Remy

So, Eleanor had the miscarrage at the hospital, I don’t know what I can say about it to be honest. It was hard, I shut-down and burried myself in the laptop whilst Eleanor was going through it. I just didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t help, I couldn’t take it on, I couldn’t fix it, I froze, I burried myself into something I could control and fix and I’m ashamed of myself for that.

Eleanor was able to ‘give birth’ to a sack so we had something to see which in a way was nice because we could just imagine our little one in there, it gave us something to see and to think of as the child that never was.

Another failure in me was that I just wanted to leave as soon as possible - I just wanted to get away - It wasn’t until Eleanor mentioned that she felt bad that we just left our child in a cardboard box in the hospital, and when I was on an extended ride that it really hit home. Wow! We just LEFT them there. I hadn’t thought about it properly until then, and I know we couldn’t take them with us or anything and they’d be treated with respect and then cremated and laid to rest at a local burrial grounds, just thinking that we left them there…. wow..

We are naming them ‘Remy’ after a tulip we found in the garden in Amsterdam (when we still thought we were pregnant) we liked the name and feel it’s a nice name to use. Interestingly, we both see them as a girl - we envision a little girl with dark hair and a cheeky smile. Looking into the Theology we beleive in life beginning at conception, so they were a person, with a soul and will be there when we die. It’s interesting to think that my mum will have met our child before we do.

Another difficult thing to come to terms with is that the whole time we were telling people (we did start telling people early, but it coincided with when we were seeing people), Remy wasn’t alive any more. We were excitedly telling people and making plans, we even bought a squishmallow for them (something we do for our godchildren and something we wanted to do for them). All that has now been packed away; the books, the little bits we excitedly bought (we have the squishmallow in our room, watching over us as we imagine Remy is).

The thing is, my ‘behaviour’ or way of dealing with Eleanor miscarrying highlighted something Eleanor brought to our counsellor and we began investigating together. It’s very possible that I’m Autistic and possibly have ADHD (the combination being called AuDHD) and it’s a diagnosis I’m persuing through out doctor, this is also something I’m going to explore here and process in the hope that processing it will help me but also that it might help someone else going through the same thing.