It's the 23rd of January. This time a year ago we were so anxiously happy. It was a busy, happy time. Noah was about to have his first Christmas and we had Suri on her way to joining our little boy.
Tonight I sit and write on the balcony of a unit in Maroochydore. Months ago, Adam and I sat in a child loss grief counsellor's office as I desperately implored her to help Adam. His trauma being so deep that he was literally terrified of me falling pregnant ever again contrasted horribly with my desperate feeling of need for a second child. It's something that plagues our relationship intensely. My fear of resenting him for the rest of our lives is very real. But that's another story for another day.
As we sat there, Adam once again voiced his request that we spend the anniversary of Suri's death away, doing something special.
Christmas has always been a very traditional thing for my family. Very rarely wavering. I felt so much anxiety about not partaking and abandoning tradition despite my horror at having to play out the day that I lost our baby and pretend to be okay about it in front of everyone.
I realised as I sat there that it's not all about me and what he wanted needed to be heard. So I thought about it. I thought about all he sacrifices for his family and realised I could sacrifice my family tradition for a year and do what he needed to do.
So I write this from a quiet balcony overlooking the water. It's a beautiful unit he's booked and we have had a brilliant first day here. Adam is currently putting my beautiful little boy to bed and I'm here alone thinking about how I feel.
It's so intense. I feel constantly like I'm missing a child as much as I'd feel a missing limb.
But right now that feeling feels insanely amplified. I've spent the entire month pretending I'm happy. Pretending to enjoy Christmas despite every Christmas Carol quietly tearing at my heart.
There have been some great changes in my life recently. I've returned to work. A job I expected to be something to simply help lighten the financial load on poor Adam being the main one.
It didn't turn out that way. I was terrified of returning to a real job that wasn't for a family member, but it has been an enormous turning point for me. I've not felt such happiness and passion since we lost our little girl and didn't think I ever could.
The people I work with are chicken soup for the soul. It's been a very healing journey. It's given me back so much after so much emptiness.
So despite the sadness there is hope.
I'll raise a glass to my own melancholy tonight and think about what it would have been like to be dressing two babies in Christmas pyjamas. Wrapping two lots of presents. Kissing two babies goodnight.
Goodnight and thank you, if you've taken the time to read this.
Honestly, thank you. It means more to me than you could know. X
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