Elephant on my chest

Elephant on my chest. This is the only way I can describe how my emotional pain became physical. I felt as though my chest was being crushed and I was fighting for breath. It felt as though an elephant was sitting on my chest.

My elephant would appear on the train journeys to London, in those side rooms waiting to hear yet more horrendous news, telling my children that their baby sister was extremely poorly, signing consent forms, going through procedures, telling my children their baby sister had died, waking on the morning of my induction, walking through the labour ward doors, entering the room where I would ultimately give birth to Poppy, signing consent forms for a post mortem, entering the funeral directors for the first time, sitting in the car waiting to go into the church to say goodbye to our beautiful baby girl, just the thought of everything we were set to lose. These and a millon more moments.

On the morning we were going to London for Poppy’s procedure, we dropped the children at school (trying to keep some normality for them). After leaving them my elephant appeared and I was petrified. I have never, and will never be again, so scared, the fear of what was about to happen overwhelmed me. The fear of what we were consenting to overwhelmed me. I can remember someone saying to me I bet you feel like you want to climb out of your own body. And that was exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and run. Run as far away from our torturous reality as I could.

But this pain I was experiencing. The fear, the black hole I was falling through meant one thing. It meant that my precious baby would never, ever have to experience pain, fear, suffering and all the bad things our cruel world would ultimately throw at her.

All she felt was love. Love from us, her sister and brothers and from everyone else around us. She heard gentle voices, and words of love from us. And in return she taught us the true meaning of pure, selfless love. She taught us that sometimes we have to go through unimaginable pain to save others from their own.

So my elephant on my chest was my bodies way of physically experiencing just a little of my emotional pain. But if this meant Poppy would not feel an ounce of suffering then those elephants can just keep coming.

All content is my own thoughts, feelings, beliefs and experience from my own journey of baby loss. This post contains affiliate links, please see the Copyright and Disclosures page for more information.




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