I’ve never regretted putting my life ‘out there’ in the way that you do when you’re an ‘Instagrammer’ or blogger. I’ve always found so much joy in sharing the good times, and so much comfort sharing the bad with other people who have truly been able to empathise and relate. Over the past 2.5 years I have written about some amazing things and some dark times, and so much trivial ‘life stuff’ in between. Sometimes I find myself typing words that I never thought I’d have to say, but it wouldn’t be honest or true to this blog if I didn’t include them.
This time last year I was typing different words, expressing the sheer joy we felt about becoming a family of four. It was such a happy time, from the minute we found out I spent every hour day dreaming about how our future life would be. Only one week later I found myself writing different words, sharing the news that we lost our very loved little baby. That loss, and all that came with it, was incredibly traumatic for us all – both mentally and physically. I kept a diary of my miscarriage which was the hardest post I’ve ever had to write, until this one. Unfortunately grief is an awful thing. It manifests in different ways, it eats away at you from the inside out, it changes who you are as a person.
The last year has been awful, and unfortunately there is no happy ending. The relationship I previously felt so happy and safe in, the man that I previously loved and adored, it’s all changed. Slowly over the past 12 months the good times started to become outweighed by the bad. Slowly, without us even noticing at first, we slid further and further apart. We forgot how to communicate, we forgot how to work on the problems we had, we forgot to put each other first. Eventually I think we just stopped seeing each other entirely and became nothing more than room mates, passing each other through the day and the night.
We did have a lot of problems, a lot of our relationship and external factors were really hard work. Living together for the first time was far from easy, especially when you add a five year old to the mix. The house we had chosen because of its proximity to Dil’s forest school was in an isolated position, adding hours to Adam’s travel for work. We argued a lot about everything from parenting and family stuff, to who’s turn it was to wash up. How trivial it all seems now, how easy it would be to fix with hindsight and a little more empathy. I wish I could turn the clocks back, show us how stupid we were being and how easy it would’ve been to get back on track, but here we are.
Thinking of a life without Adam kills me and the real physical pain of a broken heart is almost too much to bear, but there is nothing I can do. Loving someone means wanting them to find happiness, and wishing that his happiness was with me doesn’t change a thing.
I’ll love him forever, and I wish him all of the happiness in the world. The last three years have been hard but they have been wonderful, and I’m grateful for every single day.
