I Carry Your Heart

A dear friend sent me a mail this morning of a poem she read and wanted to share with me. I am so thankful that she did as I'd never heard it before and it just says so much to right now with where I am ~ Thank you Eva's Mamma

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry you in my heart (i carry it in my heart)

~ e. e. cummings

Kitchen Table - Glow In The Woods

I'm taking part in the new Kitchen Table discussion over at Glow In The Woods

1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?


It'll be a year since Elizabeth's birth and death in 23 days. At first I counted the weeks just as you would a newborn, but after her 6 months I would just mark each 22nd that came by. Now with her birthday looming, I guess it'll be in years. Time has done some strange things, but on the whole, I think it has just sped by in a blink of an eye - how is it already her birthday?


2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?


I was always conscious of not being bullied into 'getting over her' and really didn't have a clue in those Dark Days what life held for me - I was just more concerned getting through the day. At about the 6 month mark, I noticed an ease to those Dark Days of such intense grieving and I could see and feel a ray of hope. I know now that I'll be forever holding onto a deep sadness that she isn't here with us and I'm okay with that.


3. Rather than a clear goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it take to get there?


I have a choice with the usual everyday triggers (of seeing the newborns, our pram being used by others, over hearing gushing mothers with their babes, along with certain songs) I can choose to not let it get to me; to not be sensitized to it and put my 'strong head' on and that has only just occurred to me in the last month. But with the things that I'm still avoiding; i.e. holding newborns or having anything to do with them - well, I'm just not going there yet and luckily I have no need to.


4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you answer "too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?


Elizabeth died at birth, at 39 weeks and 3 days. I loved being pregnant and cherished every moment I had with her. Elizabeth was our second pregnancy, we lost Taggpole at 16 weeks and I thought I knew grief then? So I wrote journals, I took belly photos and at 12 weeks we found out (CVS) we we're having a daughter and named her then; oh the dreams and aspirations we had. 


I am 27 weeks (almost) into this third pregnancy and while I love this babe within, I am still getting my head around the uncertainty of this pregnancy; the whole nine-months is far too long...  
But if this is all I'm getting with this beloved one, then of course it would be far too short.


Having Elizabeth stay with us for the duration of my hospital stay (a day and a half) was a blessing and will forever have those vivid memories of us as a new family. I cherish the photos taken, the moments of love shared between us and seeing the father and mother in us shine through the shocking truth.


5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and do you find that to do true?


Well I'm so far off that mark at just a year. I think I woven this stage of grief into my life, into our lives at home. I'm not sure things will be so easy after Elizabeth's sister is born. All being well, we'll be faced with everything we've been missing and the thought of that alone is quite over whelming.
There is comfort in knowing that the 2-5 year mark is such a way off, it leaves plenty of time to figure that one out.


6. There's a familiar saying, "Time heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you have all lied"?


"Time heals all wounds" is bollocks. As so many have already stated it allows you to grow stronger, to deal with the gaping empty hole, the longing, the heartache, the sadness and pain. Time allows you to adapt, to carry your child in your heart rather than on the outside for all to see. Time allows you to see other things, to feel and to want to live again. Time allows you to grow skin over that wound, but all that scar tissue is so very sensitive and easily ruptured.


7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?


The Dark Days I couldn't see past my own nose; my own grief. I still can't see or envision anything more than two weeks away, but that is due to this pregnancy and the next hospital appointment.  My imaginings about the future are just so abstract; too many variables, too many what ifs - it's not something that I've had to consciously and I don't fight that.
The past is very different though and have heard others have described it as 'before' and 'after' their child's death very aptly. I lived to plan the next adventure and there is to me a rose tinted-ness to the past on a whole, a life without accident, death and such heartbreak. I lived a charmed life and I never fully knew it.


8. How long did it take you to answer these questions?


About an hour - lots of staring out of the window and taking pleasure in the rain falling

One In A Million

I was in the city yesterday with a whole list of things to do. Part of that list was to catch up on some emailing, so settled myself in a cozy corner of Star.bucks with my I.pad to write. I was enjoying a very productive day and the hot chocolate there, are best - I was just saving the last mail (my pad isn't a 3G) and it goes tits up and deleted it instead. I hate this when it happens, it's so very frustrating! Okay I thought calmly, I can quickly rewrite it.

I was writing to my cousin H (who is a few weeks away from giving birth to her long awaiting IVF baby, who has been lovely and not shying away from me and loves to know how I'm doing) trying to answer her question concisely, of whether or not I would like a card for Elizabeth's birthday - she didn't know how that would make me feel. Good question with many sides to the coin in my eyes and so it was a long and rambling mail (as always). Anyway I had to write it a good few times (can you believe there is no save or undo options, nor shortcuts on the pad's keyboard!) and it was starting to get quite dark with rain in the sky and soon the commuters would be out in force.

A lady sits herself down in the sofa next to me and asks: "Are you pregnant?"

Me: "yes, I am"

Her: "how far along are you?"

Me: "25 weeks"

Her: "wow, I'm just 6 weeks"

Me: "ah, congratulations"

Her: "is this your first?"

This is when my heart starts beating super loud in my chest, it jumps up into my throat and goes for the strangle hold. It is so loud and fast I'm asking myself why she can't hear it?

So I answer "no, this is my third pregnancy"

Her: "you must be a dab hand at it then, how is it effecting your body?"

Me: "at the pregnancy bit yes. It's not too bad on the body, it's more a mental thing with me"

She gets her brew and settles down with her book - I know I've stumped her and I return to the last sentence of my mail. But then I'm looking at my screen saver on my lap, of Elizabeth and I and all that mothers love flowing through me and I just want to engage her in conversation about loving pregnancy, being excited, preparing and letting her know some of the quirks of being pregnant - I love being pregnant and wanted to enthuse and show that. All this running through my head after writing in my last post about not being able or wanting to talk with 'normal expectants'...

But Kim from Toronto isn't a 'normal' lady, she is a BLM; in fact she had suffered a miscarriage just two months ago. And that's not all, she grew up knowing of a sister and brother (Sarah and Stephen) who came before her and never met - they died at birth, full term. She can't remember a time when she didn't know of her older siblings and her family have always had them both very present in their lives. 

It was amazing to me to have someone come and sit next to me that I could talk of all my babies Taggpole, Elizabeth, and Amelia. I showed her my screen saver of Elizabeth and I, I told her of the countless awesome moments of pregnancy, we talked of living in the moment and we both really talked of our loves and loses. We were on the same page and wow did we talk... and she wasn't scared. 

I was actually the third person she'd told of her current pregnancy (after her fiancé (they marry in 2 months) and mother (who she is so very close to)). She is heading back home for the wedding and has been travelling for 7 months already, so hasn't had any real contact with friends or family, or anyone else who can understand like another BLM. I would have waffled on with her for hours and hours, it was so easy and not forced at all and I was sad to say goodbye. Kim thanked me for sharing with her and also said how full of positivity I was - can you believe how much validation was in that small sentence?!

