Unintentional Poet

My daughter was stillborn at 25 weeks of pregnancy, over the Christmas period, eight years ago. I find it so hard to commemorate her adequately, each year, amidst the bustle and chaos of the festive season. When I began to see a counsellor, two years ago, he suggested commemorating her at other times in the year, to help relieve the pressure to remember her well at Christmas - not  a season commensurate with stillness and reflection. Her 'due date', the 8th of April, seemed like a good time to do this. We all know that very few babies put in an appearance on their due date (one of mine hung on in for a full fourteen days extra, one was coaxed out at three days overdue), so this date can feel arbitrary, but gives me something to focus on, somewhere to hang my thoughts and my grief.  So today was the third time I purchased a balloon, the second attempt at releasing it (more on that in a minute).  In three years of trying this out, I've noticed some frustrating...

Easter Sunday; a strange thought this year. Celebrating the impermanence of death when it feels permanent and heavy right now to those of us left here, in her wake. Celebrating hope, light and victory when those things still feel a long way away on the hard days and the dark days, when grief wraps its bindweed more tightly. Celebrating a God for whom nothing is impossible, yet we did not see our impossible become possible. Joining in with dancing and joy when tears are more my currency. It's easier to face Good Friday. I can relate to a tortured and suffering saviour. He gets it. He's walking it with me. I dwell comfortably in Easter Saturday when hope lay dormant and sadness took hold. I belong with the exhausted disciples and the women overcome with emotion and grief. I'm not at all sure I am ready for Easter Sunday. Dancing, rejoicing, all-things-come-good. I will stand there one day, feeling it more convincingly.  But for now my life is Friday-Saturday...

I have found Mothers' Day hard before, trying to hold in tension my gratitude for the beautiful children I have and my sadness for the one I didn't get to keep.  It is a day countless others find hard too.   This year feels like a whole new level of struggle is looming as I must face yet another difficult day, where my raw emotions will be dragged to the surface and shaken and beaten just a little more. It is six months since my sister passed away; Mothers' Day without her is another hard 'first'.  This time last year we had no idea our worlds were about to implode.  She was diagnosed a week later.  Writing this poem has helped me to face it better.  It is not a cry for pity or a judgment on those celebrating - just a pure reflection of my thoughts and emotions as I continue to walk this road of grief.  I hope it will make fellow strugglers feel less alone. Thanks for reading! Mothers' Day   Last year,  My sister took the early slot,...

Dearest Bec I can’t believe it’s your birthday and you are not here.  Every year, I rush into town, straight after Christmas, to hit the sales and buy you something you don’t really need – not your fault you were born straight after Christmas and, after all, every girl always needs more earrings, notepads, belts, recipe books.  I can’t even remember what I bought you last year, as it was such an ‘ordinary’ thing – It didn’t feel momentous or unusual, just a sister, giving her little sister her annual birthday gift. How would I have ever guessed it would be the last one I would buy for you? I’m not sure how to cope this week as, instead of eating cake together, we scatter your ashes.  I’m not sure how you continue with normal life, go to work, talk with friends, in a week like this.  I am trying to distract myself with memories filled with you, to remind myself that I will always have these, even if I no longer have you.  So here are my favourite picture...

Today is Grace’s birthday again.     Many of you who read my blog (thank you for doing so!) will know that I write something, each year, to mark the date and celebrate her life.    For the last couple of years, I have written reflections and poems and thoughts, as a cathartic process, to help me to face this date and remember. The angel we hang on our tree, to remember Grace This year, remembering feels different again.    I mentioned, in last year’s post, the counselling I had been through and how much it had helped.    I am, by nature, sceptical of these things, until I see real ‘proof.'  I’m never entirely sure how to measure change and progress in matters of the heart and mind, but I know that, eight years on, the pain is less than it was at seven and six and five, so I keep going, trusting that healing does take time and energy and that it does get easier, in barely measurable increments. This year feels different for a coup...

It is almost 11 weeks now, since I sat with my brother-in-law, holding my sister’s hand, as she slipped away, after an intense and brave battle with a cancer that wouldn’t let go.   We have reached that point where life returns to normal for everyone else, while we wobble and teeter, trying our hardest to find a new ‘normal’ that feels nothing like normality at all.  Walking through treacle and wading in waste-high mud are the only clichéd analogies that can half-represent how some days feel, how even the ordinary things – the school run, a pile of washing up, a social occasion – can feel like it takes every ounce of strength to face. What does grief really look like?  How should it look?  In the times we live in, a lot is understood about grief.  Psychologists have researched it, books have been written about it, counsellors are trained to help people talk about it and move through it well.  We recognise the truth that no two people experienc...

This is my latest 'Thought for the Week,' which is about to appear in the Lynn News. Slightly cheating, as adapted from a much longer post ('Facing Hard Things') from a few months back!  In other news, if you've missed it, I'm writing for the Association of Christian Writers now too, on the 18th of each month. If you've missed those posts and want to read them, they can be found here: http://morethanwriters.blogspot.co.uk/2017/08/what-do-running-and-writing-have.html?m=1 http://morethanwriters.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/nofilter-by-georgina-tennant.html?m=1 http://morethanwriters.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/the-quest-for-words-by-georgie-tennant.html?m=1 Anyway... The 'Thought'. Enjoy and thanks, as always, for reading!...  All of us, at some point in life, will face hard things.  And by hard, I mean life-sapping, crushing, painful-beyond-imagining things.  At these times, we can look around at others, feeling bitter that life’s cruel lottery...