We wanted to try again as soon as it was safe, Despite what we already knew about how ill I’d been physically, despite the risks to my health, the need for pre-conception surgery and then a C-section, despite the GP who told me I should never have had my first pregnancy. Despite illness, and worry, I’d felt so well and more happy than I had felt for many, many childless years.
Two weeks after we lost our baby, on the 25th of December 2013 (if there is a worse date to lose baby I can’t imagine it) we were ready to try again and had finally celebrated Christmas Day on Twelfth Night, the old English festival that marks the end of the Christmas season and was considered the beginning of the new year before £1st December was popularised as party time.
Two days later, we went downstairs to collect the post. In the post was a letter from my husband’s estranged sister telling us that _her son_ had killed himself on the 6th of January due to mental health issues.
Time stops as you grieve for someone else. Time stops at the point at which you were forced NOT to grieve, if you CAN’T grieve for them, if you WANT to be selfish and grieve _your _ own pain.
My sister-in-law was a selfish, self-centred, egotistical bullying woman and she made her son’s life a living hell. Both he and I attempted suicide because of her abuse. I failed and lived to be reminded of that fact when the G.P. told me that my ‘mental health’ meant that I ‘must have an abortion’.