Stuck in the middle

I am now 5 months away from holding a daughter. It is 5 months since I held Sophia and it will be 5 months til I hold The Kernel. I have not yet felt movement - apparently the placenta is upfront so that may mean it takes longer to detect - and I have to say that I feel quite lonely and apart from them both.

Who killed binks?

When I was about 14 or 15 I got a hand reared cockatiel. Once it was born I visited him every other day and fed him so that in a few weeks he'd know me when I took him home. Finally the day came for me to take him home. I adored this bird (Binky) and he'd be on my shoulder from the moment I got home from school. His cage was in my room and even while I read in bed at night he would be wondering about exploring, only put back in his cage when I went to sleep.

The lady who reared him was a bit loopy. Passionate about her birds. She gave me all the instructions before I finally took him: get a heater in your room - young birds are sensitive to the weather. We thought she was a bit over the top - we lived in East London - very very moderate weather.

Anyway a few weeks went by and one night I was sitting talking on the phone (for ages - as girls of 14 or 15 are wont to do!). Binks was on my lap and I was eating a bowl of ice cream. I remember noting that Binks looked tired. He seemed to want to roost so I went and placed him in his cage and carried on with the call. When I checked on him afterwards he was slumped at the bottom of the cage not looking too healthy. I alerted my mom and we tried to perk him up. We tried to warm him but he seemed to just be getting worse.

We called the vet and the were told to bring him in (even though by now it was about 8 or 9pm). But by then he died.

I was devastated. I realised in that moment that even though I had loved that bird, I had killed him simply because I was too "me". My hands, cold from the ice cream bowl had cooled him too much and too quickly. I had taken too long to realise that something was seriously wrong. I killed him.

That sickening feeling. That feeling of guilt, confusion, incomprehension, despair came back to me that morning at the hospital. Somehow my body had resulted in Sophia's death. My one job was to be a safe place for her and I wasn't. At that stage, in the seconds after you've just been dealt the most life shattering blow, the doctor was trying to figure out what had happened (placental abruption could only really be confirmed after birth). She asked if I'd been sick recently (yes), when had I last felt movement (big eyes.. I'm not entirely sure.. the movement had changed. It was different. But that's what the books predicted. They told me not to worry. I'm sorry).

For days afterwards I sat believing it was my fault. It was because I'd had the flu and it was because I had taken so long to admit that something was not right. In the follow up appointment a few days later I asked all my questions. No - it had nothing to do with the flu. No - earlier detection would not have helped a complete abruption. But absolution has not come.

"Stop stressing - it's bad for the baby!"

Stop stressing? You might as well suggest that I don't breath for the next 5 months.

"Trust God, everything's gonna be ok"
Well, that's an assumption. What's your definition of ok? God won't give me more than I can handle, but I can handle a WHOLE LOT MORE than I want to have to.

Found this and love it:
"Some people feel guilty about their anxieties and regard them as a defect of faith but they are afflictions, not sins. Like all afflictions, they are, if we can so take them, our share in the passion of Christ" C.S. Lewis

5 months

It is cloudy and overcast today. Cooler than it's been in some time. I am glad.

My concept of time has changed since Sophia's death. I now view my life as "before her death" and "after her death". It has become a watershed. Almost like two "mes" - caz-before and caz-since. I can't believe caz-since has been around for 5 months already and I can't believe that caz-since was ever not here. When your perpectives fundamentally shift it becomes difficult to remember that they were ever another way to begin with.

The passing of time depresses me... I am further from the time I carried her. I no longer wake up shocked at her absence. Only occasionally do I sit, incredulous, startled that this could happen to us. For the most part it is now our all too familiar reality.

The passing of time is hopeful... while I am further from her physically, in this life, I am closer to her eternally. I don't think of my own death as a depressing thing anymore, nor should I. I have so much to look forward to in the next life.

I have much to look forward to in this life too. My jeans are a little tighter today - perhaps the first real "symptom" of pregnancy.

Both my girls have their own book of letters from us - filled with scan pics and love from their parents. I will write to both of them today, my baby girl in heaven and my baby girl in my belly.

It's a....

As always with a scan I was Stressed Eric until I saw the baby moving and boy was baby moving! So spasmodic - obviously inherited my lack of grace at this stage! :)


The scan was incredible. The technology is really amazing and the specialist was so reassuring all the way through that I now feel more confident than I have in a long time about this pregnancy.

Well.... we know the gender.... it is not what we expected!!

It's a girl!

We were pretty shocked to say the least. I have to say that it was hard to hear - another daughter. I teared up immediately. Everyone I know who has had a stillborn has lost a daughter. I asked the specialist about that and she assured me that that is coincidence. Girls are no more vulnerable than boys and in fact if the baby is coming early, a girl will be better off in terms of lung development.

