What 31 Days of Mindfulness has taught me

The idea for 31 Days of Mindfulness came from a dark place. All the excitement over Christmas was upsetting me – and it wasn’t even yet December. I needed something to help me keep my mind off my dread of my first baby loss Christmas – I felt I would have exploded with fury, frustration and sorrow otherwise.

One night, I turned off social media and spent time looking – really looking at photos of Hugo – and found this beautiful one of him that sums him up perfectly.

Hugo

I was also trying to weed out unhelpful thoughts to replace them with more helpful ones, as well as trying to practice mindfulness. To me, mindfulness means being aware of my feelings, accepting them, and being more aware of the world around me.

So, I came up with an idea: I would post a photo on Instagram of something that represented how I was feeling, with the hashtag #31daysofmindfulness. You can read more about the background in this post.

I love pretty things, and I love taking photos of pretty things. Discovering Instagram last summer was very exciting for me. I’ve taken part in a couple of photo a day projects, but lost focus because they are prompt-driven, and there were so many days where I just couldn’t engage with the prompt.

So, no prompts in #31daysofmindfulness. Feel whatever I feel. Not judging those feelings.

Was it successful? It wasn’t about success or failure. #31daysofmindfulness was not a ‘cure’ for grief, nor was it intended to be. Basically because there is no cure for grief. It was about exploring different techniques to see what helps me work through my grief.

I have been so frightened of my dark feelings I have preferred to switch that part of my mind off, to ignore them. Ignoring them does not make them go away, sadly, so I needed to find a safe way to open myself up to them. Other parts of my brain are working overtime, trying to ignore the scary bits. It’s no wonder I am exhausted, and I know it is not a long-term strategy. Thinking about how I feel at that moment (rather than the whole day; like most people I have a variety of emotions throughout the day, whether or not they are bereaved) helped me open the lid of the scary box slightly and peek in to it.

When the thoughts do come to the fore, I judge them, telling them to go away, getting angry at them, and myself, creating a vicious circle. There is no right or wrong, here, but such a vicious circle fell in to the ‘unhelpful’ category, meaning I wanted to try to do something to change it. That is going to take an awful lot more time, effort and energy than taking one photo a day. However, recognising a feeling and representing it as a photo without further observation is a start.

Most of the photos relate to Hugo in some way, naturally. He is always on my mind. Missing him and feeling unbearably sad about not having him in my arms is foremost in my mind every day. There are many photos of Hugo stars!

This photo, of me having a TV day right at the beginning of the month reminded me that I need to do it more often. The TV day was the first time I had ‘allowed’ myself to sit and watch TV in the daytime (basically, to turn my brain off to relax), and it was good.

There are a few photos of the outside world. Recognising the beauty that can be found in the outside world.

This helped me find the beauty in Christmas, not least because everywhere was decorated in ‘Hugo stars’.

I was delighted that a number of other people joined in, each for their own reasons, and that they found it useful, too.

#31daysofmindfulness helped get me through a very tough month, and the Christmas/New Year season, in one piece.

I know it might not have been true mindfulness – accepting feelings for what they are, without judgement – one photo a day can’t achieve that – but even acknowledging the feelings has been an important step for me. I’ll carry on taking a photo every day detailing how I feel, for no better reason than it’s something I enjoy doing. They will be tagged #mindfulness – and as before, anyone is welcome to join in.

 

My first baby loss Christmas, survived

December 25 has come and gone. My first Christmas without Hugo, survived.

Christmas was a day I had not been looking forward to. In many ways, yesterday was no different to any other day since March 28 this year – I still woke up without my son, and I still faced another day knowing I would not be able to touch him, care for him, sing to him or read to him. Those simplest pleasures of a mother.

Christmas was dreaded because of everything it represents: happy family times, and the fact that this time last year I was pregnant and looking forward to the baby’s first Christmas this year.

The week hadn’t been great because I’d got a stinking cold/virusy thing that had laid me low, and with it my mood. I felt like everything was like walking through treacle.

Yesterday morning, I was awoken just after 8am with a paw in my face from Fat Cat, her gentle way of telling me she wanted to go out. She has been spending more and more time with us this week, and has been incredibly affectionate demanding lots of cuddles; I don’t know if it’s because her family has gone away for a few days and she is a clever cat who knows where the soft touch lives, or whether she wants to offer us comfort. Either way, Martin and I are grateful for her company.

Fat Cat cuddles

On the mantelpiece in our bedroom we display photos of Hugo, as well as some other special bits. Martin had set up some colour-changing lights on the mantelpiece as a surprise. The lights make the stars on the picture I made sparkle.

