I found out about 30 minutes ago that one of our children died this morning. A freak home accident. I am in complete shock and feeling a bit floaty. I’m not sure how to move forward, so I am just trying to organize my life, my stuff. My two housemates and I are sad, and not sure how to process next steps.
I held and hugged him on Friday, two days ago. I changed his nappy on Tuesday. He sat on my lap and said “yeah” to every question I asked. Sweet and amenable. Earnest and kind. Eager to make connections with the adults in the room, and always happy to come for his visit.
I can’t say that I’m gutted. I can’t even state yet that I will miss him. I am in an emotional stasis.
*
My director called to see how we (the volunteers) are doing. She described herself as “completely gutted”, but that she didn’t need anything at the moment. I am relieved to be in a place where everyone’s well-being is considered important, and where people are willing to check in.
She had also put in a message to the social worker who is currently staying with the mummy, checking in to see how she’s doing. In-hospital procedures are not nice, and I’m sure there will be an autopsy to get through.
There is nothing for us, as a group, to do right now. We may not be getting the other siblings this week, as the house has closed up, and the other children are with relatives. It feels a bit like standing on the edge of a nightmare, and I have to turn away every so often, so I don’t get sick and overwhelmed.
*
The three of us in the house (4 if you count a housemate’s girlfriend) have been separating to self-care, and then coming back together throughout the day. One asked for a hug. One is stress cleaning. I am floating between my laptop and the tv and got in a small walk with the dog. It’ll be time for bed soon.
Tomorrow morning the whole team will come in late, as group has been cancelled. Plans will be laid out for the coming weeks, as we process the death of this child, and the impact COVID-19 may have on our ability to stay open.
Brooklyn to Belfast 
Oh my dear friend. There are no words. There is just nothing, nothing to say about the extreme grief of a little life gone too soon. You are so good at being good to others, I know you will save some of that for yourself. Hugs across the vast pond.
LikeLike
Your reminder to be kind to myself is helpful. I do feel your love and support. It helps me to move forward, so I can do what might be needed here.
LikeLike
I’m so sorry, Pam. I will keep you in my thoughts and intentions as well as this sweet child’s family. Lots of love to you in these trying and uncertain times.❤️
LikeLike
Thank you Mary. It does feel good to know you’re thinking about all of this with me, and the people I’m with. I am so appreciative.
LikeLike
Love sent to you and the poor family of the baby. ❤
LikeLike
Thanks sweet friend. We are all heavy hearted over here, but it was so good to see each other at work and talk.
LikeLike
I am so sorry! It is a terrible thing, I know! I found out about one of my patients passing away on tv a few years ago, it was on the news, a freak accident. It is heartbreaking, the only way is to just keep going. Try not to absorb all of the family’s grief, it will be too much and it wont help them. I am glad you have co-workers to share with in this terrible time. >
LikeLike
Thanks Ingrid. You popped into my head actually. I remember that. Your advice on not absorbing the family’s grief is so helpful to me. Today it felt good to be with the crew.
LikeLike
Sad, just very sad… hold onto the good times.
LikeLike
So sad. Thank you Peter.
LikeLike