Two Years & Three Months Later….

CaptureI was sent a link to this article and blog – – by a lovely lady called Ruth who is on my facebook and who I know through the Cleft Lip & Palate Association group on there. I was absolutely glued to this piece of writing, which is so from the heart I had tears in my eyes.

The piece is called “Two Years And Three Months Later” and the author summed up every single thing I’m feeling right now, yet Frankie has been gone for less than three months. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the pain of losing him is just as acute now as it was then. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of him constantly, I make sure I talk about him, say his name, and keep his memory alive. The whole point of launching Frankie’s Legacy as a charity is so that his death won’t be in vain, and that through his existence, memory and legacy we will be able to help others.

Like the author of this post, I remember being in hospital having Frankie in great detail. I remember being given the first dose of tablets to start my labour off, and the macaroni cheese I had for lunch which wasn’t particularly appetising. I remember being in the room waiting for labour to start and watching Jasper Carrott and Morecambe and Wise clips on our tablet to pass the time, and laughing at things like Jasper’s mother in law sketch, and Andre Previn on Morecambe and Wise. Like the author it seemed a bit strange and perverse that we were laughing at a time like that. I can’t watch or even think about Jasper Carrott or Morecambe and Wise without remembering that time in hospital.

One thing I did do very early on was go straight back to the delivery suite the week after I had Frankie, so that I could give the midwives and staff who looked after me a box of cupcakes. It was the LAST thing I felt like doing, and the thought of going back there so soon brought me out in a cold sweat. But I had to do it, I had to face the fear and do it anyway. I will always associate the Worcestershire Royal Hospital with the pain of delivering Frankie knowing that he would never open his eyes and never cry, but I had to face it head on as soon as possible as I wouldn’t be able to avoid the hospital. My father-in-law was in hospital for quite a while there after Frankie was born and I went up there to see Rev’d David Southall, and Rachel Carter. And each time I went, the association became slightly less. I had to do the same with Birmingham Women’s Hospital when I went up there to see Dr Denise Williams and Professor Mark Kilby about Frankie’s chromosome 15 duplication but I got through it, just about.

My husband and I are now trying again for another baby. I don’t like the term “rainbow baby”, so I won’t use it. I will know by this time next week whether our first attempt has been successful or not, although I can’t imagine that it will be this early on, it will probably take a good long while. I can’t help but feel that us trying again for another baby already is disrespectful to Frankie somehow. But the sad truth is I just don’t have time to wait as I am 41 in October this year. I have been trying for over ten years now to have a baby and I could easily give up now after losing Frankie, draw a line under it and say to myself “that’s it, no more”. But I have to give it just one last shot. If I don’t get pregnant or there is a problem with the baby if I’m pregnant again, then that will well and truly be it. I can’t keep going through the pain, the heartache and the devastation. I thought the pain and hurt of the miscarriages I had in the past was bad enough, but they don’t compare at all to the pain I feel now for having lost my Frankie.

I just wish I had a bit more time on my side.

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