Creative Calm Connected: How do you move on from something like that?

Following my post about Hannah, a couple of beautiful people in my life have had the courage to ask a little bit more about my story. I understand that it can be hard to bring the topic up, and that the conversations can be hard sometimes. But I admire their courage in asking, listening, empathising. A common element in these conversations has been my friends wondering “so how did you get through it? How did you move on so that you could go on to have another baby? I thought if they were wondering, you might be too, so here’s my attempt at answering. Maybe by sharing, I might reach and help someone else who is struggling.

The short answer is, it is complicated, but you move on one minute at a time.

The long answer is…..

It is a complicated process. In the early days, there were a lot of times where I just wanted to curl up in my bed and never come out. Some days, that’s what I did. And I was so lucky to be able to do that. My husband, parents and best friends stepped up and helped out so that if I was having a day like that, I could. They took care of our son so that I had the space that I needed to grieve.

My OB’s surgery referred me to an excellent psychologist I worked with for quite a while. It was in those teary sessions that I came to understand and accept how I was feeling and developed some tools that allowed me to focus on the present and ride the waves of grief until I was able to cope better on my own.

Even with that work though, there was a part of my grief that had turned into a very thick dark cloud that wouldn’t shift. I thought it was just my “new normal”, that this was how life would feel forever from now on. But then I also started having panic attacks. I convinced myself that I was going to die, I would get this terrible pain in my chest, and have no breath and the world would close in on me and the noises overwhelmed me and I just couldn’t make it stop. One day my GP gently asked me if I thought it might be time to have some help with that. He explained that this didn’t need to be my new normal, and so I started on some medication that has stopped that cycle of anxiety and depression. And I am so grateful that he helped me make that choice. It gave me the breathing space to clear the fog in my mind and start to work on coming back to life again.

I took them up until the second trimester of my pregnancy with our daughter and slowly weaned off them so she wouldn’t experience terrible withdrawals when she was born.

But, the panic attacks started coming back after she was born. So, I am now back on them again. I recognise the signs in myself now that point to me needing some help. And now, I’m not afraid to ask for it.

The help and support of those close to me really had a big effect on my recovery. I have a beautiful circle of chosen family who never strayed far and are always there when I need them. Often just turning up, or doing things that needed doing. But sometimes I would need to ask for help. With practice, that gets easier to do. People are always happy to lend a hand if you are struggling. No one likes to know that anyone isn’t coping, and I’ve found that their support was probably the biggest factor in me being able to move on.

I have learnt so much about myself, my family, and others during this journey. I have learnt that I am stronger than I think I am. I have learnt that if I can get through that, I can get through pretty much anything. I have also learnt that I am vulnerable, and that is ok, because with my chosen family around me, together we are strong enough. I have learnt that there is a place in my heart that will always belong to my babies. I have learnt that it is uncomfortable for many people to acknowledge our losses. It is also uncomfortable for many to be close to someone who is grieving.

These types of experiences are, in a strange way, positive, because when you hit rock bottom, when you are cracked right open, then your light can begin to shine through. I believe there are two types of people, those who choose to be cracked and broken, or those that allow their light to shine through the cracks. I chose and continue to choose to live my life in the light. I know and lovingly accept that we need to allow ourselves to feel grief, sadness, despair at times. But we also need to find a way to keep living. I was so lucky, because for that time where my light went out, those close to me shined theirs so I was never in total darkness. When I had no energy to go on, they were strong for me and let me lean on them.

There is no one else that can share your pain. You have to go through it. You have to ride the wave of grief. Each person experiences the pain a little differently, and that is ok. We need to accept that and allow each other the space to grieve how we need to.

There was a scene on one of my favourite TV shows recently (Call the Midwife), that I think sums it all up nicely. A grieving woman asked a trusted friend how she might move on from the death of her fiancé. The friend said “my dear, you just keep living until one day you are alive again”.

And that’s pretty much what happened for me.

So if you, or someone you know is struggling through some sort of grief, depression or anxiety, reach out to them. Let them know they are not alone. Be strong for them on the days they can’t be. And be close by so that when they do start feeling alive again, you can help them start building happy memories to fill the big empty hole in their heart that has been left by the grief.