All posts tagged: Baby Loss

14 months and 20 days later

Published by Oana

It has been 14 months and 20 days since my son died but it is only recently that I have realised that grief is going to be part of my life, of me, of who I am until I die. Yes, I did read the books, listened to the stories, talked to other bereaved parents but it has only recently become obvious to me that grief is never going to leave my life and that it is here to stay. For good. That I will have good days always followed, as a rule, by bad, really bad days. That I will get ill much more often than I even did before. That my mind will never be the same; that I have become a head sieve. I forget often and I need constant reminders of appointments and meetings. Loads and loads of patience and understanding too. That I will be sad. Often and deeply and sometimes furiously. That anger will be my closest companion. An existential anger that cannot be directed at any-one, as the …

Grief, galvanized

Published by Oana

I have been on the road that no parent ever wants to walk for a year and two months now. In the car today, Alex made a random remark that got me thinking and now, writing. “You have come a long way“, he said, not meaning it as a hurtful remark but as encouragement and praise. Have I truly? I suppose it all depends on the way one looks at things that molds one’s perception. Yes, it does seem we have travelled a long way on the grief path. Our life, post Georgie, has taken turns I have never known to have existed, let alone desired or planned to take before I lost my boy. If I were to put it simplistically and squeeze it all in two sentences, I guess I would say that: 1. grief has completely and utterly transformed me on the inside. 2. grief has(paradoxically and illogically to the non-bereaved) liberated me to see the world in a way I wouldn’t have been able to, had I not lost my son and …

Silence

Published by Oana

I sat there, in silence, remembering the silence we shared two summers ago. When you were only a grain, in my pregnant belly. I sat there, willing my memory To go back and find you there, A squirming little life, Full of promise and joy. I sat there, in silence and I remembered the times, we shared, just you and me. Those dark nights at home, when your little bones were sore. Those long days on the ICU ward, with only each other and the beeping machines pumping chemo into your tiny frame as company. I sat there, with my precious memories of you, sweet baby boy, feeling you close, so very close to my very bruised heart. I sat there, in silence, and for a split moment in time, our love managed to transcend death and space and time, and we were together, once again.

When grief falls like a hammer

Published by Oana

I have been doing well. As well as a bereaved mother can be doing, shortly after such an important milestone, as Georgie’s death first anniversary. But grief is a wheel which keeps turning and keeps mauling your soul, over and over and over again. I know that talking about Georgie’s life helps other parents, finding themselves in the same horrific situation we have, a year and 30 days ago. I have been receiving messages from people all over the world. And Georgie’s story has been recently published by a women’s magazine in Romania, and I had the absolute honour to introduce my baby boy to a Romanian audience of caring new mothers. But the crust has been ripped off the wounds, once again. I have been waking up frequently during the night, tormented by the same questions. Why my boy? Why like this? Why was he allowed to cross the threshold of existence only to know excruciating pain? Why, Lord, oh, why? I have learned to live with the pain. I have learned to cope …