Yesterday I found myself sat alone, in our spare room (hopefully soon to be Baby Bean’s room) on the floor crying. I was still crying when Hubby got home from work. I hated feeling so vulnerable, especially after i’d had such a lovely day resting. There was no need for me to suddenly feel so low, so broken. I miss Jason all the time so why was last night so different? Last night was the first night in a long time where I felt alone. I had no-one who I felt like I could text or ring and I don’t like telling Hubby when he’s at work because I know he worries. I felt like my friends have all gotten so bored with hearing of my heartbreak that I couldn’t message them out of the blue and tell them I’m not as strong as they think I am. I don’t want them to worry or even worse get annoyed with hearing the same thing. It’s different when you lose a child, the only thing I can talk about is the day Jason was born and subsequently the day he died. There were no other memories shared, just our time in that hospital room and the people who matter to me already know every little detail so why would they want to hear it all again?
Don’t get me wrong, I know people are there for me, I know I’ve got such a supportive group of friends and family who would listen to that story every time I needed to tell it. I’m lucky to have people in my life who remember Jason, who talk about him as if he was here, I know most people who are in my situation don’t get this. Most people choose not to talk about the taboo, they don’t mention your children who didn’t get a chance to meet them. I have such loving people in my life who talk about Jason as if they met him, cuddled him, loved him and I will always be grateful for those people. Yet sometimes I still feel so alone. Nobody really knows what I’ve been through, what I’m still going through and although they all mean well, their words of “you know where I am if you need to talk” are useless. Who takes up an offer like that? Especially when my grief comes around so out of the blue, no triggers, just fine one minute and a mess the next.
I am grateful for those people I have met since Jason. Those mummies who know, to some degree, exactly what I mean. I can talk to these special mummies, they offer their time to just listen and I can talk without feeling guilty. I know my loss won’t upset them like it might my own friends, I know my loss will help them see they are also not alone. I also know that while I am thinking of Jason, they are thinking of their own children. I’m not reminding them of their own losses, they don’t forget. We relive those moments every day in some way or another.
I just wish I could find a way to feel less lonely.