positivagirl

Life – its all about perception. Life, is exactly how you perceive it to be.

My first and biggest lesson of this, was back in 2010. It was June. Early June. My daughter had died at full term pregnancy in January 2010. I had just gone back to work, 16 weeks later.

My work, was working with homeless people. My office was based in a hostel. We worked to provide supported housing to people that were homeless and vulnerable and waiting to be housed by the local council.

I wasn’t looking forward to going back to work. As my child had died and i knew that there would be pregnant women and babies there. But work were kind. They said that I didn’t have to work with those cases and they would allocate me different clients.

All should have been well. But life was still to teach me. My first client was an 86 year old Scottish lady. She had a round smiley face, big glasses, and really reminded me of Mrs Doubtfire.

Returning to work, was staged, so I wasn’t working full time at first. It was my last client on my first week back, and I glanced at my watch, it was time for me to go home. My client asked “why are you leaving early?” “Oh, I said, rather hurriedly, I have been off for a while and am working shorter hours for few weeks” I secretly hoped that she would be happy with this answer and I could leave.

Her interest peaked, and I knew she was going to ask me further probing questions. I fidgeted on the spot. “So, you have been ill?” It felt like more a statement than a question. I could tell that she was looking for further information, but was determined not to tell her. I gave what i thought would be the safest, least complicated answer. “No”, I said with a feigned smile. I thought as fast as I could….. ummm…..”I have had a baby” I blurted out.

Mrs Doubtfire’s face creased into a smile, and she peered at me, pushing her large spectacles further up her nose. “Oh, and how old is your baby?” I froze, what was I to say to this? I paused, and glanced at her. She was waiting for an answer. At that moment, I debated what would I say? I couldn’t now lie. It was true that i had been off because I had a baby. But of course, my daughter was no longer alive.

I weighed it up, and decided to be honest. But that I would just be matter of fact about it. I weighed it up in my head, did I dismiss her? Did I lie? What should I do? So, I decided, to go with it, and tell her. “Well, I said, unfortunately my daughter died”. I honestly didn’t know what else to say, I could hardly say I had a 4 month old little girl. Although that to me, was the reality, I knew that if I said that, then I would be open to further questions. I knew that I could get into trouble for saying this.

She broke into a smile “ah, a miscarriage, i had one of those” she said with a strong Scottish accent. I was slightly offended at this, she didn’t understand. “No, I said, its wasn’t a miscarriage, it was s stillbirth. I was full term, my daughter was 7lb 4oz”. She looked at me slightly puzzled. “Ah, is that what they call it these days? stillbirth, there is a fancy term. Yes, I had one of those”. I thought she still wasn’t quite grasping what I was saying, my child died at FULL TERM, I thought to myself, desperate to get home, and starting to feel quite uncomfortable.

Mrs Doubtfire looked wistfully at a photo of a woman in her 30′s, that stood on her dresser. It was a nice photo, in a frame, a pretty lady with dark hair. She continued, “yes, I had one of those, I was a 21 year old girl, it was 65 years ago. She continued, I was 40 weeks”. I started to pay attention. So, she really did understand…

Her voice quietened, as she continued with her story ‘I knew that there was something wrong, i gave birth to my baby, and I could hear the midwife’s whispering. They said nothing and moved me to a ward. I had been there for three days, people were sat with their babies. Everyone, except me. Then my mum came to see me. She was dressed in her Sunday best. I had been there for three days on my own, she was my first visitor. My mum leant over the bed and whispered ‘so, they told you then’? ‘…….. “whoever she meant by ‘they’ hadn’t but I just nodded my head. This was how i knew that my baby was dead. She said there was no funeral, nobody spoke to her about anything. She didn’t even know what the sex was.

‘Don’t worry she said, you will have another child, I expect a little girl too, to replace the one that you have lost’ I knew that she was probably wrong. I was now 41, and her father had left 6 days after she died. As a single woman this wasn’t very likely. She then moved and picked up the photo in a frame, she looked lovingly at the photo, and stroked the glass with love. I did, she said, ‘this is my daughter Karen” and she handed me the photo in a frame. “I became pregnant with her the year after I lost my baby. She was my only child. Unfortunately, she died at the age of 36. This is her, just before she died”. I looked at the photo of the woman in a frame, and Mrs Doubtfire looked across at me with pride and a nod.

I went home from work that day, knowing that i had learned an important lesson. With my daughter, there had been a big thing. I had held her for days, a dead child. Attended a funeral, she has a grave. She has a name, Maya. Yet my perceptions, despite we had been through identical things, were totally different to the other lady who had lost her full term baby too.

My experiences caused a bond with my daughter, which made losing her incredibly difficult. Dressing her in clothes, arranging a funeral, yes, did make her my daughter, but it immediately made her my dead daughter. I wondered at that point, who had the worse deal? Me who had everything – or this lady, who didn’t even know the sex of her child? I had made so many complaints after my daughter died. Yet this woman, had her baby at full term, and nobody even told her that her child was dead. In fact, nobody told her at all, she had to figure it out for herself.

Our experiences couldn’t have been more different. Yet, they were the same. But, our perceptions were completely different. I wondered at that point, if the way that I had done it was actually harder, more difficult, or whether it was easier? Is it easier to have a grave, is it easier to go through a funeral? Is it easier to hold your dead child for days, and then bury her, when you have never seen her alive? In our efforts to make things better for ourselves, do we actually make things more difficult? This lady, taught me something that day. That no matter what you go through in life, its all about perception.