Kim from Toronto really, really lifted my spirits, gave me a spring in my step on the way home in the dark, wet and cold weather with all the late commuters. It was an awesome chance meeting with a complete stranger and quite serendipitous, it was just what I needed - when moments before I was writing to H that there are too few people in my life here that I can open up to about my babes.

I thank Kim from Toronto and I hope that her new little soul thrives and ends up out living her and her husband. 

I also hope that yesterday's wonder isn't a one in a million occurrence, I think I have a little more hope that I may open up with more people on the off chance. I love talking about Elizabeth and doing so outside of my head with someone else who understands; it just gives me a high and makes me remember her with just the love in my heart.

The hot chocolate and donut could have contributed to that high - GTT is still a week away...

Slow Changes

I'm so unsure what to write here these days. Some times I have so much to get down, at other times I just don't have the time nor inclination to sit and write, other times I'm just lost for words. There is so much going on in my head right now and not a lot of actual changes in my life - it is fair to say that this pregnancy is a mind fuck!

I'm feeling old and run down and overwhelmed in reality. My body is just not finding this pregnancy a breeze as it did carrying Elizabeth. I guess being pregnant 81 weeks out of 105 (to date) is a pretty mean feat for any one's body, but to contend with the added impact of grief on top of that and I wonder why? I am trying not to sound like I'm complaining, for I know how bloody lucky I am to be here carrying this little girl within. I just wish I'd treated my body with some respect and got prepared for lay ahead...
But who knew eh?

Why is it that whenever I'm thinking of a post to write, the act of writing it changes the content - frustrating.


A few days later...

The reason why I don't write here all that often isn't because I haven't got anything to say necessary, but I have been able to get it out of my system in another way. Mainly it is through talking with other BLMs and writing it all down in emails, or in journals. I'm getting my fix of venting in other ways because I have some valuable people around me that can give me their time; to listen, to read, to let me talk of what is going through my head and to give feedback.
Granted, the 'Tourette's' has calmed down considerably and its not a main fixture in my thoughts these days, but the need to have Elizabeth's life validated and remembered by others is so very great, especially with her birthday coming.

I also have a hell of a lot going on with this pregnancy, it is more mental than anything else and just talking to 'normal expectants' (the non-BLM with a subsequent pregnancy) is like talking to a Martian; we're so completely on different plants. They're so full of innocence, so full of trust, hope, joy and excitement - everything I was with Taggpole and to a lesser extent with Elizabeth. I just can't talk with them; it shows me what I had, what I lost and will never have again. There is also the added bonus of whether to let onto the fact that this is my third pregnancy without a living child; do I deny my children, or do I stun the 'expectant' into a frightened silence?

So I lurk on the blogs of other BLMs who have their 'rainbows' in arm, read their back stories and learn from them - I do that as I know there is a 'happy ending' to be had. I am also very, very lucky that I have a few beautiful people in my real life that honestly want to know what is going on with me, who 'get it' and who almost have a vested interest in my happiness.

I started this blog as my space where I can offload all my mental shit down somewhere, so that I didn't have to burden anyone else with it all. Everything was just so raw, painful and so very mixed up and over time I have been able to find a little sense; a little clarity of thought that I am able to put emotions into words without the 'Tourette's' over coming me.

There has been a new layer of skin applied to me also; another form of protection that acts as a barrier to all the triggers that infest the world (and I know I'm one of them), it is a work in progress. Time doesn't heal; that is bollocks - I could live for a thousand years and always feel that shocking pain of loss; I will always want my Elizabeth here in my arms. All 'time' does, is allow you to breathe, deal with the heartache, muster the courage to want to carry on, put your shattered self together and learn to live again. This pregnancy has brought healing of sorts too. It has given me purpose and meaning back. It gives me reasons to pick up the pieces, to want to look after myself (if only for the one I'm carrying), to make plans (even if its not very far into that future), to consider something else apart from the overwhelming unfairness.

Opening up my thoughts and heart to other BLMs and choice family members has lead to deeper thought - the superficial living has, I think subsided for awhile and I'm comfortable in the here and now. Getting their opinions, their view on things has paved the way to fresh, new and undiscovered thoughts and that is what I miss with writing to myself/who-knows-who; writing here. I miss being stretched in that respect, my way isn't the be all and end all of everything now; I can see past my own grief - I've got to. That is the main reason why writing here seems to be lower on my list of priories and really connecting with people that I can converse with I find so much more fulfilling.

I knew a time would come when I could let My Space grow on its own accord; not have to tend to it, feed it all the time - I am not abandoning it. I might try a different approach though, see how I go with quick succinct posts (can I write a brief and clearly expressed post?). I still want this place to document the facts of where I am, I just think its going to change somewhat - just as life is changing...

I am still a mess of emotions/thoughts, how do I start with cutting the crap from them; making them short and brief, yet to the point? I've always been a rambler.

A succinct update?

I'm getting on top of things for Elizabeth's birthday. I'm chipping away at the long list of little things to do and it feels good to be doing something towards it daily. It is a relief more than anything else, not a chore to be daunted, and I'm quite proud of my small accomplishments. I hope its going to be a case of anticipation being worse than the day itself - I don't want the 22nd to be sad and all about me and what we've lost, I want to remember her with only love in my heart.

Almost another 22nd upon us, this is however over shadowed with her birthday so close - maybe the fresh, pink oriental lilies will open for then, filling our home with their beautiful scent?

Ma sent me this photo a few days back from her back garden

Taken on June 22nd 2011

Always taken on the 22nd, our little Elizabeth shining through to warm our hearts.

Pregnancy update

24 weeks + 4 days and Amelia is weighing in at approx 700g - the lower weight limit of the NICU is 500g, relief of sorts. Yes, we've named this new soul Amelia Layne, there is no reason to keep that information secret - I want to shout it from the roof tops and we've both found it a great way of bonding with her.

This morning at 25 weeks

I am piling on the weight now (2kg in 2 weeks!) without changing eating/exercise habits (growth spurt hopefully) and have the GTT (Glucose Tolerance Test) next week - fingers crossed.
I'm seeing my OB, Penny every 2 weeks still and have booked the level 2 ultrasounds for 28 and 32 weeks - needed to check placental placement (very low, not quite previa at the 20 week scan) and her growth.
Thyroid good, BP and FHB good. Feeling lots of strong kicks/movements. Skin clearing up and feeling good on the whole - if not a tad old, slow and achy.

Red Nose Day

I am feeling a relief that I've not felt in a long time.

