This Blog seems to be taking me forever, this part of the blog is the last part, but I decided it should go first.
Talking about everything has never really helped me at all. I clam up and go into myself, I go deep and thoughtfull. Even now whilst writing my story, I feel myself go right inside. I cannot talk, for there is nothing to say. Even though the weight of the grief feels massive.
It is difficult to explain what normality actually is, as I cant truly remember what my life was like before. I must admit I do not remember day to day activities being this difficult. Someday's it feels like I am swimming through treacle, just keeping my head above the surface. I talk about Alex as if she is a living breathing part of my life, but i do my utmost not to make other people feel uncomfortable. Being a parent to a stillborn child has moved me into an elite group of people and only those people who have lost a child can truly understand the complexities.
As a parent who has lost a child, you cant expect others to have the slightest understanding of the feelings. The dangerous people are the ones who think they understand. As a parent who has lost a child, I must be forgiving, forgiving of people who will never get it, forgiving of the upsetting comments that flow from people, because they think they should say something.
It's God's Will.
Everything happens for a reason.
You're young, you can have more.
You can have another.
Are you over it now?
and many many more
I never realised my child was a posession! or could be so easily replaced. I guess what I am really trying to say is that if others don't understand, then say so. Sometimes a "Sorry" is enough.
My feelings towards Alex are very strange, I have no memories to think about, I have no idea who she is or would be now. I feel the loss and anguish, as I am sure we all do, but no memories to counter balance the greif.
Only by having George can I understand what I am missing out on. I imagine almost daily this 3 year old little girl, with dark hair and dark eyes in little girly clothes. Daddys little girl. I think about what I would be doing now and how innocent I would feel. Before losing Alex, I had no idea what it was like to lose anyone, least of all my own child. How our lives would be so different now, if she had lived. I believe that fate and decisions are made and that sometimes those decisions are made by a far higher being. That if you change one thing in the course of time, then you essentially change everything. If Alex was to have lived then what would be of my Georgy, a relationship, a bond that is so awesome that I would die for him without a moments hesitation. These are the complexities of my grief. I would give anything for my daughter to see her again, touch her and to hear her wail like she should have done, but would I do it at the expense of my relationship with George? And so I go on, trying to make some kind of sense of my feelings.
Philip Clarke.
