Right Where I Am: 9 months, 5 days

This is the first time I've taken part in a an other's project, let alone one that is for creative minded people (I see myself having missed that creative gene).  You see this blog is just for me really, a space where I can put down my thoughts and feelings without having the pressure of having anyone from my 'real life' knowing - I do love the people who read my ramblings and they've only found me through comments on other blogs that I read, or have happened to find me here. My writing will not win me awards anywhere, it's not eloquent, it's not pretty, it's certainly not up to any grammatical standard - but it is real and it's mine.

Thank you to Angie over at Still Life With Circles who has provided this thought provoking, yet very simple question and the blank sheet of paper for me to dwell upon, reflect and grow through - it's is also a chance to have an look into the lives of other parents who are walking this path of grief and see where they are right now, whatever their timeline is.

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So 9 months and 5 days. 39 weeks and 5 days. My beautiful Elizabeth was born at 39 weeks and 4 days and I remember it all as if it was indeed yesterday.  We have missed her a day longer than we had her for and that simple fact cuts to the bone. I didn't think it would have this effect on me and had been concentrating on the big milestone of her first birthday - but it has it it knocked us both for six and I'm just picking up the pieces.

I miss her, I love her, I miss her, I love her so damned much...

I could fill pages of lines like that and probably have over these nine months and 5 days too. Not only in this blog, but in the paper journals and all the letters, emails and writings that I fill my days up with.
My family and friends are all back in the UK, we moved to the other side of the world to start our dream life; it turned into some sort of nightmare where the only children we know of are the two that we mourn. I've had to be very open with my writing, talking on the phone and certainly Skype'ing has just been so tough - I doubt that I could hold the same conversations with all those people face to face either, that is just too difficult for me...

Even now nine months out, where I can function in the day to day world with a smile and hope in my heart. I still find myself limiting the exposure to the newborn babes that seem to be highlighted with neon signs everywhere, the obviously neglected and unwanted, unloved children that happen across me at sensitive moments - I just can't deal with them and run in the opposite directing trying to hold myself together. I know it'll get easier, but when? I know I could barely look at another pram and now I find I'm curious; I want to see that baby.

And I am functioning. I think the biggest hurdle of this past month or two has been to let go of the fact that I can let go of the pain. The loss, pain, heartache, yearning and the all the love has up until that point, been so entwined together. There was no feeling one without the other; the love I have for Elizabeth and the pain of her death. I found that with all the 'functioning' I was able to do, I was losing my connection with her and felt like she was slipping further away from me; I hadn't felt grief with just that love before, it's a new shade and something to get used to. I guess I'm reasonably comfortable carrying around a deep measure of pain with me now, although it is nicely wrapped up under a thin layer of fresh skin. I am able to shrug off the usual everyday attacks; I'm somewhat desensitized, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the stab of pain and loss - I do with the same intensity, but am better at coping with that now.
The love however has remained; it is just brought up to the surface above the pain and I've found new ways of dipping into it. I write a journal to Elizabeth as if we're having a grown up conversation, I get to focus on my thoughts for her and to really explore and grow on those - that brings me a sense of closeness. I still light candles every night, I still have her blanket with me as I sleep, I kiss her box of ashes every morning and night, I talk to her in my day, I buy us beautiful flowers on each 22nd, I have photos to view from every resting place, I tend the plants gifted to us in her name, I dust the nursery with all her things in there...

It goes on, Elizabeth is apart of the life Im living.

I am more reliant on my husband. For his understanding, his compassion, his safety, his support, his laughter, his optimistic view to life he still possess, his nurturing, his happiness, his stability, but mostly his love and acceptance of who I am now. Elizabeth's death drove us into each others arms with our shared love for our firstborn. We did and still do grieve very differently, but there is a clear understanding between us that we will not knowingly hurt one another - that gave us the freedom to grieve in whatever manor we both needed, just knowing that we have each others best interests at heart I think saved us.

I have this deepening love for the people in my life who still want me to share Elizabeth and what I'm feeling, with family and friends; both old and new. I know I have been remiss about keeping in contact with too many, the fact is that spending too much time reflecting and writing mails/blogs/journals on where I am, just eats away my time and energy for actually living - right now I find there are weeks where my feet don't touch the ground; I'm just so busy. The dear ones that have persisted with me are truly awesome. They can understand and put themselves in my shoes, they have realistic expectations of me and my capabilities and they show a deep love for me, Elizabeth and my husband - that is a heart warming thing to discover on this cold winter morning.

I have let go the thoughts of wanting Elizabeth's too short life count for something. It is meaningless to me the fact that she was and is so loved, was conceived, grew and thrived within, just to die at her birth. I'm not saying that her life was meaningless, but I'm not ready to subscribe to the idea of learning life lessons and putting meaning where I cant see any just yet - that will come I'm sure.

My whole view of life has been shifted, priorities have changed and old ways reassessed for their merit. I don't believe in a God, a natural order to things, karma, fate or luck; things are just purely random and shit happens to good people everyday. There is no sugar coating anything anymore; I see and say things as it they are - maybe that is my way of shocking people into the reality of my world right now?

I guess the single biggest life change for me right now is the fact that I am almost 18 weeks pregnant and everything is becoming a little more real now. The relief of this pregnancy was almost deafening; jumping off the desperate roller coaster ride that is TTC and being able to focus wholly on Elizabeth, my grief and finding my way again - such a relief in so many ways.
I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't scared for the future, but right now? I am feeling good, calm even. Everything is going well and I'm feeling well supported both physically and mentally. That is one of the reasons why I am so busy every three weeks or so; I'm booked up to my eyebrows with appointments at the hospital in the city. I can only think ahead into those three weeks though and am only filling in the gaps around those appointments weekly. The fact that I can't look to the future its not a conscious decision at all - it is the path of lest resistance and will just see how long this calm stays with me.
I'd love to write about my anticipation and excitement for this new soul, but all I can say with my hand on my heart is that I love he/she with all of me. I am continuing to focus my efforts on keeping Elizabeth close to me through this time of great functioning, learning how to do that with more of the love I have have in a more subconscious way. I know that a time will come when I'll have to face facts and fess up to a future that is so uncertain...

Thank you Angie, for this wonderful opportunity to write about my grief as it stands and of course to share my dear sweet Elizabeth openly and for many to read. It is great that so many have been drawn to your project and I know those who read these collections of 'Right Where I am', will gain valuable insight as I have - Thank you