The Red Nose Day memorial service held by the SIDS & Kids Australia was just beautiful. A. swapped shifts to come with me and were able to meet up with my BLM friend's husband - it is nice to know they have each others numbers to call if they need to talk with a known face. We'll be meeting up again soon, I hope it'll be the start of a friendship just as myself and S has.

Anyway the service was just what I needed.

I needed to feel a part of a community and did, almost 300 strong I would guestimate.
I needed an emotive environment in order to let my pentup emotions free - an outlet.
I needed to belong and not feel like I'm misunderstood and the odd one out all the time.
I needed to have A. by my side and feeling all these things too.
I needed to see others in this BLM community that I know and connect with, to introduce them to A.
I needed to hear such emotive songs that helped let the tears flow.
I needed to hear the emotional words of those who've walked this path and have survived, thrived, but still remember their lost children with so much love.
I needed to see the extended families surrounding those parents in their grief, supporting them, grieving and wanting to be there to remember too.
I needed others to see my tears - I do cry in my heart everyday, but they hardly make it to my eyes anymore. I needed to show that I am just human.
I needed to feel such love in an awesome environment, have it fill the cavernous space with a tenderness that was so palpable - we were all there to remember our children, not in sadness, but with such a powerful love that just took me over.

We brought a photo of Elizabeth to put at the front, placed so we could see her from were we sat, that was lovely to have a visual image of her to gaze at. Along side her there was frame after frame of hundreds of photos of children that are usually mounted on the walls of the SIDS & Kids offices - that was a little over whelming, but lovely at the same time.

We wrote Taggpole and Elizabeth's names in the book/register that was read out while we all lit candles. It over whelmed me to hear them continue to be read out aloud for not 10 minutes, not 15 minutes; 25 minutes later they were all read out while the candles burned lower.

Elizabeth's & Taggpole's candles in amongst the many others
This was one of four dishes of candles

Then we went outside to write messages on red balloons before we let them free into the sky - hundreds of red balloons rising up in between the tall office blocks in the heart of the city.

Too busy watching the hundreds of red balloons ascend to take photos myself, thankfully S  got this of A. and I

Honestly the emotion behind all these actions was huge, the symbolism, the intent behind them all meaning so much; so powerful. So much so that the next few days has been spent hiding away in a sensory deprivation bubble I think; just thinking and taking stock of all that went on that day. It did help that afterward I spent some time with S, just talking, rehashing the service and expanding our thinking, our other halves had to return to work.

***********

I think I've turned a  slight corner.

Writing to Elizabeth in her journal this morning, I realised there is so much I wish I had done with and for her while she was still with me. This made me realise how selfish I'm being with this new soul I carry now. It's all about me and my struggle to keep Elizabeth close to me - at the expense of her sister. It occurred to me that Elizabeth would love her as much as I do; she is her little sister and part of our family after all. I would think that she'd want me to experience as much with her as I did herself, if not more and not have to regret anything.
I seem to be striving for a closeness to Elizabeth, which pushes out most notions of her sister; like they both can't have space within me; like I'm dishonouring one with thoughts of the other and I've just realised how stupid that is. I know it's because I've not really thought about this little girl coming home with me, or even being born a live, but I've got to start somewhere.

So this is were I start making some fresh new memories with this little girl within. I want to really enjoying this pregnancy for what it is in the here and now. This isn't about letting Elizabeth go at all, it's just about letting this new soul into my heart just as I had done with Elizabeth - my head and heart knows there is space a plenty for all my children, past, present and future; so why am I dragging my feet? It's not as if I'm saving myself heartache if anything was to happen to this little girl, but maybe I can save myself some regrets.

I am filled with relief that I've come to this conclusion, it's as if I've given myself permission to go ahead and love this little girl like I want to, to get excited for a future, but not to concentrate on it and to rejoice in the time I do have with her. I am excited in the here and now, I am excited about meeting her, holding her and feeling thins all encompassing Mother's Love that Elizabeth showed me - I need to know that I will feel this love for her sister and I'm wanting to start the ball rolling now.

So instead of hiding all my baby updates on the Pumpkin Pages, I'm just going to put them in with my 'normal' musings.  This is my 22 week (and a day) photo of us together taken this morning, wearing my red Elizabeth scarf.

22 weeks + 1 - June 28th 2011

Ten Months

I've been fighting to talk of Elizabeth for a long time. The fact that I haven't many friends over here yet, no family and don't really have the energy to go out of my way to make friends - not with the ordinary non-babylost at any rate. But yesterday I found myself comfortable enough to talk of my daughter in a small room of non-BLMs (only four other women) in my 'mindfulness' class at the hospital. We were talking about anxiety and that go me anxious to be honest, just thinking of my triggers and found that they all belong to the past and to my sweet Elizabeth and the events surrounding her death - well I doubt its even that. Yes, I get the flashbacks, but I know how to deal with those and have been doing so for a while now - it's the mention of my anxiety and the fact that it just isn't seen, spoken of or even detected in looking at me...

Oh, how I wish people in mourning still wore black. My anxiety is about situations that I could actually talk of Elizabeth, or maybe I'm just uncomfortable, sad, alone, misunderstood  - maybe not, sometimes the 'Tourette's' gets so loud in my head that I just want to scream at the top of my lungs that I have a daughter, I have should have two children. I do want to shock people out of their malaise, out of their seemingly superficial lives and make them see how the world fucks good people over. Ha, I would be the crazy old cat lady who screams at people, who lost her babies - but I don't.
So in explaining about how I deal with my flash backs, I elaborated how it's all linked to the past trauma and how Elizabeth's huge photo helps me turn it all around to see her beauty. The others were a little stunned as they all suffered from depression of some sort, not realising my story could be any different from theirs. I actually found such relief in talking openly and not having to start from the beginning, I felt okay, proud and a mother - my ten month old is still in my life, she effects my everyday, her memory guides my day in little ways - just because no one else sees her, doesn't mean she doesn't exist.

Elizabeth was born ten months ago now. I miss her, but have gotten used to her ever-presence - she is here with me and I'm learning to make that the best I can. While I don't know what her personality would be, or her development at that age, I know how inseparable we'd be. I'd know her likes and dislikes, I'd know what makes her smile and what makes her really giggle - oh to know that sound! I'd know the colour her eyes had settled on (would it have been her father's deep green I wonder?), I'd know if she liked the water as much as I do. I'd know if she'd prefer the carrier, or the pram, walking out in the fresh, cool air, or staying inside all cozy. Just thinking how much our days would be spent playing, feeding, changing nappies... The house would be far from spotless, the washing piled high and the ironing board gathering dust. TV shows wouldn't matter, our social life would consist of mothers groups, baby swim groups, going for walks together in our local area and meeting more mothers and children.
I'd be showing Elizabeth how much I love her, I'd be proudly telling all who'd listen about how she was starting to do this and that, how smart, beautiful and how cheerful and happy she is - what a proud mother I would have been. I still am her proud mother, although no one but A. sees this, and that makes me sad.

