Conversations in letting go
Eight years ago, today I lost my firstborn daughter Lily. She was stillborn very late in my pregnancy and understandably it was one of the most heart-breaking things that has happened to me and my family. I have referenced it before in these squares on my Lioness grid and like most traumas, sometimes I can talk about it and sometimes I can’t. There are years I find it harder to remember than others, but this year I really feel that I need to honour her in a slightly different way and reveal a really poignant conversation I had with my seven-year-old daughter Sadie, because the importance of Lily and her part in my story can still lead us to light and healing.
Children can be such healing force and often the conversations we have with them can be so enlightening and connect you so deeply that you wonder why you didn’t have them earlier, but like so much in life, things happen when they’re meant to.
From the moment I had Sadie it’s always been a pressure in the back of my mind as to when to tell her about Lily. Seven years ago, when Sadie was born, my grief from Lily was still so raw I didn’t think I would ever be fully happy again. My world felt grey and like I was moving under water, I struggled to make sense of my relationships and I had issues retaining information or memories in my head. It was still such a big part of my every waking thought, that I couldn’t conceive ever being able to have a conversation with my living daughter that wouldn’t be emotionally distressing. How do you explain the magnitude of something like that to a child? From the moment Sadie was born I wondered how long I should wait, or what age would she be mature enough to understand something so tragic and so life affecting. It’s given me many sleepless nights.
It turns out the conversation wasn’t planned and came out of nowhere. Sadie started asking me questions as to why she doesn’t have a brother or a sister, and if I wanted to have a baby she would help look after it and we could raise the baby together 😊. Given that my husband and I separated nearly 4 years ago now and the fact that my status is still single probably means that she won’t receive a biological or even half brother or sister, so this is a conversation we have had to explain a few times. On this occasion it led me to say to Sadie, ‘well actually mummy and daddy once had a baby before we had you, who was very important to both of us.’
I explained what happened at the maturity level that would be easy to absorb for a seven-year-old (if there is such a thing). I explained that the angel wings above her bedroom door are for Lily, and I feel she is protecting her little sister from heaven. I told her about the rituals I do to honour her and that I think of that baby every day.
She looked at me with her big soulful green eyes, she took it in with a maturity that surprised me, and she asked many sensitive questions. The first of which was, ‘Did daddy cry because I’ve never seen him cry?’ then ‘Was that a normal thing to happen and do you know why it happened?’ which was then followed by ‘Did you wear black like Queen Victoria?’ Which made me throw back my head and roar with laughter!! Children, as ever, have the ability to lighten the mood and bring joy and humour to situations that you couldn’t conceive.
The point of this post is that seven years ago when Sadie was born, I was going through so much pain I didn’t believe it would ever subside. Eight years on from that stillbirth I’m a different person in a very different place but that baby still matters, my story still matters. If you’ve been affected by stillbirth or if you are going through something, no matter how painful, I want you to know that in time it does pass. With grief there are no timelines, and sometimes some things still sting, but the edges aren’t as sharp. So keep going, because it does get better . . . you wont always feel so lost, I promise.
Seeing the story through Sadie‘s eyes, speaking about it, and even removing the pressure of when to tell her made me feel so much better and able to face today, and for that I’m so grateful. It’s proven to me time and time again that it’s the conversations we shy away from most that need to be confronted and need to be brought out into the light.
I remember asking a grief therapist at the time when would Sadie be ready to hear such news, and she very wisely said to me that children are always ready, it’s actually more a case of when we’re ready to tell our stories. I realised on Monday that I was ready to tell her, that I was ready to own it as part of my story and also Sadie‘s. I could’ve had a better sounding board than the innocence of my seven-year-old daughter. I know that it’s bought a deeper understanding to our relationship and that it will help her understand her mother as we move through the years together.
If you are going through something, I encourage you to talk about it, to not fear the outcome of telling your story, there can be so much healing in sharing and letting go . . .