By Clare Hedges
I woke up this morning with a desire to get some words out of my head and onto paper. It has been a year and three months since our beautiful daughter went to sleep forever. She was seven weeks old, perfect in every single way and everything we could have wished for.
This time last year I was in a lockdown of my own. I couldn’t face the world; I couldn’t bear family celebrations and I didn’t want to cause anyone I knew the discomfort of bumping into me — seeing the moment of panic on their faces where they didn’t know what to say. A year ago, over Easter, my partner and I went off in my van to seek some peace on our own away from anyone that we knew or recognised. This year we are unable to do this, the world has been turned upside down as we all stay in our houses and wait for the pandemic death rates to ease.
I have worked tirelessly over the last year to create a barrier, to become a person who smiles again, who people want to spend time with and now I’m at home with the one person who understands how I’m feeling so I can finally allow that front to slip.
While the rest of the world pleads to be released from their newfound prison, I have found some comfort in being back inside mine and I think it will be a struggle to ever leave.
In a world where we have suppressed our grief by keeping busy, there is an eerie stillness where the grief is finally released back into the forefront of our minds.
A moment doesn’t go by where I don’t think of my daughter, but I usually distract myself with work or friends. Now we must face this grief head-on.
Over the last three weeks, we have cried many silent tears and spotted so many signs she is with us, but we have also managed to smile, imagine and remember.
I hope she can see how strong Mummy and Daddy’s relationship has become, now we have been given the gift of time to confront and accept reality.
My heart breaks daily when I see the ‘funny memes’ shared about the struggle of lockdown with children, I hope that the ones sharing these do actually realise how rich they really are.
I am blessed to have some beautifully creative friends and I look at their posts of their gorgeous babies doing some wonderful things and I am so happy for them but also so sad for myself and everyone else who should have their babies in their arms. The ones who left too soon and the ones that never came at all.
I think of the parents who will be beginning this journey we are on during lockdown; I wonder how we would have coped last year when our world fell apart, if we didn’t have the support and love of our friends and families. I question whether we would have made it as far as we have.
As the forget me knots start to appear, we remember you Mylor Beau and we remember the beauty you brought to this world.
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Clare lives in the UK with her partner and their dog Sozay. Their daughter passed away unexpectedly at 7 weeks old on January 2019 from SIDS.
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Lost my son a year ago and I still remember how empty and silent my home was after I came home from the hospital empty handed and recovering from a C section. This isolation brought all the memories back.
Clare you always impressed me with how sorted you were, even so much younger than me (that bit surprised me!), and even in the moments when you’re not sure how to put the mask back on you will find a way. Hope reading this helped someone in a similar situation, and if they aren’t then I hope it helped reinforce how lucky they are.
So heart felt & beautifully written . I can totally relate to every emotion & experience that you have described. My Granddaughter fell asleep forever November last year at 9 weeks of age .
Caring thoughts are with you
Xxxxx