One.

ONE. Posy will be turning one on Sunday and I don’t really know what to do with this. I’m stuck in a feeling of disbelief that she came into our world an entire year ago, that this time last year my labour was starting without me even knowing and that we were about to meet the most wonderful baby girl. It feels like I’m walking around in shock again, just as I was in the days following her death; overwhelmed at the amount of time that has passed, astounded by the feeling of deja vu as I get ready for Roo’s arrival, and simply stunned that Posy won’t be here to celebrate her first birthday like the other little girls. I’ve said in previous posts that all can be going okay and I can be feeling strong and in control, but then all of a sudden grief rears its ugly head and I fall right back to square one. And I don’t really know what to do with the sudden overflow of emotions. So I’m writing this post with a foggy brain and a heavy heart in an attempt to acknowledge my feelings and thoughts, to clear the fog and to ponder over my sweet forever two week old.

When grief is constantly lurking in the shadows and challenging dates crop up, I know that taking some time and being kind to myself takes priority, especially with Roo’s due date approaching, so I am hoping that being signed off work gives me time for some me-time. I’ve realised that when my constant response for the last few weeks has been ‘I’m tired’ when people ask how I am, what I really mean is ‘I’m hurting’. I was hurting in December, going through the motions of celebrating what should have been Posy’s first Christmas without her. I was hurting with the sudden plunge into the new year and leaving the year of Posy forever in our past. I was hurting even in the brief interlude that January gave us; our birthdays provided the smallest ebb in a continuous flow of painful dates. And I’m hurting now as I pause and ponder Posy’s first year and my first year of motherhood.

I feel I’m fairly well-versed with my grief at this point; I have mastered the intricacies of it’s movement in my everyday life, and yet I know I have barely scratched the surface. I am still in the infancy of our relationship and if you’ve ever experienced grief yourself, you’ll know that it can change over time and yet it always remains. I really hate the phrase ‘time heals all wounds' or ‘it gets better with time’ because as far as I’m concerned, this is just incorrect. This isn’t just a phase, a temporary heartbreak, that will pass - I don't think it gets better. Sure, the weight might lessen over time and the frequency of good days will increase. Grief changes. It develops. It hides away, it can be put in a box, it isn’t always at the forefront of every minute of every day. But the grief itself is still there just the same. Those raw feelings are all there, whether they are taking centre stage or keeping quiet on the back row. All it takes is one big, emotional trigger and you can be right back in the deep dark pit, burdening grief as heavy as it was on day one. And I think travelling the path of first anniversaries for the first time has shown me that.

When even the simplest, most menial tasks, like making breakfast, become too much and end in a carton of milk covering the kitchen floor, splatters everywhere (I’m still finding them days later), with me crying in the middle of it, all because I was going to have to change my socks… I know it’s probably time to take a break from stuffing my grief in my pocket as I go about my day. Instead, I need to just spend some time with my new companion. I need to stop and just let it hurt for a while because clearly, the alternative is doing no one any good. And I know that that’s okay, but I still needed to give myself permission; permission to reflect on my first year of motherhood, to miss my baby girl and to let the tears flow instead of forcibly blinking them back. I need to be able to take my brave face off once in a while, to not have to force a smile and nod in an attempt to be polite when comments are made, or keep from mentioning Posy for fear of upsetting anyone.

As much as work was getting too much for me, sitting around and doing nothing is proving a challenge as well. So I’m trying to keep myself busy, with music blasting, to keep me from foolishly seeking refuge in my head; a space which is currently clouded with traumatic memories and unwanted, intrusive thoughts. This week has involved some knitting, some cleaning, shopping, baking cakes, spending some time with lovely, safe faces and now I’m sitting with a coffee, cinnamon bun and my laptop hoping to relieve my poor brain and sort through the whirlwind of thoughts currently abusing my head space.

It feels like the last few months have given us our fair share of difficult dates. Having to celebrate our daughter’s first Christmas without her was never something I had imagined that we would have to do. It was a long, dark month. An enormous amount of effort was put into preparing for and surviving Christmas and being the very best parents that we could be. We retreated to our safe space, protected ourselves, gave ourselves the time we needed to grieve and hibernate and be kind to ourselves, as well as finding ways to enjoy our favourite time of year. We were probably off the grid for most of it but I still feel proud that we survived it, granted I’m surprised we made it through. I’m proud of the decisions we made and I’m proud of the extra effort we put into keeping Posy a part of her first Christmas, but it was exhausting. All our energy was spent trying to keep it from being a write-off, spending time with our family, maintaining our well cultivated brave faces (which undoubtedly faltered more than once) and doing our best to be Posy’s parents at a time that was missing so much natural joy.

