Thursday, 27 March 2014
Dear Alex, NOT. THERE. ANYMORE.
I had heard these word before, the exact words in fact, but in French.
I had been sat, in and out of consciousness the time before I had heard these words, trying to piece events together. Trying to be 'here' I had no idea what was going on with you when those words were spoken to me back then ...
Today, the Dr sat, told me she was OK, but to watch out for the following symptoms, and lists them in a similar order to the 4th October 2011. I know these symptoms off by heart, there was no need to reiterate them. They were engrained on my soul the day they were told to me two-and-a-half-years ago, almost to the day.
Only then, I had heard them in French.
Then, I had heard them in relation to you.
Then I had heard them, but was thinking, OK, but he will be fine…
Our baby, Esmie had fallen. She had fallen off the monkey bars at school straight onto her head. She had not been able to breathe for a length of time after. She had been dazed, confused, not knowing what had happened or where she was.
I was not there. I was with you. The school rang, I fire questions: Did she cry immediately? Does she know what happened? Did she lose consciousness? Did she vomit? Is she able to focus? Are her pupils dilated? I fire a thousand questions, knowing more than fully the signs of concussion. My friend has to go to pick her up as I am 1 1/2 hours away with you…
White knuckles, gripping tightly black steering wheel, this is the longest drive of my life.
I arrive at A and E.
Sitting finally where I belong with my baby waiting to see the Consultant, another mummy comes in. The Daddy follows, caressing his child, making sure she is OK. Another, who rings daddy to chat with the poorly daughter. I try not to notice, try not to hear. Try not to feel your absence as a father, a husband.
I see the Consultant, he nips out to get the machine to observe her vitals. In this pause, I suppress tears unsuccessfully. He is kind, as I do nothing but squeeze her and kiss her head, he offers me tissues, understands my fears as I try and very briefly, I try and very vaguely explain the family history with head injury, and why it particularly concerns me.
Today, my angel, I have lost it.
Lost my grip.
Cried for the Father you once were, the husband you used to be.
Cried for what could have been for one of our babies.
Cried for me.
A very alone, very, very scared mummy. Scared for one of our babies, with no one to share it with.
Thank God for my friends who, again stepped in to help me in my hour of need.
Baby, I have about come around from the shock, which left me shaking, shivering, crying, with adrenalin rushes I haven't experienced for a while. I have about come around from your phone call, where you didn't listen to what I told you about Esmie, your youngest, yet saw you shouting at me and throwing the phone over something. I have about come around from all that. The fact you aren't there for family situations anymore. Are not there for me or our kids, or for me needing you.
I will, however, never come around from the fact that you ARE. NOT. THERE. ANYMORE.
And how, when this sort of thing happens, I need you.
And you do not even know how I need you…
But I do, and I always will.
Posted by Manic Mum at 21:53