On thinking some more about how things could have been (I'm really trying hard not to think of the should's and would's in this all - I can't wish away nor deny this little girl inside), I'm struck by the thought that I'll be a different mother from the one I would have been with Elizabeth. My priorities 'before' were skewed; materialistic, dominating and I thought I had control over my life and the happiness of those around me. Of course I know how disillusioned I was now, so with this new child I will hold her up for all to love. I'll not hide her away in my protective embrace, I want her to experience everything and not have any regrets and back her up 110%. This precious new girl isn't mine after all; she is here for me to love, protect, teach, nurture and ultimately give the best start, before she goes out into the world to find her passions and way ahead. This is a big change I have found within myself about my parenting outlook and only hope that it is a good thing.

So my darling Elizabeth on your ten month birthday, I have fresh realisations, different ways of thinking and I can only thank you for that broadening of my outlook. I miss you so very much; I'll always wish things didn't have to be this way, but am doing my best to get every ounce of goodness I can out of life after your death. 

You are very much a part of me, a part of my day and thinking. 

I love you sweet baby girl, always will Elizabeth

From The Back Foot

I feel as if I'm living a pace behind myself these days, always on the catch up and not really in the front seat of my life. For the most part I think I'm okay with that - I haven't the strength to do much about it to be honest; the superficial living continues.

Time has done some weird things; it has sped up and the days have turned into weeks - the months however have morphed into year long things, the future hasn't looked so far away or abstract.

I continue to write a lot in lots of different places, for the most part I'm connecting with people rather than just writing my mind here. I have been trying to catch up with the unanswered mails that overflow my inbox, it is something that I do give myself a hard time about because these people mean so much to me. I never fail to feel a little better having replied to someone; chipping slowly away at them.
I have also kept an open tab to the Right Where I am Project of Angie's and every moment I get to sit down and read; I devour the responses there. Every time I do, there is yet another twenty or so names added. I find reading those snippets into parents lives so enlightening and gain much from them, in some ways I wish to always be catching up with those.

The main thing that has put me on the back foot recently is the knowledge that we are expecting a sister to Elizabeth.  While that news thrilled us initially (the high was quite awesome), a lot of adjustment has had to come; mainly the fact that I can't wish everything different now. I can't wish the time to be turned back in order to have Elizabeth back with me, or else lose this little girl and I love her so completely. I'm over half way now and it has only just sunk in that I'm going to have another baby, regardless of the outcome, I'm expecting another daughter, I will birth her, I will hold her - will I bring her into the world a live, will I bring her home to out live me?
With all these heightened feelings for Elizabeth's sister, I find that keeping Elizabeth close just as hard, but I am calm about it now. I can only do as much as I am and I can only do so much in a day. I know it will come to a head, but it feels like a trap that I'm walking straight into with my eyes wide open.

My life is so very busy still, but its not doom and gloom, I don't want to give that impression at all; this is merely a vent for all the mental stuff that I'm clearly not dealing with right now. In my days I do wear a smile and yes it does truly reach my eyes at many times. I am growing with a pride that I can't knock. I love being pregnant and that is my overwhelming feeling; of awe and wonderment - being unable to project myself into the future has that effect on me; I am present and I am calm. I can dip into the feelings of excitement, just as much as I can into the fear and anxiousness of the uncertain, so I tend to want to stay here balanced. I'm just hoping I can ride this calm some more - the calm before the storm? Fuck I hope not.

********

I'd like to put the spotlight onto the Australian Red Nose Day this coming Friday; this is the major fundraising day for SIDS & Kids. An amazing organisation, I know I'd be lost without them! I attend their monthly group meetings (of which they have many different ones tailored to meet the needs of parents), have a counsellor to call 24/7 and used them as our first port of call on all things to do with our grief in our real lives; from news letters, book loans, written and practical information, to making valuable contacts within the babyloss community. As well as providing free 24 hour, 365 day bereavement services, they also educate and research prevention and causes of sudden and unexpected death of babies during pregnancy, birth, infancy and childhood. A true life line for me.

Also on Friday SIDS & Kids are holding a Remembrance Service in the city for all those wishing to remember their children. A and I are going and we're both actually looking forward to the prospect too - it is something we can physically do to remember Taggpole and Elizabeth. It will be a very emotive day, sharing a space together with so many where we can be the grieving parents we are on the inside and letting it show on the outside.

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.

*****

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

Nine

It is another Sunday the 22nd.

Its been nine months since you were born baby girl.
Just thirty-nine weeks ago you were in our arms.
In four days you will have been gone longer than we had you for...

I'm unsure if I want to hate these sort of days, or whether I want to keep them sacred and just for you. Right now I'm not wanting anything negative to touch you, so today will become your day darling; full of light, warmth, love and remembrance. It doesn't stop the flashbacks of how things came to be, I remember you with such a clarity and cling on to your perfect beauty. Just talking over your birthday with your father this morning brought so much detail back to us, both the good and the bad.

I miss you with all of me sweet Elizabeth.

Nothing in this world will ever make this alright with me.
I am so wronged. You are so very wronged too - this was your life!
So much of this grief has been about getting my head straight, that sometimes I lose the focus to be mad for you darling - please excuse that and know I would give my all to have your warm self here with us still; to see you grow, thrive, learn, explore, laugh, love...

I still haven't picked up the What To Expect in the first year book, I just can't bring myself to do that so I really don't have a clue on what I'm missing out on with your developmental stages and milestones - but I miss each and every one of them. I like to think that I will have that chance with your siblings, so that book is going back on the shelf for now.

Beautiful girl you will always be our beloved firstborn baby, the older sister to whom ever else comes next and the apple of my eye. You will always be our perfect daughter, the one that can do no wrong - I know it will be a long time before your perfection is fully seen and all the hurt and pain that surrounds your death fades.

I am learning to cope with this heartache, this eternal yearning and missing of you; I carry it around with me like a heavy weight and it is something that I'm getting quite used to now. My skin is hardening to external triggers, of course I still feel the stab of realisation and pain, but my recovery time is getting quicker. Sometimes I amaze myself and it is almost like water off a duck's back - does that make you worry less about me?

I can function the day to day mindless stuff
You are in our day to day, our every day
I am there for your father when he is crumbling
I remember you, I talk to you, I miss you

Oh, how I'm missing you...

You are the burning heat that resides in my heart
I love you Elizabeth Layne
I will always love you

Superficial Living

This is one of the few times that I've picked up my computer over the past few weeks and wanted/needed to say something. This is one of those times where my mind just won't settle and have to get down what is going through it.  This one one of those lucid moments of deep thought, there may not be one for a long while when I am able to write.  It is 4am, its not freezing and my husband is working his last night shift; so why not use this time to write rather then grab up a book or even easier just my phone and distract myself...

