Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
A Cumbrian foodie's blog. Expect food, travel and communications chat. Mostly.
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
Mental Health Awareness Week is upon us, and once again we’re asking people to think about their mental health and wellbeing.
My last blog was particularly sad. It was written with tears in my eyes.
For both my own benefit, and perhaps yours, I wanted to follow it with something brighter.
We all know that a crisis is the true measure of any friendship, and what is clear from our experience is that we have some strong friendships and some amazing friends. This post is for you. It’s a small thank you, for everything that you all did for us.
People really did step up to the mark, in so many different, varied ways.
Firstly, we have received messages, cards, and tokens of people’s thoughts throughout our whole, traumatic experience. Sometimes this has been a simple text or email, but on other occasions, it has been a handmade card or personalised gift, more thoughtful that I’d ever imagine.
Friends have dropped their plans to be here for us, when we need them. They have given readings, or presided over funeral services, without the blink of an eye. They have travelled to see us from the length and breadth of the country.
Work colleagues have sent words of support and encouragement, they’ve given generous gifts, and they have raised money for charities that are now close to our hearts.
My managers have been supportive, considerate and understanding at all times. They’ve helped me come back to work and have understood why I have not always been on top form. They never rushed me back, nor bothered me about trivia and minutiae.
People – including those we do and don’t know – have taken the time to reach out to us, and to share their experiences, to show us we are not alone. They’ve offered support and guidance, but have never told us how to feel or what to do.
Our families have been rocks – offering all the support we could ever ask for, and much more.
Neighbours have done things like take in parcels, water plants, and general keep things going, when we have been unable to think about this.
Nursing and medical staff have gone the extra mile to give us care beyond which we could have ever imagined.
These are just some of the small examples of the kindness we have experienced over the last few months. We are grateful for every single one of them.
So thank you, everyone, for everything.
All our love.
Tilly was born at 0056 on Saturday 26 May 2018. I’m sure you know that already. But I knew because they announce it, and they write it on the board. It also stops the giant clock on the wall. It is unambiguous.
But the time of death is different. Less clear cut.
They don’t actually tell you that, at the time. You find out later.
When Charlotte went into labour, we knew what the likely outcome would be. And when they started the section, with dozens of trained professionals in the room, we also knew that we were unlikely to spend much time with our child.
In fact, shortly after she was born, the fantastic and utterly empathetic neonatal consultant came over to tell me, as considerately as he could, that he would give our daughter comfort care so she could spend some time with us.
We knew what that meant.
They did that, and after a few, agonisingly long minutes, they brought our living, breathing daughter over for Charlotte and I to cradle.
We knew what this was. We knew we didn’t have long. But this was the most important few minutes of my life. At that point, we saw her chest moving up and down, and Charlotte got to feel her precious breath on her face.
This was borrowed time. She wasn’t going to stay with us, and she couldn’t stay breathing.
So at some point – perhaps when I was escorted out of the room, so they could clean up Charlotte and transfer her to the suite for parents like us – she stopped breathing; disappearing as quickly as she arrived.
But that didn’t stop us spending time with her. Nor did it stop us embracing her, loving her; longing for her.
Eventually we were told that she passed at 0130, meaning we got 34 precious minutes with Tilly. Not much longer than an episode of a soap, but every bit as much of an emotional roller coaster.
One I wouldn’t change for anything.
This blog was particularly hard to write, and hard for Charlotte and I to talk about – but I also knew it was one I had to write. It was the part of the journey that will always haunt me.
On Saturday it’ll be ten weeks since Tilly’s short time with us. I will have completed my second week at work, and will continue to carry on. Whatever that means.
As you all know, I was daunted about returning to work. I am pleased to say that my worries were short lived, as my colleagues quickly made me feel welcome, through their care and consideration, and by giving me some proper work to undertake.
So far, no one has said anything upsetting, and very few people has asked probing questions. Most people have avoided items on the ‘tick-list of things not to say to a grieving parent’. So in that sense all is good.
