My first day back at work. How hard can it really be?

So today was my first day back at work following Nayelys birth.
It was always going to be a tough day, leaving Emileen, Londyn and Paisley this morning knowing that I wouldn’t see any of them again until 5pm. I know that probably sounds a little bit silly but these 3 amazing people have kept me strong for the most part since we lost Nayely.
As I approach work I get a sudden tightening in my chest, nothing to cause massive concern but enough to let me know it is there. Anxiety.
This means that today is going to be hard. Very hard.

As I pull into the car park a couple of familiar faces watch me drive in, then they turn away. This will become a repetitive occurrence as the morning goes on.

I’ve made it through the door and the first people I see are 1 bloke who’s girlfriend gave birth during the Christmas break and one who’s wife is due to give birth in May. Neither of these two seem overly keen to address me.

Something someone said a while ago rang in my ears ” it’s hard for them. ” So I decided I would make it easier for them. I said to the bloke who was yet to have his child born “how’s your wife getting on?” “yeah alright” was the response. Not the happy, upbeat response I was expecting from someone who’s child was growing well, safely wrapped up in its mother’s womb.

All we used to talk about before we lost Nayely was how our partners were getting on, weird cravings, babies, anything baby related and now all I’m getting is a wall of silence.

So I pushed it a bit more, “I’m guessing you had the 20 week scan.” I asked.
“yeah we are having a boy” was the answer.
“that’s great news” I said as I tried to smile at him.

This is one of the only people I work with that I would class as a friend outside of work and he just wanted to get rid of me. So I went and started work.

At one point the Managing Director came into the workshop, as he does every morning to say hello to everyone. This morning he came in, spoke to everyone and then left. Everyone but me that is.
He was quickly followed by the Production Manager who did the very same thing. Spoke to the other people in the room but not me.
Eventually the Technical Director came in and he did come and speak to me. He said “it’s nice to see you back, hopefully it will help you get things back on track” now I’m not 100% sure what he meant and what I needed to get ‘back on track’ but somehow I stopped myself from shaking him and saying “you think being here is going to bring my daughter back you stupid prick.”

By now it is 10:00am and I’ve spoken to 2 people. I knew this day was going to be hard but I didn’t think my colleagues would make it harder for me.

The time has now dragged on and it is 12.30, its lunchtime, noone has spoken to me since 10:00am.

The saying about being surrounded by people and still feeling alone couldn’t be any more relevant to the way I feel today. The feeling of being ignored makes me feel like my baby girl doesn’t matter. She does matter. Not a single person has asked how I am, how Emileen is or how our other children are. But I will keep pushing, noone is going to be able to ignore me entirely.

That phrase is still going round in my head “it’s hard for them”. Is it really that hard for them? Did their baby die and have I ignored them? No. Me and my family have been broken beyond belief and yet these people that I have known for years can’t even say hello to me.

So far today in the 5 hours I’ve been at work it has further confirmed that we are doing the right thing by trying to raise awareness of Baby Loss and start making moves towards it being a subject that is openly talked about. That it won’t always be a taboo.

I think it is safe to say that the day didn’t quite play out as I expected. Hopefully through Nayely Adelpha Foundation we can educate people to deal with baby loss better, maybe even introduce some literature to employers to help them make better choices related to employee health and wellbeing.

Now to see what tomorrow brings. How long will it be before people don’t just ignore me? How long until someone actually asks how we are and addresses what has happened. My daughters death will not be in vain. We will be heard and we will make a difference regardless of how small that may be.