By Changing Your Thinking
By Unknown

By Changing Your Thinking,
You change your beliefs;

When you change your beliefs,
You change your expectations;

When you change your expectations,
You change your attitude;

When you change your attitude,
You change your behavior;

When you change your behavior,
You change your performance;

When you change your performance;
You Change Your Life!

I had often thought that our lives are mapped out before us, before we are born. To choose the lessons in life that we need to learn, to grow for the spiritual growth that we need.

But what happened at death, I had little knowledge about.

My grandmother was 93 when she became sick in 2011. It was unfortunate, as my own daughter had died the previous year in 2010. Because of this, i had avoided my grandmother. I knew that she worried about me, if things were difficult for me. I loved her very much, and she meant a lot to me and so I didn’t want to be a burden to her.

Because of this, in 2010, and 2011, I called her less often and I saw her less often. This hurt her, but, I was trying to protect her. I didn’t want her to worry about me.

My father had said that my grandmother was sick and in the hospital. But, I couldn’t go. I had severe post traumatic stress disorder, and I couldn’t face hospitals. My grandmother was old skool, of a different generation. To her, babies died, and you got up and got on with it. it happened in her generation all the time.

Shortly before she died, I became concerned, as I was calling her and nobody answered her phone.

This particular day, I was so concerned that she hadn’t answered her phone, and I had tried to call her for more than a week. So, to check that she was ok, I called the manager of the nursing home she was living in. She told me that my grandmother had not been too well. But that they had now moved the phone right next to her bed, and so, if I called then she should pick up. She said that my grandmother had been waiting to hear from me.

My grandmother was the kindest, most caring person that you could ever meet. Everybody loved her. She had a good heart and a good spirit; she had a warm heart and she always made people laugh. This was just her way. No matter how ill she felt, she always had a good word to say, and was a joy to be around.

And so called her number again, and this time she answered.

But she was different with me. In a way I had never seen before. She wasn’t happy with me at all. She said ‘where have you been, I have been waiting for you’ . I hadn’t seen her for the last 6 weeks, as I couldn’t face the hospital, and I had some upsetting news, and I didn’t want her to worry about me.

This particular day on the phone, aside from saying ‘where have you been I have been waiting for you’ …. She was short and abrupt with me. She was bad tempered for the first time ever in my life. At the end of the conversation, she paused and then barked at me…. and Nicola, ‘yes’ I said…. ‘dont leave it so long next time’. She was firm. Her words were an order. She was telling me to get there Now. I couldn’t mistake the urgency in her voice.

The day was Saturday. I was looking after my granddaughter, so I couldn’t go in immediately. The very next morning I went in to see her. It was Sunday. I went with my granddaughter who was a 3 month old baby.

As i sat there, my grandmother was not happy with me. Or at least she just wasn’t herself. I wished that she could understand. I didn’t want her to be upset with me. She was staring to the left hand side of me, I looked at her, and she asked me who was stood next to me? Had she came with me? …. i said who? Looking around, there was nobody there, she pointed and said a lady with blonde hair. All the time, she was looking around as if she could see people.

I told her that there was nobody there. She said that she must be seeing things.

She then said with a sense of urgency, ‘get Elizabeth’…. who was her daughter, my aunt. My grandmother had two children, my father, and my aunt. She said it with such a sense of urgency that I panicked; i was scared that i would get things wrong.

I went out to the matron’s office and called my aunt. I told her that my grandmother needed her to come in. I came back into my grandmothers room, with her lying so still on her bed and I said to my grandmother, ‘do you want me to call dad’ I feared that she was about to die, and that I would get the blame if she did, if I hadn’t called him.

She looked at me, in a way i had never seen before, and barked at me ‘what’s it got to do with you, it’s nothing to do with you’ ….. I didn’t know what to say. I had never seen my grandmother this way before.

I left and went home. But was quite upset by how she was with me. And i felt sad. I didn’t understand, why was she being this way?

After that Sunday my grandmother went into fast decline. it was like she had been waiting for me. I went to the nursing home every day before work and after work to see her. On the Wednesday night I sat with her holding her hand, until probably 2am, she whispered to me, to go home. I tried to plead with her to please understand. I loved her very much.

I was never an early riser, yet, despite that, I woke at 5.30am the next morning. I was at the nursing home for 6am. There, i sat with her. My father and my brother were there with her when I got there, and they left for work, when my aunt got there.

We sat at either side of her bed and held her hand. I knew that she was suffering and in pain. I didn’t want her to suffer anymore. The manager of the nursing home said that she could be like this for days, she reassured my father before he went to work at 7.30am.

Sitting either sided of her, my aunt was emotional, and begged her not to go ‘please mum, please don’t go’, and ‘please don’t leave us’. I looked at my aunt, and looked at my grandmother.

I knew it was her time to go. I led the way, and said ‘it’s time to go now Nan, it’s time to put on your dancing shoes, to go up there to the greatest ballroom in the sky. Granddad is waiting for you, he is waiting for you to dance’ It’s time to go. My aunt followed my lead, and said ‘it’s time to go mum, go home to les, he is waiting for you’….

And with that, my grandmother died. In a way, it was a beautiful thing. It was like birth but in reverse. It was 7.50am on Thursday morning. Only 4 days after she had ordered me to come in.

You see, my grandmother had been waiting for me. I think that my grandmother already knew who would be with her when she died. She was old and tired and she was waiting to go home. But, she already knew before she died just how it would be. I thought how she was cross with me, when I said I would call my father. How she barked that it was nothing to do with me. How she asked me to call my aunt, and how she went into decline as soon as I visited. She just knew…..