A list I wrote 3 years ago about Jim, my early grief and how my business started.
Me, Kev and Jim
Three and a half years on and I still find it very difficult to answer questions like, “how many children do you have?”, or “have you just got the one?”
Our daughter is called Kitty- she’s five. Our son was born when I was 24 weeks plus 3 days pregnant with him. He died after 33 days in Preston Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. His name was Jim.
Over those 33 days, he was christened, had my breast milk, we washed and dressed him, read stories and sang to him. He met his sister & his grandparents. We had moments of absolute joy. We thought he’d come home, and then we knew he couldn’t. We made fully informed decisions about his care, medical treatment and the way he died. He peacefully died as I held him. He had a good death.
One of the most vivid memories I have is the noises I made when we knew he was going to die.
We had a funeral for him. The hospital chaplain and a neonatal nurse spoke. So did my husband. Then I begun to rebuild my life in this new normal.
We were staying with my husband’s parents at the time as we were between houses. We’d been there for nearly 3 months before Jim was born. I’d been a nightmare. Hormones all over the place and been sulky and resentful rather than appreciative of being able to sell our house quickly.
On reflection, thank God we were there. After we got back from our 33 day stay at the hospital I spent hours reading my condolence cards, napping, eating, drinking wine. I don’t remember much. Then I wanted to start to move again.
Initially my desire to begin to exercise was driven by a desire to lose weight. I struggled with having a post-partum body but no baby. I was so self-conscious. This made me unhappy and I ate (and drank) my feelings.
My daughter at this point was 15 months old. Before she was born I’d been fit and thin. Both of which were important to me at the time. On reflection, I had disordered eating and had been over exercising, My periods had disappeared, and it took us a while to conceive Kitty.
I booked an initial session with a PT. I hated it as I just felt so embarrassed about what my body had become and my fitness levels. I was struggling with my identity.
My body was my enemy. How it had behaved. What it looked like.
My mother in law was amazing. She treated me with such compassion as I withdrew. She did our washing. She cooked our meals. She baked tray bake after tray bake.
Then I’m not sure how it happened, but I found myself back in the fitness class I’d been attending before Kitty was born and before I’d been pregnant with Jim.
It was no quick fix. I struggled so much with so much. I apologized about my body. I cried through classes. But I turned up. and I kept turning up. I was a mess- but I did exercise. And for an hour a day, my brain turned off. It was freedom from my jumbled mind.
I started to get a bit of a routine. By that I mean I got up, got dressed did a class and came home. Mother in law looked after Kitty. I was drinking too much but it was a start. A part of me was returning.
5 months after Jim’s death in the April, we finally moved into our own house- what we hoped would be our forever home. I was still on Maternity leave from being a Secondary School Teacher. I was still in a haze. I was going through the motions. My only non-negotiable was exercise. Daily.
We had a new home, but l felt so empty. Kitty was still very little. It was hard work. If people asked how I was, I told them. The hospital experience had taught me to be honest- always. I found it helped. And I think people genuinely wanted to know- which was nice.
We fundraised. We created ‘Jim’s Library’ to go in the Family room at Preston Hospital so other parents could read to their children like we did to Jim. We donated to 100 Bears to Aching Arms – a charity who provide teddy bears to bereaved parents so they know they’re not alone. I wanted Jim to have a legacy, and it gave me a focus.
Growing up, I wasn’t part of a family that was open about feelings and emotions. It was a bloody revolution to actually talk honestly about my mental health- which was rocky. I found connection to people through shared experience.
I had counselling.
I was overwhelmed a lot of the time. It was just my permanent state of being to be honest. I take citalopram- I have for years. I think the dose went up at some point here. It became very clear to me around this point that movement was instrumental in managing my mental health too.
I was mainly doing high intensity stuff, plus Body Pump. I was getting a bit fitter. I liked myself a bit more. My worth at this point was inextricably linked to how my body looked and worked. I stopped feeling like so much of a failure. My body was changing, slowly- which was massively important to me. I was capable of turning up everyday – or at least most days- I felt proud of that.
The next game changer for me Pilates. It was calmer. More nourishing. Gentler. It promoted a mind body connection that I so desperately needed. I think this is where I started to listen to my body a bit more. Stop punishing myself. Nurture and forgive myself.
It wasn’t just the exercise in the classes I went to – it was the people too. The daily, authentic connections.
I could feel my sense of self returning.
I was really lucky. I was able to resign from my job. School had been super supportive but I just did not feel resilient enough to return to work. This was a big weight off my shoulders & I could feel that it represented a fresh start but I had no idea what in- & I really wasn’t capable of much other than day to day existing. I still felt shocked to my core.
Then I stopped drinking Alcohol. This was huge and it wasn’t planned. I just felt it was holding me back. I’d been feeling like it was Ground Hog day every Monday. I’d tried not drinking midweek, I’d tried not drinking wine, & I didn’t see the point of having just one.
At this point I became brave. I was finding myself again- & I wanted more of me. I joined a new Crossfit gym. I was totally out of my comfort zone & had about 6 months feeling like I couldn’t do any of it- and then the real mental and physical gains started coming.
I got the confidence to get myself a job. To literally get me out of the house. Not a big career style job, but a lovely job in a lovely place, a few hours a week. It worked a treat. At first I was late every day and apologized for breathing- but slowly my confidence returned. Then I got another job- more hours, more responsibility but the systems and management made it feel like I was working in the 1990’s- so I quit.
Pilates was still offering me peace- and I decided I wanted to learn how to teach it. So I started my qualification. The teaching and movement bit came easily to me, the anatomy and physiology not so. It took me ages to pass that bit- but I did.
The backdrop to this was that I moved. Most days. I started to lift heavy weight. I pushed my comfort zone daily. I began to lift weights that the previous version of me would’ve been open mouthed at. I got comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. I met like minded men and women. I realized I was strong and capable. I learnt through honest conversations that everyone struggles. God this gym was great. The people were great. I felt great. Things were coming together.
I still cried a lot and I still felt overwhelmed a lot. I talked about Jim. It always helped.
I started teaching Pilates, & I couldn’t believe I had managed to achieve this. My own focus had moved from being ‘thin’ to being ‘strong’ and my grief was always there but less in my face.
Lockdown happened.
I didn’t cope well with Lockdown 1 at all. I was so scared, and felt trapped. My only basic was to move. I went back into survival mode. I found lots of parallels with the early days after Jim’s death and the sense of loss I felt then.
I exercised often online with gym friends, (which was so great but actually led to me being kicked out of the gym which I’d loved so much. More on that another day). Daily movement and connection with others continued to give structure to my days and support my mental health.
Because I was achieving things in my training with friends, I started to believe I could achieve what I really wanted to in my life and began doing an online Personal Training course.
I wanted to share this escape and release with others. I wanted to demonstrate how small steps, every day, could help you rebuild yourself. I wanted to share the joy and peace I had found through movement. I wanted to encourage other women to see beyond exercise as a way to shrink their body- and change it to a way to grow mental strength through empowerment and resilience.
Kitty’s now at the end of her reception year and I have a new, exciting & thriving business.
During Jim’s life it was so important to me that he would not be forgotten. That his life would mean something, be for something and contribute to other lives.
I feel so proud that he made all this happen. He is at the heart of everything I do. From creating a job that allows me to encourage others to grow, helping find peace with my body & my mind, and allowing me to balance family life and home life more- it’s all because of him.
Jim Mason was born 28th Feb 2017 and died 2nd April 2017. At 800g he was small but very, very powerful.