Today was a glorious sunny day, crisp and cold and bright.
We went to explore Bodiam Castle, a place very special to us as it is where David proposed to me a few years ago.
Today it was a place to find some peace with our family.
We fed the ducks,
climbed the steps, played with rope hoops,
went over bridges, through arches and enjoyed feeling the sun on our skin.
It was a lovely day.
I thought a lot about Matilda Mae.
I do every time we go out.
Usually David would be with the twins and I would be wearing or pushing or cuddling or feeding Tilda Mae.
I feel quite alone, even in a crowd of people, without her there.
I am always thinking about what I should be doing with her. For her.
I am still her Mummy and I cannot just slip out of the routine that we had, even though she is not here.
It is why I really struggle to get out of bed in the morning.
So often that was my most precious time with Tilda.
David would get her up and play with her then when he got Esther and William up she would come back in to bed with me for a feed and fall asleep in the bed with me.
I miss her breath on me.
I miss feeding her so much.
I miss her chubby little hand resting on my chest.
The smell of her.
The warmth of her precious soft skin on mine.
It physically hurts me to think about her touch.
I miss her so so much.
Today we sat on bench in the sun and the first thing that I thought was this would have been a great place to feed Matilda Mae.
In the cafe I was thinking that we only needed one high chair as Esther and William now only need boosters.
But of course we do not need one.
We need none.
Or as William would say, ‘We need zero!’
I miss Matilda Mae so much
Every little thing about her
But mostly I miss the planning for her and the including her and the making sure we have all that we need for her
I feel so empty without her
And I know, I do know, that we are blessed to have Esther and William
But they are not Baby Tilda Mae
I asked David to take a picture of me today
To see what I look like without Matilda Mae
I look quite normal really
Zero Tilda and Me
Nothing like how I feel
Like a huge part of me has been ripped from within
Leaving a gaping hole and a bruised shattered heart
I do not even know how to pick up the pieces
Let alone start putting them back together
My Dad asked me today how I was coping
The honest answer is I am not x
This is how it should be …
… and I can’t see how things are ever going to feel right again now that such a huge vital part of me is gone!
I’ve yet again read your post and have no words, but I can’t bear to read and run either. I can’t imagine your despair and heartbreak. You are always in my thoughts. X
Jennie, your words are just so powerful yet I have none to reply to comfort you.
I think about baby Tilda so often each day and night and almost every time I look at TC. I have nothing to say apart from my heart breaks for you and I’m sending you virtual love and strength now and always xx
Oh Jennie, you have such an eloquent way of wording your thoughts. Although you may not have physical responsibility of the every day things for Matilda you will be her mummy for the rest of your life. The twins always look so lovely and bright in their clothes, so refreshing. I am thinking about you constantly. x
I don’t think you can mend a broken heart. I don’t think you will ever be the same again. But i hope that you find a way to cope with a new normal. If there was anything I could do, I would. Thinking of you constantly
xxxxx
Jennie I never could have imagined after seeing you with Matilda at Britmums and realising we were old school friends that you would go ahead and endure such tragedy. I continue to read your heartbreaking words and so desperately wish I could do more to ease your pain. You are such a doting and wonderful mother and I can not begin to imagine how you go about trying to try fill the void your beautiful girl has left. I know in time it will get easier but between now and then I wish you all the love and strength in the world to get you to that point. If there is anything at all I can do x x
I really hope and pray your pain starts to ease and that the immense love you have for Matilda Mae turns into a comfort at every walk in life. I never feel I have any right words to say when I read your posts or tweets but I would give you a massive hug if I saw you cx
Sending love Jennie. I don’t think it helps to tell you that you will make it. You know I am making it, so you can hope for peace. I will always be here.
You can’t cope, two weeks out. You just have to exist. You are doing as well as you possibly could.
Your poor self all alone in that picture. I see the look in your eyes I remember in the mirror. I wish I could hug you.
Jennie once again i read your post i cannot imagine how you are feeling right now. I hope that one day you will be able to get a new normal. I often think of you and your family. thinking of you claire xx
When my Mum died a good friend told me about the rock of grief.
When a loved one dies we experience grief, if this grief was tangible it would be a heavy rough rock that we are told to carry with us always.
Each time we think of our loved one the rock is stroked & over time the rough edges are worn away, as the years pass the holding of the rock turns it to a smooth stone which we still carry.
I still carry a stone with me but it is more manageable & smoother these days.
Thinking of you often xx
So, so sorry for your pain… xxx
Beautiful pictures that tell a happy family day out, except that we know that there is something missing that so takes the edge off that happy family day for you all. Your words change the photos totally and when you look back there is a hint of that something missing. I hope the pain but never the memory will fade. Please link up with me on country Kids.
I don’t think you will ever be the person you were before, you’ve lost a piece of your heart. You are not meant to be coping now. You and your family are experiencing the worst pain imaginable. A pain no one can heal. Matilda will always be with you in your heart, look deep into those beautiful big brown eyes you see in those photographs, she’s looking right at you. She was a mini you. Such beautiful photos, makes me realise for the thousands I take there are not masses of me and the boys individually. So glad you have so many to treasure xx
As another grieving mother, I remember those first few days, weeks, months. Everything is so raw. There is a community here welcoming you to the worst club in the world. Sending you love and peace. One minute at a time, Momma. Keep breathing.
Reaching out to give you the biggest and longest hug x
The pain you’re experiencing is unimaginable and I have nothing but admiration for the strength and courage you’re showing in getting out of bed each day and getting through each day, not least for the way you’re trying to keep going for your other two darling children. To be missing Matilda Mae with every fibre of your being is only natural, you and your family are constantly in my thoughts and prayers. Sending love, xxx
My heart breaks for you Jennie, again don’t know what to say but can’t just read and say nothing. Sending you all my love and praying you continue to find the strength to get through each day. You truly are an inspiration xxx
My thoughts are for you and your family and your beautiful Matilda Mae every single day xx
Oh you write so powerfully. You loved her and love her still. Coping isn’t what it’s about. Our love to you all x
Jennie, I can’t even begin to imagine your pain, every time I read your words and see pictures of you and Matilda Mae my heart breaks a little more. There is no rhyme or reason for this and I wish I could tell you there was. I wish I could say or do something to ease your suffering. Just please know that there are so many people thinking of you. I wish I could just give you a big hug, I can’t tell you everything’s going to be okay, because right now I know you wouldn’t believe me. Just please believe you can get through this, with all of us willing you on xxxxx
Oh Jennie, you’re allowed to feel ‘wrong’ and I don’t think that the ‘normal’ that you’re used to will ever be there again, but in time a different ‘normal’ will happen. Your pain is still so raw, I wish I could ease it.
I am heartbroken for you. The photo of you without her – something no mummy should ever have to do.
I’m just so sorry, it’s so very hard. Those very early days are so so difficult. x