I took my rainbow Harrison
(3) to a Kindy event today – an under 8’s
day. It was supposed to be fun, supposed to be a family event, with an animal
farm as well, until a little girl in his class grabbed my other hand and said
‘my mummy couldn’t make it can I walk around with you and Harrison.’ And of course I said yes, but just like that
the grief washed over me. I shouldn’t have a spare hand to grab, they should
both be taken, by both my boys, but only one is still here on Earth.
I’m tired of knowing that
there are simply more of these painful moments to come. I lost my first-born, so at that time I never really knew all the
things I would miss out on until Harrison came along, and now, as he does these
things, they are things I am also missing out on with Jasper. I can’t make
people understand – and nor would I want them to – it’s soul destroying and you
cannot make people understand that your heart will physically ache for the rest
of your life. Before Jasper, I didn’t even know a heart could ache. And yet
still I hear that I should be grateful for what I have, when in actual fact,
the loss of Jasper has made me able to appreciate happiness and joy more so
than before – to really appreciate what I do have. But no matter what, the empty
room is always empty, and nothing brings back what you have lost, and what you
can never have. I will never get mementos, hold his hand, argue with him, meet
his first girlfriend, get tired of him arguing with his brother, watch him get
married and see his children. All of that died the day he did. And yet I watch
his younger brother achieve what was robbed of him every day.
And I realised – I am so sick of grieving. It’s been almost 7 years and
to some I am a veteran and to others I am still so new on this journey. Some
things have gotten easier but not the things I miss out on... that Harrison
misses out on. I’m sick of still feeling like that – sick of still feeling
confused, still feeling guilty, still feeling like I could have done more,
still feeling angry, feeling sad and above all feeling discouraged in myself
that I haven’t done better.
I’m tired of my grief. I
don’t want to feel sad. I don’t want to have an internal breakdown when one of
my son’s friends wants to join us to look at the farm animals. I don’t want
that hole in my heart to be pierced open at the drop of the hat. And I was
asked today – if you could spend only 15 minutes with your loved one in heaven,
would you? Of course I would. I’d do it in a split second just to hold my baby
boy in my arms again. To tell him that I love him one more time. To make sure
he is happy. The explosion of grief would be terrible, but I live with grief
every day, so why wouldn’t I just to see him again?
For the most part I enjoy all
the beauty in life and am grateful for what I do have. Every day with my
rainbow is a blessing and I often get comments of how clear the love we have
for each other is. But you can’t control emotion and it crashes down on you,
drowning you like a wave and all you can do is try and stay afloat until the
wave recedes.
Tired. At the moment it is a
word that sums up my life. Tired of grieving. And knowing that the road is
stretched out in front of me, never-ending, is one of the most tiring things.
Dani
If you require support after reading this blog please contact
Sands on 13 000 72637
Danielle Hall
Wife to Corey and Mumma to two boys: Jasper Rhys in heaven and Harrison Phillip Robert in her arms. Jasper passed away after PPROM at 23 weeks and birth at 26 weeks, surviving for 10 hours in the NICU unit. Currently completing a Master of Social Work with the goal to aid in the safety and protection of all children, because all children deserve to feel safe and loved.
Dani, so sorry for your loss. I too am tired of grieving. Today I was asked by a health practitioner how many pregnancies I'd had. I said two, but only have one child. When asked what happened, I just said septicaemia. That was that, and now it's 3 am. and I'm teary again. My eldest daughter Sara would now be 32 years old. Things were dreadful for me then. Staff were horrible and I was an inconvenience. The bouts of tears do get further and further apart. Like you say, little things set you off. I think I just have to accept that part of my soul died when Sara did. What a thing for a woman to go through. We are amazing. <3
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