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How do you call memories that do not exist?

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In the last few months I had no time to process emotions, and when I get several minutes while this small one is sleeping, I realise how important it is. I realised because I’m suffocating when I think of Her. My small one. Aurorina. ❤️

I haven’t had strength to open Her memory box.

I haven’t had time to think properly how it feels having another baby. I haven’t had time to understand how I feel as a full time mama to one of my babies here and another somewhere else in the universe. When I do, my knees suddenly feel like they have been torn apart and something is heavy in the chest. It hurts so much that my inside pain extends to outside. Even though physical pain can never amount to the one inside.

I am getting a lot of hugs and snuggles from baby I have with me. I am spending every second of our time enjoying like it’s the last one. I know what it feels not having time anymore, so I guess it makes me more aware of its paradox.

However, I never thought these hugs would exchange Hers. This baby hugs are not a replacement for the ones taken away from me. But when I’m hugging this small one and think of Her, I can feel that emptiness in my arms so strong. Only the ones who are going through loss can understand the depth and outstretch of this pain.

Yet, people tend to think I’m all good now. You look happy, they say. While I am, deeply, honestly, the happiest, myself wants to escape and go cry somewhere far away from the smiles.

Sometimes I feel like I miss those people who would help me make a cake and celebrate Her birthday. But I know we people like to celebrate dead only in history books.

I couldn’t go and visit her grave this year’s birthday. How awful it sounds. I know she’s not there, but her earthly remainings are, and it’s calling me somehow.

She would have been two years now. On that thought my mind instantly explodes with flash of all the unlived memories of her growing, smiling, crying. All the unknown memories that are somehow there, in my head. They feel so real. They cut so deep into my flesh I can hear the bone crack.

How do you call the memories that do not exist?

15th October is baby loss awareness day. A day where we remember all those small ones that haven’t had chance to stay. We light up candles.

A quick reminder note to those friends and family: don’t be such a selfish ass, find time and courage to ask how they are?

Do they think of their babies who are not with them?

How it feels for them?

Do they need anything?

And yes they do! They need you, especially around those important dates.

Quick reminder to those who feel the same pain: I know you’re exhausted and isolated in your pain, but there are millions of us feeling the same.

Ask for help.

Write.

Talk.

Put it out.

You cannot carry alone burden so heavy.

Yes, when we talk about we do want your attention. There is so much injustice around this topic.

It’s important to talk about it every day. Every story out there is a small step towards social change, improvement in medical system discrimination and research.

Because how do you call the memories that do not exist?

Kako se zovu uspomene koje ne postoje?

U posljednjih nekoliko mjeseci jedva da imam vremena da razumijem kako se to osjećam, a kad imam tih nekoliko minuta dok ovaj malecki spava, shvatim koliko je to bitno. Bitno da razumijem svoje emocije jer se gušim kad pomislim na Nju. Moju malecku. Aurorinu.❤️

Nemam snage ni otvoriti kutiju s njenim stvarima iz bolnice.

Nisam imala vremena razmišljati kakav je osjećaj imati drugu bebu. Nisam imala vremena da razumijem kako se osjećam kao mama jednoj od mojih beba ovdje, a drugoj negdje drugdje u svemiru. A kad mi krenu navirati misli i osjećanja, koljena mi se odsjeku i nešto tonama teško ispliva u prsima. Toliko puno boli da se onaj unutrašnji bol proširi van. Iako fizički bol ne može biti ni ravan onome iznutra.

Mnogo se mazimo ova bebuša i ja, ali baš mnogo. Svaku sekundu našeg vremena provodim kao da je posljednja. Znam kako je to kad više nemaš vremena, pa hoćes da upiješ sve i svaki sekund pretvaraš u vječnost.

Međutim, ovi zagrljaji koliko god slatki neće nikada zamijeniti Njene. Koliko god ih volim nisu zamjena za one koje su mi oduzeti. Kad grlim ovo malo klupko sreće ovdje i mislim na ono što mi fali, ta praznina u rukama postane tako teška. Samo oni koji prolaze kroz gubitak mogu razumjeti koliko je dubok i nepresušan bunar ove boli.

Ipak, ljudi misle da sam sada dobro. Izgledaš sretno, kažu. Dok zaista jesam duboko, iskreno, najsretnija, nekako istovremeno želim pobjeći od same sebe, daleko od osmijeha, sjesti i isplakati se.

Ponekad se osjećam teško jer kao da mi fale ljudi koji bi mi pomogli da napravim tortu i proslavim njen rođendan. Ali znam da mi ljudi volimo slaviti mrtve samo u knjigama istorije.

Ove godine joj nisam posjetila grob na rođendan. Kako užasno zvuči. Znam da nije tamo, ali ono što je ostalo od nje ovozemljasko jeste i to me nekako neobjašnjivo vuče sebi.

Sad bi imala dvije godine. Na tu pomisao moj um istog trenutka eksplodira u svim neproživljenim sjećanjima kako raste, smije se i plače. Sva nepostojeća sjećanja su nekako tu, u mojoj glavi. Osećaju se tako stvarno. Zarezali su mi se toliko duboko kroz meso da ih mogu čuti kako mi škripe po kostima.

Kako se zovu uspomene koje ne postoje?

15. oktobar je dan podizanja svijesti o gubitku bebe. Dan u kojem se sjećamo svih onih maleckih koji nisu imali prilike ostati. Palimo sveće.

I Da, kad govorimo o tome, želimo vašu pažnju!

Toliko je nepravdi vjekovima naneseno ljudima oko ove teme.

Važno je pričati o tome svaki dan. Svaka priča predstavlja mali korak ka društvenoj promjeni, rušenju diskriminacije medicinskog sistema i pokretanja istraživanja.

Mali podsjetnik za sve prijatelje i porodicu: nemojte biti tako sebični da vam je nezgodno nazvati, pronadjite vremena i hrabrosti da pitate kako su?

Misle li na svoje bebe koje nisu s njima?

Kakav je osjećaj sad nakon toliko vremena?

Treba li im nešto?

I da! Trebate im vi, posebno oko tih važnih datuma.

Mali podsjetnik onima koji osjećaju isti bol: Znam da ste iscrpljeni i izolirani sami od svoje boli, ali milioni nas se osjećamo isto.

Upitaj za pomoć.

Piši.

Pričaj.

Izbaci to sve van!

Pretežak je ovo teret da ga nosimo sami.

Jer kako se zovu uspomene koja ne postoje?

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