The Circle of Life

Yet, despite all that is going on out here and despite all the emotions we are going through; oblivious to it all; there is that other little life growing and developing inside of me. Blissfully unaware of anything else but perhaps its immediate surroundings and possibly its limbs and digits.

We spent almost an hour with a lovely doctor yesterday getting a 3D scan done.
When we were expecting Patrick, we had been thinking about it but had never done it in the end.

It was lovely seeing this little one and its features so very clearly. And it was reassuring to hear all looked just fine.

So between the loss of Patrick, our new reality that includes coming to terms with this loss and headstone shopping, life goes on; regardless. I guess that is just the way it has to be...

Our New Reality

It's been strange to get used to some aspects of our new reality without Patrick.

For instance, we might confuse each other when speaking about subsequent children. I remember once speaking with my husband about having this one and then probably not leaving too much time between it and number three. My husband somehow figured this one would be well in school by the time we have "number 3"....which confused me until I clarified that to me Patrick was 1, this one, 2 and the next 3.

Or that visiting a grave has become part of our new reality. Not just any grave either. Knowing that it is your own child buried there makes it surreal somehow. We still stand there every time wondering how the heck this ended up being our new reality.

Finally deciding that it would be a good idea to get some quotes for headstones is yet another one of those things that somehow has become part of our new reality. We should not have to be doing this but somehow we do and while it might have taken us a bit subconciously, we eventually did decide to venture out and look at a few places. At almost 30 weeks pregnant, we thought it might be good before this one makes its entrance and occupies most of our time.

We found one place closed; could not find another place at all and while we eventually found the third, the owner was just out. So a good 2 hours, a lot of driving around and none the wiser.

Of course these things just happen but somehow it bugged me and after a bit of pondering, I put it down to it actually being a difficult enough task to go about. Whether you realise it or not, it's not easy to go out and pick out a headstone for your child's grave and you would have somehow wished you could have got done what you wanted without this much difficulty. All we wanted was show them a picture of what we had in mind and get an idea of the cost.

Same again next Saturday so.....

Small Mercies

And then again, among all this pain and sadness, you find yourself able to recognise and cling to the small mercies amidst all this. The impossible happened. Your healthy toddler just dies for no apparent reason in his creche whilst one parent is out of the country. How on earth should it be possible to find anything positive or comforting arising out of that sort of a situation.

Yet here we are and I think there were plenty of things to be grateful for and plenty of stuff that helped/helps us through it all.

1. As horrible as it was for my wonderful husband to have to deal with this by himself initially and as much as I really wanted to be there for him in that moment, I am glad I did not have to receive that call, drive to the creche and see the paramedics work on our son. I am positive that I would not have had the strength to witness that. Maybe some greater power had some sort of a say in this. If it had to happen at all, it happened in the kindest way possible - sort of.

2. At least our son just slipped away quietly in his sleep. As much of a shock as it was, at least he did not die of some horrible illness that would have seen him suffer and seen us and the extended family see him waste away slowly.

3. I am glad, my husband did not find him at home as is so often the case with SUDC and SIDS, too. Especially with me gone, I think this would have been so much more traumatic on us. Although, the way it happened was absolutely devestating for the creche staff!

4. I am grateful that our friend, the priest who baptised him, was around to say his funeral mass. He was only in the country literally for just a week between trips and a longer absence from his usual parish.

5. I also think it helped me and my German folks especially to see the way Irish people rally around their loved ones when there is a death. The way there were always people in the house, making tea and food and making themselves useful. The way people dropped everything to be by our side in those early days. They way people cared when they came to the wake and funeral in their hundreds. This all was amazing to me and it really helped me through that early time.

6. The way people continue to stick around, ready to listen when you need to talk and being ok about backing off when you are having an anti-social moment.

7. I am grateful that we are young enough to be having more children. While no amount of siblings will ever replace Patrick, I think the situation would be infinitely worse if one ever lost their only child at a stage in their life where there was no more hope of any siblings. Maybe I am trying to make myself feel better about our situation but I do believe that ours is not as bleak as it could be - if that is right way of putting it.

8. And finally, there is the way we are in the most bizarre position to say, yesterday, Tuesday 09 August 2011 it was 28 weeks ago that Patrick died and we are also exactly 28 weeks pregnant with his sibling, Skippy, the kangaroo. (Honestly, they keep telling me it is a human baby but if this is true, he is suffering an idendity crisis and believes himself to be a kangaroo judging by the activity.) After our son passed away, we sort of said to hell with planning. We spend most of our lives planning and scheming. I in particular. We had "planned" to have this first one and then enjoy him/her for a while before going for number 2. Well, all the planning in the world did not do us any good here so we said to hell with it. Whatever happens, happens. Apparently, it happened rather quickly!


So, you see. While there are days when you want to hide from the world, there are others where you are able see beyond the pain and grief and find yourself able to recognise the small blessings in life. It's probably all our own unique way of coping - and sometimes, it is amazing how we cope.

But what if I don't want an angel in heaven?

Not having a good day really. Some days just seem to catch you out more than others and often, I am not sure why exactly. I guess, you have to go with the flow and allow yourself that time to be anti-social and self-indulgent in your grief at that particular moment.

Many times, people will tell you that you now have a little angel up in heaven watching over you. I know they mean well and there are days where this notion does help but there are others when it does not.

I remember once reading about someone who was told that and they said they felt like saying to that person: "Well then, line up your kids and pick one to be your angel. Which one would you pick?"

Harsh? Maybe; but there are days when you might catch yourself thinking just that - though you usually tend to stop yourself from actually uttering those words because, again, they really do not mean any disrespect or harm in what they are saying. What can you say to someone in that situation? Most of the time, even I would be afraid to speak to me because there just are no words. Often, it is little gestures though that touch you beyond measure and make you grateful for the support you have around you.

Today though I truly feel that no, I do not want an angel in heaven. I want my son here with me, sitting beside me on the couch and maybe feeling my growing tummy and looking at me curiously when his little brother starts another kick-boxing session. Today, I am grieving for the son I lost and for his little brother and the fact they'll never get to meet or play with each other. I want to be picking his big boy bed and fret about potty training.


No, I do not want him in heaven, I want him right here with us and the closer we get to his little brother being born, the stronger that feeling gets.