Oliver’s Story is a series of posts sharing the experiences of a friend as she comes to terms with the loss of her baby boy, born in October 2005.
Ok I am not one to be scared of many things but during my school years I had a big phobia of spiders. If I saw one I would sweat and my heart would race I would not be able to take my eyes off the thing so that it would not escape and hide under my bed. I still dislike them but I can deal with them
When I became a mother to my daughter Eleanor I developed a few phobias that came out of my primal instinct to protect her at all costs. One being flying, it did not stop me flying from London to Washington to visit my sister. In fact my daughter, who is only 18 months, has done the same trip four times in her brief life. But on each occasion I cannot sleep a week before. I start getting night sweats and feel so mean taking my precious daughter half way around the world for my benefit. But we always survive and I promise not to do it until she can say “mama, I want to go”.
But since the death of Oliver I have a new phobia to deal with and unfortunately it is pregnant women. Before Oliver I would marvel the beauty of pregnancy, now my heart races and my hands sweet and I want to throw up. The mere mention of another friend or family member’s pregnancy sends me into mourning. It still remains beautiful and mesmerizing, but to me it’s a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been, mine.
I don’t want to be this bitter and sad person that I have become. I don’t like the side of my personality that comes out when I see my friends pregnancy’s flying past all my milestones. It is not that I am not happy for them, indeed I am, but I am angry that I have become a woman with frequent miscarriages and a stillbirth to add to her list.
Yes I know I am lucky that I have a daughter, thank you for saying. Oh and I know I am lucky I can get pregnant when so many can’t. But, you know what, I did not feel lucky the day I gave birth to Oliver or the day I gave him back to the earth. I did not also feel lucky having to endure a second D&C.
This said, the day I left Oliver at the hospital and was wheeled out empty handed I entered my home and into the arms of my sweet, veggie-mite-smelling, Ellie. I picked her up and she cuddled into me. When she saw my tears she handed me her dirty, much loved, blankie. I looked around, the room was full of her building blocks and her little socks were laying there, her bibs, her things were everywhere and I thanked God for her.
I can definitely relate to this phobia, particularly in the early days. I remember being in Marks and Spencer during a crowded pre-Christmas sale and seeing pregnant women everywhere. It felt suffocating and I just had to get out of the shop. As time goes by I think it’s not as hard, although I imagine it being harder for mums who have lost a child than dads.