I’m going to be honest with you, you’re not my favourite month of the year. In fact, for myself, you represent a time of pain, grief, loss and unknowing. I know it’s not your fault, but I really don’t like you.
Last year I managed to avoid you to the best of my ability. This year, I have found myself wanting to face you head on. I thought by working together, you and I may be able to turn our relationship around and create memories that may not be as painful. Because you encompass alot of dates and triggers for me. You are everything Evalyn. Yet, at the same time, you made this month her little sister’s birthday month too and in doing so, have moulded me into an emotional mess.
There’s alot to navigate my way through. Reminders. Flashbacks. . . .
6th November. My last happy memory of life before loss.
7th November. The day Evalyn kicked her last.
8th November. The day Evalyn was born.
9th November. The day we signed Evalyn’s post mortem paperwork. The day we said goodbye and the day we told her brother that she wasn’t coming home.
10th November. The day we met with the bereavement midwife. The day I saw that little rainbow in the sky and instantly thought of my little girl.
22nd November. Evalyn’s due date.
24th November. Evalyn’s funeral.
29th November. The day, one year later, when we were blessed with Iola.
You see, November? There’s alot to think about. And this doesn’t even take into consideration all of those memories inbetween these dates. The organising of her funeral. Our first night home without her. Sitting in her nursery staring at the walls. . . .
It’s fair to say that although this month has been hard, I no longer see you as the enemy I once did. This month I’ve been trying to find ways to work on our relationship. I have spent alot of time reflecting and finding ways to smile amongst my own grief. We even made Evalyn’s birthday a nice day to look back on; autumnal walks in her special place. Fireworks, lanterns and toasted marshmallows. I went to bed the night of her birthday feeling so surrounded by love for Evalyn that it was almost hard to feel sad. Feeling sad would have punctured that bubble I was surprisingly in and I didn’t want that to happen.
November, I think you and I will always have a love/hate relationship. I can’t love you completely and I can’t dislike you completely either. Yes, you remind me of my grief but in doing so, you remind me that you are the month that brought both my daughters into my life. You are the month where I will always have to celebrate them in very different ways. But you are also the month that makes me feel eternally grateful that I am a mummy to both of them.
Have I cried this month? Yes. Alot.
Have I laughed this month? Yes.
Will I always find myself dreading our yearly meeting? Yes.
But perhaps, in time, I will learn to like you again.
Until next year, November. . . .
One thought on “Until next year, November”
Very touching. Hugs.
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