I have to say that as marvelous, kind and caring as everyone at Torbay hospital has been, I'm really rather sick of seeing that place.
I was rushed to emergency on tuesday after I started to bleed horribly heavily and two nights, three days, one surgery, two units of blood, two bruised arms with three bloody huge venflon cannulas, countless blood tests, several doses of morphine and a sack full of prescription medication later I was set free.
I am once again anemic and suitably pale for halloween. I have antibiotics which are making me sick, I feel decidedly weak and woozy and bloody hell, I can't wait to feel normal again.
I feel as if I've been hit by a truck, dragged through a hedge backward and probably look like something the cat dragged in. BUT (and not to brag, it just bowls me over every single day how lucky I am) I feel great because I have the BESTEST guy in the whole world who would walk for an hour in the rain in the middle of the night after he took a sleeping pill because he couldn't sleep without me to get back to the hospital just to be there to hold my hand when I woke up from the emergency surgery. Wow.
Tomorrow will be a tough day when we bury our little George but I think we've chosen a nice way to say goodbye and I'm sort of looking forward to it. I'm taking my camera so I'll show you the view from a tiny spot where the grass will grow greener next year.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Monday, 27 October 2008
Grief
Grief is a strange companion. It's not really welcome but along with my physical pain it is a weird continuing link to the tiny life that we have lost. I'm not hanging on to my pain, believe me, I want it gone! I'm simply telling you how it is.
It is a raw wound only a week old.
On saturday I left the house for the first time since leaving the hospital and I wanted the world to have stopped; to have taken a grand pause with us but of course it hadn't. It was bustling along as normal. Ray felt it even more acutely when he went out on his own a few days earlier.
It reminded me of the W H Auden poem, "Stop all the clocks". How can normal life go on in the world after an event of this magnitude?
We deal with our grief in different ways. I held our baby and I have photographs and a card with hand and footprints. Ray saw George when he was born but doesn't feel the need to see him again nor look at the photographs. That's his way. With me sadness sweeps over me and tears just flow at odd times; my brother sent me a lovely card; I fit into my jeans again on saturday. For Ray there's a feeling of flatness and depression, little things make him well up such as a silly advert. Fortunately we can and do talk long and late about how we are feeling and we support each other in the bleak moments. This has brought us even closer together if that is possible and I feel incredibly lucky to have this extraordinary love in my life. Sometimes there aren't enough words to express it.
I know that everything each of us is feeling is normal and natural. Grief is an unwelcome guest but fortunately not one that stays forever, although we will always carry the memory of our perfect tiny baby made with love. As for the future. I am going to get myself better physically and then we are going to try to get pregnant again. We have so much love that it would be a crime not to share it!
On Saturday we are going to collect our son George from the hospital and bury him in a peaceful pretty natural place. This poem kind of sort of explains my beliefs about death and beyond. We are all stardust.
We Two—How Long We were Fool'd
Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass.
WE two—how long we were fool'd!
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as Nature escapes;
We are Nature—long have we been absent, but now we return;
We become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark;
We are bedded in the ground—we are rocks;
We are oaks—we grow in the openings side by side;
We browse—we are two among the wild herds, spontaneous as any;
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together;
We are what the locust blossoms are—we drop scent around the lanes, mornings and evenings;
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals;
We are two predatory hawks—we soar above, and look down;
We are two resplendent suns—we it is who balance ourselves, orbic and stellar—we are as two comets;
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods—we spring on prey;
We are two clouds, forenoons and afternoons, driving overhead;
We are seas mingling—we are two of those cheerful waves, rolling over each other, and interwetting each other;
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, impervious:
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness—we are each product and influence of the globe;
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again—we two have;
We have voided all but freedom, and all but our own joy.
W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
It is a raw wound only a week old.
On saturday I left the house for the first time since leaving the hospital and I wanted the world to have stopped; to have taken a grand pause with us but of course it hadn't. It was bustling along as normal. Ray felt it even more acutely when he went out on his own a few days earlier.
It reminded me of the W H Auden poem, "Stop all the clocks". How can normal life go on in the world after an event of this magnitude?
We deal with our grief in different ways. I held our baby and I have photographs and a card with hand and footprints. Ray saw George when he was born but doesn't feel the need to see him again nor look at the photographs. That's his way. With me sadness sweeps over me and tears just flow at odd times; my brother sent me a lovely card; I fit into my jeans again on saturday. For Ray there's a feeling of flatness and depression, little things make him well up such as a silly advert. Fortunately we can and do talk long and late about how we are feeling and we support each other in the bleak moments. This has brought us even closer together if that is possible and I feel incredibly lucky to have this extraordinary love in my life. Sometimes there aren't enough words to express it.
I know that everything each of us is feeling is normal and natural. Grief is an unwelcome guest but fortunately not one that stays forever, although we will always carry the memory of our perfect tiny baby made with love. As for the future. I am going to get myself better physically and then we are going to try to get pregnant again. We have so much love that it would be a crime not to share it!
On Saturday we are going to collect our son George from the hospital and bury him in a peaceful pretty natural place. This poem kind of sort of explains my beliefs about death and beyond. We are all stardust.
We Two—How Long We were Fool'd
Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass.
WE two—how long we were fool'd!
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as Nature escapes;
We are Nature—long have we been absent, but now we return;
We become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark;
We are bedded in the ground—we are rocks;
We are oaks—we grow in the openings side by side;
We browse—we are two among the wild herds, spontaneous as any;
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together;
We are what the locust blossoms are—we drop scent around the lanes, mornings and evenings;
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals;
We are two predatory hawks—we soar above, and look down;
We are two resplendent suns—we it is who balance ourselves, orbic and stellar—we are as two comets;
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods—we spring on prey;
We are two clouds, forenoons and afternoons, driving overhead;
We are seas mingling—we are two of those cheerful waves, rolling over each other, and interwetting each other;
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, impervious:
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness—we are each product and influence of the globe;
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again—we two have;
We have voided all but freedom, and all but our own joy.
W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
Sadness
It's hard to know how to word this.
On monday morning we lost our baby at just over 5 months.
We don't know exactly when he died but he was stillborn at 11:05am too small and too early.
As you can tell, he was a boy and we named him George. I got to hold and cuddle him. He was absolutely utterly perfect.
The death of our son is the hardest thing either of us have ever had to deal with but with the amazing love we have between us and that from our family and friends we will get through this and carry on.
On monday morning we lost our baby at just over 5 months.
We don't know exactly when he died but he was stillborn at 11:05am too small and too early.
As you can tell, he was a boy and we named him George. I got to hold and cuddle him. He was absolutely utterly perfect.
The death of our son is the hardest thing either of us have ever had to deal with but with the amazing love we have between us and that from our family and friends we will get through this and carry on.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Previously
If you're interested in reading any of my previous blogging efforts from before 16/10/08 they can be found here on my myspace blog space
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