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The sweetness of pain

2012-01-15T20:51:00.001+02:00

In case you didn't know, The Band is a pastor. That's right: I'm a pastor's wife.

Tonight he preached about His life and about how God has always been there. In the good times, the bad times and in all the mundane times inbetween when we are most likely to forget Him.

He spoke about the two times he's cried. The first was when he prayed for salvation. The palpable Presence of God touched him, melted him and he found himself with tears pouring down his cheeks.

The second time was when Sophia was born and he held his little girl for the first and last time.

Something about this moment, sharing that pain, that beauty with a room full of people has brought it sharply to the surface for me. I've felt pain more rawly than I have in many many many months.

And it's a precious thing and a sore, raw thing. and in the same instant I want to beg God to take this very brutal and fresh pain from me, I want to cling to it as tightly as I can because it is real and it is what I have of my little girl.

New home

2011-11-02T07:34:00.001+02:00

I haven't been overly enthusiastic about moving and leaving our lovely home which holds so many memories - much of my pregnancy with Sophia and the baby shower and all the preparation for her arrival, her funeral, even the night that she died - I'm pretty sure I was in the bath (her favourite place) at the time with that awful pain. It's the place where I mourned her, where everything I am changed, where I began to grow into a new me.

Tandi was conceived - sorry - in that house and before I knew I was pregnant, I knew and spoke to her in my tummy. I remember it so well. I don't even think I was late yet, but I wanted her so badly and I was so sure and I was showering that night and said to her " I don't know if you're in there. I think you are. I am so utterly in love with you already". I think I took a test the next day.

The first blurry weeks of tandi's life happened there. Ice ice cold with snowy mountains framing our view. Two heaters on in my room to try warm this teensy little bundle. Tandi's first meal and first step and first words. Her first smile and the first time she ran into my arms.

This move came more as an inevitability than a choice from my side. When TheBand and I first saw this place I was heavily pregnant with t. It was a dark gloomy day. The house seemed dark, cold, creepy. The tenants were messy and the place held no appeal to me - nor did the prospect of moving with a newborn. The garden was overgrown and there was not even a front wall.

But now.
TheBand went to work early on - he pulled out approximately TWENTY trees and put up a wall that I'm told is the envy of the neighborhood. We secured great tenants and already it seemed brighter.

D-day eventually arrived on Monday and because I'd been packing and cleaning it just happened that I hadn't been inside this house again since last year.

Wow, it is not at all how I remembered it. There is so much beautiful light. The lounge has big windows on two sides and I can sit looking at the mountains and the school.

We have a fireplace (!!!)

The kitchen is so seventies but it's big and light and lovely in its own seventies way.

The rooms are smaller than we had before but they have good cupboard space and - I realized with a shock - I can do whatever I want with them. I can get as crazy and creative as I want to in tandi's room.

There seem to be a million bathrooms and they are all quite ugly, but they are ours and we'll get there.

The light fittings are some of the most hideous I've seen but they make us laugh.

The kitchen overlooks the backyard. It's sounds like a small thing, but to have an enclosed backyard is awesome - tandi can play outside safe and sound while I'm doing my thing in the kitchen. Fantastic. Also, eventually I can just walk tandi across the road to school.

Poor Guvvy - it's a bit of a thing for cats to move house so to be safe we are locking him in for a week or so. He's unimpressed!

At this stage it's all still chaos but we'll get there.

When (if?) we have money we'll put electric motors on the gates. we have big plans for the back yard (lapa and eventually a pool, big veggie and herb garden and so on). We'd also like to make the kitchen open plan to the lounge and dining room and give all the bathrooms serious attention.

I am excited to have an oven that works and to plant veggies with tandi "helping" - ha! I can well imagine that. I'm excited to build bird feeders with her and to see what birds we can attract. She'll ride her first bike here one day! And perhaps this will be the hang out for her and her friends. I hope so.

Update

2011-10-11T11:45:00.002+02:00

So all the scans and ecg etc came back clear. No cancer, some small evidence of a stroke in the past but possibly not recently. That's good news. But they didn't admit her to hospital and that worries me.

My mom is stubborn and energetic. She is talking about going to a 3 hour course tonight and going back to work tomorrow!!
Also this morning her fingers were suddenly swollen and she couldn't get her rings off. She was having a sleep last time I checked which is also unlike her.

Anyway, my aunt's children have bought her a ticket and she will be arriving there tonight. I'm relieved. I think my dad is of the school of not wanting to overreact and simply taking the doctor at his word. I'm not. I used to be... but no more. I interrogate and research and double check and follow up. Annoying? Perhaps. But who cares. Rather safe than sorry any day of the week. My aunt and I have chatted and feel the same way about things so it will be good if she's there putting her foot down.

I wish I was going too.

Waiting

2011-10-10T11:32:00.001+02:00

I miss my gran. She'd know what to say.

My dad phoned this morning in what felt like one of those life defining phone calls which inevitably starts with "caz..." *nervous pause* "I don't want to upset you,... but mom is not well".

When my dad got back from his walk this morning my mom was confused. She doesn't know what day of the week it is or that they are going to conference next week in CT. She doesn't know where my brother lives or the name of her grandchild. She keeps asking my dad the same questions.

They are at the doctor as I type this. And so I wait.

