The Aftermath

There were some pretty vicious phone calls in the weeks after my Son`s funeral. They were all incoming. My Son`s 21st Birthday was last month. Naturally a lot has happened in the years that have passed. Revisiting what happened all those years ago is at times distressing and emotionally exhausting but the more I write the more I feel unburdened, it is cathartic. When I started this Blog I could never have envisaged how easily the words would flow and how quickly I would work my way through the stories I need to tell. 21 years on its still beggars belief the way they behaved and the things they said after the death of their own Grand Son. Rather than grieving quietly, coming to terms with his loss, rather than feeling any empathy for us as a couple or concern for our longing for a child, the focus was all about themselves. It wasn`t until I wrote a recent post that it dawned on me that when they arrived at the funeral they were already nursing a grudge after my FIL`s comment about my need for `all their love and support`. They were not used to anyone daring to be so direct and they were affronted that someone had a clear impression of their appalling approach to parenting. With hindsight I think they went to the funeral just looking for things to fuel their anger and use as ammunition to deflect any judgement on them. Hence my Father glowering at me when I lost my composure, which he told me was all for effect. Odd that he should seek to find that in me on that day and be forever blind to my Mother doing exactly that at any opportunity. There are none so blind as those who will not see. With every vile phone call we received from them my Mother was veering from pure Narcissistic hysteria to venomous accusations and insults. At one point she screamed like a banshee at me "YOU`ve got it to come YOU AV....YOU`ve got it to COME" Given I had these two for parents, an errant, alcoholic, emotionally unavailable Husband and and my 6th pregnancy had ended with a funeral, some may have said IT, whatever IT was, was already here. Just when we thought we had heard the last of them there would be yet another call. She seemed set on making me suffer more, referring to the ulcerative colitis she had in her 20`s she told me in a low threatening voice, "I hope YOU have bowel problem like me Amanda, THEN you`ll know what pain is". So she thought I did not know what pain was, after so many miscarriages, my baby boy dying and still she thought I did not know what pain was. And so she wanted to be sure I knew what pain was, she wanted me to be ill, to suffer more pain. {In later years when I had a cancer diagnosis I thought how delighted she would of been} Quite breathtaking isn`t it, the amount of vengeance she felt for me. My Father stepped up his enabling game and did her proud in his complete abandonment of me, aiding and abetting her in her pursuit of inflicting even more suffering on me with her constant attacks.

Eventually I no longer answered the phone to them though my Husband, fuelled by the support of his family, took a few calls and refused to take anything they threw at him seriously and replied back and forth with meaningless comments and questions, my Father at some point saying with exasperation to my Mother.....I can`t get any sense out of im Ivy. And so eventually their calls stopped and we broke off contact which gave us the peace we needed to allow the days to pass and realise that somehow, unbelievably, life was still going on. The Headstone was put on and I visited the grave regularly, he lay in the babies garden of rest. I was saddened to see how frequently there was a fresh grave covered in funeral flowers. I had no idea up until then that this sorrow was not an unusual event. We heard from my Aunt, Fathers sister, that my Mother spent some time in psychiatric care in the months after. It was my Aunts opinion this was due to her own attention seeking hysteria and she had little sympathy for her. I wondered if it was the final trump card she played to hoover us back into contact and feed her need for an audience. She would then at last be the star of the final scene in this episode. I imagine this charade was sold to all who would listen as The depth of Ivy`s grief after all they could hardly say it was a temper tantrum because I received a lot of love, support and attention when my baby died and she was jealous. God only knows the lies they told and the slander they spread about me to the few remaining, distant family members. I dread to think. I can only hope they knew her well enough to doubt it was all true. I would dread the phone ringing during this time. I have a heightened startle response as do many Adult Children Of Narcissists, and I would jump out of my skin in case it was them again. 
 In amongst all the pain and grief that I felt was also shame and guilt that I had been such a poor Mom that my body had effectively allowed my baby to die. I felt useless, worthless and not good enough, I had failed at something else. I also yet again felt unloved by my Parents. And the unbearable longing for my little boy.....I simply cannot put into words.