From This Perspective

Taken from notes about a week ago.

They are playing Julia.Stone - her soft mellow, mournful voice and tunes are unobtrusive to my ear here; almost calming and nice in a world full of hustle and bustle.  I escaped the questions of Elizabeth - I guess I'm not wanting the look of pity on someone who'll never give me another glance on the street; she is the estate agent and see her at best twice a year, I got nothing from telling her of Taggpole so why would I expect anything more with Elizabeth?

I miss my little girl
There isn't a way that I couldn't do
There isn't a fibre in me that would want this path
There isn't a thought, action or motive that doesn't speck her name
There isn't a moment where there isn't this new mother's love behind my eyes

The shades I wear, or more so the coloured film that I see the world through, is blue right now.  Its the slight contrast that is blue tinged and colours everything in my life and everything I see.  Blue is my favourite colour and is also the way the coloured photos of Elizabeth have turned out - you see the photographer kind of saturated/defused them somehow so as not to highlight the fact that she didn't have a lovely rosy complication.

I see this view as my grief goggles/contacts/glasses and how I view my love for Elizabeth.  The blueness of life without her, defused of life, but still going on regardless of me and my utter torment.  Everything is paler, more abstract and dull, but this is the way I see things since Elizabeth's birth.  She has shown me this whole other side to life and love - oh, this mother's love; I'm still bowled over by its power!
It is all encompassing, all consuming, awe inspiring, unconditional, all powerful and truly amazing!   I can only imagine how it would feel to have but an ounce of that returned.  When I see this love reflected in the eyes of my child and to bestow it on another physically, to show this openly and not have it showing as the overwhelming tears of right now.  So this blue view is by contact lens, no one else can see them and know of this distorted vision I have....

I can't not wait to put the Dame.Edna style glasses on that all the other new mother's wear so openly.  It looks to me that they are all wonderful shapes and sizes, bright colours and wacky appendages, but most of all I'm green with envy that they have the rose tinted version to wear - their new mother's love so blatant for all to see and be able to show that.  I want the glasses that hide the sleepless nights.  I want the goofy ones that allows you to coo all over your newborn without restriction of looking like a complete idiot.  I want to wear those glasses that say I have a purpose. I want to be able to have those funky Mama ones that sees the world as innocent, rose tinted and wonderful, where there are such things as miracles.

That is another thing that gets me, how come everything is so steeped in wonder, why is everything so magical?  Scratch that; I know because they've not had their world turned on its head, they don't know this gut wrenching pain or this unquenchable thrust for something so out of reach.
Time to snap out of this downward spiral of wanting, needing, longing and yearning for those answers to the unanswerable and for the things that that I just can not have.  Why do I do this to myself, highlight all the things that are just so far out of reach?

I have hope that I'll soon get the chance to see the world with some sort of rose tinted glasses - I know its never going to be the same; this flip side of life.  But someday I will have new meaning, I will have use for all this love I have; an output for it and a new baby to actively mother.  I know that another will never replace Elizabeth in my heart - I don't think I need to expand on that as Leslie wrote it so well here, about 'a scared space' next to the ones of any siblings we'll be blessed with...  A time I can only dream of after two pregnancies.


On seeing my prenatal yoga instructor:
Heart jumps up into my throat
I'm shaking and my anxiety levels soar
Pulse is up and I just want to run!

I've seen someone from my 'old life'
and she's acknowledged me from afar
I don't want to say those words
"My baby girl Elizabeth, she died"
But I do not want to deny her either.
What would I prefer; her discomfort or mine?
I can live with mine; its an everyday struggle for me
But why do I feel protective of her feelings?

I can hear her chatting at another table with a friend
Oh, A. where are you?
You should be here to comfort me and save me from this
I feel sick and dragged back, I know she remembers I was pregnant
This is the first time I've seen her and I'm not prepared at all

Calm yourself
Watch the world go by the window
Listen to the music
Wait patiently for A.
But I'm also shitting myself there will be a tap on my shoulder from her smiling face
I can't stand this...


As it turns out A. was just around the corner and came in to collect me - there was no awkward words, just a smile in acknowledgement as I charged out of the coffee shop.
There has been one other time I wish I could have back again, where I did deny Elizabeth - BUT in a roundabout way.  New neighbours are renovating and came to introduce themselves and wondered if I had "children to keep awake with all our banging and ripping the old kitchen out?"  I took a moment and stumbled my negative response.  Oh, I feel terrible for that and just want to explain to them; I do have a beautiful daughter, one that they'll never get to meet...