“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of others.” -Charles Dickens

Now what… ? I have a home full of sweet, fragrant flowers, a handful of bereavement brochures, 10 weeks off work, a ‘memories’ pack and hospital referrals. I still haven’t answered my phone but I’m deeply touched by the relentless support. Yes, I mean relentless! Those friends, who continued to call even when I wouldn’t answer, who continued to message without reply, who sent flowers and letters just so we knew we weren’t alone. Thank you. I know I’ve isolated myself, but at the same time I feel connected through all the gestures that show people are thinking of us. I just can’t carry this yet. I know it’s uncomfortable, but some friends go silent and say absolutely nothing. I guess it’s hard to know what to do.

I have a midwife visit me at home, assisting me with my ‘engorgement issues’. Yes, the milk did come and oh, how it flowed. The ‘let down’ became a constant reminder of the baby I’ll never nourish…what a sick joke… and the pain! Lucky my mum and a friend were more than happy to donate ‘stretchy’ bras as my non-existent chest suddenly tripled in size! The nurse also warns me about the ‘baby blues’ that comes with the whole ‘milk’ thing. Seriously? I’m going to feel worse? She also suggests we, “Plant a tree in Sienna’s honour.” I try my hardest to smile and nod while gritting my teeth. In my head I’m screaming, “What a splendid idea! I can watch that die too!” What have I turned into?

Red

The hospital has given me nearly 3 months off work. I fill my days mostly with crying and pleading with my husband, “when is it going to stop?” I sit on my lounge and watch the maple tree in the park across the street. Autumn is turning to Winter. Its fiery, cardinal and russet autumn leaves fall away, leaving the gaunt bare branches. I feel like I’m looking in the mirror. How that beautiful red tree has unwillingly turned into an unadorned, sad excuse. I love that tree.

I muster enough strength to reply to messages and write thank you cards. I respond to the people who have wanted to visit. I’ve come to the realisation that I’m tired of being alone and all I really want is someone to sit with me or go for a walk with me. Some came running with arms wide open… others just never came at all. I’m exhausted after each visitor as I ‘keep it together’ and convince each person how fine I am. At the end of the day, all I want to do it stay in my box… my small-minded western-styled box. The box where my biggest grievance was dealing with queues at the shops, shaking my fist at the douche who cut me off in traffic, complaining about report deadlines… when my response to sadness was sympathy. Unfortunately, I have unwilling been torn from my cosy box kicking and screaming. I have been evicted from my comfortable fortress by this thing called perspective…

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” – Buddha