At the clock strikes midnight into a brand new year; it brings a fresh start and new beginnings.
For me, it takes me further away from my daughter, from the last time I saw her, held her or touched her.
January is the step onto the countdown, the step to uphill climb to reach her birthday in February.
The first few months of the year always feel so heavy, I don’t think people realize or even understand why.
I know it’s coming and no matter what I do, I can’t stop it.
We’re coming up to the sixth year of this; I’ve heard time and time again about how time is a great healer, or how I should be over it by now.
I can remember special dates and times from the births of my other children, dates from when I first started dating my husband. And I’m allowed to talk about them.
I did expect not to hurt so much this far in, I also never expected to remember the things I don’t quite want to remember.
There are times I forget how her hair felt, or how she smelt.
As we enter the New Year, January isn’t even her birthday or an anniversary; it was the final month of pure pregnancy bliss – I say bliss, I had Hyperemesis; but it was as ‘bliss’ as I could achieve. Son’s birthday, her twenty-week scan where she was doing amazingly; we didn’t find out her gender due to her not wanting us to know; we weren’t that bothered about finding out either. Then I had a consultant appointment. I mention my son’s birthday; because we went shopping with his birthday money before the appointment, and he was proudly showing off his new purchase to the Doctor.
The appointment went amazingly; I had been given a growth scan date of 2nd April, and a cesarean date of 22nd May; I had already had two so hence the need for a consultant and a 3rd cesarean. We discussed me being able to have, or at least try to have a vaginal birth. It isn’t really advisable, but it was agreed that I could have a trail of scar.
Everything was as normal as it could be. The turn of a new year is just as important in our timeline as any. It was the final part of ever having a blissful pregnancy again.
Time Keeps Moving
Last year I thought five years was so significant, but I feel the further we go the more significant the years get. It all seems like such a long time – which of course six years is. It almost a feeling of being out of control, knowing there is nothing I can do to change what happened. But I am still allowed to feel the pain, to grieve to miss our daughter who died. I do believe it gets harder, because of the distance from when we last saw her.
I do think of her a lot more this time of year, because we’re connected, she was alive, she was well; whether I was carrying her or after her birth. This is the time of year I can truly connect with her; even right up until May – her due date; I hold on to these tightly; simply because it is all I have.
2018 – Another year without her.
I live in the UK, Mum to five children, one of whom could only stay for five weeks. Since her death, I have found a passion through writing to make sure nobody feels as alone as we did. I’m open and honest, that helps me to release the love I have for a girl who couldn’t stay.