I held a baby for the first time since Cacia’s death. I am coming up to nearly 2 years since Cacia died, and I have only now held a baby. I don’t know if it’s odd that I haven’t until now, but to be fair the loss of a baby is, in itself, an odd circumstance.
I know that after Cacia’s death, in the early months I actively avoided pregnant mothers, newborns, babies – not easy when you attend baby/toddler groups – but, I think I managed it without being rude, maybe I just came across as a bit of an oddball. Eventually I got past needing to avoid mothers-to-be and babies, but I just haven’t actively sought to hold babies. I didn’t this time either, I was asked to hold baby so mum could sort herself to feed baby. I couldn’t say no, I had no polite and socially acceptable reason to say no, so I didn’t. I held baby, I jiggled fussy hungry baby so mum could get ready to feed and then I returned baby. It was quick, less than a couple of minutes, although it felt timeless.
It was emotional, I felt myself tear up, thankfully no one noticed, if they had I, probably, would have broken. Holding that baby was a reminder of what we lost, of what Cacia was never and will never be. It was a reminder that when I held Cacia in my arms for the first time she didn’t fuss, didn’t wriggle, snort, snuffle, cry or root for the boob. Cacia was still, beautiful, but so still and she remains frozen in both time and memory. I mourn the loss of her and of what she will never be. Holding baby, reminds me of everything.
I know that the real emotion of today won’t come out until tonight, until the day is done and I am in the dark. It is only in the dark, with no distractions that I will allow myself to feel it all; the loss, the pain and the beauty of holding a live baby. There is no option to let go now, there is still much to do: Tyrant needs picking up from school, a thousand and one questions need to be answered, lunch needs to be made, trip to the park, dinner to be made, bed time boogie to be done, dog to be walked, last kisses and cuddles to be given 15 times before, finally, it is time for bed and I can allow myself to process my thoughts, feelings, and grieve, again, for what is forever lost.
I know tonight will be what it needs to be, it will be painful and raw, but it will be cathartic and necessary. I know from experience, allowing the trigger to be pulled is better for me than ignoring the click. Tomorrow is another day, and back in the light I will return to surviving, living and functioning.