Some scars never fully fade

I've had my fair share of scars. Shallow wounds heal fast and blend back into my skin easily. You would hardly know they are there. But deep wounds take more time, need more care, and may not fully fade.

The wound we suffer from the death of our baby is catastrophic. It cuts to our core, exposing our foundational sense of self and our ways of relating to the world. I suppose, with time and support, the sting may soften. But this deep wound does not heal fast and leaves an everlasting scar.

My own scar is only four years old. In some ways, that feels like a lifetime, and my new psychological skin has started to strengthen. Yet in other ways, it is still raw and makes me wince with pain when life connects with it again.

Not long ago, there seemed to be a surge of 40th birthdays among a group of school parents we cross paths with. It seemed as though everyone was planning a big holiday to celebrate this next season of life, with children old enough to travel. Suddenly, my scar twinged.

That should have been us now, too. With a six- and four-year-old; officially out of the baby zone, enjoying some stability, and reclaiming our independence and adventure. I felt envious and angry, and underneath it all, incredibly sad.

Now, I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I am acutely aware of how fortunate we are to have welcomed new life into our family. And yet, these two things can be true at the same time. I am ever-grateful for the living children I am privileged to raise, and I grieve my child who died. I grieve the imagined life we should have shared and the family we hoped to be. It is sometimes surprising how my grief shows up, raw as ever, reminding me that this wound still runs deep.

I guess, as time marches forward, the curveballs will keep coming, and no doubt they will connect with my grief. Perhaps it will be the year he should start school, the year he should graduate, or the years I should be supporting him as he takes the leap into adulthood. When our baby dies, their personhood matures alongside our grief. Parenthood doesn't stop; it just looks different. Our scar never fades because our love never fades.

So, to me, the idea of moving on is ludicrous. I simply can't let go of the love I have for Tommy. But my love comes with grief. There is no way I can hold one without the other. So I try to hold them both tenderly, knowing that the rawness of my grief will continue to sting at times, and that my enduring love will grow with him for all the years I have to come.

Tommy's Mum x