On holiday

I’ll be going on our camping holiday on Monday. I bet it rains…and pours. Either way I’m going to enjoy it, I’m going to take Gideon’s teddy bear with us, so in our own way we are taking Gideon on his first holiday – camping in England.

And…I’ll be testing on Thursday to see if I have been successful on my first month trying to conceive. Thursday is Gideon’s due date, I thought I’d do the test then, two days before my period is due. I don’t expect it to be positive, but I know my Gideon will send me his little brother or little sister when the time is right, whether that’s now or in a few months.

Mainly though I’m going to try and relax for the next couple of weeks, so I can come back and try to get things going again in my life, do some writing, some exercise, some weight loss. And find the inner peace with everything that has happened and the choices I was forced to make. I found that since Gideon’s death, I’ve been unable to make any decisions at all, I’m completely paralysed by fear at trying to make even the smallest, most insignificant decision. I used all my decision making power throughout Gideon’s life…I’m all tapped out for now.


Another little angel…

I had been following the story of another preemie mom since long before I had my pPROM. She had twins, and one of them was very small, but such a fighter. I’ve just read that he became an angel today, at 5 months old. My heart and prayers goes out to the parents, nothing can quell the pain of losing your child. But I know both our boys are playing together in the angel playground that is heaven.

His fight will never be forgotten.

Off on holiday soon

We are planning a camping trip over Gideon’s due date, since John already had the time off and we REALLY need to escape the tedium of our grief.

Some days I feel numb, and I enjoy it. I allow the numb to wash over my grief and although I still can’t function much, I can at least breathe, and think…and even sometimes hope. But I know the numb is only hiding the raw wound of grief, like a plaster. One day the plaster will have to come off, and I will need to face up to everything that has happened, just not yet, I need my numb. Today was less numb and more raw, but I think I was channeling John’s grief, trying to overpower my carefully constructed numb.

We are two people, walking in the darkness, trying to hold onto each other’s hands and to stay on our paths as we dodge giant holes and ditches, and trying to believe that lying ahead, beyond the mountain, there are no more invisible cliffs to sending us hurtling through space to our ultimate demise, into the blackness where there is no more hope. We are walking in our dark, believing that behind the huge mountain ahead, lies the rising sun and a beautiful rainbow, glowing with all the colours in the world.


Gideon’s Room

We did it. We sorted out everything we had bough Gideon. Mostly I felt numb, I expected to cry a lot since every time I had gone in there since, I cried. But no, I just felt numb, like I was going through someone else’s stuff. But I’m glad it’s done, walking past that closed door every day, conjured up a thousand evocative images every morning, it made me sad, sometimes I would peek cautiously in there, staring at the little set of dungarees that was the last thing I ever bought before pPROM. And then I would hurriedly shut the door and scurry away, ignoring the task – the mammoth task. The elephant in the house, as we tried to go about our lives.

I was surprised by how much stuff we had bought in such a short time, enough for a year of Gideon’s life no doubt, some beautiful clothes, gorgeous little nappies, so much thought had gone into it all – my obsession with little, cute, dungarees! We had a lot of them.

Now I’m just left with a overwhelming sadness at what never was, and a deep seated, gnawing fear that this is going to happen again, that one day soon, I’ll be writing this about another baby, gone from this world due to the ineptitude of my cervix. How can my cervix – something so small, cause so much grief and pain? I so badly want a baby, to feel that endless, eternal love for something we have created, and yet I am terrified, absolutely terrified that I will lose another. My heart, broken already into a thousand pieces, can barely manage to be shattered once again.

Here are some pictures of my Gideon’s room, we never had the cot at home with us (thankfully) or the pram, which is with Nana.

Happy Father’s Day

A special post to wish all those with angels, a very happy Father’s Day. It doesn’t matter where your child is, heaven or earth, you are still a father.

I made a video dedicated of Gideon, for my wonderful other half, happy father’s day Johnny.




My other half will finally be returning next week, on Friday. It’s been the longest week already, and even longer still to go. Then we can try and get our lives back on track after these terrible times. I’ve hardly spent any time in my own house this year, it’s been hospitals and hospital accommodation and then my mum’s house. I need to get back to everything, sort out the house, sort out Gideon’s room, start working again, go on holiday if I can, and maybe see if I can get pregnant. Who knows?

I need this year to get a bit better, otherwise I might go mad. Not that I expect it to, apparently there is no time to even collect your thoughts between tragedies. And there’s still half a year left…you’ll find me shivering under the kitchen table in fear.