A Pocketful of Posy
- beccalouiselyons
- Mar 22, 2019
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 30, 2019
It seemed only fitting to give my first blog post this title due to the fact that my intention is to fit a pocketful of Posy for you all to experience in this short read. Although my motive for this blog is primarily self-reflection and to give myself an outlet for my daily thoughts and struggles, I hope to give you even the slightest idea of how special and loved my little girl is, how she was a perfect, pocket-sized bundle of joy and just how much my heart aches for her now that she is gone.
It has only been 6 weeks since we said goodbye to Posy so I am in no doubt that this just the start of my journey and that I have barely even scratched the surface of my grief. I also realise that I am not an expert in grief and do not wish to tell anyone how to do it and how it works; this is purely my story and my experience. So as I write through my tears and dwell in the loss of my beautiful daughter I hope that this might give you an insight into my personal experience of grief, the pain that comes with the loss of a child, the ache of having motherhood as I knew it snatched away from me and the longing of more time.
From the moment I found out that I was pregnant, I knew that she was going to be a she and that she was going to be so incredibly special. I just couldn't comprehend how much I would love her and how much of an impact her tiny self was going to have on my life and the lives of those who love her. Posy was a perfect 6lb10oz pink bundle at birth and the second that I held her for the first time, it was as if she had always been a part of me - I just hadn't met her yet. That first cuddle was the first of many, yet that many was not enough. I would have cuddled her for an entire lifetime if it meant I could keep her.
Bringing her home from the hospital was definitely an adventure. After a night of very little sleep getting a newborn changed, dressed, fed and ready to travel in a car for the first time was a challenge to say the least. As new, already sleep-deprived parents we had no clue and I'm still not sure whether the team effort made it easier or whether it was a hindrance. But somehow, with nappies stuck to our clothes, everything that was once in the changing bag spread across the ward and three outfits later - albeit fastened up completely wrong - we managed and the fear of not being able to take care of a baby had gone. The fear had been replaced with the instincts that I can only assume were switched on as soon as motherhood became a reality. Instincts which kicked in more and more each day for the following two weeks.
Never has two weeks gone by so quickly. I work in a secondary school and two weeks until a holiday or even just an INSET day always seem to drag. Don't get me started on the two week lead up to Christmas! But those thirteen days were unfairly quick and, in comparison to the decades that most of us get, was a terribly short amount of time to get to know someone. Hindsight is a bittersweet thing but I am just so grateful that we had a baby who hated being put down to sleep. The knowledge that Posy spent almost the entirety of her life in my arms, snuggled up to her Daddy or being cuddled by someone who loved her very much continues to provide comfort in the agony. In the hours that she would be laying on my chest I would stare at her, taking in every part of her, watching every breath, twitch and sigh, admiring her beauty and wondering whether she had filled her nappy. I would share those moments with her, memorising every little thing that she did and getting to know the tiny human Michael and I had made.
2am seemed to be Posy's favourite time of day and it was a time that I happily spent with her. She made it very easy to forgive her for keeping me awake in the early hours of the morning because, much unlike myself, this was the time at which she was most alert. She would gaze around the room exploring the different lights and shadows, curious of the small world surrounding her. She would look up at me when I talked to her, sang to her, slowly getting the hang of mimicking my tongue poke. She would sneeze the cutest of sneezes and every time it would catch her off guard, throwing her head off balance. She would purse her lips together in an adorable yet sassy pout before stretching her arms above her head. She would grumble and gurgle and sigh and snort and on the rare occasion find her little thumb to frantically suck on - while face-palming the entire time. And then she would begin to root around, trying to fit her whole fist into her tiny mouth while she was looking for something to eat. As soon as I saw her tongue start to poke out I knew that if I didn't feed her soon her 'hangry' would be strong competition with her Mama's.
Feeding brought her so much joy and in the excitement of knowing that food was coming she couldn't contain her arms. She would fight and try to latch onto my knuckle, finger or even her own hand before managing to find the right source of her milk. This made for a big mess every time. She would feed with such ferocity, clinging on until she was done, before unlatching like a diva - she would turn her face away with a single cough as if to say 'I'm finished'.
The prospect of never seeing her gorgeous face, never cuddling her as she sleeps, never feeling her nuzzle into my chest, never being witness to her peculiar facial expressions, never looking into her big blue eyes or never hearing her tiny coughs, snorts and sneezes again is one that I don't think I'll ever get my head around. I can't even begin to consider all the things that she never got to do or learn or experience and it's taking all my strength not to start falling down the dark hole of 'what ifs'. There are few words which emphasise just how much joy Posy brought to my life, the depth of love I have for her that I didn't before know was possible or how incredibly proud I am to be her Mama. No passing of time will make missing her any easier. So as I grieve for my baby bump, my gorgeous girl and my short encounter with motherhood I am having to let myself feel. Feel the love, feel the pain, feel the longing and the unfairness of it all. I am having to allow each wave to hit me with all its force and just pray that it doesn't take me down. Some waves are stronger than others but each one fresh, bringing a whole ton of hurt and right now I am terrified that there is no end in sight.
I miss you PosyBear but I am so glad that I am your Mama.
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