Capture Your Grief: Day 3 – What it felt like

I’ve never written about finding out that Isobel’s heart had stopped beating. I started my blog with her funeral and never went back. It’s a moment that my mind returns to over and over and over again though, at some point every single day I’m back in that room. Looking at the clock on the wall that will always be stopped at 8:50pm. Seeing the look on Simon’s face. Feeling the doctor’s hand on my leg. Watching the midwife close the window so the people outside wouldn’t hear our distress. I could describe every aspect of that room at that moment. I think a part of me never left that room, doomed always to stay in that first of the worst moments of my life. 
So why haven’t I written about it? It’s easy to describe the details, what I saw, what I heard – but how could I start to explain how it felt? Maybe I don’t want to try because it’s still too painful. Mostly I think I don’t want to try because I know that no matter what I write, however many adjectives or metaphors I employ, it can never convey how awful it was, and how awful it remains. 
Picture of ‘Memorial for Unborn Children’ by Martin Hudáček.