Day 49 – Don’t call it a dream, call it a plan

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.