Tonight something happened to me.
I went to the hospital to visit some really good, close friends and celebrate the arrival of their gorgeous newborn son.
In this same hospital, just over 10 years ago, merely 100 meters down the corridor, my gorgeous newborn son, first born only son, passed away.
Since that day, 10 long years ago, I had been avoiding the hospital for numerous reasons.
But tonight I went in with a heart of joy and happiness. My hands full of gifts for this new boy and his doting parents. What an amazing family unit they have become.
I was struck with mixed twangs of pain and excitement as the new parents asked me for any advice I had to help them survive this initial period. I once imagined that this would be me. It was hard.
I felt inexperienced giving advice, like somewhat of a fraud, as the feelings of failure and guilt have never really left me and I felt wrong giving them tips, as all my surviving babies were girls.
It was a huge fight for me to beat that inner voice and realise that these new parents respect me and admire the job I have done raising my girls and I should really do the same for myself.
Give myself a god damn break.
Holding their beautiful baby boy and listening to them starting their family life really hit me harder than I thought it would. So much so that it's after midnight and I was silently weeping on my couch and it was in such a good way... a way that made me realise I've been holding these feelings for far too long. In all honestly, how can I possibly expect to help others unless I have first known how to help myself and except help from others.
These friends of mine will make amazing parents. I'm so privileged to have them in my life and, without even knowing it, they've helped me to heal and what a surprise that was for me.
Be kind. x