Rainfall of Another Planet
October 14th, which is now yesterday, but I'm still up so it feels like today, was our first baby's birthday, in 1984. He was born prematurely and lived for three weeks. Now he'd be twenty-four.
No, actually, I've never got over it, though I have got used to it. How other people cope who lose their children I don't know. The most extreme example I can think of is Sally Clark, who lost two children to cot death and then was convicted of their murder and locked up, and then was freed and came out of prison looking more like a ghost than anyone could think possible, and who died a while afterwards. She died of grief, whatever they put on her death certificate.
I wasn't planning to write about the significance of October 14th, but then the tune of Kiki Dee's song Amoureuse came into my head.
It was firstly in the charts in 1973 - and I presume that's where the ghastly video that accompanies it came from. But it had another foray into the charts in 1984. Which is why the hospital ward where I was imprisoned before and after my baby was born - oh yes, imprisoned is the only word for it, believe me - played it on the radio three times an hour.
The song haunts me and follows me about. One year on November 4th, the date my baby died, I was driving through the darkened countryside on the way somewhere and it came on the radio and at the very same moment fireworks appeared everywhere in the sky. For Bonfire Night, of course - - but I still had to stop the car in shock.
And - always a sucker for a big sentimental ballad - I love the song in some ways, and I love her voice. But imagine having to listen to those lyrics three times an hour when you know your child is dying - - especially the chorus: "I should have told him - - " Oh, it still makes me cry.
So Olli is particularly precious to me, of course. Though would have been anyway.
Here's the song. Don't watch the video.
No, actually, I've never got over it, though I have got used to it. How other people cope who lose their children I don't know. The most extreme example I can think of is Sally Clark, who lost two children to cot death and then was convicted of their murder and locked up, and then was freed and came out of prison looking more like a ghost than anyone could think possible, and who died a while afterwards. She died of grief, whatever they put on her death certificate.
I wasn't planning to write about the significance of October 14th, but then the tune of Kiki Dee's song Amoureuse came into my head.
It was firstly in the charts in 1973 - and I presume that's where the ghastly video that accompanies it came from. But it had another foray into the charts in 1984. Which is why the hospital ward where I was imprisoned before and after my baby was born - oh yes, imprisoned is the only word for it, believe me - played it on the radio three times an hour.
The song haunts me and follows me about. One year on November 4th, the date my baby died, I was driving through the darkened countryside on the way somewhere and it came on the radio and at the very same moment fireworks appeared everywhere in the sky. For Bonfire Night, of course - - but I still had to stop the car in shock.
And - always a sucker for a big sentimental ballad - I love the song in some ways, and I love her voice. But imagine having to listen to those lyrics three times an hour when you know your child is dying - - especially the chorus: "I should have told him - - " Oh, it still makes me cry.
So Olli is particularly precious to me, of course. Though would have been anyway.
Here's the song. Don't watch the video.
posted by Daphne at 12:23 am
2 Comments:
its not something you ever get over, its something you get used to and all those who say that they have 'gotten over it' are either lying or cold, in my opinion anyway. I can understand if it was a miscarriage ( even if i never could) but i dont think you can get over what you went through.
and the whole Sally Clark issue was just unbelivable, however NOW they say if you have one cot death your more likely to have another.
XxX
True, you never do got over these events, but they do eventually become part of you, rather than something external that has happened.
Someone saying they are over it could just be dealing with it by denial, or still hurting too much to talk.
For 14th October 1984 read 27 December 1983.
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