And then I cried some more

So I'm training to be a homestart volunteer.  Inspired by monkey, I want to be able to make a difference to someone who might be in a similar situation to us a few years ago.  Homestart are a charity who match families with volunteers who help them in their home once a week.  The training is good; thought provoking.  At the first session we were asked to introduce oursleves to our neighbour.  I did and I told her about Monkey, Pickle & Wotsit.  When it was her turn to introduce me to the group, she didn't mention Monkey.  I completely understand why she may not have felt comfortable doing so but I now feel a little odd.  A bit like I'm denying he was ever here.

So this should be resolved next week.  The organiser has asked me to read a passage about how it feels to have a child with special needs.  There's a reading about planning to go to Venice but ending up in Holland.  I read it a few years ago when we had Monkey.  I thought it was good - it describes the sense of loss you might feel but also helps you to realise that Holland's not a bad place; just a different place.

I think I cried when I read it for the first time but after a while I thought yes, I like Holland, but I'd like to go to Venice too.  And that's when Pickle came along.

Anyway the point is, I've not read it for a while.  I think since before Alex died.  So I read it again.  Except I wasn't quite prepared for my reaction.  You see, I feel a bit like I've been banished from Holland, a place I once loved to be but now I don't belong there.  I can't go there.  Not in the same way.

Cue quite a lot of tears.  Good ones though, necessary ones.  Keeps me sane and helps me remember.

The good news?  From next week (whilst I may have cried in front of 14 women I barely know) I will at least no longer feel like I am denying Monkey.

Yesterday I cried

I'm driving the boys to the station to collect Daddy.  Wotsit has Alex bear with him (named after Alex the lion you understand). 

"Mummy, how old is Alex?"
"Alex bear?"
"No, Alex who would be our brother if he was alive."
"He'd be 7 sweetheart, nearly 8 - his birthday is just after Pickle's."
"That's not fair, he won't get any presents."
"Yes, he will" says Pickle "we can send him a balloon up in the sky."
"But how will it know which platform to stop at?"

Love you boys, all three of you.
x

Honoured

Unintentionally, I reached for one of my favourite tops this morning.  Comfy, slouchy GAP t-shirt.  I noticed a few holes in it (but wore it anyway).  It was only later today that I remembered I bought the top in my first shopping trip post Monkey dying.  It was noteworthy as shopping (like sex) was one of the frivolous activities that I couldn't bring myself to do for quite a while.  I made an exception for this top though as emblazoned across the front it said 'honoured'. And I felt honoured to have been Monkey's Mum.  And I still do. 

It's 5 years to the day since Monkey died. Ouch. Ouuuuch.  It's no wonder, the top has a few holes in it.

A little less like neglect

So.  A few weeks ago, I returned to the house we were selling (also known as the house where Monkey last was) to empty it.  We'd moved in a bit of a hurry (our house sale fell through, we weren't going to move then Pickle got into a good school so we decided to move anyway) and had been emptying the house in dribs and drabs.  I knew this was going to be the penultimate visit to the house (subject to everything going to plan!) and was a little apprehensive but I was focussed and okay.

Then the new purchasers popped over to measure up.  They're lovely.  We vaguely knew them before.  I knew that they had a duaghter who was stillborn and had empathised with them previously but hadn't mentioned Monkey - it was too raw at the time.  I was in the playroom with Liz (some of the playroom used to be Monkey's bedroom) and she pointed to where his bedroom was and said that was going to be her yoga room.  I really wanted to tell her about Monkey but couldn't speak.

Finally, we were all chatting in the kitchen and Liz mentioned that she's on a rota to mow the churchyard and I burst into tears (in a snorting kind of way) and had to leave the room.  She came after me (my husband didn't notice!!) and was lovely.  She knew about Monkey and had wanted to offer to place flowers on his plaque at appropriate times of the year if I wanted her to.  I don't need her to do that but occassionally wiping the grass away - that would be good.  To be honest just knowing there's somewhere there who knows his ashes (well some of them) are there is a good thing.  Feels a little less like neglect.  Thank you Liz.  And we have an open invite to pop in for tea if we are visiting.  It is nice to feel that I am not letting go completely.  Or at least that I don't have to if I don't want to.  Although the reality of going back in the future is a bit strange and I think that maybe there are only so many times I can say goodbye/cry.

We returned a couple of weeks later as Pickle wanted to say goodbye to the house properly and to go to the church.  I went with the boys to the churchyard and we left some beautiful orange gerberas.  I left a note which I read to the boys and Wotsit asked why I was talking strangely.  Pickle said he knew why and gave me a mammoth hug.

However much I tell myself that you are not there Monkey, it hurts.  It feels like a step away from you and I'm sorry.  If you'd been here, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have left.  I don't think I could have changed your care again.  But you're not here and I know it's okay that we've moved.  Things are going well and your brothers still talk about you all the time.  Wotsit is so like you and so interested in you (and dying generally!).  In some ways you are most definitely still with us.  

I love you beautiful boy. I miss you x

Perceptive Pickle

I miss our old house Mummy, not just because that's where Alex lived with us but because...

I think I tuned out at this point (sorry Pickle).  You went on to say something about how it was nice to come upstairs at night time if you had a nightmare so I could come back down and tuck you into bed.  Which I have to say surprises me a little given our current sleeping arrangements where you sleep with your brother and we're right next door - particularly given you are not all that brave.