I'm quite stuck right now; its unconsciously done, but don't have the strength to get myself out. I am living a surface life with no deeper meaning than to just get through the day without harm. I'm constantly running from anything which allows me time within my own head and after the past (almost) nine months, that is something really quite foreign to me. Home isn't my safe place any more, sitting in the window with computer on my lap isn't happening - the poor birds are getting neglected. I have tried to make my home more inviting to me by changing the three bedrooms about; organising new ways of living in this space, finding new things to do within these walls...

I still want to run from here and immerse myself into the world of action, doing and anything which takes quite time away from me - I don't know, am I scared of being in my head for any length of time? That must be it. Just scared of the future I could paint; all the 'what-ifs', good and bad.

I'm protecting myself I know. I am functioning, I am doing really well if truth be told.  I'm not beside myself with anxiety and that is a shocker to me. I am just floating along with the current and just taking a back seat in everything, giving no attention to the view as I go. Although there is the other side of that coin too - no anxiety, no excitement, actually there is no anticipation at all.  There is no future planning when it comes to this new soul - I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I guess this is what it is like to really live in the moment, but I guess this sort isn't the aspired version; I have the self imposed version.

I'm finding it so hard to talk with anyone beyond the day to day living. There have been a few moments of lucidity between A. and I, but they are few and far between right now - thankfully he has been working nights this past two weeks and we've barely had more than a few hours together; its good enough just to keep things on an even keel. My sister will ask me how I'm doing (and really ask too) and I just deflect back or answer in a superficial way and I know she can tell.
(How am I? Physically okay, everything is looking good today, but mentally? Whoa. Such a loaded question. Do they really want to know, should I make something up to make them feel okay? Do they really want to know the inner workings of my mind, all the many sides of the coin - fuck, I don't even know how I'm doing.)
I've let other contacts wither too; the people that have meant so much to me, the life lines of understanding and empathy. My families emails have gone unanswered, every one's mails have and I've not called home in weeks.

I feel wretched about this and that only serves to make me bury my head deeper into the ground. This distancing isn't a conscious effort, its clearly what I've go to do to just now. With any hope just the act of writing this will help me see what I'm doing and wake me up to this.  But what is 'this'; denial? Whatever it is, I'm not of the inclination to go into it now - it just is.

I'm in uncharted territory here, I am in self preservation mode and I am finding a way. I am in a very different place from almost everyone I know and that in itself is heightening my sense of distance and isolation.

Things will inevitably change...

The Past Month

I'm trying hard to live.

I'm planning more than just a few days ahead, not months or anything like that yet. I think the fact that I'm having all these hospital appointments made for me a month to three weeks in advance is helping; I'm having to plan other things around those.  And its not just the OB, midwife, physician, MFM appointments; I have psychology appointments that the hospital has just started up too.  Dr Psych has also suggested I attend a 'teaching group' for anxious mothers going through a subsequent pregnancy (I'm lead to believe its mostly for PND suffers, but the tools and advice maybe helpful to me too) I'll give anything a go once, I mean what harm can it do?
Along with all those I have my monthly group meetings with the SIDS & KIDS that I've continued to go to from the outset and have made some good contacts there.  They also have a Support During Pregnancy group that I'll give another go. I was quite frankly quite horrified on my first visit, but can now realise the scope of the fear and anxiety surrounding these pregnancies. I also have known support going from the other group; so fingers crossed.

I have also been working hard at being more present with my life, not taking everything for granted and really immersing myself in the day to day; making each day count.  I've been stagnant for too long, stuck in my head and not 'doing'.  I'm in an another action phase and I'm okay with that now.

I do however feel like I'm a fine tangle of thoughts and emotions though.  So much has happened over this past month and I'm so far behind getting it all down here - I'm afraid that it'll all come out as a huge splurge and make no sense at all.  I guess that is why I've been distancing myself from everything and putting off writing.  I'm sure as things resurface I'll elaborate more, but for the time being I'll just recap with the shorter version.

So with the folks being here for almost a month; it was hard.  More functional problems more than anything else; just having my father and his vegan partner under our roof.  I was 16 when I left home and was 12 when my parents separated - I've lived on my own for 16 years and had to fend for myself emotionally for over 20...  Anyway, I think Freud would have a headache with our family dynamics, so I'll not bore you with it here.
As well as it was hard having them here, it was also lovely to have them near once I got my head around the fact that they were doing their best to love and support me; I did start to relax and open up to them.  They left on good terms, very good actually and that has made me all the more happier to have made such an effort with and for them. I have no regrets.

There has also been quite a few anniversaries and dates of significance to remember over this month.

Elizabeth's eight months - which coincided the folks last days here and had to be selfish to our own needs/wants; A and I spent the day together (that in itself was a rare occurrence seeing as he has been working every hour under the sun - maybe so he could get out of spending time with them? It'll be paid back to him when his parents visit!).  I brought huge bunches of Oriental Lilies, I had them dotted about the house and the smell of them are just divine and lasted for weeks - those are now associated with Elizabeth and will buy those on the 22nd each month instead of the tulips.

Mothering Sunday in the UK a few weeks ago - that one caught me off guard.  I received heartfelt and beautiful texts and emails from family and had a really nice chat with my sister K too.  That warmed me cockles.

Sharing news of this new soul - we'd passed the twelfth week and with the folks being here, we couldn't really hide the fact that I was always tired, having food aversions and sickness, too sensitive smell, was quite cranky and having all the hospital appointments.  They cried at the news and then again on seeing our NT scan (DVD) and was just wowed.  They were so happy for us, but took on board our fears of having everyone think that this new soul was our 'band-aid' baby; suddenly making our world bright and rosy and 'fixing' us - it won't, it'll never be okay that Elizabeth isn't here in our arms...  But we can hope with this one.
I'm happy to say that they have passed all of this information onward to the family and for that I am truly thankful for their understanding about our fears and hopeful anticipation. I must admit sharing our news has been easier than I expected and am really quite touched by the responses from the family in respect to remembering Elizabeth, while nicely expectant (not too much and not too little) for this new soul.

Easter came and went too - without family over here, it was just a very, very long weekend (with Anzac Day making it a five day holiday), the Sunday just another day, albeit a rather posh one.  Myself and a friend (A. working) went for afternoon tea at a fancy hotel in the city and very civilised it was too.

