Alone

I've just been scrolling through the blogs I read. Or used to read.

I deleted some of them. Stopped following them. Because they are going to a place where I don't go.

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I feel more alone these days. I feel that there are less people listening. That there are less people who care.

I know that there are people who remember my children. And I love that. But it's very abstract. It's not real in my life.

I miss having people in my life who care. Who care about me and what I do. Craig is there, and he cares, but he's the only one.

An example. On Monday it was Freyja's birthday. Her fifth. My parents sent us flowers. My sister rang. An aunt and uncle (for inexplicable reasons) suddenly sent a card.

A friend who has not been in touch with me since Kees' funeral sent a text message. Her reason? She's coming to Amsterdam in September and would like to "catch up".

I dislike it. I dislike it when people who haven't been there for the tough times, suddenly drop a note out of the sky, because they want to catch up. And (guaranteed) once they've had their catch up, they'll go back to their little world and I won't hear from them again for however many years.

It annoys the shit out of me.

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When I'm with other people, I'm pretending most of the time. Pretending that my life is ok. Pretending that I'm not sad. Pretending that I'm not angry. Pretending that I have a future. Really, I'm pretending all these things. Because in reality I am sad, my life is not ok (how could it be?), I am angry, and I don't see that I have a future.

So why am I pretending? Because no-one wants to know any of this stuff.

I never noticed this when I was a single person. Maybe because I was always accommodating my life to fit into others' lives.

But now I see that actually others have their own life, and they certainly don't do anything to accommodate me into it. In fact, most people have closed their lives to me. I don't fit in any more, so they have moved on without me.

Which leaves me back where I started. Alone.

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When I speak to my parents on the phone, it's all just jibber-jabber (love that phrase). Because I know that they only hear what they want. They forget what I actually jibber-jabbered to them about. They regurgitate what they wanted to hear from me to their friends. To tell them that I'm ok. When I'm so obviously not.

It makes me angry. That no-one wants to hear the real stuff. They only want the fluffy stuff. And if there is no fluffy stuff, they just embroider reality to make it fluffy.

I talk to people about (i) my cats, (ii) any trips or holidays we have planned, and (iii) the weather. Anything else they talk about I just let flow over me. Like politics, religion, the fate of asylum seekers and refugees, my mental health and their advice. I don't talk about that. I don't encourage talk about it. I just make "mmm" noises at appropriate times, and that seems enough for people. Because if I do talk about those things, they will disagree with what I say, and it will be an opportunity for them to shoot me down. So I don't give them the chance. Anyway, the cats and the weather is usually enough.

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I forgot what I was writing about.

Oh yes, alone-ness.

It's different from loneliness. I'm not lonely. I have Craig.

But I do feel alone. When I walk on the street, surrounded by hundreds of people, I feel alone. In fact, the sheer numbers of people who surround me, make me feel more alone.

All those families, those mums with babies, those dads with Baby Bjorn's strapped to them, they make me feel alone.

I live in one of the most densely populated spots on the planet, and yet I feel alone. How strange is that?

:::

I wish there were people here who understand me. I wish there were people around me who didn't think I was "strange". I wish there were people here who could shepherd me towards a future I wouldn't be scared of.

I wish for so many things. But they are wistful wishes.

Nowadays I really have only one wish. A child. Our child. Who lives. A long and healthy life.

That is my wish.

Maybe I would be less alone then. Maybe I would be less "strange". Maybe then I could see a future.

Lost

I'm lost. I don't know what to do. It's confusing.

I'm talking about now and the rest of my life.

I don't know what to do today, or tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year.

I'm completely lost.

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Back before all the dead babies, I never really doubted the future, my future. I didn't query what was to come. I was just always sure it would be "better".

I can be honest and say I had high expectations, but I'd grown up with parents who encouraged that for their children and believed it themselves.

So I always expected the best from myself, as well as from others, and looked forward to a future which would (of course) be better.

Not surprisingly I've felt incredibly let down.

I feel let down by the people around me. Those from whom I expected nothing but the best.

I feel let down by my parents and siblings. It was a hurtful truth the day I realised that my pain and my grief comes only second (or third or fourth or more ...) to theirs.

I feel let down by life in general. How come my children died? Why couldn't it be someone else's children? How come all my children died? Couldn't one have been left for me?

