If you leave me in the box, I am fine. Safe and warm and protected.
If you take me out and leave me teetering on the bench, then I could fall and crack.
My Dr thinks I am a bit fragile at the moment. I guess she is right. I saw her yesterday and she was, as always, lovely. We talked about Alice and about some of the results we are still waiting for. She asked how I was coping. How my husband is coping. She asked THE questions to see if there was any sign of PND. She offered counselling, if we ever feel we need it. And she talked about all the things we are doing right. Like visiting sites like this and this and this and reading the stories of people who have been through similar experiences.
I told her about a friend I have never met that has helped me more than she will ever know just by being on the other end of an email and letting me open the floodgates. Sadly this friend knows more than me about the pain of loss. Thank you Tiff, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
In January this year I had a miscarriage. It was early in the pregnancy. It was all straightforward. I didn't need to go to the hospital. We were sad, disappointed and I felt miserable for quite a while. A few months passed and I was pregnant again. I was nervous from the start. I counted every week, just aching to get to 12 weeks. Then all was fine. All was OK. It looks great.
But it wasn't.
You know the rest.
No more babies this year.
Its been 8 weeks since Alice was born. Since Alice died. We have the birth certificate now. The death certificate has not returned. Good. They can keep that for as long as they like.
I know she is dead.