A. and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary.  Yes we did celebrate it too! I can honestly say that we had a wonderful time that day on the 26th. That evening we got all dressed up, I managed to fit into an old favourite dress, with room to breathe and a degustation menu later and I'd worn makeup for the first time in eight months!  A beautiful meal, relaxed, happy, talkative and with every sip of my mocktail (and his G&T) we toasted 'to our babies' and 'us'.  A wonderful day and night.  I am so lucky to have found and married the most perfect man for me...  and that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Then there is this weekend - Mother's Day here in AU and the fact that I'm at the point in this pregnancy where we lost Taggpole.  It is a twisted weekend full of all the what-ifs and they are endless and tireless.  I haven't put the tv on for all the bombarding of the Mother's Day over here (Classical fm doesn't care thankfully and neither does my 'best of' playlist) and have been busying myself with manual tasks - swapping all the bedrooms about with A's help.  I am lucky that A. is here with me and not working all weekend, without his support I would have crumbled and failed today.  It was hard enough moving Elizabeth's things out of her room (to be put in a bigger, brighter room); it was such a mess and just fell apart hysterically.

Dearest Taggpole, oh sweet first child, where do I start?  I have cried many, many tears today.

******************

So with all this functioning/action/living; have I left Elizabeth behind me? I don't think so, no. She is a part of me, of our lives, our thoughts and hearts.  She is in our day to day, she is in our conversations and planning, she is in our past, present and future.  She is very much in our hearts and well remembered.

I think the main thing that has changed for me is the fact that I've shed a lot of the pain I carry around for Elizabeth.  I've had to hide that while the folks were here and guess I just got used to the way that felt; I didn't buck at it and took it for what it was. I'm not saying it was easy at all; I felt terrible for not allowing me to feel it, but I'm okay, I could function and still hold onto her without all the hurt, pain and utter sorrow.

The flashbacks have taken a consistent back seat too. Talking to my SIDS & KIDS counsellor Petra really did help and would urge anyone having troubles with them, to seek out someone who can draw out all the details in a safe and somewhat comforting environment.  I didn't think that just talking would do much, but wow, I was wrong.

Something else I have really found helpful is another suggestion from Petra - I was needing another way to help me keep Elizabeth close to me and she suggested I keep a journal especially for writing to her.  I write every week, if not more and it gives me the chance to really focus all my thoughts on her and concentrate on exploring my all feelings; everything I want to say and have her know.  Its one thing to think of her, but another to really cultivate those thoughts and put them down on paper; really focusing on them. I have found this most helpful in bridging the gap that I have felt growing between us; I feel so close to my sweet girl when I write in that journal.

I have also been keeping another journal; this one is for this new soul.  I write in when I need to, after some milestone is reached, or a scan.  This I use to be able to bond and again explore my thoughts/fears/anxiety and be able to build on the growing anticipation. I'm trying to be more present, be glad of every new day have and realise I have so many blessings to count.  I hope that writing this journal will bring me closer to getting my head around this pregnancy and teach me gratitude for all that I do have and hopefully have in the future...  But isn't that a projecting thought?

I have ideas blossoming about Elizabeth's first birthday.  I want to make August 22nd something special, something that others can help me remember her, wherever they are in the world.  I was quite taken with Carly's actions of taking a sunrise and sunset photo on Christian's birthday and that has taken seed.  It is something that I can do every year; take these sun up/down pictures from wherever I happen to be and make an album of them all.  I have spoken to several family members about this idea and they are all up for taking their own photos and passing them on to me for an album - its going to be such an achievement I think, such a visual and present way of remembering our dear Elizabeth.
I just have to be at the highest height for her sunrise photo now; being in the East coast.  I have already looked into a hot air balloon, but that is a no go (not for the size I'll hopefully be by then), so will have to go for the highest building in the city - the sunset photo will be a lot more straight forward.

I will get around to updating the Pumpkin Pages at some point soon.

I have been feeling on top of things really, with the exception of this today's mini meltdown. I have needed to take time to myself in order to take stock of the past month and I'm not feeling bad at all.  As I said before; nothing will ever make it right that Elizabeth died - but I want to live, I need to live.  I want to try and get the best out of what is left and want to succeed in being the best mother I can to Taggpole's and Elizabeth's siblings and in order to do that I need to put a lot of effort into getting myself on track again.  I don't want their memories to be the lasting bad taste; I don't want Elizabeth's death to be my own downfall.  I do want more for myself and I want to honor their memories with good things in my life; of which they are a huge part of and want and need that to shine through.

I hope this Mother's Day treats you all well
Remembering our babies always

Hiatus

Just a quick post to say that my silence isn't anything to be worried about, I'm okay; all is well.

I am struggling to catch up with everything after having family visit and just need some time to take stock of where I'm at and what I'm doing - I have just been reacting to everything around me and need to get back into thinking for myself again on a more deeper level.

A lot has been going on this past month, a lot of changes and its been hard work.  I have also been hiding out in a lot of distraction too; I just haven't had the time or headspace to think and now that I have, I found that I was okay not to for awhile.

Everything changes and I hope to fill the gaps soon...

Revisited

waking ~ for tess

your pretty baby, she is sleeping, but close your eyes 

and look, there she is in the rainbow, waking, in the morning 

grass smiling, in the quite of your grief wrapping her tender 

arms around your growing heart, reminding you, no matter where or

when, you are not alone, and no matter how distant you might some-

times feel, oh, she is there, holding the beat of your heart in her 

name. say it out loud. write it in the sand. etch it in concrete. put

your finger to the snow and make her letters appear, anything to

bring her rainbows into the room. and know that even in your quite,

maybe especially so, she is your stillness of mind, your laughter,

the wind that blows through your hair, whispering, forever and

always, dear one, i am here, i am here, i am here, waking the light

of rainbows, reminding you we waking together, always, pretty baby,

good morning sunshine.

together waking in rainbows,

we are.

I find I have only time to read right now, no new original thoughts from me either - too much distraction.  I wrote this poem out that Silvi wrote for me that I first mentioned back here...

I read it again tonight and the tears just flowed.  It is like a beacon of light in the current limbo that is life right now. This poem is for me and I draw so much for these words, on so many different levels.  I am glad to have stumbled on it right now, it is what I needed and I thank Silvi from the bottom of my broken heart.

***

Faith is a bird that feels dawn breaking and sings while it is still dark ~ Rabindaranath Tagore

Heartfelt

It's going to be a little quite here for a few weeks now.  My father and his partner, Marilyn are visiting us here for three weeks. I haven't got any expectations as to what it is going to be like, I can draw on old experiences, but this is all new territory for all of us now and can only hope for the best.  I do know that it will be nothing like the visit from my mother and her husband, just six short weeks after Elizabeth's birth - had I known how that would be, I'd have cancelled and bailed.  My fingers are crossed in so many ways for so many outcomes.

