The sun is streaming through the windows, just as it was then. But then I was lying on a hospital bed and it felt the world had ended. It hadn’t, it had just changed, changed forever, for me and the dreams I had. Miscarriage 4 years on – I can talk and write about it without bursting into tears, most of the time. Time moves on, but the sense of loss remains.
Little things are said or written, not meant to hurt, but they touch a nerve, a nerve that’s still more tender than I thought. An email received asking for my thought on being a family of four and coping with the change that a new addition makes. How I’d love to be able to help with that one. Sadly, I will never know first hand. A fleeting remark amongst friends about us all having two children, I don’t, I won’t, I have one.
What I would give for him to be a big brother, a protector of a little sister, a companion for a little brother. Miscarriage 4 years on, and Monkey lost that chance, he will forever be an only child. He will never be an Uncle to his own sibling’s children. When the time comes, he will have to face the world without his parents, with no-one there to know exactly how he feels.
Miscarriage 4 years on and I still feel guilty that Monkey doesn’t have to share his toys, doesn’t have to learn to share my time. He is a wonderfully imaginative little boy, and I know he is happy and he has no idea of what he could have had. I’m seeing it from the prospective of a sister. I do have a younger brother. We fought like cat and dog, we don’t live in each others pockets but we have a bond. When the chips are well and truly down we are there for each other. Sadly we’ve had to put this to the test a couple of times, but it’s unshaken, the call is made and we are there. Monkey will never have that. It makes me sad.
We’ve got a wonderful friendship with Iona from Redpeffer and her family. It’s a friendship that we’ve all gained from (well I hope so, anyway). Monkey gets to spend good, quality time with children that he knows well. He gets to be part of something he’s never really experienced. He gets to belong. Of course, it’s a bit of a learning curve for him, he still has to learn more about sharing; both his possessions and his time and space. But I can see the good it’s doing him.
Miscarriage 4 years on, I don’t think the hurt or guilt will ever go away. Wishing I’d been younger, wishing I’d had more time. Don’t get me wrong, I know I am so lucky to have one child, a wonderful, happy, healthy son. My heart truly goes out to those who would desperately love to have what I do, and can’t, for whatever reason. But today I wish I was taking a youngest child to pre-school, watching them having fun, wondering if they’d be a Frozen fanatic or another Digger boy. What colour hair would they have, what would make them laugh, what would their favourite story be.
So forgive me today if I’m a little indulgent. The sun is shining but in a little bit of Oxfordshire there are a few dark clouds. They will pass, they always do.