Happy 2nd Heavenly Birthday

Happy birthday to my beautiful angel Annabelle Faith who is celebrating her 2nd birthday in Heaven. 

These two years have flown by and even though it seems like forever since I held my little angel in my arms, I still remember it as though it was yesterday. The physical contact feels like a lifetime ago but all of the emotions - the hurt, pain, grief, shock and despair, feel as if it only happened yesterday.  The only emotion that seems to have disappeared in the two years is the anger, which I think is a good thing because it’s the last thing I want to have associated with my little girl.

Last year was all about coming to terms and coping with the up and down rollercoaster that came along with losing our precious little girl – the daily challenges of controlling tears and managing the never ending barrage of tormenting thoughts that churn through your mind continuously, hour after hour, day after day.  It was also about learning how to walk down the baby aisle of the supermarket without crying, dealing with the awkward encounters with people who didn’t know what to say to you, being able to look at newborn babies without physically and emotionally unravelling.  Mostly is was about getting through each day the best that you could, taking it one day at a time.  It was about being able to survive with knowing a part of you was missing.

Throughout this second year without Annabelle there’s been a lot less tears and emotional and mental breakdowns, and I’ve become quite skilled at answering innocent questions such as ‘how many children do you have?’ and ‘how old is your youngest?’.  It’s amazing how simple questions like these would so easily reduce me to tears and make me a blubbering mess within seconds.  I know feel I have more control over this.  Probably the biggest hurdle I overcame this year was holding a baby, admittedly the little girl was three months old, but it was a huge moment in moving forward and closing another chapter in my book of grief.

I’ve thought about the milestones Annabelle’s missed out on – walking and talking, playing with her big sisters, sharing Christmas, Easter and birthdays with us.  So many moments that should have been shared, but sadly will never happen.  We’ve missed out on a countless number of kisses and cuddles, giggles, smiles and tears.  We’ve missed out on being able to watch her grow and learn and do all of those little insignificant things that as parents we usually take for granted.  All of those annoying little habits that our children have that are so repetitive and consistent that we barely notice, they’re the things I know that we’re missing out on and would do anything to have.

This year was also about moving forward. It was about learning that it was okay to be happy again and not feel guilty about it.  It was about being able to pack away the change table, the cot, the pram, car seat and all of the clothes and toys that had been bought for our little girl while I was pregnant.  I’m not sure I could ever part with the things I still have for her, at the moment it would feel like trying to erase her as if she didn’t exist.  I know that’s probably pretty silly, but when you don’t have anything other than those material possessions and a handful of memories you hold on to whatever you can.  Every little thing, memory, thought and feeling is precious and you don’t want to lose it.  Giving birth to Annabelle left my arms covered in bruises from all of the needles I was given (and all the ones they tried to give me, but failed)– I remember looking at them as they faded and prayed that wouldn’t go away, because it reminded me it was all real.  It was a physical reminder and I didn’t have many of them.

After a couple of months I did manage to give away some of the things I had bought for Annabelle, which was another big step in being able to move forward.  Midway through last year, only a few months after losing her I discovered a pair of co-workers were pregnant with their first child.  I’d never really had too much to do with the couple, we didn’t seem to have too much in common and a part from a few casual conversations we’d never really spoken. But I bundled up some of the new clothes and baby supplies that I’d purchased and filled a gift bag with a variety of baby things and left it for the happy couple with a card to congratulate them.  They don’t know how much just the casual little conversations about their impending baby meant to me.  Sure the jealously of it all broke my heart, but the conversations were all about the excitement and nerves of having their first baby or the horrible morning sickness that the mum to be was experiencing – all of them were feelings that I could relate to.  They were the first ‘normal’ baby conversations that anyone had had with me and it was exactly what I needed.  They didn’t talk to me and look at me as though they were waiting for me to fall apart. Funnily enough it also showed me a whole new side to the couple, one I hadn’t expected.  This co-worker who I had thought of as a tough, ‘nothing ever phases me’ woman had me in tears with a beautiful message she sent to me after I wrote Annabelle’s 1^st birthday blog.  They were probably my first tears happy tears for the entire year.  Her words made me feel like I was tough, that I had inner strength, plus they came from someone who I least expected it.

Surprisingly I found comfort and support in some of the most unexpected places and people.  My mother-in-law has helped me in more ways than I could possibly explain, I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her.  My sister-in-law (from my previous marriage - who had sadly felt the same pain seventeen years earlier) and I suddenly had a connection that hadn’t been there before. I was also overwhelmed and surprised by the number of people who read Annabelle’s 1^st birthday blog.  Miracles Babies published it on their website and within days hundreds of thousands of people had read it.  The feedback was unbelievable and perfect strangers sent me messages of heartfelt sympathy, inspiration, tales of their own personal loss and experience and others even gave the gift of making premmie clothes to donate to hospitals in Annabelle’s memory.    It seemed that by sharing my feelings on a blog which I didn’t expect anyone other than maybe close friends or family to read had reached people across the world. My gorgeous little angel, who had never even taken a breath had touched the hearts of people everywhere, she had made a difference in the lives of others.  The entire process made me feel incredibly humble and so grateful.  It has been that understanding, kindness and the flood of support that has helped me to be able to move forward and it played a huge part in helping me to restore my faith in the world and in God. The amount of kindness in people can be truly amazing.

The journey of having to live without a child is one you would never ever wish on another person.  It torturous and unbelievably painful.  I actually don’t think there is anyway a mother can explain or convey the agony and the pain that you feel to someone who hasn’t experienced it.  Before losing Annabelle I didn’t think it was possible to feel physical pain from heartache, but you can.  Your heart literally hurts from the emotional pain that you are feeling.  

I lost a part of me, a part of my heart, that will be forever missing – there is no way for me to fully put my heart back together again, it was broken beyond repair. Even though I may not ever be able to repair my broken heart, but I can rebuild my life and my fractured spirit, one day I might even be able to fully regain my faith.  I know I have come a long way in these past two years and I know I still have a lifetime ahead to navigate.  Thankfully I have a wonderful husband and three beautiful children by my side and a little angel on my shoulder. 

I’ve heard people say ‘it gets better’ or ‘it gets easier’ with time more times than I can count, but personally I don’t think that’s the case.  When I think about losing Annabelle the pain is just as intense and real now as it was on that gut-wrenching day two years ago, I’ve simply gotten better at managing that pain.  You don’t ‘get over it’ – you get through it.  It doesn’t get ‘easier’ – you get stronger and you adapt and change.  You don’t ‘move on’ – you move forward.  

To my dearest, sweet Annabelle Faith,

The sun has not risen on a day where I have not missed you,
nor has it set on a day where I have not thought about you,
and not a day has passed that I have not loved you.

I hope you’re soaring through the clouds with magical angel wings
and I hope you hear my daily prayers to you

Though I will never again hold you in my arms,
cuddle you tight or cover your tiny face with kisses
I will always carry you in my heart and cherish the precious moments I had with you.

I love you to the moon and back
and more than all of the stars in the sky

Happy 2^nd Heavenly Birthday