The Band and I went to Cavendish after the appointment and shopped up a storm. We bought all kinds of adorable pink outfits. It was so good for us - we never found out Sophia's gender and so we never had this experience last time. By the end of the shopping I felt peace, and in fact, gratitude.

My heart's desire is to raise a daughter. If I had a boy now I know that I'd adore him, but I'd always be waiting for the chance to raise a girl - I had even decided that if I only had sons I'd adopt a little girl. And so perhaps there is some healing in this - tough though it is, conflicted though I am. I have to take my thoughts captive and not allow myself to feel somehow disloyal to Sophia - Sophia is in heaven and I very much doubt she knows envy. I think she is probably excited about her little sister on the way and perhaps she is happy for us.

I am glad we found out. We are such traditionalists and if we hadnt lost Sophia so tragically we would have always found out on the day with the ecstatic doctor announcing "it's a...". I had so so often dreamt of that moment with Sophia and I mourn the fact that I will never have that. I am labelled a high risk pregnancy and as such, naivete is out the window. But this, finding out there is a little fairy princess growing inside me, has been good. It is wonderful to say "she" instead of "it" or just "the baby". I feel I want to be gentler because of her presence, and The Band seems to be feeling the same way.

He always asks how "his girls" are doing.

It is such a precious time and yet still, always, I long for Sophia with my whole being and I fear for this little one. I am terrified of losing her too. All I can do is pray - millions of times in a day - for God to protect her and make my womb a safe haven for her.

Defending the pee stick

Yesterday I came across two blogs of ladies who had stillborn babies and have just recently miscarried in their subsequent pregnancies. As I type this, these two ladies (and who knows how many others) are living out one of my greatest fears. My heart goes out to them and I grieve for them.

One of them said something interesting on her blog:
"BLM's would you agree with me when I say that through gritted teeth you can send love and best wishes to fellow BLM's announcing their rainbow baby pregnancies, but that an 'obligatory' pee stick photo is like a kick in the stomach?"

BLM = babylost moms for those of you fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with this macabre terminology that seems to invade your life once you're in that very unfortunate club.

I think that perhaps this lady has a point, but for my part as one who has lost a child and has recently posted my own pee stick pic, I'd like to put my thoughts on the matter out there.

There are a few things here.
First of all, I started this blog 4 years ago for the pure and simple joy of writing. Life was simple and the blog was a place to express myself in my own quirky, uninhibited way. I think my writing was fun and entertaining back then. Lighthearted. Funny. Hell, it was downright Marian Keyes-ish (minus the Irish family, the friend named Clodagh, the career in publishing, the tragic break-up, the weight loss that happens without our hero even realising it - come on!! - and the inevitable perfect man who was, in fact, right under our hero's nose all along).

When "everything happened" I had an overwhelming compulsion to write. Writing is not only a joy for me, but a therapy. I am far, far more likely to pour out feelings in writing then to speak them out loud - even to The Band or The Best Friend. And so, this is my place. If others find it and are comforted or entertained or whatever as a result, that is wonderful, but I'd be lying if i said that was the reason for this blog.

I also had an overwhelming compulsion to read. I devoured the blogs of people who've lost a child and found hope in the stories of those who went on to eventually fall pregnant again and have healthy children. On many days these stories kept me going.

I don't remember if I posted the pregnancy test pic with Sophia, I don't think I did. But with The Kernel, pure joy is not something I feel. It is not something I have felt in nearly 5 months and perhaps it is not something I will feel again in this lifetime. With Sophia, life remained simple, it was easy to assume that come September we'd have a beautiful baby in our arms (the assumption was true, but the reality was coupled with tragedy and was all too fleeting). With The Kernel I have no such surety. I have no such naivete. I have no such carefree hope. Approximately a million times a day I pray for this baby to be protected, kept safe. Celebrating this baby, when I am terrified of losing him/her, when my heart remains broken for Sophia, is not a simple matter. It is something I consciously choose to do, it is something I will myself to do. Everything in me wants to guard my heart, to not get attached until The Kernel is safely born. But that's not fair on The Kernel, is it?

And so I will post pee stick pics. I will post cheesy belly photos and scan pics. I will make every effort to celebrate this pregnancy, despite my fear, despite my human defence mechanisms cautioning against it. I need people around me to have hope when I'm too scared to, to celebrate The Kernel when I am too sad to. The Kernel deserves as much.

Pink or blue?

With a bit of luck we'll find out tomorrow circa 4pm.

Annoying ex-pats!

I can’t stand ex-pats who leave the country and then consistently moan about SA. Who are they trying to convince????

Case in point is my cousin who has emigrated to New Zealand. Her Facebook status is always some little chirp about how superior her new country is. The latest is this:
“To all Saffas needing to renew your driver's license shame!!!! here in NZ Zip Zap 1/2 hr and finished & Klaar!!!!”

Seriously.
Needless to say, I commented “Only took me 20mins to renew mine”
Hee hee hee

Thanks to Tamara for this link (love it!)