For the first time in a few days, I put some make-up on, styled my hair, and thought about my outfit. I chose a dress with a bright flowery print, and Martin wore a brightly-coloured shirt.

Yesterday wasn’t really about gifts, but people kindly bought us some. Hugo was remembered through these gifts, such as this beautiful Hugo stars bracelet from my Mum.

Martin’s gifts to me included Haruki Murakami’s latest book – a book I didn’t know was out, and I call myself a huge fan. I’ve lost a connection to things I once loved. Murakami is one of the authors whose books I will just pick up and read without pausing to look at what it is about – I know I will enjoy it regardless. Murakami’s new book is called The Strange Library. I love the old-fashioned library pocket on the cover. It is a beautifully-illustrated short story that I shall indulge myself in soon.

Martin says he bought it for me for inspiration, which is a great gift – reconnecting not only with my love of reading, but with my creativity and imagination. Murakami’s imagination is second-to-none – I find his books fascinating, partly because of the window in to Japanese culture and society, but also because his world is mesmerising, anything can happen. While I will not insult Murakami by comparing my writing to his, I hope to reconnect with that imagination and creativity – it is peeking out already, like little rays of sunshine in the dark.

We had the Parks and Recreation box set, but it was Game of Thrones we sat and watched. I’ve read all the books and have watched the series so far, but Martin hadn’t, and is now hooked too. It’s so good I don’t mind watching it again. In fact, the second time around is better, the third series in particular because there are certain storylines that divert from the book, which confused me during my first viewing. This time around, I can sit back and watch. As much as we like Parks, Thrones was an ideal choice yesterday because of the level of concentration needed to keep up with the story – it is engrossing.

There were some tears, inevitably. We thought of what should have been. Our cards to each other provoked tears; reminders that for a few hours on that day in February Martin was facing returning home alone. A Christmas with no baby and with no partner, either. It does not bear thinking about.

A Hugo star candle, a gift from my youngest brother.

Smiles were put on our faces by the beautiful gifts people sent us in the forms of texts and messages saying how they were thinking of the three of us: me, Martin and Hugo.  A gift that cost nothing, but was the most valuable of all. Thank you to everyone who took the time to do that – it meant so much.

I hope my readers enjoyed their Christmas. I hope Christmas was gentle to my readers who also have a broken heart.

The three of us

 

Christmas Presence

Visiting Hugo this morning, I took along four pine cones I had painted for him in silver and blue sparkles.

Suitable presents for Hugo’s garden is a challenge because they need to be able to withstand the elements. Painting the pine cones was a personal present from Hugo’s mummy and daddy (Martin helped) – especially considering how much I like sparkle.

It is a beautiful, bright and sunny day today. The sparkly twigs were shining, and the sparkly pine cones made a good complement.

The garden is a menagerie of animals, whirlygigs and flowers. Hugo’s solar-powered butterfly was fluttering away in the winter sunshine. I like to think it is Hugo saying ‘hello’ to us.

Most of the other babies’ gardens are decorated with Christmas things, and are adorned with toys and other personal bits and bobs. Some babies’ gardens are sadly overgrown – there are no items to show they are loved and remembered. There is one such baby in the plot next to Hugo. In the spirit of Christmas, Martin took one of Hugo’s windmills and placed it on the other baby’s grave. Hugo was sharing his toys so that another baby could have a present, something to show that he too matters and is remembered.

Thank you to everyone who has sent such kind messages saying they are thinking of the three of us this Christmas. The mention of Hugo really does mean the absolute world. Some of you who have got in touch have not met Martin or me, let alone Hugo. But whoever you are, you are very special to us, and we are so very grateful.

We wish everyone a very happy Christmas, wherever you are and whatever you are doing.

Special thoughts go out to everyone who is missing someone this Christmas – whether that someone is their baby, child, relative or friend. I am not going to list people for fear of missing someone out, but I know you know who you all are.

I also send love to the relatives and friends of those affected in disasters in the past couple of weeks, in this country, and in other places across the world. There is no ‘good’ time to lose a loved one, but Christmas amidst the rawness of the most awful early days of grief must be an additional torment.

Tomorrow will be a challenging day for Martin and I. Tomorrow should have been our first Christmas with our new baby. We should be helping Hugo unwrap more toys and clothes than one baby could ever know what to do with.

Instead, we shall celebrate his memory, and try to focus on all the joy he brought us. His presence remains.

 

Finding beauty in Christmas

Christmas preparations have been a torment to me, because my baby son Hugo died earlier this year. I have been wishing the festivities would hurry up and be over.