When people ask how I am doing, I have a few stock answers: “I’m not bad, thank you” or “We’re getting there,” or “it is good to be back and good to have routine”.
These are all true, but they’re all essentially a way of saying, “I’m carrying on”. If I am honest, that would be the best, most succinct, most honest, yet most raw answer.
I don’t feel the same as I did before Tilly was born. I am a different person. A version of me; mostly the same, but not quite. Like a good cover-version of a song you love, or the reformed line-up of your favourite band.
Like most men, I don’t cry much. I’ve not cried at work. I’ve been teary when close colleagues have embraced me, but that’s as much a reaction to their love and kindness. I think the reason I don’t is quite simple – when I cry I feel sad, and I’d rather not feel sad.
So I know that Tilly is always with me, and I think about her countless times, every single day. But I think of her in more of an abstract way, as I attempt to carry on. It just feels easier that way.
However, every now and then I start to feel guilty about this – should I not be trying to carry on? Should I show my emotions more? Should I mention her more at work? Should I go on the work night out tomorrow or is that inappropriate?
These are the thoughts that hound me. And in that sense, I can’t win. Am I even carrying on?
I think so, and I think, probably, I’m doing OK.
And OK is good enough, right now.
Charlotte and I have just had a relaxing break in Cornwall. Now we’ve returned, my thoughts have turned to my return to work.
At the moment this feels a little daunting, but I know that this nervousness will subside.
It’s the little things that are worrying me about my return. Things like:
When I last left my desk, I was going on holiday before the ‘gender reveal’ scan. Christ, how things have changed since that point. I almost feel sick at my naive excitement and enthusiasm for this.
The building I work in has offices for a number of different teams and departments. Whilst those I am closest to know exactly what I have been through, some, inevitably won’t. I am already dreading the first ‘how are you, I haven’t seen you for a while’ conversation.
On that note, what do I say to people? I could give answers ranging from a sentence or two, to a two-side summary of our experiences. I have no idea how much detail I will want to give.
Should I have a picture of Tilly on my desk? My gut feeling is that yes, I do want one – and after all, other fathers have pictures of their children. But will that upset me, especially when people ask about her?
In the grand scheme of things, these are all small considerations, but right now, they are what occupies my mind when I think about going back to work. That’s before I even think about what work I need to pick up, what on earth is waiting for me in my emails, and remembering where the coffee machine is and what my code for the photocopier might be.
However, when I do get to that point, I know I will have Tilly’s memory with me, and I know that will help me get through the tough times.
Since we found out about the pregnancy problems we faced, the support we have received has been brilliant. This ranges from the kind thoughts of friends to the care of the NHS.
Following Tilly’s departure, we’ve also been pointed in the direction of organisations that support parents in our circumstances, such as Sands (the still birth and neonatal death charity).
I’ve read a lot of leaflets and other information from Sands, and it’s all been useful. It’s ranged from the practical (securing birth and death certificates and arranging a cremation service) to the emotional.
However, it can feel overwhelming trying to take this information in, not least as it comes so quickly after a traumatic and emotionally draining event. However, one piece of information struck a chord and has stuck with me throughout. That is, to not take offence by the things that people say.
It’s a small point, but it’s invaluable. It’s invaluable because you quickly realise that people don’t know what to say. You know this for two reasons – one, because they often tell you and two, because nor do you.
But the very fact that people point this out shows you that they care.
If people do say something that doesn’t feel quite right; that hits a raw nerve, you know that they’re unlikely to be doing it deliberately. In my case, I tend to be thankful that they’ve reached out.
And ultimately, unless they’re downplaying the situation Charlotte and I have been through, it’s unlikely to offend us.
A month on from the death of my daughter, what I can say is that you do want your friends to get in touch, you don’t mind if they don’t know exactly what to say, and you certainly don’t mind if they ask how you are.
This is because talking definitely does help. It helps me cope with the grief, it helps me understand how I am feeling and coping, and most importantly, it ensures that Tilly continues to be remembered.
But as for an answer to the ‘how are you feeling’ question – I’ll get back to you when I work that one out.