3 months ago today, on the 26th May, we welcomed our first born Tilly to the world. Then just 34 minutes later our hearts shattered as we had to say goodbye. I struggle with thinking about the "what ifs" because there are so, so many and they can be very confusing and painful for my grieving mind. What if she had survived being born at 25+1 weeks? I imagine even 3 months later that I probably would still be sitting next to her in Neonatal Care, reading to her, holding her hand and willing her to be strong. And then what if everything had been fine, what if I'd had a normal, healthy pregnancy? I imagine being 38+2 weeks pregnant. I imagine being pretty uncomfortable by now, hurrying up the weeks ahead. I imagine a finished nursery filled with freshly washed, new clothes for our eagerly awaited arrival. I imagine our beautiful pram in the corner of our living room; the pram that we had to cancel when our world fell apart.
I remember reading the maternity policy at work when I was pregnant with Tilly. I remember reading the part that states if a baby is born after 24 weeks gestation and does not survive, then the woman is still entitled to full maternity leave. I remember being horrified by the thought. Can you imagine being on so called "maternity leave" without a baby?
People often say to me "I can't imagine what you are going through". But actually, this probably isn't entirely true. After recently reading a book by Megan Devine called "It's OK that you're not OK", it became apparent to me that the human brain can imagine some really terrible things. As soon as you hear of somebody else's pain, the brain immediately begins to imagine; it's just part of being a human being. It is however probably far too painful for your brain to continue to imagine this for very long though so you halt it and breathe a sigh of relief that it's not your reality and that thankfully it's somebody else's. Almost like you can dip in and out of somebody's pain when you want to. If it's too much you can take a step back and think about something else. I long for the days when I only had to imagine this kind of nightmare. So what is it like to actually live it?
It is hard to put into words how hard life has become since we lost Tilly. Losing your baby is so unfathomable that even when you are living it, you still find it hard to really make people understand how truly horrific it is. So instead of talking about how I feel, I'm going to talk about what I do and how I occupy my time on maternity leave with empty arms.
Firstly, it took me quite a long time to be able to do anything at all. I would find myself still in bed at midday then skulking around the house for a few hours before returning to bed again. My reason for this was that I didn't want to be awake. I wanted to be asleep, where it didn't hurt as much. The more time I spent asleep, the less of this nightmare I had to live. I still stand by this, and at the time it was the only way I could get the days to disappear. Over the weeks though I found myself wanting to do a bit more and we ventured to Cornwall. It was escapism; an attempt to make ourselves feel a bit better, even if it is just for a few moments a day. We had a nice time, I had days where I cried, I had days where I laughed, and days where I did both. I cried when we left home to head to Cornwall because it felt like I was leaving Tilly behind. I then cried again when we returned home, this time because I came back down to earth, from my week of escapism, with one hell of a crash. I think this is probably when it hit me. My new reality. The reality that I will always be coming home to Tilly's ashes and her photos. That we will never take her on holiday like we had planned to. That her only holiday was to Spain when she was snuggled inside my growing bump.
Ian headed back to work full time shortly after we arrived back from Cornwall. He was obviously nervous about going back and I was nervous about being left alone 5 days a week. I am fairly used to my own company and have always quite enjoyed it but this was different. The thought of being alone with my own tormenting thoughts for 10 hours a day with no distraction terrified me.
Actually though, by finding ways to occupy myself, this time off is becoming so invaluable. I won't say it's helping me to heal as I find that concept patronising. Who knows if I'm healing? I certainly don't. This is just a coping mechanism; a way of trying to stop myself from spiralling into a black hole.
I of course still have days where I don't want to get out of bed, but they aren't solely like that anymore. My mum and I have pretty much redecorated the whole house apart from Tilly's room as I am in 2 minds about what to do with it. Do I leave it as it is, a half finished nursery, or do I revert it back to a spare room? It has a spare bed on one side and a rocking chair on the other. It is a confusing room for me to be honest; one full of hopes and dreams that never came to anything. But also a room full of memories. Memories of being excited, imagining reading to her in the chair and rocking her back to sleep. Memories of her Grandma giving us hand drawn Winnie the Pooh pictures for the wall. Memories of being happy. I struggle with even calling it the spare room to be honest. I've tried it and I feel a lump in my throat when I say it. "Tilly's room" sits much better with me.
Maternity leave has also brought out my creative side. I created a gallery wall in our living room which I love, I even drew one of the pictures myself. Anybody who knows me will know that this isn't like me. And for anybody that doesn't know me, I'll put it this way - my mum used to do my art homework. I've also start doing some crafty things. I recently made a T from string art. I also attempted to start knitting again but then quickly realised why I stopped - because I can only knit long, one coloured scarves with holes in.
Another thing I do to occupy my time, apart from the above and watching ridiculous series on Netflix is reading. Throughout my life I've drifted in and out of being a bookworm but at the minute that is exactly what I am. I have taken great solace in reading fiction, non-fiction and self-help books. In the weeks after Tilly's birth I could barely read a letter that came through the post let alone a book. I couldn't concentrate on anything, my mind would just wander constantly and I would find even just attempting to read stressful.
So as I said, if this post had been about how 3 months of maternity leave without Tilly has made me feel, then I'd have probably found it too painful to write past the first paragraph. So I guess this post was more of a compromise; catharsis from writing about Tilly whilst still maintaining self-preservation. You may be thinking that the things I have mentioned aren't a big deal, but for a grieving parent I can assure you that they are.
