It's been a while since I have written here.
I got a bit worried that there were too many words about the darling baby that I missed so much, that I was becoming too monotonous.
Even thought my head is constantly full of thoughts about Thomasina, what happened when she was here, what would it be like if she was still here now, I began to notice that she wasn't in the thoughts of the rest of the world so much. I thought I had to pull back to make others comfortable.
Life went on. Other people had births. Other people had deaths. Other things got tough. People stopped asking. People stopped mentioning.
I tried to make the words dry up.
There were other things to do, too many things to do. Too much of other peoples crap to deal with.
But that absolutely devastating sadness remains. I go about my day, everyday, but Miss T is never far from my thoughts. A sight, a sound, a smell fills my head with memories and loss. A coincidence, a comment means it bubbles to the surface.
I feel like I am a volcano with molten lava bubbling under the surface, kept down my constant use of "mindfulness" living in the moment, "glass half full", "cognitive behaviour therapy". The effort of getting through a day, making sure I don't upset anyone around me.
There are sweet spots, times when people show amazing kindness. My friends who send random messages and links to let me know they are thinking about Thommy - a dress they think she would have rocked, something she would have had in her room, a photo of Harper Beckham pointing out Miss T would have worn that outfit better. Tears at seeing the dolls pram that would have been perfect for Miss T right about now. The thoughtfulness of an acquaintance who takes the time to mention "I am so glad I got to meet Thomasina".
For each of those, there are many, many more times when I have to hide my hurt, my upset faced with yet another act of thoughtlessness. Do you think how it feels to me to hear about the illness or death of an elderly person who lived a long life. Do you think how it feels to me to hear about someone with a sleepless or not feeling too flash baby - at least they have a baby that is alive. Have you even noticed that some days are so hard. Have you ever offered if there is something you could do to make it a little easier.
Sometimes I feel like a cartoon of a crumbling mountain - you know the scene where the cracks appear and then it crumbles to the ground in a pile. Sometimes I fantasise about what it would be like to let the cracks spread. What would happen if I just let the crumbling happen and didn't get out of bed. Instead I just keep dealing with each little crack, keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I had a really rough day one day last week. Some random things happening which meant Miss T was closer in my thoughts than some days. And then something else went wrong. Things bubbled up.
Made me realise that I had let slip some things that help control the bubbling. A couple of months of missing my massages, missed gym sessions and not writing here. I now know that I need to make sure I set aside time for these things. To help manage the pain. To focus on the sweet spots.
