1st Christmas

“Everyone is afraid of dying, until you lose a child... then you are afraid of living.”

I couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve. In truth this is normal for me now, I haven’t slept properly since week 5 of pregnancy. I had pregnancy insomnia, then I didn’t really want to sleep when Evelyn was with us as the time I was asleep was time away from her. Since Evelyn passed away I don’t sleep due to grief, anxiety, PTSD and fear. I fear every day if I’m honest - sometimes I can cope with it and others it overwhelms completely. 

So back to Christmas Eve. I was lay awake and I just ended up flicking through my phone. I messaged a few people hoping they might be up. I just sent messages of festive love. I ended up on Pinterest and I searched child loss. Sometimes it helps to see someone else put into words what you cannot. The above quote came up and it really summed up how this feels. You just don’t know what each day will bring, will it just be a slow ache all day or will something trigger you, something that breaks your heart again, bring you to the brink of an anxiety attack, completely break you. 

As I write this I just had one such moment. I am on the train on my way to work. I feel very panicked today anyway, nothing as such as happened it’s just facing going back into the office after a week off. Someone’s phone rings, that same ringtone I had on my phone, the same ringtone that I’ve only ever heard when I have had to rush to Evelyn as something was wrong. The ringtone that I would hear and think please don’t be the worst of news when I wasn’t there by her side. Can you imagine every time your phone rang expecting it to be the news that your baby had died or was dying? That’s what the iPhone ringtone means to me. So now when I hear someone’s phone ring it takes me straight back to those moments and I feel that pain and fear all over again. 

Christmas morning I woke up in so much pain. The anxiety of the previous night, alongside a month’s worth of anxiety, depression, grief and not looking after myself, had culminated in my back and shoulder muscles seizing up. I could barely move without being in excruciating pain. My husband tried to apply pressure with my guidance (the benefits of being a trained massage therapist) but nothing was releasing. Concentrating on the 700 steps to the 2nd floor of the Eiffel Tower eventually distracted me enough from my anxiety and my back slowly relaxed. I challenge anyone to walk up 700 steps and not end up only focused on how physically hard that is! The view of Paris was spectacular. 

The entire festive period was hard, I didn’t really acknowledge Christmas was happening. I went out far too much and didn’t look after myself at all. It’s the only way I felt like I could get through it. I don’t think it was good, but would I have approached it any differently now I look back? Probably not. I was self harming I realise, physically and mentally. It was insidious. I survived another stage. 

We spent the week of Christmas in Paris. We did have a lovely time, we saw the sights of Paris, went to the Moulin Rouge and the Musee d’Orsay. I love Van Gogh and particularly ‘Starry Night’ so it was great to see that painting in the flesh. It didn’t feel like Christmas, I’m not sure it ever will again, things will always be different. There is a new normal and we are working out that new normal. We have a difficult few months ahead as we navigate our way through the anniversaries. I know we have the strength to survive, we have got this far.