I had originally planned to write this as a single post, but I think it could end up a little long, so I’ve split it into three. Sorry.
Part 1. May 29, 2015
The 29th of May is creeping up fast and I’ve found I spend a lot of time thinking about it. I don’t talk too much about the labour, it was scary, devastating and a mess of drugs and people that is hard to process. There was no control, no happiness, just fear and regret. I wanted more than anything to go back in time, as I realised that day that the pain I had been having for weeks and weeks was not okay, it wasn’t normal, and although I had spoken to specialists about it I should have spoken louder.
Our precious babies were taken from us the minute they arrived out into this world and they were brought back to life. If they hadn’t been intubated immediately they would have gently stopped the breathing that they had only just begun, if in fact they had been able to begin it on their own at all. Although I don’t wish it now, as i’m cuddled up with a sleeping boy in my arms, there have been and still will be days where I wonder if perhaps we should have held them in our arms that day and let them go. And if we ever do try for more children (that’s a post for another day) and they put us in the same position I’ll be speaking up to stop. To ask for a minute to just think. To decide if this is the road we go down.
I think we did get asked that last year, but in the heat of it all I don’t remember the discussion. But with experience behind us now it would be considered differently.
Physically home is different now which is fantastic. We sleep in our bedroom, not the lounge, and the living area is completely renovated into a new, light space (okay not completely, but it’s almost there!!). This has become a focus point for me as it allows me to separate the memories. I can be in this house and not want to run for the hills as the memories rush past. But I’m still dreading it. I’m dreading the night of the 28th of May, knowing that that was when it started. I know this now. Dreading going to sleep wishing you’d made a million different choices. What if, what if, what if. Dreading waking up on the 29th knowing what that morning had in store for us.
This year, because Oliver will be 8 months corrected and not aware that it’s his birthday we won’t be celebrating. There won’t be a birthday gathering or a fun filled day of birthday activities because to be honest we just need to survive the first one. This birthday is the one that we get to allocate to sadness. To crying and wallowing, for Oliver and for Charlie and for the parenting experiences that we will never get back.