I genuinely feel like I have a lot to thank Tilly for, I feel like she has inspired me to become a kinder, more creative, more mindful person. I am not saying for a second that there are any positives to come out of this as I truly disagree with that concept but I guess I am just trying to make the most out of what I have. I am trying to get by the only way I know how. I am trying to mother a baby that I never brought home.
Most of all though, I am thankful to Tilly for making me a mum.
Her mum.
I remember reading the maternity policy at work when I was pregnant with Tilly. I remember reading the part that states if a baby is born after 24 weeks gestation and does not survive, then the woman is still entitled to full maternity leave. I remember being horrified by the thought. Can you imagine being on so called "maternity leave" without a baby?
People often say to me "I can't imagine what you are going through". But actually, this probably isn't entirely true. After recently reading a book by Megan Devine called "It's OK that you're not OK", it became apparent to me that the human brain can imagine some really terrible things. As soon as you hear of somebody else's pain, the brain immediately begins to imagine; it's just part of being a human being. It is however probably far too painful for your brain to continue to imagine this for very long though so you halt it and breathe a sigh of relief that it's not your reality and that thankfully it's somebody else's. Almost like you can dip in and out of somebody's pain when you want to. If it's too much you can take a step back and think about something else. I long for the days when I only had to imagine this kind of nightmare. So what is it like to actually live it?
It is hard to put into words how hard life has become since we lost Tilly. Losing your baby is so unfathomable that even when you are living it, you still find it hard to really make people understand how truly horrific it is. So instead of talking about how I feel, I'm going to talk about what I do and how I occupy my time on maternity leave with empty arms.
Firstly, it took me quite a long time to be able to do anything at all. I would find myself still in bed at midday then skulking around the house for a few hours before returning to bed again. My reason for this was that I didn't want to be awake. I wanted to be asleep, where it didn't hurt as much. The more time I spent asleep, the less of this nightmare I had to live. I still stand by this, and at the time it was the only way I could get the days to disappear. Over the weeks though I found myself wanting to do a bit more and we ventured to Cornwall. It was escapism; an attempt to make ourselves feel a bit better, even if it is just for a few moments a day. We had a nice time, I had days where I cried, I had days where I laughed, and days where I did both. I cried when we left home to head to Cornwall because it felt like I was leaving Tilly behind. I then cried again when we returned home, this time because I came back down to earth, from my week of escapism, with one hell of a crash. I think this is probably when it hit me. My new reality. The reality that I will always be coming home to Tilly's ashes and her photos. That we will never take her on holiday like we had planned to. That her only holiday was to Spain when she was snuggled inside my growing bump.Ian headed back to work full time shortly after we arrived back from Cornwall. He was obviously nervous about going back and I was nervous about being left alone 5 days a week. I am fairly used to my own company and have always quite enjoyed it but this was different. The thought of being alone with my own tormenting thoughts for 10 hours a day with no distraction terrified me.
Actually though, by finding ways to occupy myself, this time off is becoming so invaluable. I won't say it's helping me to heal as I find that concept patronising. Who knows if I'm healing? I certainly don't. This is just a coping mechanism; a way of trying to stop myself from spiralling into a black hole.I of course still have days where I don't want to get out of bed, but they aren't solely like that anymore. My mum and I have pretty much redecorated the whole house apart from Tilly's room as I am in 2 minds about what to do with it. Do I leave it as it is, a half finished nursery, or do I revert it back to a spare room? It has a spare bed on one side and a rocking chair on the other. It is a confusing room for me to be honest; one full of hopes and dreams that never came to anything. But also a room full of memories. Memories of being excited, imagining reading to her in the chair and rocking her back to sleep. Memories of her Grandma giving us hand drawn Winnie the Pooh pictures for the wall. Memories of being happy. I struggle with even calling it the spare room to be honest. I've tried it and I feel a lump in my throat when I say it. "Tilly's room" sits much better with me.
Maternity leave has also brought out my creative side. I created a gallery wall in our living room which I love, I even drew one of the pictures myself. Anybody who knows me will know that this isn't like me. And for anybody that doesn't know me, I'll put it this way - my mum used to do my art homework. I've also start doing some crafty things. I recently made a T from string art. I also attempted to start knitting again but then quickly realised why I stopped - because I can only knit long, one coloured scarves with holes in.Another thing I do to occupy my time, apart from the above and watching ridiculous series on Netflix is reading. Throughout my life I've drifted in and out of being a bookworm but at the minute that is exactly what I am. I have taken great solace in reading fiction, non-fiction and self-help books. In the weeks after Tilly's birth I could barely read a letter that came through the post let alone a book. I couldn't concentrate on anything, my mind would just wander constantly and I would find even just attempting to read stressful.
So as I said, if this post had been about how 3 months of maternity leave without Tilly has made me feel, then I'd have probably found it too painful to write past the first paragraph. So I guess this post was more of a compromise; catharsis from writing about Tilly whilst still maintaining self-preservation. You may be thinking that the things I have mentioned aren't a big deal, but for a grieving parent I can assure you that they are.
I genuinely feel like I have a lot to thank Tilly for, I feel like she has inspired me to become a kinder, more creative, more mindful person. I am not saying for a second that there are any positives to come out of this as I truly disagree with that concept but I guess I am just trying to make the most out of what I have. I am trying to get by the only way I know how. I am trying to mother a baby that I never brought home.
Most of all though, I am thankful to Tilly for making me a mum.
Her mum.
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