The entire weekend is a bit of a blur.
I don’t know who I saw, or where I went, or what I did.
People called, texted and visited, as on the Friday I had posted on both mine, and Jason’s Facebook accounts, telling them about what happened. People brought flowers, and food, and love.
I have never been one for hugs. Something about squashing my body against someone else’s always seemed so personal, but here they were, hugs galore! I appreciated the sentiment, so graciously accepted them. They weren’t like Jason’s hugs. His were filled with adoration and attraction. These hugs were filled with sadness and hurt.
People were ‘sorry’. I don’t understand that one much. “I am so sorry, Jess”. Why? You didn’t do anything to cause this! I guess they were sorry to hear it, or sorry that they couldn’t help. All I wanted was for someone to tell me “You know what, it’s fucking shit, and not fair, and it makes me fucking angry that you have to feel like this”. But no, they were just ‘sorry’. People are so polite!
After a weekend of sadness, I decided I needed to make sure that I was going to be ok. There was no way that Jason would have wanted me to fall apart. I felt as though I had a new strength, perhaps passed to me from him. I had a determination to get through this, possibly spurred on by all the people who doubted me. I would prove to them that I will be ok. I have reasons to be ok!
How could I stay in bed every day, and not get up when I had 2 little boys relying on me to dress them, feed them and keep them entertained? They had lost their Daddy, they couldn’t lose their Mummy as they knew her too!
How could I refuse to eat or drink? I was growing a human being inside my body, and also still giving nutrition to a toddler through my milk.
How could I hide away, and muddle through each day? I had answers to get, a life to live, and so many happy memories I wanted to share with everyone!
I booked a doctor’s appointment on the Monday morning, only 4 days after he died. A History of Postnatal Depression taught me that when I am in my darkest place, the last thing I want to do is ask for help. I needed to make sure that the help was already in place. I needed a safety net! I asked the doctor to get me on the waiting list for counselling, and we discussed the possibility of the use of anti-depressants. I was keen to avoid taking anything unless it was necessary due to being pregnant, and as I have a good grasp of my mental well being now, I was confident I could spot any early signs of the onset of depression before they got too bad. I visited my Midwife, who referred me to a bereavement midwife, and I also spoke to my Health Visitor and the local outreach workers at the Children’s Centre. My safety net was in place. Everyone I needed to fall back on was aware I may need them!
The hardest feeling to deal with, was the anticipation of things suddenly becoming unbearably hard, which was only created by other people. Countless people would look at me with pity in their eyes, cock their head to one side and say “It’s not hit you yet, has it?”. Or “When it hits you, it is going to be much harder”. They obviously knew something I didn’t. I didn’t know what was going to ‘hit’ me, but they made it seem like I was going to be mentally and emotionally knocked down by a huge tidal wave of grief. I told a few people that I hoped I was lucky, and that it would slowly sink in, whilst I slowly managed to get my head around it, but of course they had stories of people they knew who were ‘hit’ with the grief. Their anecdotes cast a huge cloud over me that maybe I would be like the people they knew? Having a breakdown 2 months on, and not being able to stop crying for days? Or not speaking to people for weeks because I was going to lock myself in the house and never shower again. It was a terrifying thought. I was waiting for weeks for it to ‘hit’ me. Really worried that one day I might just wake up and lose it. Almost 6 months on, I am still waiting for it to ‘hit’ me.
I am one of the lucky ones. It has slowly sunk in, and become our new normal.
I hurt. I get upset. I cry. I give myself time to be alone to feel what I need to feel.
But I am ok.
Love you Jason xxxxx