It has been just over 2 months since I gave birth to my beautiful,
perfectly formed little girl (at 39w 4d). 2 months doesn’t seem very
long, but every day since then has felt like an eternity. It feels like a
lifetime ago.
Sometimes (most of the time) it feels like it never happened.
Did the last 11 months happen at all – was I really pregnant, I can’t ever
remember having a swollen belly now, my body bounced back so quickly you can
hardly even tell I was. No physical signs or scars to mark the most
significant thing that has ever happened in my life.
Since that day I’ve aged a year, literally and figuratively.
My birthday was 2 days after I gave birth – not exactly a great way to mark a
significant birthday. My face looks old, marked with the creases of
sadness and grief. I don’t cry often (when I do, I sure do) but my soul
is broken, my heart is heavy.
The reality of Amelia is that she will never open her eyes, never
gasp a breath of air, never smile at me, never grasp my finger, never coo,
never spill on my shoulder, never share the intimacy of feeding, never
experience the bond of mother and child, never be daddies little girl, never
experience the bad times and the good. The reality is I had her, but I never
really had her, that I am her mother but not her mum.
The reality of Amelia is that she is dead. It pains me to
write those words. It makes me feel disloyal to her, like I’m already
giving up on her memory – but it is so far from the truth.
Amelia has given me so much happiness, yet so much sadness.
Her presence is like a lead weight on my heart that poisons my soul with
grief. Her presence is like sunshine growing a smile across my face with
pride and eternal love.
I so wanted to be her
mum, I wanted to have that relationship I see with my sister and her
kids. I wanted that intimacy, closeness and loving bond you have with
your children. One day I hope I still will but will it be forever marked
with the loss of my eldest child, my eldest daughter I will never have.
