It’s approaching the anniversary of Amy’s death and it’s been almost 12 years since she died. It was just before her third birthday, so that’s how she stays inside my head. I can’t believe I would be the mother of a 15 year old! Instead, she’s forever a toddler. A toddler that never walked or talked but still. If you’d like to read the whole story, I wrote it all down a few years after she died, it was very cathartic and I self-published it on Amazon. The short version is we had a daughter that died of a genetic condition before I had my current three children.
I don’t think about her day to day, but little things will remind me of that time every now and again. This time of year is always bittersweet, I love spring but it does remind me of that time. I don’t actually remember the exact date she died, I think it was the 29th of May but I’m not 100% sure. The children’s hospice where she died and was looked after for respite a lot sends us a card every year and I am so grateful for them. My Mother in law usually remembers too and sends us a message. She has a rosebush outside her house that blooms beautiful pink roses this time of year and it brings me joy.
My husband and I were watching Star Trek voyager the other day and there was a story line where the hologram doctor had made a hologram family for himself but it ended up going wrong and the daughter had an accident and was going to die, he had to be there at her death bed. It made us both cry and had me in floods. I have always felt guilty for not being there when she actually passed away. She wasn’t alone, she had the nurses and carers of the hospice with her and they phoned us straight away but by the time we got there she had already passed. It was so hard to know when she would actually go, she would get ill with a chest infection and we knew it could be any time, but she was stable when we left for the day and she died in the middle of the night. I know this, and yet still the guilt is there. I also know she didn’t really know who we were or have any awareness of what was going on, her little brain was so damaged. The rational parts of my brain know all this but still it does get to me sometimes.
It was the first time in a long time I actually missed her physically, aching to hold her again or see her. Usually, I feel sad or traumatised from that time in my life or I feel cheated from the life I should have had with her rather than physically missing her. I felt that keenly the weeks after she died, a physical ache. It felt therapeutic to have a cry together and go through our memories together. I’m so grateful we made it through as a couple and we can lean on each other still.
We have a shelf in the living room with a little picture of her and a candle holder with her name on, and every Christmas my Mother in law gets a new Christmas ornament of either a fairy, angel or teddy with her name on. It keeps her memory going, and the children all know about her. I don’t feel sad day to day, in fact I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, but there are some lasting scars, like when certain emotive topics or scenes come up in TV drama and there are certain shows I can’t watch because I can’t cope with too much violence or loss. I am generally a more cynical and hardened person than I think I would have been, but also very strong. I don’t suffer fools gladly! I think a lot of people don’t know how good they have it unless they’ve been through something as dark as I have.
So, 12 years on time is definitely a healer, but it isn’t something you ever completely get over. I see myself as a normal Mum and wife, but sometimes a person with a secret past that not everyone knows about. My close friends know, but a lot of my work colleagues and acquaintances don’t know – mainly because it’s just not come up in conversation and it’s not something you can just slip in to a casual chat. It’s such a complicated story it’s better left alone and I don’t want to make people or me feel uncomfortable. One of the worst things about getting the diagnosis was telling people about it and watching them be crushed over and over again. I’d love to hear from you if you’ve lost a child or baby and you want to chat.
