Hi all. Please excuse the lengthy post; I feel it helps to get all the facts out when talking of my grief.
I am currently 20 week’s pregnant. 3 months ago I lost my amazing husband Stephen suddenly, he was only 45 (I am 36). We were together 12 years and he was truly my best friend.
A year prior to his death, December 2021, he’d had a cardiac arrest while at work (he was a gardener) and luckily his colleague/friend found him and administered CPR. He spent two weeks in intensive care and we were told several times to prepare for the worst.
It was discovered that he had a rare form of blood cancer, Polythycaemia, which left untreated causes blood clots. A clot had travelled to his heart which caused it to stop, which in turn severely damaged it.
I spent many hours by his bedside and thankfully, after a month in hospital, he was able to come home. He was put on medication for his condition but the main concern was getting his heart healthy again. We felt so, so lucky to have him back.
The year that followed he absolutely amazed me and everyone else he knew, medical staff included. Within a few months he was back at work, going on long walks, we went to Glastonbury festival, and then, back in October last year we had a 5-week van tour of Australia, our favourite place, and where he proposed to me back in 2016. None of this was easy for him; he struggled at times not being fully fit, but he was so stubbornly determined to get better. Stephen felt so grateful to be alive and was determined to make the most of it. He said to me: ‘I feel like I have unfinished business.’
While his cancer was kept under control by medication, his heart was damaged and so he was due to have some procedures. But, given how well he was doing and with no immediate alarm from his consultants, there was no indication that he was on the verge of death. Everyone commented on how he’d looked healthier than he had in years.
However, on our return from Oz at the end of November he’d lost a bit of his zest (he had SAD and hated Britain in winter), he was also stressed about the heart procedures as they were constantly being delayed. He hated hospitals and just wanted to get sorted and get on with his life. Luckily, we found out 2 weeks before Christmas that we were having our first child, and we were so excited to finally be parents.
On January 9th, he set off with his sister to a routine appointment at the hospital 100 miles away. A few hours later, she turned up at my living room doorway without him…I just knew from her face. But I didn’t want to believe it. Before his appointment they’d stopped for a walk at a scenic place, during which he complained of leg pain and suddenly died right there. The efforts of his sister, passers-by and emergency services were futile. His heart had given up.
3 months on it feels as painful as those immediate days after. Not only am I mourning his huge loss, but also the fact that we will never share being parents together. He was the kindest person I knew and would’ve been an amazing dad. We were so in love and happy.
I am really tired of the platitudes, but also weary of well-meaning people who say ‘he’ll live on in your baby, he’ll never leave you’ etc. What should be exciting moments in my pregnancy just bring me more heartache and - as grateful as I am to be carrying our child - I am finding this whole experience extremely strange and emotional. I am completely bereft, tired, irritable, overwhelmed and at times resentful.
I am surrounded by support but the only person I want is Stephen, so I have found myself hiding away. I just feel like I’ll never know happiness without him.
In his final days he sent me a text ‘I am so excited to be a dad, thank you for being an oven to my bun. But I am scared things are going to go tits up again and you’ll be left alone.’ I berated him for saying this and he apologised, if only I’d known.