What Helped Me 'Cope'

I say cope very lightly. I didn't cope very well, especially the first 2 months. I spent almost 8 weeks crying all day, every day. Screaming that I just wanted my baby back. Telling everyone that nothing is going to make this better and confused about how I’m now supposed to just go back to living life the way I did before Freya. I couldn't get my head around the fact that I’d given birth, but didn't have my baby with me. Instead of bringing a baby home, we had a closed nursery door with all her things hidden away because looking at anything was too heartbreaking. 

Some days I still wake up now and wonder how this is my life. How are we bereaved parents? Wishing she was here with us and imagining how life would have been if she was. I still get that gut wrenching feeling whenever I look at that closed door. It wasn't until I started writing this blog that the crying eased, I do still cry every day, just not always to the extreme of not being able to breathe, and I'm managing to control it a lot better.

This is not me saying doing these things got me through my grief, they didn't. This grief journey will last forever, and I am far from being okay. This is just an insight on life the first two months after losing Freya and what I did to get through them.

I read somewhere that grief feels like time is standing still and racing at the speed of light all at the same time, and that you’re living in a strange reality that’s now your life. My Mum said to me from the start, we’ll find a 'new normal' and it’ll be one where we will be happy again. A piece of our hearts will always be broken for Freya, but we’ll mend around it and find a way to keep living, all while remembering her at the same time. 

I've always been a planner, my Mum will tell you that. She always tells everyone how I drive her crazy when we’re planning something, even if it's just a day out, I had to know every last detail. So when I was being told to "take it one day at a time" I struggled to do that. I still do. I’d sit there thinking about how I was going to get through things like Christmas? How I was ever going to see family members' kids again? Or how would I ever hold someone else's baby? How I was ever going to be able to go back to work and act like my whole life hadn't just fallen apart? Even though I'm lucky enough to work for an extremely supportive company, and deep down I knew it wouldn't be as hard as I was imagining.

I remember the first time I saw a pram, the heartbreak I felt and how I just completely broke down. I thought I was never going to be able to look at a pram again, unless it had my own baby in it. It took me a long time to realise that you really do get stronger each day, and each day these things you think about become that little bit less daunting. Yes, things like Christmas and going back to work are going to be hard, but when they come, I’ll be stronger than I was and I’ll have found ways to cope and get through. And, yes I’ll still have bad days, no matter how long it's been, and that's okay too. 

The first weeks after Freya's funeral, we tried to find ways to fill our time at home. I couldn't face leaving the house just yet. That was a whole new journey in itself, probably the hardest one of all. So, we played games, things like Mario on the Nintendo Switch and Yahtzee (Stephen is probably sick of playing Mario Party with me by now). We built Lego, which is something I found extremely therapeutic. However, it is an extremely expensive hobby so not something I could do every day. As mentioned previously, Roses are Freya's birth flower, so we bought them in Lego, so that we’ll always have forever roses for our girl. Although, after this I became obsessed with the Lego Flower Bouquets and had to have them all (sorry Stephen). 

I’d reached out to some other bereaved Mum's on a Facebook group the week after Freya's funeral, asking for advice on how to get through. Many mentioned reading other people's stories and recommended some books that they found helpful. ‘Ask Me His Name’ by Elle Wright was the most recommended and what a beautiful read. I’d recommend this to not only a parent going through loss, but if you’re trying to help a family member or friend through child loss too. Elle spoke about how she’d write her baby's name in the sand every time she was at the beach, and it made me want to do just that. We took some of Freya's ashes and went and wrote her name next to Mummy and Daddy's in the sand and put some of her ashes in the sea. I was actually bought that book by a family member, along with ‘The Baby Loss Guide’ by Zoe Clark Coates. I found Zoe's Facebook page helpful too.

It took me a while to be able to leave the house, we did things very slowly. A place that I felt safe was Preston Docks, random I know. However, I found just watching the water calmed me down, and if we went late at night it was always so quiet and peaceful. It was also somewhere that I didn't feel anxious about bumping into someone we know. Some days we’d meet with family members, mostly my Auntie and my Nanna. We’d sit, have a coffee and talk about Freya. 

Preston Docks is also the place we went to see our Nieces (my brother's girls) for the first time after Freya died, we've always been close to them and not seeing them at least once a week killed me. But, I had to take it slow and it took me 6 weeks to be ready. It was a hard hurdle to climb, but the way they ran up and gave me the biggest and longest cuddle they have ever given me is a moment I’ll remember forever. They’re 3 and 2, so they don't understand much, yet. They knew Auntie Robyn was sad and that baby Freya had gone to heaven, but only understood as much as a 3 and 2 year old could. Although, this is definitely more than we think. They now know what our pink rose pins are for, they touch them and say "You've got baby Freya", and they say that baby Freya is with the sunshine now. I had moments where I had to walk away, cry and pull myself together. I still have to do it when I see them now. It's still hard not to look at them and see 3 little girls, like there should have been. But, seeing them made me realise I do still have things to live for, and they need their Auntie Robyn just as much as I need them. And one day, if we're lucky enough, there will be 3 of them running around, and Freya will always be there with them too.

