DISCLAIMER - I just want to start with a small disclaimer, this post mentions miscarriage, baby loss, bleeding, depression, mental health, self harm, suicide, intimate 'private' stuff and other related things. If any of these things make you uncomfortable or trigger you then you do not have to read any further. This post is going to be really really personal but I do not want to make you guys uncomfortable.
(This may also be quite a long post too - sorry.)
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| Tattoo by Jamie at Electric Rebel Tattoo |
On the 7th March 2017, I was told the devastating news I had lost my son Alfie. I have never been able to describe anything in my life as 'life-shattering' but this was it - this was the moment my life completely fell apart.
Lets go back a day, one whole day and my naivety sparing me from harsh reality, the 6th March 2017, I went to a private doctor to have some tests - I had been unwell for a few weeks and was unable to keep any food down, everything I ate I threw up. I was tired and fed up and wanted to know what was wrong with me - I knew something wasn't right as I felt different but did not what it was. My Doctor said he would get the tests done that day and should have results either the next day or the day after... went back to work and thought nothing of it, thought maybe I had a stomach bug or something. Well the next day came, my ex and me weren't going through a great time due to other issues anyway, but as soon as I got to work I was asked to go in and the sooner the better - I began to start worrying in honesty, I knew at this point something was wrong.
Well I sat down and all I really can remember after this was just crying and shaking and feeling like my body had betrayed me and my baby - I was suppose to keep him safe, protect him and I failed. I completely and absolutely failed. I went back to work because in honesty, I didn't know what else to do with myself - I was petrified about being left alone and my head was in all sorts of places.
With the issues my ex and me faced, I emailed him the news (I know not the best idea but he wasn't answering my calls and he was also at work etc). Anyway, we had a break planned that he would go away for a few days after the issues we had - but in honesty I wanted him around to deal with the grief with me - I never felt more alone then the way he made me feel during that time, this isn't an attack on him, as we had other issues but the one time I really needed him and the support - I was just completely abandoned. He also chose that week to break up with me. My body was in complete turmoil, I still couldn't eat anything without throwing up - but then the bleeding begun and it was a hundred times worse than a period. My back was excruciating, my stomach felt like someone was trying to ring it dry - and the blood felt never ending.
Well after a lot of things happened, the following Monday I went to the Doctors (I didn't go to work due to exceptional circumstances and I will touch on my work later in this post) I was signed off work due to stress and the words I didn't really want to hear my Doctor say.. Clinical Depression. I had previously had reactive depression as a teenager due to my upbringing with a disabled brother - but never as far as clinical depression. I was referred to my local hospital's mental health unit for a few days after this for coping mechanisms and counselling as I was in a considerably bad state. By this point, I had eaten or drunk anything for days, I had scratched my arms till they were red raw and I had a lot of bad thoughts running through my head. I hated myself, I didn't feel worthy to live anymore after the events of the last week had got too much.
After a week of a lot of medical assessments, new prescription anti-depressants and an emergency counselling service until I could go to a regular counsellor I attempted to go back to work. My ex came on the Friday to pick his things up from my parents house (we lived there together at the time) and that was hard enough. I couldn't understand the hatred he had towards me - it set those horrible little voices off in my head telling me I was worth absolutely nothing.
Fast-forward to the next Tuesday 14th March, and I hit my all time low that night. I hated who I was, everything that had happened to me - I felt totally utterly worthless. The comments from school came flooding back - the arguments with my now ex and everything else, but the main thing was losing my son.
I found some old prescription medication I had for when I broke my ribs - I overdosed. I tried to kill myself.
Everything else is really a blur - the following couple of weeks was spent recovering and getting myself back into a good (well good compared to what I had been) mind state. I spent a lot of time with doctors and mental health professionals. I hit my rock bottom - I never want to go back to that place. I had no support other than my close friends and my family - the one person who I thought would support me was nowhere in sight.
I turned to drink, and that settled the demons for a while until I sobered up and was back in reality - and then the overdose - that was the first time I felt at 'peace' with myself through all this real life horror movie. Waking up in hospital with paramedics, doctors and nurses panicking to keep you alive was a pretty frightening experience - and it hit me even more the pain I had put my family through - the sight my mum would never get out of her head was me laying in my room on the brink. And it made me feel even worse...
Fast forward to December - I got back with my ex during this period however I snapped and I broke up with him. (I will cover the breakdown from this at a later stage but I want to say a huge huge huge thank you to Sussex and Kent Police and the support they have given me and the insight they gave me into emotional and mental abuse - especially Sian my case worker and Abi from the National Domestic Abuse charity).
During this low period, I was off work for my breakdown, I spent most of my days in leggings a long sleeved white top and pink sports jacket. I then started to get 'spontaneous' I had odd moments where I just wanted to do something to myself - to change myself - I cut my fringe myself thinking that would be enough. It wasn't.
I then phoned up my local tattoo parlour - they managed to fit me in as soon as possible - and that is when the amazing Jamie gave me my first tattoo.
Funnily enough, when my ex and I were back together we designed a tattoo that we said we would get together - alas that never happened. However, this was it, this was what I needed.
The moment that needle hit my skin - the pain was a comfort - this was what I needed. This was the first time I really felt like I was dealing with the loss of my baby boy.
I followed this up with a further tattoo of the words "L'Amour Toujours" with a butterfly (you can view this over on my Instagram) - in a literal translation from French this means 'Love Always' or 'Love Forever' which I eternally will do. This is also the name of one of my favourite songs (you can listen to this here), the lyrics "I'll Fly with You" also resonate very well with everything else with little Alfie.
This year was the first mothers day I actually had as a mum with an angel baby - I spoke to a couple of the ladies at a group for bereavement that I go to for support. And a few suggested making a memory box - taking an old shoe box wrapping it in paper and putting items in there that will help you with your loss. I had a few items already at home to put in this box, as well as letters I had written to my son (one letter is a copy of the letter I set off with a balloon on the day that marked 1 year since I lost him - again a massive thank you to Ollie and Mike for your help that day. Sports cars and helium balloons aren't a great match!)
Well this is my story so far... one year has passed and it hasn't got any easier, I've just learn't how to cope better. I will always grieve for you my son, and I will always be your mummy - no matter where you are.
Rest In Peace
Aflie Mason Diggory Schofield
Taken on the 7th March 2017.
Mummy will fly with you forever.
💕💕💕
