End and Beginning

It’s odd how a make or break moment of my life has come down to a plastic stick and three minutes. That’s not something you foresee when you imagine how your life might pan out.

Of course, they were three minutes that felt like a complete eternity, sitting together in the darkness of our bedroom at 6am, unable to prolong the agony by waiting for the sun to rise.

When the clock had ticked its full three revolutions, we made our way, hand-in-hand, back to the bathroom. And there one life – or it’s promise at least – ended, and another began.

Negative.

Failure.

There will be no second baby for us. No sibling for our son.

No happy ending here. Just the beginning of an acceptance that you can’t always get what you want. That dreams don’t always come true.

But then I always knew that and perhaps I was greedy to expect anything else.

We clung to each other in the pitch darkness for a long time. Long enough for salty tears to make my eyes to puff up and stick together. Long enough for my neck and head to begin to ache from crying, until I realised that the strange, animal-like sound I could hear was my own sobs.

Grief is completely real even when what you’ve lost is something that you never even had, at least not outside your dreams. I know that now.

But life goes on.

Thomas stirred, and rose from his bed wanting to play trains.

And so there we began a new life. It’s one where hope is gone, but replaced at least with some degree of certainty. The certainty that we are, and always will, be a family of three.

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I know it could be a lot worse. But it still hurts like hell.

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6 Replies to “End and Beginning”

  1. Oh Caroline. I’m so sorry.

    I am, as ever, in awe of your eloquence in writing all this down.

    I wish I could say something useful but I don’t think there is anything. You’re in my thoughts.

  2. Oh I am so so sorry to hear this. I know there are no words that can be of any comfort right now but know that I’m thinking of you. Be gentle with yourself, you weren’t wrong to dream or to hope and you’re allowed to grieve what will not be. Xx

  3. Oh I just don’t know what to say, I just couldn’t read and run. I guess “I’m so sorry” but I doesn’t somehow feel like enough.
    It is the start of a new life and a new future for you all. But take the time to grieve for the future you were dreaming of. Sending lots of love. x

  4. I know that anything I say right now won’t take your pain away but I do want you to know that I’m here, thinking of you and sending hugs.
    I also know the importance of giving yourself time to grieve, to hurt and to heal.
    We are all here with you. xo

  5. I just cried reading this. I’m so sorry hun. I found your blog and it has helped so much and I was just hoping for you this would work. You can only do so much, and go through this and the disapointment so much. I get it. Its not fair. But I understand needing to move on with your life. I wish you peace and happiness!!

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