I found having some of Freya's things out helped, we didn't want to hide our girl away. So, we have her hand and foot prints on display, as well as a picture of her. My brother and sister in law named a star after Freya, so her star certificate is framed too. As well as her urn, and a small woolen heart that my Auntie's and Nanna bought whilst we were in the hospital. There were 3, but we sent 2 with our girl, the last one sits with the rest of her things, with our hospital bands wrapped around. And, of course her special vase for her Roses. 

We have two memory boxes, one that the hospital gave to us and one that’s personalised, bought by some of our lovely friends. I use the smaller personalised one to keep her most important things in, her first baby grow, a lock of her hair and our photographs. I always have this one close by, as when I'm feeling like I'm drowning in grief, getting it out and looking at it and smelling that little baby grow helps.

Other things that helped were taking a Social Media break and letting people know that I needed time. Taking the pressure off myself and not feeling like I had to reply to anyone. So, I came off Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat and put my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for a while. I’d still check it a few times a day, and keep my best friends updated with how we were, I told them my plans for this blog and sent them some posts I’d written etc. But, taking that time away from my phone kept me from seeing things that I knew I wasn't ready to see. Friends and family's posts with their babies / adverts for baby products / anything baby related really. As you can imagine, my algorithm was all things babies, so I knew I had to take myself away from it for a while to protect myself. I actually still haven't logged back into my personal Instagram account, and when I go on Facebook to post about the blog, I do it with Stephen next to me so I don't go looking at things I know will hurt me. I've even had to get him to change my password and log out when I'm done posting. 

It also helps having friends and family that understood that I couldn't be as involved in their kids' lives for a while, that I still loved them and that would never change, and I’d be right there again when I was ready.

I've started journaling too, I keep a self love journal and an anxiety one now, that I fill in every day. And, of course, I write to Freya. I've found writing to be my escape and these books are my safe place to dump my feelings down, feelings that I may not feel comfortable expressing to others, but are important to get out of my head. I write in each book every morning, so I can get all my thoughts out before I start the day, hopefully with a clearer mind.

It took me a while to be able to talk about Freya with other people, and show them a picture of her, I could do it all day with my Mum and Stephen but I think that's because they were there. They spent those 2 days with her too, so they could talk about her the same way I could. Until one day, I just did it. I showed my Auntie's and my Nanna a picture of our girl, and after that I wanted everyone to see her. To see how beautiful she is. Why shouldn't I show her off to our family and friends like every other Mum can with their children? So, every time we saw someone new for the first time after Freya died, we let them look at photos of her. Everyone said the same as us, how much she looked like her Daddy, how long her legs were and that they couldn't believe how much hair she had. I've found that talking about her helps now, and it's something I always want to do. I get frustrated when I can see people are purposely trying to avoid the subject, but I know that some people just don't know how to approach it. But, please, if you do ever see me and you want to know about our girl, ask me about her.

The main thing that got me through though, is the people I had around me. Our families were amazing, they knew that nothing was going to make it better, but they did little things to try and bring us a small amount of joy to our days. Some have even set up ways to raise money for some special charities in our girl's name, including a marathon that her Uncle Adam is running (more information on that coming soon). Friends would check in even when they knew I wasn’t going to reply. But, most of all, Stephen and my Mum. They’ve been there for every tear, every late night where I couldn't sleep and every 'first'. I wouldn't be able to put into words how thankful I am to them both, even if I tried. They were and still are grieving themselves, but they’ve been strong for me when I needed them. I still have a lot of things to conquer, but I know they’ll be there every step of the way. So, thank you. Thank you Mum for being here every day, I know how hard this is for you, your heart is broken, not only for Freya but for your own daughter as well. You still show up every day and I know that you did and are still doing whatever it takes to get me through this. Stephen, I don't even have the words. You’re incredible, you lost your first baby too and I know how ready you were to be a Dad. I am in awe of how strong you have been and how you’ve put your own emotions aside to be there for me every step of the way. Freya’s the luckiest little girl to be able to call you her Daddy, and I know you’ll do her proud every single day for the rest of your life. I hope that one day we can bring another baby into this world and you’ll get to be the Dad that you deserve to be. As much as I’d do anything for us to not have to go through this, I'm grateful I'm doing it with you.

Lastly, I’d like to say a special thank you to my Midwife, Gemma, who’s given me permission to mention her in this blog. Throughout my whole pregnancy I saw Gemma, I’d no idea about her story until she came to see us when we got home from the hospital. She told us all about her baby boy, Luca, who she had lost 4 years ago. She showed us photos and told us his story. We’ve both said she was supposed to be my midwife. This woman has been my saving grace. From day one she’s been there at the drop of a hat when we needed her. I say we because she has helped my Mum and Stephen too. I'm sure Gemma will come up more in other blog posts, but for now I just wanted to thank her and let her know that without her I probably wouldn't be sitting here writing this, sharing our story and showing others that they’re not alone. Because, that's what she did for me, she showed me that I'm not alone in this, and looking at her makes me realise that there is life after loss, it gives me hope that I’ll be happy again one day.