Tidings of comfort and joy

The festive period was always going to be tough. It is impossible to spend time with family and friends without thinking about her, without imagining what Christmas would have been like.

At 8 months old she would have had her first taste of Christmas dinner, well some suitable mushy veg that would have probably ended up squashed through sticky fingers more interested in the choke hazard remains of christmas crackers. Would we ever have managed to calm the excitement of grandparents who would almost certainly have broken any promises not to spoil her? How bad would my hangover have been after the work christmas party that I would have almost certainly gone to and regretted that one last drink the next morning?

Christmas has set me back again. I never expected grief to be linear but the bouncing around can be exhausting.

As the festivities began it really highlighted how far away I feel from being either my old self or the one I was expecting to be. Often first to the bar and almost always the last one to leave, I couldn’t find it in me to celebrate. As the shops filled with gift sets and the supermarkets stocked up with sprouts I couldn’t connect with any of it.

I was back to struggling just to be normal. Flashbacks and dreams returned.

I couldn’t write a Christmas card. They were supposed to say “with love from Katie, Ben and Ottilie” this year.

We told our families some time ago that we thought the best thing for us would be to take ourselves away for Christmas. It took some time to work out where or what to do because who knows if it is the right thing?

By being away from home we are able to control how much Christmas we expose ourselves to (not much at all) and give ourselves moments to reflect on what should have been in our own time. We are able to get through this first one and protect Christmases to come from any sad memories as we get stronger for the future. We gave ourselves a focus other than what we are so deeply missing.

What I wouldn’t give for dragging myself around the supermarket at 7am to avoid the rush, for trying to work out when to open presents to please everyone and how to avoid talking about politics at the Christmas dinner table. Not this year.

Maybe next year will need a little less comfort and have a bit more joy.

With love from Katie, Ben and Without Ottilie.