And so here we are. Two weeks since I got home from hospital. 15 days since baby B left our lives. Tomorrow I reopen a part of myself that hasn’t yet met this new version of me.

Kintsugi. Where cracks are painted gold, to show beauty in those moments that feel earth shattering. Wabi Sabi- accepting life in its imperfection, and yet acceptance isn’t really a place I’ve arrived at quite yet.

My orchestra metaphor keeps coming through, one minute of familiar tune is playing, I feel like I know what to expect. The next minute there is a key change and a whole new host of instruments are playing. Not even in tune or in time – all trying to do their own thing. Try as I might, I find it hard to decipher each one, its meaning or soul. But all are allowed to exist, to
play, to chime into the empty silence. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s worse.

The silence all the clash. It’s almost like falling back into normality is to do a disservice to the experience we had, to the journey we went on, to the loss we are experiencing.

I can’t quite comprehend what has happened, and yet everything around me seems the same, familiar, unchanged – but truly the hope, in bright vivid dreams of what could’ve been, vanished right before our eyes.

Sometimes I daydream about the what ifs. What if I was still pregnant, I’ll be just about to turn right nine weeks – not far off our first scan. I’m so so hopeful we can conceive again. I pray we can have a healthy pregnancy and together we can invest in ourselves and each other to truly feel well for the first time in a long time.

I think deep down we both recognise that things must be better and that we deserve more from life. I want that spark back. That energy and enjoyment that comes with living. Not just bumbling from one day to the next. My life is mine and I won’t continue to let things outside of my free will come at odds with the life I deserve to live.

Feel all the feelings, honour myself and stop getting stuck in the shit mundanity of it all. I find myself living some weird half life, pulling myself out of some weird well that I find myself at the bottom of.

I will be well again one day, grief is a journey, and that’s okay. My body deserves movement, dance, freedom. My brain deserves flow, creativity and stimulation. I deserve these things, I just need to believe it and seek it out. But for now I just need to take it one day at a time.