Monday 16 December 2013

And then you worry…

Losing your child has a lasting impact on the rest of your life. Of course it has. In many ways.  Not knowing why adds another dimension. One minute they were fine, the next they were gone.

I do not think anyone would ever get their head around that one.

One of the ways it impacts is worry.

When you have a subsequent child or you already have other children, all of a sudden all bets are off.

Any sickness, no matter how seemingly trivial or normal for childhood, can morph into something that makes you believe the grim reaper is rattling at your front door once more.

Is this just flu or meningitis?
Is this really just a sore tummy or something more sinister?
Is this headache and vomiting just a virus or the signs of an aggressive brain tumour?
Is that sound in the middle of the night just a congested nose or laboured breathing? Perhaps even a bout of pneumonia you never even knew he had?

I am sure that the way we find ourselves reacting these days is a normal side effect of what happened to us. You know your brain is getting ahead of itself every now and then but there always is that niggling doubt; that fear, that maybe it’ll happen all over again.

If something so very rare could take your child, the chances of something much more common striking don’t seem too unrealistic then. In fact, in the middle of the night those worst case scenarios often seem to be the only plausible explanation as to what is going on with them at the time.

It is probably different for everyone but for me, the winter months and in particular December and January are difficult.

When Eoghan gets sick during that time, I invariably draw comparisons to Patrick and his ear infections and sniffles…all of which were so perfectly normal. He had had a good stretch but was sick over Christmas and into January…not very and as always, he took it in his stride. Never a child to complain much and in such good form the morning he passed away.

And then, just like that.

So now I worry. Not excessively and every minute of every day but it has become a constant in my world.
And it can be bloody exhausting.

A missed call from the crèche can send me into a mini panic... Perhaps not so much now but certainly at the start.
An ambulance passing at full speed with sirens blaring whilst I am on my lunch time walk equally so. My head immediately goes to that day.

Perhaps, not having been there myself makes this a little worse for me. The imagination takes over and paints a horrible picture of how things probably unfolded while I was sitting in Germany unable to do anything.

As always, these are just short, fleeting moments; long enough to remind me that this is me now. This is part of my life forever.

So now I’m more inclined to stay home with Eoghan if he is sick. I work from home with him sitting beside me on the couch, cuddled into me and browsing YouTube.  Like any tot getting sick, his timing can be truly awful but at the end of the day what can you do. It gives me comfort knowing that he is with me and I am sure he prefers having one of us near him when he is feeling miserable.






Monday 2 December 2013

The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

Another Christmas is just around the corner.

For us, this also marks the beginning of the countdown to Patrick's anniversary exactly one month later.
For us, it brings us back to when we celebrated his last Christmas with him, not knowing what was going to happen a few weeks later.
For us, it reminds us of the calm before that storm ...when everything was near perfect.

For others who have lost children, it too is always a time during which that miss, this ever-present miss, seems to be more prominent than on other days. You may have learnt to sort of live with it as part of your daily routine but special occasions will always be different. Your child's absence is felt even stronger then.

The last two Christmases without Patrick have of course not been the same. They've been hard. And the lead up to them were tricky. It can be very difficult to try and get yourself organised, write those cards and buy those presents when your heart is in a different place.

Sometimes, you get thrown life lines - albeit strange life lines at sometimes truly odd timings.

I seem to sporadically get Christmassy well ahead of even my usually acceptable time. This is something I have observed last year already and again now. However, I am beginning to accept this as being OK and something to embrace: Just going with the flow, organise Christmassy things and feel Christmassy whenever the mood allows me.

Why? Because I know that come Christmas and New Years, I will find it much harder to get through the days. At least this way, I might have things lined up to stop me from retreating into my shell when that miss hits. As comfortable a place that might seem from a distance, once you are there, it is not a nice experience at all....And difficult to pull yourself out of it again.

So I'm shamelessly enjoying the pre-Christmas time. I organise outings, bake Christmas cookies, write Santa letters with Eoghan and make memories with him and the husband.

Having him around, at the very least, gives us both back that magic that tends to get lost as one grows into adulthood. The talk of Santa, cuddling up on the couch to watch Christmas movies, the smell of Christmas baking and watching the hustle and bustle of people forgetting about their worries for a short while and getting caught up in the festive mood. All this is so nice.

Besides, it's all over so fast anyway and the time during which children believe in and enjoy the magic of Christmas is limited.





Wishing all families who are living with this huge miss in their lives, a peaceful run up to Christmas.
Thinking of all of you.

xxx