I'm sad that my career has come to an end. And that it finished not because of a conscious decision, but because I fell apart.

I'm sad because I feel so alone. So incredibly alone. I have Craig, but I have no-one else. I feel let down by all those friends I used to have. Where are they now? Where have they been?

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I sit in our apartment and watch the weather outside. It's been raining a lot. I'm wondering when summer is coming this year ... if at all.

I feel "safe" in our apartment. Or perhaps "safe" is the wrong word. After all, Kees stopped breathing right over there, on the black leather sofa. Our living room was barely big enough to accommodate the 7 or 8 police officers and paramedics who responded to my emergency phone call.

So safe isn't the right word. Comfortable. Isolated. Away from nasty people who think they know everything better.

:::

I don't know how long we can stay here. In this apartment. It may be that the pension I will receive, together with income insurance, will not be enough to pay for this apartment.

It's scary, not knowing.

But maybe it will jolt us out of our comfort zone to a new place. Maybe we'll get a chance to start in another place, to build something for ourselves.

:::

Shall I have another baby? Or not?

That's what we think about now. Because we've spoken to doctors. And they've said that a future child of ours would require 24/7 monitoring. To see if there's something wrong.

So that's what I think about now.

Another baby?

Or not.

Assumptions

It seems to me that a lot of people are making assumptions these days.

Assumptions about me. Assumptions about Craig. Assumptions about everything.

Like my uncles who assume that because I have not gone back to work that I am "lazy".

They also assume that because Craig has not gone back to work that he is "trailer-trash" and a "gold-digger".

Like my friends from Australia who were here this week, who assumed that things must be "getting better".

Or my friend here in the Netherlands who assumes that as the days, months and years pass, our grief must be "getting less".

:::

I am totally in hate with the world at the moment (as opposed to in love with it).

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My sister rang me last week to tell me that she's pregnant. An unplanned pregnancy. She has three beautiful healthy daughters, and she had two early miscarriages since those girls were born.

When she rang to tell me she was 6 weeks pregnant, and she'd already told her girls. I think she's mad. Anything can happen, as she knows. When I said something like this to her, she said the girls are aware that bad things happen, "like to your babies".

:::

I'm angry with anyone who has a healthy living child. Anyone. And it doesn't matter if they've lost a child/ren, had miscarriages, etc. If they have a living healthy child than they are a whole lot more fortunate than I am. They have a purpose in their lives, which I am missing in mine.

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One of my other uncles assumed that I was "comfortable wallowing in my grief/depression". I was so shocked when he said this (in Dutch so I had translate in my head), that I didn't respond.

I mean, surely anyone who has suffered ongoing and long-term grief, will know that there's nothing comfortable about it? Surely? Maybe I'm making an assumption here.

:::

I'm on a diet. I intend to lose about 30-35 kg.

When I mention that to people, they look skeptical. As if they're doubtful that I could lose that much weight.

Perhaps they've forgotten that for most of my life (prior to dead-children), I was a very tall, slim woman. They must have forgotten.

I was going through some clothes that I'd put away, and saw all these wonderful trousers, skirts, etc, which will only fit me if I get back to that size. And I'm going to try.

The diet is giving me a purpose. A short-term one, but a purpose nevertheless.

:::

When my father was here in the Netherlands a few weeks ago, I think he was quite shocked by us. By our appearances, by our lifestyle, by many things.

My anger, my sadness, my apathy, it all appeared to be quite new and shocking to him.

Strange though, we've been telephoning and skype-ing them regularly, but he doesn't really pay attention. He only sees and hears what he wants to.

But then, being here, there's no avoiding the reality of me, my life.

One day we saw him after he'd been staying at his sister's place for a while. He saw me, hugged me, and said that I looked much better. This surprised me, because I looked exactly the same as when he saw me the week before. I said as much, but he denied it vehemently, because apparently it suited his mentality to view me as a better and happier person than I was.

I guess he went back to Australia with that "happy and better" image in his head. It will make him feel better in the long run. It will allow him to get on with his life, without having to worry too much about me.

He made assumptions (erroneously) about me and my life. But they were assumptions which sat better with him.

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I guess other people make assumptions for the same reason. So that they can distance themselves from me and from Craig, without feeling too bad about it.