A battle with birthdays

Over the last 12 months I’ve tried and I will try Tes to remain positive, to dig and find a way. However the days rolling towards your birthday have been a fight to get a few words out of my head. Tes should be 16. You – should be 16 on the 7th May 2014.

The pain sometimes inside is actuallly indescribable (and that is annoying Tes as you know how I like words!). Grief isn’t what I imagined it to be, sometimes because I can’t believe I’m still standing and sometimes because I can’t believe the pain we can bare. Grief like this fills your body with guilt and physical pain and every morning it is a battle to go to war with that emotion and fight it until you have won. I don’t often talk about the depths and the magnitude of finding strength but this week the fight is harder, the resolve is weaker, the rational me is knocked down and the Tesni filled hole within not just my heart but my whole body has been difficult to bare.

I go back to the GP who often is in my thoughts because when I feared how I felt he tells me I am sad and it is ok to be sad and I feel better because I know it’s normal. I’m so sad Tes, that you’re not here for your birthday, really fucking sad (sorry you know I like to swear sometimes).

We even planned your 16th, we were going to have one of my ‘famous’ cocktail parties like the one we’d had for my 40th where we all dressed up to the 70s theme – some of the outfits are scarred on my brain! So yes, we were going to have a cocktail party (watered down of course!), we were going to have a gazebo in the little garden and we were going to have hundreds of glittery lights. We decided that we would hire a DJ and they would be in the open kitchen with their decks and the dining room would be the dance floor. It was going to be a mixture of your friends, family and all our friends to celebrate you Tes, being 16. Now we can’t and I hate that. I do. I hate it.

So I’m back to having to remind myself of what I have had, the years I had with the most beautiful girl I know and I am thankful, so thankful. The day you and your brother were born were the two most magical days of my life. I love being a mum, I loved making up stories about teletubbies and watching you run an imaginary shoe shop as a toddler. I loved watching you and your brother making snowmen and playing ‘house’. I loved reading to you every night and I loved watching you grow into this most amazing talented, clever, bright, fair, sparkly and funny young woman.

I miss you Tes and I’ll miss the party we should have had for your 16th birthday. Then I will carry on Tes and keep finding a way to make our life not one where we exist but where we keep making each day the best one we can, in your memory and for ourselves. We have to.

I can’t say Happy Birthday because unfortunately it isn’t but I will think of you my precious girl who should be 16.

I love you.

Mum xxxxx



7 thoughts on “A battle with birthdays

  1. Love you Dwys and I wish she could be here, just being Tes, a wonderful first grandchild, who showed me how to be a grandparent. A wonderful girl. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  2. Ms. This trying to be positive is just as hard as the pain that washes over us, day after day. Your girl is beautiful. Her life was filled with many shared joys. Those plans for Tes’s 16th were wonderful, magical, and so full of love. You two got to imagine and plan what you would do and in a way, there is a kind of shared celebration in that. I know it’s not the same, I know how much this hurts. But just want to send you love from one grieving mother to another.

    1. Thanks I know you get it..I think of you often which may sound odd over a blog…as you said being positive is a battle itself at times and take a mountain of energy. Thank you so much xx

  3. Awww, my heartfelt sympathy to you on the loss of your beautiful Tes. Birthdays… Ugh … There are no words to adequately express what a day which was filled with so much joy for many years feels like now. Amy’s birthday was last Tuesday. My heart breaks for any mother who knows that pain.

    1. Thanks for your lovely comment. It is heartbreaking. Sometimes though the smallest things are worse than those days you expect to be. Maybe because you prepare for birthdays. I passed the swimming pool where I spent hundreds of times with Tes and her brother and for some reason that day it made me so sad. Triggers can just appear. So sorry for your loss and wish I could say something better.

      1. I understand. The ambushes are everywhere. While preparing dinner last night, it dawned on me that this was one of Amy’s favorite dinners and I burst into tears. I probably made this recipe at least one or two other times in the course of the past year, yet last night it just hit me in a different way. So sorry we have both suffered the loss of our girls.

      2. You write and I ‘get’ every word. I came across a board game we played often yesterday. It broke my heart. I’m sorry too… I often wish things could just be ‘normal’.

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