Changes

There are two main reasons I created this blog.

The main reason is to open up the conversation about death and grief, and in doing so, create a better awareness and understanding and compassion for those experiencing grief - even if it is with a small number of people.

In my experience, our culture is not very good at talking about grief, dealing with grief or supporting others through their grief.  We grieve about so many things, a relationship or friendship that has ended, moving house, town or country, losing our job, injury or death of a loved one or pet, and the list goes on. So we may as well talk about it.

The second reason is to let my friends and family know how I am going (it's easier to write this instead of trying to express my thoughts and feelings in conversations, multiple times). 

It's been a while since I have written, but as we lead up to Leroy's 6th birthday, I am feeling a flood of emotions and I am compelled to write.

Mostly I feel sad and lost. Like I am on a boat traveling down a river, with no paddles. I can't slow down, I can't change direction and I can't stop. I don't know what direction I am going anymore, my surroundings don't feel safe, and it feels very uncomfortable.  I'm feel and truly 'lost'.

It will be 6 years since Leroy was born, on the 21st March. For me, Leroy's birthday is a double whammy. It's is a special day because it is Leroy's birthday, but it also a very strong reminder of where my grief all started - at Leroy's birth. The cause of it all.

The very end of his birth was when Leroy went from being a perfectly healthy baby, to a floppy, not-breathing baby, with severe brain damage. Thankfully, the trauma of Leroy's birth does not own me anymore. Through working with my amazing grief counsellor Kaye, we were able to strip away the complicated mess of guilt, blame, trauma, terror, and feelings of helplessness surrounding Leroy's birth.

Even so, it still hurts. I still grapple with the dichotomy of it all. 

In November last year we moved from Merrimu to my home town. This was not an easy decision, for many reasons. We have many very special and precious memories of living with, loving and taking care of Leroy whilst living in our beloved strawbale house. We had planted a tree for each of our three boys, with their respective placentas buried underneath for extra nourishment. We had Leroy's garden, Leroy's seat, and Long Forest next door as a reminder of the walks we had with Leroy.

And yet we moved. We moved to Port Fairy, where Leroy had been with us on holidays. His health always seemed to improve when we were there, I think he liked it too. He is here with us, and wherever we go. 

Whilst we have moved away from our network of wonderfully supportive friends who have been with us on our journey with Leroy, and have also moved closer to family, which has been wonderful.  Being so close to the ocean is helping us heal more and more, and we are grateful for our new lifestyle.

We are still re-adjusting to the move. We are meeting new people all the time, and these people don't know about Leroy, or our journey.  People inevitably ask, "How many children do you have?"  I have noticed that I have been rushing through my answer, often awkwardly explaining that we "Have 3 children, but our second child died". I have been rushing through it, not because I don't want to talk about Leroy, but because I'm worried I will make other person feel uncomfortable. 

When I realised that I was doing this, I remembered that if I am ok talking about Leroy, other people usually are too. So lately I've been slowing down the conversation, and being present, and really honoring Leroy and our love for him. It's feeling much better.

I'm not sure where all this is headed - I guess I just wanted to share that although it has been many years since Leroy's birth, life and death, grief is still present. Other bereaved parents have shared with me how others have told them to 'get it over it' after a few years. Well, perhaps it's not about that. Perhaps there is nothing to get over, but instead, to travel through. Perhaps it's about compassion (for one another and for oneself), understanding, and remembering, not forgetting.