Anyway, I know you are perceptive (I've said it before) but this surprised me.  Monkey died when you were 9 months old.  I thought you were attached to the house because you had a big bedroom, we had chickens, you had an awesome playroom, a massive garden, a ride on tractor, a lovely school and lots of friends nearby.

I wonder if you've heard me say this.  It's possible but I don't think you have.  I have said it a lot but I've always tried not to say it in front of you as you are a sensitive soul.  Plus you may have used it as a reason to persuade me to stay and I'm not sure I would have coped well with that.

Anyway, just so you know, I like that you said it.

x

Where am I now?

So, having reconciled myself to moving in the last post - helped a bit by a friend who said this "Guess re Alex, he isn’t here (physically), but he is here (in the way you/others have been influenced by him being him). However, he didn’t particularly influence the house. Therefore, although you’ll have lots of strong associations between him and the house (and finding ways of treasuring those is v important), equally important to acknowledge that the things he had the most impact on (you) aren’t changing, they’ll just be somewhere else geographically." - everything went pear shaped with the move!!

The day before exchange (only 3 people in the chain) the sale fell through.  Our buyers' buyers changed their minds!  Why the day before????  Can't remember all the emotions.  Definitely gutted.  I'd packed the entire house.  The boys had said goodbye to schools and nurseries.  I'd cried a lot about leaving.  We'd taken Pickle to see his new school.  We'd spent quite a lot of money on surveys, legal fees...  For the next few days, we hoped it might all come back together but no such luck.  

We'd rented a house in the area back in January to ensure we could enrol the boys in schools but had given notice on the property once the sale looked like it was going through.  That property was re-let the day the sale fell through!!!

The upside?  We hadn't been able to get both boys into the same school and I'd had no idea how we were going to manage that.  And we were buying a bungalow with the intention of making it two storey on a very limited budget.  Both things had been making me feel a bit sick.

So, after a lot of reflection, we decided to stay where we were, at least for the time being.  I was happy.  Pickle was very happy.  After the Easter holidays, I was going to phone Pickle's old school and ask if they would be happy to have him back.

So, we packed to go away on holiday, stopping in at our in-laws for 2 days on the way.  They live close to the rental house and husband went over to rescue his scooter which had been parked there.  He checked for post whilst he was there.  Amongst the parish council mags and solar energy flyers was a letter from the school we had really wanted Pickle to go to offering him a place after Easter.

Decisions, decisions...

If we were even going to move to this area, having the boys at the same school would be a big bonus.  But we'd told Pickle we weren't moving (albeit temporarily) and we had nowehere to live.  The offer of the school place was on the proviso that we lived at the rental property and I am, apparently, too honest for my own good so felt uncomfortable about living somewhere further away from the school and accepting the place.

That said, we decided we were going to try to find another property (hopefully closer to the school) and accept the offer.  So, the day before our holiday we drove home and collected Pickle's school shoes, grey trousers and husband's suits.  Worst case scenario we would stay with family until we found somewhere to live.

We went on holiday and had daily ups and downs as we tried to find a house.  Finally our letting agent took pity on us and let us have the rental house back (sorry other people who had thought it would be theirs).  I broke the news to Pickle knowing he'd be upset but also knowing he was having a fabulous holiday and that would get him through.

We left holiday to take up home in the rental property and Pickle cried a lot saying he wanted to go home to his house and to his school.  I comforted him but every inch of me was crying out "me too, me too".

Week one was very tough.  Day one, Pickle visited his school and we bought the uniform.  Day two, he started.  He was fab and, as expected, has settled well.  I cried A LOT.  Missing home, work, friends, some time alone, routine, a sense of purpose...

Husband was worried that he'd persuaded me to do something I didn't want to do and even though I was being reasonably irrational, I knew that wasn't true.  I think the ambiguity of the situation was making me unhappy.  If we'd sold the house, I'd have no option to return there.  I'm reasonably good at dealing with things and moving on when needs be but ambiguity isn't really my strongpoint.  I like certainty.  And I need a home.

And now?  I have a home (in fact, you could argue I have two!).  It's where we all are.  It's a well designed 2 bed semi.  It's small (smaller heating bills and less cleaning - yay) and homely.

We'll be okay.  Broke, but okay.  Let's hope we don't have to pay rent and a mortgage for too long...

Week Without Work One

My first week without work has come and gone.  It was an emotional week with lots of goodbyes.

I mostly packed the house up and cried a lot.  I cried every time I walked past the church where most of Monkey's ashes are.  I cried every morning when I dropped Wotsit off at nursery.  I cried when I sat in the garden and looked at the view.  I cried when I went to the park and it was everso everso peaceful.  I cried when a friend who lives nearby dropped in.  I cried when we went swimming for the last time ast the Special Needs School which Monkey woould have gone to.

The boys said goodbye to school and nursery.  I was very proud of them both - they will be missed by quite a few people.  And Pickle has his first Pen Pal.

We didn't exchange on the sale of our house and I have to confess to hoping that it falls through so that I don't have to leave but, after a lovely weekend with Husband and boys, I'm remembering that it doesn't really matter where we are.  We'll be okay.  There were good reasons to move and those haven't changed.  Losing connections with Monkey is by far the hardest thing and somehow I have to store them away (probably here) so they are not lost.

So, now I'm hoping it doesn't all fall through or I may be in trouble for wishing quite so hard...