There are many expressions in the English language that use the word ‘time’.

play for time,
pass the time,
it’s high time,
move with the times,
not before time,
time on your hands,
time after time,
time flies…

Time is subjective and how we each experience it can be impossible to explain to someone else. We can share our experiences which involve our senses; we can both hear the same song or taste the same freshly baked cake. But it’s impossible to share another person’s perception of time.

The first year after Sofia died was as if time stood still. Looking back, I feel as if that year never actually existed for me, in a sense ‘the year that never was’ for me. I was able to spend nine months on leave (it was still considered maternity leave) and during those nine months I went from my bed to the couch and back to bed, and that was pretty much all I did.

People say time heals all wounds. It’s logical the deeper the wound the more time is needed to heal it. I felt wounded to my very core, as if someone had ripped open my chest and pounded my heart as much as it could be without destroying it completely. It would take a lot of time to heal my wound and heal my heart.

Not long after Sofia died, I received a letter from a distant cousin I’d never met. She had also lost a newborn and wanted to reach out to me. I only managed to skim her letter. The pain which wasn’t so evident in her actual words was written everywhere else, and the pain was immense. She had since had another two children and her loss was now many years ago, but I felt her pain was still almost unbearable for her. I knew then that losing Sofia wasn’t something I would ever get over, but seeing how another mother’s pain was so raw even after so much time had passed, was a terrifying confirmation for me.

Getting through the first anniversary of Sofia’s birth and death felt like an achievement. Like other grieving people I’ve talked to, the first year was definitely the hardest. Thankfully, with time, the pain has softened. I don’t think it will ever go away, but as time passes the pain becomes more bearable.

Time heals what reason cannot – Seneca


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