Our old lass Queen Liz called 1992 her annus horribilis or ‘the year of shite’ to those of us that don’t speak Latin. It was her year of weathering tell all books, family embarrassments, affairs and fires to name a few. It was also coincidentally the year of my birth – though I’m sure this wasn’t a contributing factor (my mother would probably say different). Anecdotally, I think everyone over 30 has experienced the phenomenon of a year that just keeps pummelling you all the way from January to December. The hits keep coming and it feels relentless. It’s only in hindsight that we can look back and see what the shit show taught us and that time has now arrived for me. So lets take a look together and see if I learnt anything and if I can pass on advice to anyone experiencing their own.

(DISCLAIMER/SPOILER: the following contains quite a lot of talk about death)

My annus horribilis (year of shite) was 2024, and whilst I ended 2023 finding out I was pregnant for the second time, the following year began with my first miscarriage. I know – SHITE. I can only speak on my experience but having been supported through this by many friends in different ways I can say how anecdotally It seems the feelings are quite universal.

being super resilient, I’ve got to be honest this knocked me on my arse faster than the time I got pissed on a pig farm. I felt such an emotional pain that it translated to physical but not like the physical pain was experiencing , it was, I can only describe it as a pain in my soul. The death wasn’t just of cells that were in my uterus, it felt like a part of my Self was dying with it.

My sister was pregnant at the time and we had been very excited to share in the experience together, so I also felt I had robbed her of that. I felt I had taken a grandchild from my father and a child from my love. It was so much more complex than I had imagined and I hated myself for not being able to see it through and thought I was responsible for the grief of myself but also all the people around me that I loved. It was consuming.

Shortly after this, a very young member of our extended family suddenly fell very ill and what followed was 2 intense months of what can only be described for my partners immediate family as shared trauma. I was alone with my son a lot at this time unable to explain to him what might happen, but also to process anything myself.

Miscarriage number 2 ultimately followed but with it was a lingering hope that was brutal in other ways. It wasn’t a sudden loss, it was ectopic and so I had to return to the hospital 6 times over the following weeks to ensure my HCG levels were going down and nothing was remaining inside that could have caused me problems going forwards. We listened to Louis Theroux’s book Gotta get Theroux this on the 45 minute drive to the hospital. I don’t know why. I chose it and would put it on religiously even though I could tell my partner didn’t enjoy it. Towards the end there is a passage on miscarriage that I didn’t know was going to come up (I would say its funny how these things happen but they happen to me so much ). It did make me feel better in the moment. As humans we are quite narcssitic in nature and think we are sometimes the only person capable of feeling a certain way or having a certain experience and it always serves us well to remember that we absolutey aren’t

I then found out I was pregnant a third time. You can imagine the caution we felt when finding out BUT we aren’t the kind of people that can permanently piss on our own bonfires no matter how much people try to convince us we should, we are gloriously excitable by nature. But… 2 days later, my auntie, my maternal figure and orchestrator of my most sacred childhood memories, died. It was sudden and unexpected. She was, without doubt, the most patient and warm person I ever met. I have experienced grief before but not of someone who you don’t expect to go or of someone who has been so life effecting to the degree she was woven into the fabric of your life. Now aware I was pregnant again I had to hold in and contain some of the grief for fear it would consume us. We didn’t tell anyone for 15 weeks which just so happened to take us to Christmas day. We decided that she would have loved that but also our family so badly wanted it for us too. It was the most joyous and sad and confusing Christmas we’ve ever had.

My pregnancy continued right through to my due date and I have a beautiful healthy and chonky boy and i’m very grateful and madly in love. A few people have asked me if I believe in the one in one out system and my aunties last gift to me was my baby boy. I don’t know, its a lovely thought and there a few of her isms in him that I see even now so who knows.

I can look back now and I can talk about this in a calm and thoughtful way. Had you asked me in 2024 if I could ever see that as a possibility i would have said Fuck off. No of course not. But I don’t think time is a healer, I’m not willing to give time the credit I’m afraid. What aided in my ability to withstand and ultimately heal from this year of shite was a few things.

1. Wallow and Destroy – I bought a pouch of tobacco, set myself up on the sofa, shut the curtains and didn’t speak to anyone for 3 days. That’s my limit 3 days. then you MUST let the light in and the smell out.
2. Cry with people – I allowed people that loved me to come and cry with me. I am a person who struggles to cry in front of people but its something i’m working on. Emotional vulnerability is necessary and people WANT to love you in your hardest times. You should let them.
3. Make space- I told work that i needed weeks off straight away (which luckily my work allows for miscarriage anyway- check your policies) I didn’t want to feel rushed into anything, I didn’t want to make any decisions, or be around people that I didn’t want to be around, I just wanted the knowledge that I had space
4. Laugh – I watched the first series of last one laughing, I rang my mate that has notoriously dark humour, I sought it out
5. SCREAM – when it felt right i drove to the beach, stood on the cliff and screamed at the sea – highly reccomend, not the first time ive done it and wont be the last
6. Get outdoors – I know everyone says it but find a purpose to get outside even if its a walk to the shop, it forces you to engage with the world
7. Move – It was January that I started running regularly, it was the best outlet for my rage that harmed no one, though maybe raised a few farmers blood pressures when I was loudly screaming down country lanes
8. Make it count – this one is still yet to come. I will put my experience to some use. I will be what I needed for someone, I will raise money for charity, I will do something to use my experience for good