My 35th Year: A not so Happy Birthday

I write this a few weeks after my 35th Birthday, through illness and a variety of other things, this has been written and re-written in my head several times over the last week or so.

14th September 2017 – My 35th birthday, my 35th spin round the sun….. 

This year has been one that has broken me beyond words and taken me to the brink of what I feel any human should have to deal with. It has destroyed all my hope and excitement for the future and broken my heart beyond repair. It has also taught me how much I can truly whole heartedly love someone; how strong I am and introduced me to the ‘new’ me. No, I am not “new and improved” to coin a phrase, I am older, sadder and somewhat broken. This, however is the path I am now walking down. The path that means I hold one of my children’s hand in my mine and the other in my heart.

I would like to say that 11 weeks after losing Arthur, I am starting to see the sun shine again, that I am able to take pleasure in the small day to day things. But, that is just not the case, a new sense of grief has hit me since my birthday, perhaps because it all just feels so very wrong. My son should be here with me, he should have been celebrating the day with us. He should have woken me up at 4am wanting a feed, not knowing that the day was my birthday. He would have been smiling now and developing his own personality, instead he is gone, his absence constantly felt.

How is it possible to love and miss somebody so much that you only knew for a short space of time. We found out we were expecting Arthur on the 2nd January this year, at which point it turned out I was already almost 9 weeks pregnant, we lost Arthur on the 19th July at exactly 36 weeks pregnant. 27 weeks, that all we ever really got with him, from the moment we knew of his existence to the moment he was gone, 27 weeks…. It wasn’t enough, it will never be enough. We were expecting a lifetime together.

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