*************

I went to the Heartfelt exhibition this morning with A.  This volunteer organisation of photographers in Australia gives the gift of photography to families, not only to those who have experienced the death of their child, but ill, premature infants and terminally or seriously ill children.  This organisation didn't take our photos of Elizabeth, but is the first exhibition I've heard of this kind and will support any and all of them.  We walked around the gallery for an hour drinking in the information separately.  We saw the photographs, we read their stories.  I was fighting the flow of tears and the sizable lump in my throat.  We walked out of there dumbstruck.  I actually walked straight into Hope's Mama who was revisiting the exhibition and managed to fumble a few words.

The exhibition was so powerful.  Reading and seeing those precious photographs, being immersed into their worlds, their pain, their love, their sorrow of the unknown.  It just left me heartbroken for them all.  I felt apart of a bigger 'club'; I'm not the only one who has had to kiss goodbye to their child and that felt oddly comforting to know that I'm walking a very well worn path.  Also reading from the photographers point of view, seeing how they have their own hurdles to overcome, dealing with such an important role with a family.

It took sometime to adjust being back in the living world after being submerged in the sadness, all the while thinking about the children in the pictures and of our Elizabeth.  Something so silly knocked me back into life though - seeing a photo of a fried breakfast in a shop front.  It was a happy plate, eggs for eyes, a tomato nose and a lovely great smiley sausage and I smiled inside and out.  I thought if a plate of food can make me feel better now, then our treasured photographs of our daughter will always bring me close to her.  It was a strange feeling, something just clicked inside and knew that I'm better off not worrying about the future - it'll get here in its own time.

I am still in a strange sort of limbo right now - I can't really feel Elizabeth as powerful as I once did and I can't get close to this new soul yet.  It is just something that I have to accept and work on and going to the exhibition did help me feel that all familiar sadness again.

I carry you in my heart Elizabeth, not in my arms and that is the difficulty I am adjusting to.

Ringing Ears and Whispers

My dearest Elizabeth,

I am finding things hard right now and by 'things', I mean it is hard keeping you close to me.  I always thought it would come as a given that I'd feel you so powerfully, I didn't think I'd have to work so hard.
At the start we were so very close.  Emotions were raw and barely containable, every pore exuded a part of you; that deep sorrow of wanting and missing you, my body aching for you, the mother's love emanated through into my every thought and mental movement of thoughts of what our lives should be.  There was never a moment were I didn't think of you, or have you reminded by something around me.  The raging emotions were so strong and powerful, so loud they were that my ears were ringing and couldn't focus on anything else around me.

And then something happened.  A lot happened, a lot of talking, sharing, planning, writing and working myself towards getting back into my life and it has taken off.  I found myself living that life again and all those strong, raw, loud emotions where slowly getting quieter.  I have been noticing now for awhile that I am missing the 'ringing ears' and I don't like it one bit; I hate it.  Your voice within me is almost a whisper sweet Elizabeth, I have to try hard to listen to it.  It doesn't mean that your not thought of, it has just changed I guess - the Tourette's in my head has settled; the voice in my head that dares me to speck your name out to everyone and anyone is simply gone, and I miss it.

I love you so much baby girl.

I miss our life together, our family unit of you, me and your father.  I will never know what life that one was, but that doesn't stop me from dreaming, wondering and wishing for you to still be here.  I miss getting to know you, finding out who you are.  I miss the fact that I don't know your voice or smile, I don't know where your tickle spots are or your giggles, I don't know your likes or dislikes and I don't know your gaze.  It breaks my heart to know that I don't know anything of who you are Elizabeth.  One day though, I do believe that we will have our time together...

Right now, I am just so scared of leaving you behind Elizabeth, of living my life and just placing you in the background of it.  I don't want to just see your photos around the house, I need to feel you.  I recognise this and will be working harder, writing a new journal just for you, getting on with your tree tapestry and striving to keep you with me always and not just locked up in my heart to feel sad about...

Because that is the crux of it I think; I am lost without all the powerful sadness surrounding me, I don't know this part of grief without it all.  I have to listen carefully to your subtle voice and I don't have to block it out in order to live.

I am loving you Elizabeth and I am listening...

All Is Well

I don't have much to add to that really.
This good news has yet to fully sink in, but we're so very, very relieved.

If anyone is interested I have another page of information about this pregnancy.  It is called the Pumpkin Pages on the left under my profile bit and is where I'll be keeping photos, stats and the like.

**************************

I am also very saddened to hear of a number of other new pregnancies have ended.  My heart goes out to those mothers, I am just so very sorry that they have to go through another loss.  I can only imagine the utter devastation and send so much love and strength to them.

La-la Land & Limbo

Hmm, I'm not sure how to start, but know I need to keep writing here. The longer I leave it, the more tangled and messy the web becomes.

I've been away up country for a getaway with A; it has been lovely. Visiting the wine region, the rain forest, spa treatments and just indulging has been wonderful for us - not to mention very little contact with the outside world.  The fresh cool air, rolling green hills and mountains to make us feel as if we're back in Devon, UK...  To a time of innocence were we didn't know grief - isn't it strange how the feel of a place can conjure all those feelings?

Returning brought me back down with a bump; feeling numb about everything now - Tuesday's scan feels like it'll never get here.  All has been quite in reference to the bleeding, but it is still to be seen how it has, or hasn't effected things.  Trying not to even think about all the pg. related things - its just not happening to me, I have no control.

With this limbo land of not planning ahead (not for this soul or TTC again) I have had other concerns to keep my head awake at night.  Mainly I'm worried about losing all closeness to Elizabeth.  I have only known this grief; this meshed together deep sorrow/hurt/pain and the all encompassing love I have for her. Now what do I do when that slips from my grasp?  Yes, it does become easier to function in the day to day, I can smile, laugh and enjoy things.  I can see bumps and babies (no way newborns and that gives me little comfort) and not be sent into a tailspin....
But with all of that, I have lost touch of all that love I have for my daughter.  It is so tightly woven together this grief - lose one and the other goes too?

There is not an hour that passes that I do not think and miss Elizabeth. Many tears do not reach my eyes, but are ever present in my heart. There is nothing I wouldn't give to have her back in my arms again, alive, fit and well. BUT I know it is just futile thinking about it all like that - she died and she isn't coming back to life. I don't know who I'm missing right now.  I haven't a clue what sort of things an almost 7 month old can do - I am missing the thoughts of who she might be; my perception of my daughter.

As I realise this, I seem to have moved away from her again and that just hurts me more.  I am scared that I'll never feel that love...

Or is that love buried beneath the guilt from living my life still?

I want to live.
I really want to live and feel happiness.
I want and need to feel that mother's love again.
I want to feel my husbands love and return it two fold.
I always want to feel my love outpouring for Elizabeth; her place in my heart secured.

I read Carly's recent post; 'What helped me the most on my journey with grief' and was so speechless with the last paragraph - it just spoke volumes to me and made me realise that this is my uncharted path, and its okay.  Its okay to laugh and find joy again; its not taking anything away from Elizabeth.  I've yet to see how that can be seen as honouring them - I doubt I have that place of mind just yet, but I'm willing to try and not feel guilty for it. Thank you Carly, I really needed to read and feel that today.