Of course there were good days and bad days but I love that I can look back and see that Posy’s first Christmas was so full of her and all the joy that she deserves. There were some things that we had to learn the hard way, like the fact that receiving cards that don’t include Posy’s name is not something that I feel comfortable with at the moment. Or that, even when we were doing our absolute best at including Posy in everything, in a way that felt natural and important to us, there are still people who have no idea how to or feel incredibly uncomfortable doing so. But we’re all still learning and I’m hoping that, as we carry on working hard to normalise Posy’s existence as a member of our family, it becomes easier for those around us as well. It has also helped us prepare for February, which I'm sure will be significantly harder, and know what it is that we, as Posy's parents, need to do to get through her anniversaries.

I just cannot believe that it has been a year. It’s been one whole year since I gave birth to Posy, since I became a mother, since Michael became Daddy, since our family became three. Although it feels like an eternity since I last got to see my sweet P, it feels strange to be able to put a number to it. A year has never before felt so short and yet so long in time - it’s a strange and confusing feeling. When we announced that we were pregnant with Posy we bought her a onesie with the words ‘let the adventure begin’ written on it. I remember truly believing that we were in for the ride of our lives - that we were going to absolutely rock parenthood, with all its highs and lows and that it was going to be the best year, if not the hardest, of our lives. Even though it can definitely be summed up as our most difficult year, and under the circumstances we have been the best parents to Posy that we can be, it certainly has not felt like an adventure. At least not one that I would ever want to venture again. Posy’s first year has not been enjoyable or one that I feel grateful for, or one that I will find easy to pick good memories from, and I hate that. But mostly I feel guilty that it can’t be more than it was and I feel guilty for hoping that Roo’s first year will be everything that Posy’s wasn’t.

I’m doing my best to ready myself for Posy’s birthday this weekend, but right now I’m finding it hard and I can’t help but feel the ‘mum guilt’ for not doing enough. We have had lots of people asking us what we plan to do and the truth is, I never imagined what our first born's first birthday would look like, but imagining a first birthday without the birthday girl’s presence feels impossibly cruel. Despite making some decisions on how we are going to celebrate it and mark the special weekend, nothing feels quite right. I find it hard knowing that any plans we’ve made are all in her absence and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s just going through the motions of ensuring we mark the date of her birth and make her weekend a little more significant. And yet, I can’t think of anything I want to do more than to celebrate our beautiful little girl and the day that she changed our lives. My heart and my head clearly aren’t cooperating with each other, but we’re getting there.

We have found that at times like this it is best to clearly articulate and communicate ways in which people can support us. We have to clear the eggshells around us and give permission for Posy’s birthday to be celebrated in a way that will help us and encourage us to focus on the joy of her birthday rather than the sadness of her absence. So we have asked our closest friends and family to refrain from messages of sympathy and well-wishes and instead, that if they would have sent her a birthday card, that they aren’t afraid to still do so; that they still write and address a card to Posy with a birthday message true to the situation. We have recently, after a long hunt, found a memory trunk to store some of Posy’s things and in sorting through her bits we realised that the only cards we have are well wishes for her future and the life ahead of her from her birth. Cards which only serve as a reminder of how it should have been. So first birthday cards which acknowledge her reality but can still celebrate her little life will provide a huge comfort to us in adding them to her memories. We will also be using her Forever Fund as a place for any birthday gifts that she would have been bought. We love that we can continually use this to mark her special dates and that celebrating our little girl can benefit an amazing cause. We will be going on mosey for Posy with our family, visiting her in the woodland, watching the Hobbit (her bump to birth book) and generally filling our weekend with all things sweet and Posy. I will also be making her a birthday cake because… cake!

Part of me thinks that it would be easier to shy away from doing anything difficult because it hurts too much, but then I remember just how special the 2nd February was and how much joy our tiny Posy brought us and I know that she deserves more than us merely hiding away. It is all sad and it is all challenging and none of it is how I expected it to be, but she deserves to be celebrated and I just hope that, as her Mama, I’m strong enough to do her justice. I hope that we are able to find some joy in celebrating the birth of our sweet girl instead of focusing on the fact that she isn’t with us.

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Becca

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