It's been a long cold lonely winter

Like most people, I'm well and truly fed up of the cold weather now. The equinox has passed and, in my mind, we really should be starting to see some temperatures in the double figures! For the past four or five days, we have had light flurries of snow. My hands are dry and sore - no amount of moisturiser seems to help. My lips are chapped too. One sunny day, I tried going without a vest - big mistake!

I was looking forward to bunkering down this Winter with my newborn: venturing out only to take my daughter to nursery. I was going to make the house a cosy, warm solace where my baby and I could get to know each other before emerging into the world in Spring. It didn't turn out that way.

The first snow fell the morning after Monty was stillborn in early November. I hate November anyway - too many sad memories. Fireworks pop and bang for at least a week, intruding into my thoughts. An annual reminder of those I have loved and lost. I hardly did anything in November. We tried to keep our daughter's routine as normal as possible. We sorted out all the administration for Monty. We wrote the order of service and attended his funeral. We had visitors, cards, flowers but not the joyful ones we had been hoping for. I had my postnatal checks.

December wasn't much better although we did have a couple of nice events. The Festival of Light went well on Monty's due date and we spent Christmas with family (but I wasn't really in the mood).

January and early February, I was preoccupied with getting the results of the post mortem and postnatal tests. I started attending SANDS meetings and bobbed up and down on an emotional rollercoaster. A friend said I looked very sad. My sadness rubbed off onto my daughter. We were melancholy but kept going through the motions of our weekly routine.

It's been a long, cold, lonely Winter but I'm hoping that Spring is just around the corner. The mornings and evenings are getting lighter. The sun has come out today and it does feel a little warmer. It feels like years since it's been here.

Finding me, no?

"People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering."
St Augustine

Bereavement has forced me to think about myself and take a look at my life. I am so lucky to have my husband and daughter, a loving family and supportive friends.

These past five months, I have wrangled with the rawest emotions and found latent inner strength.

I am making changes: taking time for my family and for myself; thinking closer to home. I am taking a step back from life's fast-lane for a sedate drive along a country road. I wonder what I will discover along the way?

I am determined not to pass myself by.

Hold that thought

My daughter has asked me twice this week "Is the baby is your tummy now?"

The first time, we were messing around, playing boats. We had put the sofa cushions on the floor and were rocking and reeling to 'Row the Boat'. She lifted up my T-shirt, poked at my navel and posed the question. The second time, we were in the car on our way to the optician. It was a question shouted from the backseat whilst I was driving; part of the toddler monologue that forms the new soundtrack to every journey we make.

We have been told that young children take longer to process grief and that it's normal for them to ask questions for months or years after the death of a family member or pet. Perhaps my daughter is still just trying to work out what happened to her brother? Or perhaps babies are on her mind because we met up with a friend and her toddler and 7-week-old baby?

It was lovely to catch up with my friend and her girls. We went on maternity leave a few weeks apart, so I hadn't seen her since the beginning of October. The two older girls played nicely together whilst we chatted and the baby slept. After the baby had woken and had some milk, my friend very kindly asked me if I'd like to hold her. I said yes, although I was a bit nervous about how I'd feel.

I needn't have worried - it was fine. In fact, it was better than fine. It was nice to hold a tiny baby again. It felt comfortable. Maybe, one day, I'll hold another of my own...

My daughter saw me holding the baby and came over to have a look. She asked questions about the baby. We practised saying her name, confirmed that she likes milk and sleeping, and described the babygro she was wearing. The conversation probably reminded my daughter of her big sister book.

That's probably why she's wondering if there will be a baby in mummy's tummy again.

Mothering Sunday

I've never really celebrated Mothers' Day, although this year I did send a card to my mum. I have been treated to the longest lie-in I can remember and had banana muffins made for me by my husband and daughter. However, there is someone missing - my beautiful son.

So, to all the mummies who don't have their babies with them: I hope you manage to get through the day.

xxx

Missing Monty

This morning, my daughter brought a book into the bathroom when I was in the shower. "Mummy, read the names" she said.

I promised I would read it with her when I got out of the shower, dried and dressed. I kept my promise.

Snuggled up, comfy on my bed together, she handed me the book. "Mummy, read the names" she said again.

I looked at the cover: "What's Inside Your Tummy, Mummy?"

We hadn't read this book in months...

I asked her what the book was called. "All about how babies grow in mummies' tummies" she said "but Monty isn't in your tummy - he died in the picture."

I read the book. She asked me to read it twice more. I did. We looked at the pictures. We practised saying some of the words: 'umbilical cord', 'embryo', 'size of a pumpkin!'.

I said that I felt sad that Monty had died and she didn't have her brother to play with. She said she was sad too.

I asked if she would like it if mummy and daddy tried again to give her a brother or sister. She said yes. I said "We'll see..."

Then we came downstairs and she took the photo from the windowsill. "This is baby Monty" she said "and this is the bear. I want it." I got the bear, originally bought as a toy for him but subsequently given to her as a 'big sister present from her brother'. She put the bear and photo next to each other on a chair.

Then we made Mothers' Day cards for Granny and Grandma.