didn't believe when I went on and on about what I thought had happened. It's just that I really love and care for the people who did step up to the mark, to really be there and care for us, even when it hurt them to do so. Those are very special people, the ones I want to love and look after back, for the rest of our lives. So I simply don't have time for the others. It's actually rather refreshing.

What helps

My husband. The only other person on earth who misses Jasmine and mourns for her, as I do. The only one who knew her like I did, and loved her like I did. The only one who understands how it feels to have wished it had been you who died and not her, because he feels it too. 

My dogs, Bailey and Charlie. Cuddles available, any time, day or night. Unconditional love by the bucket load!

Friends and family who have contacted me regularly to see how I'm doing. It has been disappointing how few of these there are (if you don't count Facebook, which lulls people into believing they are in touch without ever having to pick up the phone), but those that have really have kept me going. xx

Friends who allow me to talk about any aspect of what I am going through, no matter how harrowing it is for them to hear, without making me feel guilty about it, or subtly suggesting I 'tone it down a bit' to protect the feelings of others. I have a few good friends who have done exactly this over the past 10 months, and they have shown courage and determination in being there for me. Hearing about it all is not easy for anyone, but those who really care lots, step up to the mark, Thank you, I have appreciated very moment you've spent listening. xxxx

Having met two other Mums in almost identical situations. Children we feel may have been failed by the NHS, mothers who felt forced to abandon their own instincts in favour of medical opinion, only for that to come back and haunt them for the rest of their lives. We help keep each other sane through the ordeal that is the complaints, and inquests, process.

My Bereaved Parents Group. We meet in Milton Keynes once a month, and we all get to be in a room full of people who have endured the same loss, carried the same pain, and to whom we need explain nothing. In that room we are 'normal' . It is a lifesaver and I am thankful the group exists.

My counsellor, and my psychologist. My weekly visits with these two wonderful women help me make sense of, and cope with, the reality of what happened to Jazzie, remind me that I did not fail as her mother because I was unable to save her myself, and help me cope with the aftermath of witnessing Jasmines suffering and death, and what that has done to my own health and state of mind.

Telepathy?

I have found it amazing how many people respond when my facebook status says I'm low by commenting 'Think of you every day', 'Think of you all of the time' , "always in my thoughts'.
How am I supposed to know this if they do not pick up the phone?
I appreciate people 'thinking' of me, but unless they pick up the phone, or come round, it doesn't help me much. In this case it definitely isn't the thought that counts!!
It can be very difficult to know people care about you if they spend so much time thinking and so little doing.....
This sounds like an angry post, I didn't mean it to be when I started to write it, but maybe I am a little angry about the thoughtlessness (how ironic), and emptyness, of 'thinking of you' comments.

Rain

It's raining, absolutely throwing it down. It can't be true but it feels like the first time it's rained like this since she died. Finally the weather matches my mood...

Who cares?

The pain of losing a child is so isolating.
I'm not short of friends or family, I'm lucky to have many close relationships, and usually, no matter what the problem, one of them has had a similar experience at some point and can help guide me through. But this, this is totally different.
It's debilitating, for me and those around me. I'm so low I can barely communicate with anyone, because anything anyone says seems to remind me of how different my life has become to theirs. My friends, I can tell, are in a panic whenever they are around me, what to say, what not to say, what can they do?, nothing. Really, I want to do the talking, I want to talk about Jasmine all day long, constantly analyse every last detail of what happened to her, talk about how much I love her, how much I miss her and ache for her. I don't really care about anyone else's lives or day, compared to mine they sound pretty rosy! What kind of friend have I become? A terrible one. My friends used to turn to me with problems, now they don't want to bother me because I have enough to deal with. This leaves me even more cut off and isolated from reality. I used to be needed. Needed by my daughter, my husband, needed by friends, family... Now my baby is gone, and I feel redundant, and that is exacerbated by the avoidance of anyone I know to tell me any of their woes. But I don't care about their woes anyway... Crikey is there any way out of this mess?

This is my life

I spoke to my Dad on the phone and told him about my weekend. We had spent 24 hours with family members who have a 6 year old and two 3 year old's between them. Jasmine would have loved it. And I would have so loved seeing her enjoy herself and interact with them. She would be nearly two, so all of that would be starting to happen for her.
I told Dad it was lovely being around children, but so so painful at the same time. He told me that each time I do it I'll get a little more used to it, 'without Jazzie'
It hit me hard..... he's right. I have to get used to the constant pain that is my life now that she has gone. The enormity of that fact is almost too much to bear.