Birthday Wishes

Today I listened to a heartbeat. It's on my phone. You can see what the heartbeat looks like in the above picture.
1 year ago yesterday, Friday 1st May, my wife and I had the loveliest of days. We knew our baby's arrival was just around the corner and we were doing some prep in what would be the birth room. Hanging pictures that would be nice to look at during labour, generally making the room as lovely a place to give birth as we could.

The Gestation of Grief & Mothers Day

Tree Planting at Grace's resting place

It's enough time to have a baby I used to jokingly say when anyone would refer to a time period of nine months. It's a powerful phrase with a lot of weight attached to it. You just have to say the phrase '9 months' and pregnancy automatically comes to mind (despite the fact that a growing number of women, my wife included, find themselves giving birth nearer to 10 months)

I was reminded by Siobhan that when we started attending a support group for parents of still born children, organised by Kent SANDS, one of the things that was raised by some of these parents was how things got suddenly more difficult around the 7/8 month mark. At the time this was something I couldn't understand. Our grief was so raw, our experience so fresh, how could things get worse? And yet somehow it did.

Maybe it was dealing with the fact that life goes on and a routine is once again establishing itself in our minds and bodies; and yet there is something,deep inside, playing with the emotional weight of our new reality that doesn't want to acknowledge that life 'just goes on'. The tectonics of this internal landscape causes emotional tremors of a brand new variety.

Play Mas & Actings Black Promise

There have been a number of 'moments' for me in my latest job.

I went for an audition at The Orange Tree Theatre with Paulette Randell. Paulette has directed some great plays and also co-directed the Olympics Opening Ceremony in London. I knew Paulette from Fences, a play she directed with Lenny Henry in which I understudied. Although I was happy to audition I wasn't convinced it would go anywhere as the shoe, Play Mas, is a Trinidadian play and let's just say my Trinidadian accent wasn't the best.

Maelstrom of a Mindscape

Imagine if you will a powerful vortex of water, a downdraft of spiraling liquid energy, a maelstrom if you like, an inescapable force of nature endangering life and limb. Imagine next that this force is suddenly reversed, geysering into the air with all the power of nature behind it. And then maybe there is a moment of calm before it once more becomes a whirlpool.

Welcome to our world.

The cat like grief of a 3 yr old

My eldest daughter is for the most part a very happy child, she is quirky, hilarious, stubborn, cheeky, annoying. She listens when she wants to and ignores you when she doesn't. She doesn't seem to believe in sitting down for very long but can amuse herself for hours with a trowel and some mud.

I tried to discipline her the other day and she stopped me in my tracks by shouting - "What have I ever done to you".  Where the hell did that come from? She starts nursery next week and I'm scared at whatever else she may pick up.

She is the essence of a 3yr old and I had to ask myself, how does a 3yr old process grief? She understands that she has a sister and that that sister did not come home and was in fact buried in the ground. She understands that we are sad about this. But can a 3yr old with an imperfect understanding of the nature of death truly come to terms with this grief, with this penetrating sadness.

My daughter & the symbolism of Remembrance

Three months ago today surrounded by friends and family, whom I cannot thank enough for your love and support, we got stuck in traffic on the way to church. Among other things my wife and I sang Amazing Grace; we celebrated and mourned our little Grace's womb life and then  buried our daughter.

I feel like I'm boring people, because I keep wanting to point out all the anniversaries. The anniversary of Grace's conception, the first scan, the second scan, the day she first visibly moved.

3 Months Later

3 months, a quarter of a year later. It's an eternity.  3 months ago today my littlest wing, my youngest daughter, my Grace died and in the early hours of tomorrow morning it will be 3 months since she was born. 

There are so many feelings and thoughts vying for attention in my head. Here are some of them.

A complete lack of understanding as to why the world hasn't stopped. It feels like no realises that everything changed for me that day. Everything. I remember so clearly leaving the hospital with Siobhan and looking around in mystification. The world looked different, felt different and people were just going about their buisness as normal. How dare they. And it still feels that way, sometimes I just want to shout at people "Don't you realise what's happened?"

A complete sense of awe over my wife. If I feel a little broken then how does my wife who carried that little life for 9 months feel. 3 months later I am still awed by her ability, in the middle of the most awful labour to declare that she was going to deliver this child with the Grace she deserve and in so doing provide her with a name. I am in awe of this women in who has donated over 20 litres of breast milk for neonatal units.

I am moved anew by the support of friends and family and stunned at how you have raised over £2000 for SANDS and £1000 for the United Kingdom Associations of Milk Banks as well as giving to us personally

I am still stunned and thrilled by how many people have and continue to post a #momentforgrace

I am so in love with my daughter Alannah whose response to the whole thing has been raw, honest, moving and heartbreaking and whose utter hilarious day to day craziness brings me joy.

I am moved with joy every time it see a newborn. I love that life works sometimes and I am overcome with sadness at the most random things some times.

I ache to father Grace and no other child will ever replace that ache. I remember dressing her in her stillness, putting on a nappy that seemed so redundant but so necessary. The sweetness and  pain of doing that indelibly marking my soul. I remember leaving her in a corner to attend to Siobhan who was struggling with a stuck placenta and feeling guilty for leaving her alone. And I cannot bury that feeling of abandoning her.

I find joy in each day. I refuse not to. I think of Grace and I smile, I think of Grace and the thin veil that hides my sadness becomes more apparent.

3 months. It's been an eternity and yet no time at all.