I have got to this point now where I am almost 3 years on. Things in life have changed dramatically in the last three years and it would be a lie to say that grief is my main focus. That has been clear enough in the things that I talk about and the things that I do now. It has taken a sort of backseat in the grand scheme of things and there is a certain guilt associated with allowing it to do so. As a bereaved parent you feel at times that you should be consistently, constantly grieving in the same way in which you grieved in the first week. 

My mind in this past year, seeing as it is the new year and we ought to all be reflecting back, has been mostly elsewhere and occupied. The arrival of another child will do that to you. However, it has taken a series of events recently for me to realise actually what is important to me and what is worth focusing on. That is not to say that I will not be focusing on Edith, obviously. But that is to say that I will be ridding my mind and my life of people and things that don’t matter. I will be more introspective.



Mainly I mean the Internet. I have always been and always will be a great advocate for the Internet as an outlet and inspiration for creativity. This is what I used to use the Internet for before Instagram and before Facebook, and this is what I plan to continue using it for now. I allowed too many inconsequential things to occupy my head space, and that has absolutely inhibited my creativity. It has also inhibited my grieving, or more it has inhibited my remembrance. 

I have never really been one, as you’ll probably be able to see, to share photographs of Ezra on instagram. I used to, when he was alive, unreservedly, but since his death it has felt like each time I do I give something of him away. I don’t have enough of him to keep so I try not to give too much away. I also feel like every photograph of him and every mention of him does so much “better” in terms of engagement that it feels a little dirty, as if I’m using it. I realise that my whole being on there is to talk about baby loss, though, so I suppose it’s part and parcel. 

So I started writing this because I wanted to talk about how grief changes over a few years. I think the shock of this kind of grief can be related to many other types of shock, as for the time being there is nothing else you can think of, at all. Everything in your life focuses around this shock and this grief, the sense of loss and emptiness. So when people say that time heals all things I don’t think they mean that time HEALS all things but that time allows us to let more back into our lives. It is not about looking elsewhere, or forgetting, or moving on, and it is not about acceptance either. It is as if in those first weeks we are holding our breath, and after time you start to breathe again until suddenly you realise that you're breathing like normal. When you focus on your breathing and you can’t seem to stop thinking about the rise and fall of your chest, but then ten minutes later you’re breathing normally? You forget that you were holding your breath, or that it felt so strange to breathe. You remember it happened but you don't feel it quite as acutely as you once did.

I posted on instagram yesterday that seeing a photograph of Ezra really took the breath from me because it was a photo I don't usually see. Yes, I have photographs of him on my walls, he’s my phone background and my computer background. I have become so familiar with these particular pictures that I just know them. I know them, I see them, they are him. I have almost become desensitised to them. When it comes to others, I feel like I purposely avoid looking back at them because it hurts too much to be reminded of, say, other details about his face. I hate that it still hurts three years on, and that it still hurts this much. I'm tired of not being able to think about my son without being sad. His death overshadows his life. And that is not the way it should be, and honestly this is one of the few things that separates the death of a child from the death of an adult. I have so few memories to look back on, more than some, yes, less than others, yes. We had barely made it out of the newborn haze before the shock of his unexpected death hit. Almost everything is blurry. 

This doesn’t get easier with time. This particular thing, this death of a child business, frankly I don’t think it ever gets easier in the sense that people would expect it to. The hurt does not lessen in any way. I’ve linked below a video on grief and it is one that I think really accurately explains what it is, and how it affects us day to day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X55TJRj9HUk

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