On April 1st I will be remembering the loss of my Beannie back in 2001. 12 long years where the pain is still as raw today as it was back then. The big difference is I have learnt to cope – until March when I slowly but surely fall apart and then, come the 2nd April I get those coping strategies back in place and am “safe” for another year.
I will think of him (I know 12 weeks gestation isn’t long enough for a gender but I am convinced Beannie was a boy) and I will think of all the what-ifs, the what would he be doing now and how would he be as a big brother? Would he even be a big brother as his daddy and my three munchkins’ daddy are different. Would Beannie being born have changed everything that happened to Phil? Would Phil have been out that night when he was assaulted? Would I have left the life there to even meet Richard? All these pointless questions because Beannie did leave me and my life did change and I wouldn’t change the changes that have happened since – except, of course, Phil being injured.
But sometimes I feel a fraud. Someone once said to me (I know who it was and it hurt tremendously at the time but we’re all ‘good’ now) that Beannie “wasn’t a real baby was it?” and I wonder how many other people have that same view? Especially if they have had a child loss themselves. I cannot imagine how I would feel to have a child born sleeping or lose one in early life and I don’t ever want to know but is there this feeling that because I didn’t get to hold Beannie that the loss isn’t as important?
Am I holding on to too much? Am I making it too important? To me it is important but is it “as important”?
Argh – now I’ waffling and probably not making sense. I told you – March – I fall apart!