Yesterday marked four months since Hugo’s death.
I was shocked when I added it up. It’s a strange paradox of the intervening time feeling like it has gone really quickly and feeling like yesterday, yet it feeling like so long ago too.
A different lifetime.
Sometimes I have to really think about whether it really happened. Was I ever really pregnant? Do I really have a beautiful little boy called Hugo?
I know I was, and I know I do. Of course I do.
The pit of sadness inside my chest, no matter what I do, is a constant reminder.
It seems like only yesterday when, at the end of April, Martin and I were saying to each other that it had been five weeks since Hugo’s death – the same amount of time that he had lived.
It doesn’t help that Hugo’s birth and life happened so far away from home – it feels so far removed from our reality.
Grief is not linear, which doesn’t help. You don’t progress through it gradually, logically, and one day ‘get better’ as if from an illness. Sadly, it doesn’t work like that.
Grief plays with your head. You can be having a good couple of days, like I have. Feeling like I am emerging from the woods. Then, from nowhere, I feel crushed all over again.
It takes away my sense of time.
There’s no particular trigger for this afternoon’s melancholy.
There has been a flurry of birth announcements on Twitter. I’m happy for these people’s safe new arrivals, and don’t resent them at all. The problem is, reading about what they have underlines what was taken from me and is like a stab to my chest. I probably should avoid reading them, skip quickly over them, but it’s like being drawn to look at a car crash.
But birth announcements are not wholly responsible for my sorrowful mood.
Sometimes it just gets on top of me.
Knowing that each new day, I am further and further away from my son.
Knowing that one day, I will have to get back to ‘normal’, or whatever the ‘new normal’ looks like.
Hugo will always be within me, but I am without him too.
Probably I should celebrate everything I have achieved in these four short months, raising awareness about baby loss, HELLP syndrome and other issues close to my heart. I do celebrate it, sort of. I am so proud of how many people know about my beautiful boy, and what Hugo is doing for other families through his legacy.
But I would give it all up, never have anyone read one more word I write, for one more moment with Hugo.
Where does the time go? I don’t know. I can’t stop time, or go back in time.
We have to try to make the best of the time we have.