Friday, 15 January 2010

Close to the bottom

"When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history, it becomes more beautiful."

There is a big Lucy shaped hole in my heart, in my life. In my mind I can feel her weight in my arms, feel her soft baby skin under my fingers. At the moment I am finding the days harder than ever. On my second day at work, a colleague said to me in the kitchen - "It's good that you are back, you have to move on".
That cut like a knife deep into my heart. Is that what everyone at work is now thinking? That at three months, I should be moving on, packing up my Lucy shaped hole and the condolence cards and everything baby related and putting them away? 

I can't do that. 

My life is always on pause, always stuck at that terrible day, hearing those words and staring at my dead baby on an Ultrasound machine. I can't and do not want to 'move on' right now. Carry on, yes I am doing that. I am functioning on a day to day basis. But I am hanging on to my little girls memories for dear life, and my opportunities to talk about her are dwindling by the day. No one asks anymore, no one mentions her the way they did. But she was here, she was my daughter, she kicked and rolled and hiccuped. She was made out of love by me and John, and she was the most precious, precious thing I have ever had the honour of meeting. Just seeing her beautiful face, it was the most wonderful and the most devastating moment of my life. If only she had opened her eyes. 

The grief at not getting pregnant again is mixing with the grief of losing my beautiful, precious daughter. It is mixing and churning into a heady cocktail of pain, and bitterness. I am in pain today.


  1. Hugs.

    Three months is far too early to even imagine thinking of moving on. Not that those are useful words for anyone to use or hear. There is no timetable for grief.

    Three months is also a short time for your body to recover from giving birth. I would say give it time but that's not helpful either.

    I'm thinking about you and hoping today's pain is a little less tomorrow. And wishing life was different and Lucy was with you.


  2. Oh, Amy. You have to be ready for people to say dumb things - unless they've walked our journey, they don't understand how their words hurt.

    Please, please tell us all about Lucy! We are your new family and we really want to hear about every moment. Show us pictures of her nursery, the mementos you have.

    Always lifting you up, sweet girl. Praying for comfort and peace, and two pink lines. ((hugs))

  3. I can only repeat what Barbara and Emily have already said. You don't have to move on.
    Lucy will always be your precious daughter.
    Wishing you peace xx

  4. Amy, no one on the outside (being someone who has never lost a child) can get it. I've had my own family ask me when I'm going to get over it. "It" being the death of my son. I've told them quite frankly to expect me to NEVER be over it. This is not a purse or keepsake that I've lost, it is my son and his life and all the possibility for who he might have become. I lost my dreams for him and for myself and our family. I would imagine that you've lost all those things too with Lucy. Nevertheless, it doesn't take away the feeling fo wanting to put your foot completely up the ass of the person those ignorant comments are coming from. Try to ignore the remarks even though they are completely insensitive and thoughtless unless they are truly hurting you, then let the offender have it (in a nice way) by letting them know that their remarks about your personal life are not appreciated. I wouldn't get too torn out of shape either about not getting pregnant immediately, your body is probably taking it's time to recover and you'll be pregnant again before you know it. Sending you hugs

  5. I understand, Amy. And I feel for you. I was in the same place this time last year, only not yet back at work (and I never did go back). Ignore the pleas to move on. People don't know what they're talking about.

  6. Your coworkers have no idea that you don't move on from something like this.

  7. I wish I didn't but I know only too painfully where you are coming from.. I daren't even contact work too much at the moment, because I am scared to hear the words "when are you coming back then?" you don't need to do anything other than take each day as it comes sweetie... Lucy is your daughter and you shouldn't have to pack her or any of her memories away either physically or emotionally .. am always here for you. xxxxxx

  8. oh goodness, move on? other people just don't get it, and unfortunately we are the ones that have to suffer for their ignorance. i am so sorry. three months is mighty early for anyone to expect you to be better, let alone moving on. it's not something that we will ever get over; like Margaret said, it's not some insignificant thing we lost, it's our CHILD. nobody would expect a parent to be over their child in a few months had they died at 10 years old. why is it that people think we ought to not care as much about our babies? that somehow we loved them less because they were only here for a short time? that's complete and utter nonsense.

    sending lots of love,