Grief

I thought I’d write this post as I’ve been reflecting a lot on my grief journey over the past couple of months. For me, it feels harder than ever. Probably because the realisation that my baby has gone is really sinking in.

Where do I even start. I can honestly say I had no idea grief could be like this. So unpredictable, so consuming. I’ve been fortunate enough to never really experience such emotions. Yes I’ve had grandparents who have passed, but the only thing I ever really felt was sadness. Losing Lottie hasn’t just been about feeling sad. I’ve felt numb, shocked, scared, lost, heartbroken, confusion. And then on the flip side, so much love and thankfulness.

At the very beginning, when Lottie was first born. I was in complete shock. I didn’t cry until the evening. And even then I’m not sure I had quite realised what had happened. Waves of numbness and sadness overwhelmed me at different times. I was in a daze for a good few days, even wondering aimlessly around Tesco whilst Richard tried to guide me around. I didn’t even want an alcoholic drink because it still felt so wrong and disrespectful towards Lottie. My first glass was about 5 days after she was born and I remember making a toast to my baby girl before I could even take a sip.

My first few thoughts in the beginning was based around what the hell is life going to be like now. I was supposed to be having sleepless nights and changing smelly nappies. Now what do I do with myself?!

A week after Lottie was born we went to the Isle of Wight for a few days. This is where I pretty much planned her funeral. I wanted to do something for her, I wanted to make it so special. We cried so much over those few days. Almost taking it in turns to be strong and comfort each other.

We then decided very last minute to fly to Thailand and Vietnam for 3 weeks. We were meant to have our honeymoon in January 2019 but didn’t go because I was 6 months pregnant with Lottie. Richard had 4 weeks of paternity leave and we had to wait 5-6 weeks before Lottie was back from her postmortem, so we decided to go for it. Once we booked I really started to doubt myself. Should we have done this. It felt odd. I wasn’t excited at all like I usually would be for a holiday. Looking at it now, it was definitely a good idea. We didn’t enjoy ourselves as much as we should/could have, but it was an incredible healing and distracting experience whilst we waited for Lottie’s funeral.

Then for the past two months we have been doing a lot of work to our house. As I’m typing we have someone putting together our new kitchen and someone else plastering our bathroom ready for me to attempt my first tiling project! This is obviously helping me distract myself, but I am also conscious that I need to let myself feel, think and grieve. Pushing thoughts and feelings away will only make things worse. Which is why I have also been seeing a counsellor for the past few months.

I actually think I’m quite good at seeing the bigger picture. I’m conscious of my mental health as much as I can be and I know I need to look after it in anyway I can. I come from a family who suffers with anxiety and depression which I think probably helps my outlook. That being said, my counsellor has helped me view myself in a different light. She did this whole speech about me recently and what I have done for Lottie, all whilst I had my eyes closed. It was one of the most overwhelming things I have ever heard. So much so, I couldn’t stop crying for about 20 minutes. She made me realise that I’m trustworthy, loyal, respectful and caring. I guess I kind of knew these traits already, but for someone to tell you all of these all at once, it makes it real.

I always thought grief was a journey that lasted a few months maximum. Yes you’d miss that person forever but that slowly life would get easier and then go back to ‘normal’. I have now realised over the last month or so is that this isn’t the case. My grief journey is going to last forever. Lottie’s death is going to be something that stays with me. This has probably been the most scariest things to accept. My life really is never going to be the same again.