Departures

Eight weeks after having Ottilie we got on a plane.

As I lay in theatre with Ben by my side only hours after we had learned that our baby had died, we knew that a trip away would be something we wanted to do. We chatted to the anaesthetist about places we could go and things we could do, a great distraction technique from him and a momentary release from the shock and distress of what was unfolding around us.

At that stage it felt like an instinctive need to get away, running from the possibility of being surrounded by everything that would remind us of what should have been. Time changed that and I started to realise that it was more about healing, time to reflect, reset ourselves as individuals and as a couple.

Once we arrived home I became very attached to the comfort of the surroundings that at first I was afraid of. It felt good to be in the home we have built together and there was so much comfort in the walls of our safe space. I felt anxious at the thought of being away too long and couldn’t bring myself to spend a night anywhere else. Until we had a funeral for Ottilie I couldn’t be anywhere but home.

There were times when I just couldn’t believe what was happening was real and maybe there was a tiny chance that someone would call me at home and tell me there had been a mistake, maybe I would wake up in my bed and my bump would still be there, maybe I would wake from this nightmare and she would be in the crib beside the bed where she was supposed to be. All momentary glimmers of misplaced hope that I suspect will haunt me for some time.

Once we began to plan a service for Tillie the need for travel became stronger and the focus of planning a trip was a perfect antidote to the daunting task of funeral decision making.

It is a trip we were never supposed to take but one that we hope will give us some freedom to think, space to heal, time to talk and a sense of moving forward.

So far it is doing just that.