There’s a part of me, that’s thinking don’t write this, no one wants to read this.
But again, no, I’m finished with holding back. I’m writing this blog for a number of reasons but one of the really important reasons, for me, is that I want to bring awareness.
Awareness, to something that nobody wants to think about. Awareness to a subject that doesn’t correlate with our shiny Instagram-friendly-the-world-is-bright-and-perfect view, we sometimes tend to try and view the world with.
Infant death. I can feel that it’s a lot harder, writing just those words, than I expected. My constant go-to though, is that the worst has already happened, so I can do this.
As I’ve written in my ‘About’ section, my little family and I, lost our most precious little boy, Eik Sol, in June 2017. I will, as I get the courage, nerve and find the right words, write more about this, in the coming time.
Many, many things happen to you, as a person, when your child dies. But for me, bordering on 2 months later, what I mostly feel, currently, is a constant ambivalence.
A good example, is that it was my boyfriends birthday on Thursday and I took him out to dinner last night. We went to KöD Vesterbro (meat lovers paradise, can’t recommend it enough) and we had, with no comparison, the best meat I’ve ever had, lovely drinks and an all-round wonderful evening. But then we went on the bus. It was really loud, lots of people and a drunk and uncomfortable type of guy behind us. Suddenly I had to cling on to my boyfriends hand, concentrate on my breathing and try not to listen to the adorable sounds of two children speaking with their parents.
Even though I constantly think about Eik, even though he is always with me in my mind and the first thing I vision, as I wake up – his death still hits my body, like the hammer of Thor. It leaves me breathless, a thousand tears ready to be unleashed and a body that just wants to lie and wimp in a corner.
It leaves me constantly ambivalent. It truly was a great evening. But our baby wasn’t there. I wasn’t sitting, as we expected, with a big and beautiful bump, happy as can be.
I would give anything to change that. For Eik and for my family. But I can’t. There’s nothing I can say or do, that can change that.
The ambivalence tears me apart.
Beacause, can you ever truly enjoy something, after your child has passed?
Or will the guilt, that swallow me whole, whilst actually enjoying things a little bit, ever surrender?