"What Can I Do?"

So many people have asked me, "what can I do?" since we lost Holly.

As it's my godforsaken birthday (which anyone who knows me will tell you I despise at the best of times), I'm going to attempt to answer that question.

First off, I'll start by saying, please don't wish me "a happy birthday." And I am not saying that to be ungrateful, I appreciate the gesture. But let's not even pretend it's going to be a happy one. Let's find some alternatives that you can do, instead. So here are some suggestions (I've even highlighted some in bold for skim-reading, in case you don't fancy reading this epic blog post in its entirety. Go me).

The best thing you can do is continue to do what so many people have done already, which is simply offer support. Be there. Don't pretend it didn't happen, I can't bear the thought of my daughter being forgotten. Talk about her. Use her name. Acknowledge her existence. Words bring me comfort, I have always been fond of words. Don't be afraid to talk to me about her or write to me about her.

Come and visit us. We moved to have more space and be more sociable. There are spare rooms and the door is always open. If one positive thing came out of Holly's death, it was how amazing it was to hear from people I hadn't heard from in a while. Sometimes time and distance get in the way of friendships, but if you want to do something, then let's make the effort to meet up.

Speaking of visiting... no doubt I have mentioned that the house is under renovation, and is a "work in progress." We were due to have a new kitchen fitted on 2nd January, and I tried everything possible to get hold of the kitchen-fitters as soon as I was admitted into hospital on 21st December. To no avail, I was unable to contact anyone to postpone the fitting - closed for Christmas holidays with no emergency number and nobody responding to emails. We lost time while I was in hospital (and obviously, finishing the kitchen in readiness for the fitters was no longer top of the list of priorities), which meant I had to stand on the doorstep in my PJs, on 30th of December when a delivery van turned up to deliver the component parts of the kitchen ready for fitting, explaining through tears that we were not yet ready to receive the kitchen... Many phone calls later, and we finally have a new installation date, which is now 20th February. There is still work to be done before then. If you live in the area and want to offer practical assistance, feel free! Bring old clothes, and we'll set you to work on DIY... And fear not, once the kitchen is finished, there is plenty more to be done... a whole house-worth, in fact. Practical assistance and DIY expertise, gratefully received.

Child-minding: again, mostly applies if you are local, and so many people have helped us out by offering to take care of Rowan while we have dealt with practical matters, such as visiting funeral directors and birth/death registry. Again, I can't thank you enough. There will still be times in the near future when we need to do things that a noisy six-year-old would be better off staying away from. Rowan has said his goodbyes to his little sister, and won't be attending the funeral. Immediate family will be attending, so if you're able to take him for a play-date, the offer would be gratefully appreciated... And speaking of Rowan, please let me reassure everyone that he is absolutely fine. He understands what's happened, and we have been open and honest with him. Young children are very accepting of their reality, and with the exception of occasional fleeting moments of sadness, he is very much the boisterous, happy child he has always been. He also had the most unexpectedly fantastic sixth birthday, due to the kindness of people I know who bailed us out when I couldn't quite pull things together. Things absolutely came together for him at the last minute and he will only remember the best moments. Please don't worry about him.

Give me a job. Seriously. This may sound callous, but I know a lot of casting directors/directors/producers. Being self-employed, I was lucky to continue working throughout most of my pregnancy, but I had to pull out of a panto contract over Christmas, and things are now uncertain (as they always are for self-employed performers at the best of times). I have no idea what work I am likely to line up in the near future, and although I believe I am entitled to some form of maternity pay, it isn't much, and I would rather be working. I am not 100% sure when I will be able to face auditions, but I have always loved my job, and my career is a source of comfort. I don't want to be away from it for too long. If you know of a role that might suit me (singing/acting/voiceover... extending into photography/writing, which I am also very much capable of and have credentials), please bear me in mind.

Artists/musicians (I know a lot of those, too), if you want to draw/paint/compose in Holly's memory, nothing would make me happier. Don't feel obliged in any way, but if you feel inspired to create something for her, then please run your ideas by me, and I'd love to come up with something meaningful together. (Just an idea). I am already immensely grateful to some musical people who have helped me to make Holly's funeral extra special with some personalised recordings I couldn't have achieved on my own... you know who you are. Thank you.

For my friends overseas... it's harder to offer practical solutions for things you can do, but I can't tell you how much I have appreciated each and every message.

So, for those who want to, I have also set up two JustGiving pages with alternative charities to donate to. I don't like asking for money, but some people have expressed a desire to donate, and these links support worthy charities (rather than myself). I like the idea of some good coming out of Holly's existence.
One is the UNHCR, who do amazing international work with refugees, and mean a lot to me on a personal level (because I recognise that there are people in a worse situation than myself).
If that isn't your cup of tea, the other is Sands, which is relevant under the circumstances, as they helped us to get through the worst moments of our lives by offering a Memory Box with some beautiful mementos in it (which perhaps, I will one day share).
Links are here, should you feel so inclined to donate:
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/rosanne-priest
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/babyhollyrose

Lastly, for anyone who wishes to know:
Holly's funeral will be held on Friday 19th January, at 3.30pm, in Chesterfield (Brimington Crematorium).
We genuinely do not "expect" anyone else to attend, however, we also realise that this is not only our tragedy, and some of you may wish to come along, or find it comforting. In which case you are more than welcome, and we would love to see you. If you are travelling from further afield, then please let us know, and we can arrange a spare bed and/or lifts to and from the funeral.
It will be a brief but beautiful service, filled with music, personal touches, and a lot of my heart and soul. While we would love for you to share the moment with us, please do not feel in any way obliged.

You can also follow this blog, which for now is where I will continue writing about Holly Rose. I had more to say about offering advice on what to say and what not to say to a grieving parent... at least from my perspective. But for now, this post has been hard to write, and I am exhausted. Thank you for the birthday wishes. Please don't think me ungrateful, but I would far rather you take up one of the suggestions in this post, than wish me a happy birthday.

Wishing everyone a blessed 2018. xxx