The Countdown

Tomorrow is one month until Rhianna Lily’s birthday and the countdown has started.

It isn’t a fun countdown, no party planning, no excited child.

Instead just a countdown of painful memories, nightmare, tears and pain.

Oh so much pain and heartbreak.

It changes every year, but the pain is so real and heartbreaking and the nightmares begin.

I have already started to stop sleeping. The insomnia is hitting and life is getting hard.

The guilt is hitting and I feel like such a rubbish mum to the boys.

I don’t want to do anything, I cry, I snap and I just hurt.

I always thought I understood the term your heart breaking.

I didn’t.

The day Rhianna’s heart stopped beating my heart broke, and it will never be repaired.

Every march you feel the pain.

A crushing in your chest.

Your heart aching.

Never repaired, always trying to fill a crack, a hole that can’t be filled.

It pains itself trying to do the impossible and it can’t and it hurts.

It really hurts.

I hate this time of year.

I hate reliving the pain.

I hate being unable to be who I want to be at this time of the year.

I hate just wanting the world to stop, just to curl up under the covers and wake up after the event. But then I contradict myself because I want the world to stop, why is the world not stopping. Our child died I want everyone to stop but it wont and it can’t.

This month the hard days out weigh the good, the guilt out weighs the good, and the sadness out weighs the joy.

This month is hard, the countdown is real, it’s a countdown to the dreadful moment.

To the time the words were spoken “We are sorry, there is no heartbeat”

To the time I went into hospital.

To the time I was induced.

To the time you were born.

To the time they hadn’t made a mistake and you really weren’t breathing and the room was so silent.

To the time that we had our first cuddle, and our last cuddle all in 24 hours.

To the time we walked out of the maternity unit with no baby.

To the time we came home and went to a funeral directors, the first place you go after giving birth.

To the time where we picked a coffin.

To the time where we stood broken and watched you be lowered into the ground.

To the time when our lives changed forever and ever.