And so I wait for Tuesday morning; fingers and toes crossed, a little lighter in the heart too.

May You Always Feel Her Rainbows

After seeing, reading and feeling Leslie's Poem here, I contacted Silvi myself and asked her to write a poem for me and Elizabeth.  I too gave her my blog address and this is what I read and cried to this morning...

I am just speechless really, but so overwhelmingly thankful for these words to me right now - it is what I needed to read and to really feel.  It tells me my words back to me, to keep reminding me that I am not alone, no matter how distant I feel.  To keep on striving to keep Elizabeth with me, to write her name everywhere and see her in the colours around me.  To know she is always with me in my quite stillness, in my laughter and in the whispers of the wind; we are together.

Thank you Silvi, I really did need to feel this right now - Thank you.

The picture behind the poem is 'The Promise', a great double rainbow that was shot just down the Great Ocean Road; this is where A. and I had our sort-of Christmas time.  The significance is heart felt.
Silvi also mentioned a song 'Someone Great' by LCD Sound.system, that I'd not heard of before.  I've listened to it and can see what she means, 'it has the best description of grief'.  It is a powerful song, the more I read those words, the more it sinks in - look to the last verse and words...

For someone who hasn't had to walked this path, Silvi has put on these shoes and walked with me - that is no easy feat.  I am greatly hearted to know that Elizabeth, Taggpole, A. and I will be remembered all the way over in San Francisco.  Thank you Silvi

Pause

Things have ground to a halt here.  I am resting up and recuperating.
I have a wicked head cold that A. had mutated and passed onto me - thanks darling!
It has also started to get cooler and wetter and so being wrapped up in a quilt on the sofa has been preferable to venturing out.  Plans have been changed/cancelled and the slobbing has continued in ernest.

We also had a scare.  There was blood in the toilet bowl, last thing Monday night - not a lot, but too much to ignore; I have a negative blood group and so would need the Anti D (only after 12 weeks it turns out, I was 6 weeks and a day).  So we made the command decision to wait it out until the morning and head to the hospital first thing.  That was after A. (being an emergency doctor) was scouring through the hospital website finding out courses of action to our situation (very handy having that website and him who could understand it all).  We didn't sleep a wink that night, we talked of Elizabeth a lot and we talked of our hopes and dreams for this new soul and just tired to comfort each other.

It was horrid going back to that hospital, going through the emergency entrance, waiting in those same uncomfortable chairs with all those other expectant parents - the last time I was right there, Elizabeth was alive and healthy inside...

We called ahead and they already had my notes, they took a short history and were sad for us - I just wanted to scream at them 'you can't do anything for Elizabeth now, but get your arses into gear now, there is still time to act with this one!'.  I know there is nothing you can do to prevent a miscarriage if its going to happen; it was just the look of pity she gave us and her inactivity - 'Do Something!'

More waiting.  Beta hCG was good so we went off for an ultrasound. There was no flashbacks to Taggpole's ultrasound, there was no real conscious thought or worries about molar or ectopic pregnancies - just a holding of breath, waiting.  Of course you can't see a thing from the position we're in and had to judge by the looks on the sonographer and A's faces.

After some clicking of buttons and moving the probe about, Viv said 'today, everything looks good'.  She turned the monitor around and began showing us what was what; the gestational sac, the yolk sac, the fetal pole and to our amazement the flickering of a heartbeat.  Our new soul was just 3mm and it's heart was beating 95 beats per minute; all bang on for just over 6 weeks.   She checked my tubes and ovaries (I ovulated from the right side this time and saw the corpus luteum), but there was no evidence to say where the blood had originated from; there was a lot of it pooled around the gestational sac.  While she said everything looked good today, she couldn't say how all that extra blood would act on the pregnancy - it might get reabsorbed, or not...
All being well, we are to go back for a follow up scan in two weeks.

I wanted to get this all down here, as I can't really talk about this in real life.  We're not telling anyone, especially our families before we have to and that won't be until my father comes out to visit next month - might be able to keep it secret still?  I'm sure many don't want to know about all the ins and outs of this pregnancy, but this is for me; this is My Space.

I must admit that now I am seeing things in daylight again - the greys and shades of twilight have been banished.  When I saw all that blood, I just thought 'game over' and was back to a place of dark desperation.  We huddled together and talked openly about Elizabeth, something that doesn't happen all that often really and it was good.  Since having seen all that we have now and having reached and opened up in the darkness again, I can only conclude there is only an upward motion to go in now.
 
I feel closer to this new soul, its not just something happening to me and I feel some what connected.  This is not Elizabeth; this is her little brother or sister and I'm so in love with him/her already.  I think this is as good as its going to get, I've not got either on my mind all the time - dare I say it, but I feel this is a 'normal' for me now.  Elizabeth will always be in my heart, she will always be in my past, my present and future - but she is not here physically.  Neither is this new soul yet and life strides onward.

So here I will sit, cozy in blankets with a big box of tissues and a hot black current juice, keeping my fingers crossed and hoping.

Shades Of Grey

I am unclear of what to write here, I am without many words, many thoughts and emotions

I am a grieving mother, six and a half months out from the death of her first born daughter
I am an expectant mother, seven and a half months from birthing another precious soul.  The latter said with an air of wishful thinking...

Here right now, I'm surrounded with all the shadows and shades of grey
There is no thorough darkness to hide in my grief and sorrow
There is no bright light of hope and confidence in my body or this new soul
There is no balance, no equilibrium, no easy middle ground

I am still
I am calm
I am just waiting with a heavy heart

Not for the shit to hit the fan
Not for the next hurdle to jump
Not even for the months and weeks to zoom by

I am waiting to feel again and that is what is unsettling, unnerving me now.  It is by no means a conscious effort to push these things from my head and heart.  It just hasn't been realised yet, that things have changed so drastically

Life is still in action mode
I am still in action mode
I'm not ready to think about all this too deeply yet

When ever I do think of Elizabeth, it comes with the knowledge that I am carrying her sibling. One isn't separated from the other and I want to give myself over to just memories and remembrances of Elizabeth, or just wishes and dreams for this new soul - to either have that all consuming darkness of grief, or the shining hope that I can feed from and rest assured by it.  I am not ready for the opposite poles of emotion; to split myself, and I'm not wanting to get my babies mixed up in each others places within my heart...  They are different souls.

I am confused and I am left feeling numb in a place of varying shades of grey.  I know I have to relax into this place, not to fight it and things will change on its own.  But I am afraid of growing further away from my precious girl; my Elizabeth Layne.  I am scared that I'll not realise and know the joy of the here and now - I am so scared of not feeling.