While, of course, I loved my children before Abi died, that love has changed quite dramatically since. I gave birth to Abi, back in 2000, and it wasn’t long before my second child was on her way. She arrived when Abi … Continue reading
I’ve been sitting here staring at the packet for half an hour. Antidepressants. These little pills, I know, are offering me the chance to numb my mind for a while from the anxiety and depression that’s taken hold of me. … Continue reading
I used hypnobirthing when I had my third child (due to PTSD following the second birth), in order to get through labour with my sanity in tact. I needed to regain control as I was terrified of the whole process. So, it was a home birth as a location and hypnobirthing as pain relief. I must say, due to the practice I put in, it worked very well indeed and was a positive experience. I recovered quickly and bonded immediately with my baby.
[This blog was taken from notes I’d written whilst sat with Abi at the cemetery around 10th June 2013.]
Four months on, is that right? Have I grieved? Have I even started…?
What is the point of all that crying if at the end I still feel such deep and painful sorrow? Crying usually releases a tension, helps me feel better. But these tears are different; they flow easily enough but the emotion changes from despair and hurt, to sadness and depression. I suppose, if I didn’t feel able to cry, rant, write or talk then I’d be in a very bad place by now. So, to grieve must be to let my emotions surface as I mourn my darling child, but it feels like that is all it is. There seems to be no benefit, no end to it. Yet, even still, I can see that recently I have been able to laugh sometimes, though not as sincerely as before; I can converse, can think, can function apparently normally.