I haven’t posted in over a month, for many reasons and none at all, mostly I’ve forgotten.
I’ll start with my ring. I ordered a beautiful white gold ring in sky blue that contains Castiel’s ashes. It looks like clouds in the sky which is exactly what I wanted.
Wherever I go, you go 💙
Talking to other people about you isnt the hardest part for me. I’m so used to not getting emotional around people (I hate people seeing me cry so I avoid it at all costs). I can have conversations about your death or what you’d look like and completely disconnect from the words, as if I’m talking about the weather.
I don’t open up to anyone, I never really have. Deep conversations, physical contact etc are pretty awkward for me. Your daddy is the only person I’ve fully, and continuously, let in and been vulnerable around. And even then it’s hard to explain to him my feelings sometimes.
It’s when I’m inside myself, thinking, remembering, imagining, that the tears start. So it seems random, just sat watching tv and I get upset from no apparent trigger. I am the trigger. I don’t want to keep busy and distract myself either – grieving is a journey, and I can’t take any other metaphorical path around, this is the one I’m on, so if that means spending 80% of my time laying in bed playing computer games and thinking of you even though it hurts, that’s what I’m going to do for now.
I was never going to dress you, breastfeed you, push you in the pram we got you, take you to see the ducks, take you on our first family holiday that we were planning, take you swimming, pick you up from school, take you out every year for your birthday. We had plans for you baby boy. Plans that were never going to be. But in my head I got to live out the fantasy of what could be, in my daydreams you lived a whole lifetime.
Some days it’s hard to associate the little face we saw on the scan, my growing bump, with the baby I gave birth to. The connection between the you I was connecting with on the inside vs you on the outside isn’t always there. It’s as if they’re two different things, and I grieve for both.
There’s the you that was 2D and black & white and made me nauseous and unable to walk fast or far. The you that was doubling in size week by week, that gave us so much hope and excitement. We had no idea who you were, girl or boy, we called you Lil Bub.
Then there’s the you that was too small and squishy, that never got to open your eyes or take a breath, that laid there silently and never moved or cried. Our dead baby boy, Castiel.
It’s hard to think you’re my Lil Bub, Cass, that you were all those happy memories and not just a dream I had long ago where I was pregnant but then I woke up and I actually wasn’t. I’ll try my best not to let our sadness strip away those amazing 20 weeks with you, to forget that that was you, just like I promised you when I said goodbye to your body.
It’s been 3 weeks and 3 days Cass. Time is a funny thing. Now there’s a before and after.
I realised earlier how grateful I was that your anomaly scan was pushed back, I’m so glad I got that extra time with you, we were together for just a bit longer and I needed that. I needed all the time I could get with you, because that was it.
Fragile – the only word I can think to describe myself at the moment. Everyone tells me how strong I am, but I don’t feel strong at all. It feels like if you poke me I’ll shatter into pieces. I’ve always been sensitive but now everything feels like a personal attack, the slightest bit of criticism and in my head I go right to ‘I can’t do anything right’ vs ‘please cut me even more slack than you already are because my baby died and I can’t handle negativity’. I feel like everything in my life has to go well right now, I deserve something to go right? But life doesn’t work like that.
I mourn the life you could have had
I mourn everything you missed out on
I mourn everything we missed out on
I mourn the me I could have been
It could all have been so different
In another life