A friend challenged me to find the beauty in Christmas. “Yeah, whatever, there’s no way I’ll be able to do that” I thought at first. But, never being one to decline a challenge, I opened my eyes and realised that there is some beauty in Christmas.

No matter how much I might wish it, Christmas is not going to disappear. Getting continually stressed about Christmas joy – and my lack of it – was doing me no good at all. So, finding some beauty in the season – however tenuous it might be – has had a benefit.

In no particular order the Christmas beauties are:

Christmas decorations

I am a sucker for anything brightly-coloured and sparkly (I love sparkle!) and, of course, everywhere is covered in brightly-coloured sparkly things in the run-up to the big day. The decorations can make even the most drab building look pretty.

Stars are a huge feature of Christmas decorations. I have a bit of an obsession with stars due to their significance to me with Hugo. While I know the stars relate to the guiding star that is said to have guided the Three Wise Men to Bethlehem, I like to pretend they are celebrating my special little boy.

 

People being kinder to each other

The shops might be scenes of materialistic carnage, but conversely Christmas can also be a time when people make an extra effort to think of others. People contribute to food banks to make sure families in need have enough to eat; volunteer their time at homeless shelters and old people’s homes; or donate to charity the money they would have spent on Christmas cards.

There is beauty in all of these gestures.

Charities are for life, not just for Christmas – please remember to support them during the rest of the year, too.

Mince pies

I’m partial to mince pies, and like to get my fill of them. I like to think the mince pies find the beauty of Christmas in my tummy. Or my tummy finds beauty in them. Either way, they are yummy.

 

Elves on Shelves

While I still think they’re rather creepy, photos of elves who are usually not on shelves but are often in all sorts of bother have made me smile. Whether the scenarios have been dreamt up by the parents themselves or copied from Pinterest, many of them are pretty ingenious and funny.

First prize still goes to Whore in a Drawer. Funny and naughty. Naughty beats ingenious in this instance.

I have found some beauty in Christmas, but I still cannot generate any excitement for it. This Christmas, and every Christmas after will be missing Hugo, my first born, my precious boy.

I continue to do my best to avoid the happy Christmas telly ads. Christmas songs now have an added resonance (Mariah Carey warbling “Baby all I want for Christmas is you”) being a particular stab. Our house is still unadorned by Christmas decorations.

Our plans for Christmas Day involve wine, chocolate, and season 5 of Parks and Recreation.

It will be just another day to us, another day thinking of what should have been.

The true beauty of Christmas that will now never be.

 

 

 

Mindfulness

The focus of my week has been on mindfulness.

Various people have been encouraging (nagging 😉 ?) me to be kinder to myself. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to be kinder to myself, it is more that I have felt unable to. Not only has it been easier to keep myself busy so I don’t have to think about scary or awful memories, I have also been punishing myself. Irrational, I know, but that’s strong emotions for you.

Last Saturday I popped in to town seeking out a book a friend had recommended. I couldn’t find the book – it wasn’t in stock, so I ordered it, but while I was browsing in that section these two books caught my eye.

Serendipity, surely.

Mindfulness is another way of saying what my psychologist is trying to help me achieve: to feel ok about and accept however I am feeling, whether that feeling is happy, sad, or anything in between.

On Sunday, all the chatter over social media about Christmas preparations was, quite frankly, doing my head in, so I disengaged from it all and spent time looking through Hugo’s photos. As I’ve described in this post, doing such a simple thing was a revelation for me.

Drifting off to sleep last night, I hatched an idea: I would be mindful every day, and to hold myself to account I would post a photo on Instagram of something that had made me smile. If nothing had made me smile, I’d draw a picture that represented my mood and take a photo of that, instead. So, #31daysofmindfulness was created.

With Christmas being for me this year, being mindful is giving me something other than baring my teeth at festive joy to focus on.

Mindfulness has brought be some benefit this week: on Tuesday I did something unprecedented since I came home from hospital in London after Hugo died – I turned off my laptop and put the telly on. At 10.30am. It took a while to relax and get in to it, not just because daytime telly isn’t much good, but relax I did and I felt so refreshed for it.

This week’s mindfulness photos.

Christmas can be a stressful time for many people for all sorts of reasons. The pressure to be happy and full of joy all the time can get a bit much, so it can be good to have a bit of an outlet for the stress and feel able to say you’re just not feeling the joy – as well as being able to take a mindful breather amongst the hustle and bustle of gift buying, parties and all the other festive activities.

I am delighted that other people have chosen to join in, and are saying it has helped them, too. This gives me an additional happy feeling – I set it up thinking it was something I wanted to do, and if others wanted to do it too that was a bonus.

The moral: if you have an idea, go for it!