At first I thought that nothing would help. I looked out the window and the whole world seemed to have shifted. I felt as though I was standing at the edge of life and looking at everything from a different angle. I couldn’t get warm, I couldn’t sit still and my concentration was all over the place. I was surviving minute by minute, living on my nerves and hopes of things getting better didn’t even enter my mind.
Gradually though I started to come back. I needed to hold onto Jude’s sooky (NooNoo) at all times and I couldn’t bear to be alone. Through my tears I had developed a stutter and I wondered if it would be with me forever, but I was coming back. It was around the time that I started to keep this blog.
Something that helped in the early days was going for really long walks. The exercise and fresh air gave me an appetite and helped me to sleep and it helped me to get out of the house. I honestly think that I’d have gone mad if I had to stay at home all day. Later, when I was back at work I found that leaving early and going to collect Isla from school helped give me something to look forward to. Now of course I have a baby to look forward to and as terrifying as that is it’s also kept me healthy and sober for these last eight months and as much as I can’t visualise it living and breathing in my house it’s given us all some hope. Sharing and swapping experiences of grief with other mothers has helped keep me sane and made me appreciate that we are all going through the same things and coping in different ways.
The thing that helps most though is talking about my boy. Saying his name and laughing at the funny things he did makes things better. My friends are still listening and nobody seems to shy away from talking about him. I’m so grateful to have people that are better than I would’ve been if the roles were reversed.