Saturday 1st September
How are we in September already, as the 1st day of another month starts, it make me think about what the next few months might be like. I am trying hard to stand on my tip toes to see over the wall. It’s really hard but I almost feel like I can see over it.
When someone asks me what my day has been like, and I say good. A good day to me is not a good day in the terms I used to use. James would ask me how was work, I had a good day, would mean I managed not to want to strangle anyone. A good day now mean I managed to get out of bed and do at least one thing, or a day where not all my thought are sad or negative. A good day is when I have managed to think about something other than the death of my son. A day when I haven’t just cried all day.
Today I feel like I have some strange sense of strength, I don’t know why. Last night Steph stayed over and we drank two bottle of wine , I thought this would end in lots of tears, but it didn’t much to my surprise. It was nice to have a “normal” evening in with a friend speaking girly rubbish. I think it helps a lot that Steph has travelled this journey with us, she has been a massive support to my brother and my family throughout. I can speak to her about the same thing over and over again and she doesn’t mind, and she understands.
I have this tremendous positive feeling about our future, I have a feeling that all my dreams and wishes will come in time, this might sound silly .
I struggled this morning when Steph left, they are off to do a run in memory of Findley with Mum, Donna and her daughter. I wanted so much to go with them, I wanted so much to run with them, but I just couldn’t. I felt so guilty, why can’t my little brain let me just go. The social anxiety it’s so hard. I stand in my door way for several minute wanting to shout am coming give me a few minutes to get changed. However I didn’t say the words and I simply turned and went back inside. I am so proud to have such amazing friends raising money for my baby boy!!
However by noon I find myself texting Zandra to see if she wants to go for a run. I am at the point again where when I have he urge to do something I just have to go and do it. I am too impatient to even wait for Zandra to read my What app message. I think if I don’t go and get changed and go out not I probably won’t. So that what I did! My first run in 8 months! The purpose of running – get fit for Findley and rainbow baby!
1 mile is better than no miles right? Once I finish running and stop I am hit by a little wave, the tears fill my eyes, but these tears aren’t for the loss of my son, or how I shouldn’t be running because I should be looking after my son and my milk filled boobs won’t allow me to etc, they are because I am so proud of myself!! It’s funny how I gave zero shits about the fact my baby belly was prob wobbling around, just like my thighs and my bum!! That makes me realise I actually maybe do have some confidence still, it just hiding under the insecurity of having no idea who I actually am.
I logged into the computer today and saw this photo of Roxy and me, the love, the smile the happiness. She used to be my happiness then my happiness became being a mum, which is now gone, I felt a smile spread across my face at the photo. Do I miss the happiness my ponies bring me? Am I scared to let myself be happy around them? Am I scared it’s taken from me again like Findley was?
I know this sounds like such a positive blog, but I want to be honest, it still fecking hurts looking back at the last 9 months, all that hopes and dreams distorted in an instant.
However I think the fact I am able to dream again, and am not afraid to fight to achieve my dream gives me the strength to keep going. I can’t wait till I can make my dreams a plan.
I know it’s his journey is full of ups and downs. I know writing this blog every day helps me, I look forward to the day when I don’t feel I have to blog everyday to find that head space.