Although at times I’ve felt overwhelmed with sorrow and grief, I don’t think I was ever depressed.Somehow I always managed to push myself a little further.
A recent article I read this morning states that 1 in 6 of us suffers from depression.
I remember a visit to my doctor a couple of years ago.I’d gone to see him reluctantly, still raw from the pain .I had no intention of opening up, just wanting to get this visit over and done with.
I was still undergoing treatment having been extremely ill and suffering a massive pulmonary embolism in the bargain.
Having dealt with the necessary blood tests and adjusting medications, he then very gently asked me how I was doing.I found it hard to deal with such kindness but having tried to fight furiously the tears welling up in my eyes, I gave up the pretence.
I admitted I was angry, I felt that losing my baby was a tragedy that could have been prevented and I felt guilty for not having a body better suited to carrying a baby.
I didn’t want anybody to be kind to me, I just wanted to be left alone, my only comfort being that having survived, I could look after my children.
My doctor then asked to take this test and on completing it, told me ever so gently that I was not depressed but grieving.I suppose, deep down, I must have known that but having my doctor saying it validated my pain and feelings.
It was ok to grieve and his words freed me.All the consultants and medical people had been focussing on the risk I was still under and that didn’t leave much room for feelings as is often the case.
People around me either didn’t know or considered I was lucky to have survived and well, I had two children already and this one hadn’t even been born.
Soon afterwards, this idea came to me.The children and I bought a balloon, decorated it with messages and then released it in the garden.
It was painful, excruciatingly painful.As we watched it float away towards the sky, my daughter cried, finally releasing the pain and tears some “well-intentioned” person had told her not to show in my presence.
I felt relieved to see her releasing all these emotions.We hugged and cried together, healing ourselves and each other.
I’ll never forget my baby, a baby so longed for, so wanted.I will always wonder what he would have looked like and still feel the pain of not having held him in my arms.
The road to recovery was long and painful.Time does heal you eventually so does love and children.The two children I am indeed very lucky to have.
How life evolves, surprising you at every corner.There was a time, not so long ago when I felt utterly broken.I did will myself to survive and get through this.I chose life!
I thought back then that the most I could hope for was to make my children happy and raise them the best I could.
I couldn’t believe I would be truly happy again, that I would feel so full of life again and vibrant.
I felt that after having been through so many heartbreaks and difficult times, I had lost my optimism that had pulled me through all the unhappiness in my past.I’d stopped believing in me.
Now, I know better, my true self overcame these negative feelings and triumphed.Through all the trials and tribulations life throws at us, there is always hope.
As a young child I believed and hoped, it made me a survivor.We are free to survive our lives and to live them to the fullest.Given time and hope, it is amazing what you can accomplish.