The Day I’ll Say Goodbye

I wrote this a couple of years ago, in 2012, when I had every intention of blogging regularly but, as I explained in my last piece, life got in the way. However, these words remain as relevant to me now as they did then.

2012

I have spent a long time thinking about whether or not to attend the Saying Goodbye Service at St Paul’s Cathedral on 24th November. It has been organised by Zoe and Andy Clarke-Coates, a couple who have lost 6 babies and decided to organises services to enable other people to remember and grieve for their own lost children. It is a wonderful idea. I had early miscarriages, few people knew that I was pregnant, there were no funerals and I didn’t feel like I had an outlet for my grief. But every time I think about attending the service I cry and really don’t want to be an uncontrollable mess in church.

Dan (my husband at the time) doesn’t want to come with me as he chooses to grieve for our children in a different way which, of course, is fine. Well, its not really fine, we are both needy in different ways and how do you as a couple prioritise who gives more support to who when you are both in so much agony? Time has helped immensely and the resentment I felt towards Dan has gone and changed to a feeling of loneliness and disappointment instead. He is a very practical person and threw himself into work after each miscarriage while I felt like I was standing in the middle of a vortex watching everything (life) rush by. I could not understand how my unquantifiable grief had not caused a irrevocable rip in the fabric of the universe. But the sun rose and the sun set as usual.

And now it is time. I will dress up in my finery, as my babies deserve no less, and I will put one foot in front of the other until I get to St Paul’s and I will cry and I will remember and after the service my wonderful companion Chris will take me somewhere extremely glamorous for cocktails and we will toast to those who can’t be with us. And when I get up the next morning the sun will rise again and I will cuddle baby Lulu and tell her how much I love her.

Further details about Saying Goodbye and their service can be found at http://www.sayinggoodbye.org or Twitter @SayinggoodbyeUK

I have since attended another service in London and I brought my daughter Lulu with me. It was beautiful and I cried and then Lulu and I went home together hand in hand.

New Beginnings

I started this blog three years ago however as you can see this is my first post (second actually) but a lot has changed in three years so i deleted the other one and am starting again. Three years ago i had, what i considered to be, the life I had always wanted and one that i had worked very hard to get. I had a husband – tick, a baby – tick, a house that we refurbished – tick, living in leafy South Buckinghamshire after moving out from my beloved West London – tick, we even had a puppy, matching Barbours and Hunter Wellies – tick, tick, tick. And I was rally really happy, that amazing secure warm happiness that i had rarely experienced. That lasted exactly 20 months.

But quite obviously it wasn’t all so rosy. My husband and I had been together for 14 years, we had suffered a number of miscarriages, our baby arrived 3 months early and spent 9 weeks in intensive care. The house purchase and refurbishment was stressful, my husband worked full time while project managing it from 30 miles away. Still, I felt we had dealt with these things admirably and things had finally settled down.  But now, 2 years after he left, we are finally nearing the end of our divorce process and are living very separate lives.

So, that’s me, I live in South Bucks with my 4 year old daughter Lulu (Lucia), our cat Mr Moo (who has no ears – cancer), our blind rabbit Thumper (she choose him for her birthday, what could i do?), the gold fish Klaus Roger (is American Dad suitable for a 4 year old?). I work full time in London, and I rather like the time I get  alone during my commute,  Lulu is at full time nursery  and I am hurtling towards my 41st birthday.