The thing is that my mom is one of the most capable people I know. She has more energy than the rest of us combined and is always doing something. She's intelligent. Independent. Competent.

My dad sounds scared. Not a voice I've ever heard on him.

I want to just get on a plane. I probably will. But we are waiting to hear what the doc has to say.

I am scared.

Then

2011-09-02T07:08:00.001+02:00

This time 2 years ago the nurse had by now called in the midwife to try find the elusive heartbeat. The midwife thought she'd heard something maybe but couldn't be sure. I was so so thirsty.
My throat was dry. They wouldn't give me water in case I needed to have an emergency Caesar.

They called in the OBGYN. She put on the ultrasound. She was unequivocal (perhaps mercifully so) but in that annoying doctor tone "this is where we would expect to see movement over here. There is none".

Stef was pacing like a caged tiger, calling people. I was stuck on the bed. In shock. What did this mean? How could this happen to us? Competing with "of course this was inevitable. Who did I think I was trying to have it all."

I really do hate the 2nd of September. It marks the loss of innocence. The loss of blind faith. The loss of childhood even - and I mean my own. It's not the day Sophia died and it's not the day Sophia was born, but it is the day my world ended.

Lost

2011-08-30T20:26:00.001+02:00

My entire post. And I had dug deep for it too.

South African tragedy update

2011-08-11T12:03:00.001+02:00

Lily was transferred to Tygerberg today for an operation on her leg. Mavis doesn't know what the op was for as it wasn't explained to them.

Mavis says she's worried about Kuselwa (Lily's mom). When they phoned her about the op a blood vessel burst in Kuselwa's eye. The same thing happened to my dad when he heard that Noon had died. I guess its just that spike in blood pressure.

I asked Mavis how everyone was doing two years later. She says the other kids (mavis's kids and the other cousins - Lily is Kuselwa's only child) don't want to speak about lily.

Mavis is worried about Kuselwa. Worried about her heart. She says she's been crying a lot and she's so stressed. Mavis is worried she might have a stroke or something.

It's a living nightmare. Can you even begin to imagine it?

Anyway the op has now been canceled because Lily's chest isn't well enough for an op.

I get numbed to this story and the shock of it all recedes but then when something happens like today I'm sickened and heartbroken all over again. And what do I possibly say to Kuselwa? What possible comfort is there in this horror story? Only that my heart hurts for her and that I am praying.

Grief Season

2011-08-05T19:09:00.001+02:00

It's pounced on me all of a sudden this year. In less than a month it will be 2 years. Can you even believe that?

And when I think about it, when I see (and hear) the first beginnings of spring, I am transported back to that first Grief Season. The Aftermath of The Watershed. And my walls begin to crumble and a lump takes up permanent residence in my throat - sometimes it sits there almost minding it's own business, but sometimes, when I allow myself to succumb to it, it swells. Choking me.

Tandi is one :)

2011-07-19T12:56:00.009+02:00

The birthday girl

Well people, the party was by all accounts LARGE. Make no mistake, we don't do small or cliquey. In our life everyone is invited and everyone seems to accept the invitation!

We had a startling 70 people appear last Saturday (which shocked even me coz at some point all the people saying they were coming freaked me out and so I stopped counting :)

Colouring in - my brother and niece

But it was great. A beautiful day. In keeping with our Hello Guvvy theme, everyone was given a black nose and whiskers.

Princess Tandi and I - check her cute tiara

The Hello Guvvy cake The Band made. (I have a keeper)

Keena and her family all came and lives were changed.

Two of Mavis's kids. They were so excited to be there.

In a previous post I posted the letter Tandi sent out mentioning she would be sharing her presents with Keena. Well in the end pretty much everyone brought a present for each of the girls. Keena's pile was as big as Tandi's! Keena's mom (she couldn't come as she works on a Saturday) sent me a message that night saying she was in absolute shock and could not believe how people had blessed her child.

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall in that shack in Kayamandi when that family gathered round to open what must have been about 30 gifts. Not hand me downs, not second hands. But brand new, freshly wrapped gifts. Toys, books, clothing, even wet wipes and baby food. Mavis (Keena's aunt and Tandi's nanny), ever loyal, told me on Monday that all the children were so excited and that all the gifts were wonderful, but that Keena's favourite gift was her doll from Tandi (I hunted down a little black doll for her - too cute).

Keena and Tandi

And so my little treasure princess girl is one. Already. Oh and if I could only press pause on time and stay in this moment. It is precious. So precious.

And some time on Tandi's birthday (the day after the party) there was a moment when everybody (we had a bunch of family staying with us) was out and it was only me. And I released the last 3 helium balloons into the sky and watched them forever as they grew smaller and smaller and I thought of Sophia and where she is and how we long for her and how happy she must be where she is and my heart hurt and I felt peace.

Grief

2011-07-16T11:33:00.001+02:00

I watched as tandi drifted to sleep in the car seat next to me. I thought to myself "oh I DO love this girl" and as I spoke the words in my head, I heard Noon's voice. That phrase was something she'd declare emphatically whenever she was with Phoebe. And in that moment that stranglehold particular to grief grasped at my windpipe. What if she's not there? What if they're not there? What if heaven is not what I believe? What a despairing, awful lonely thought. I miss my gran with a fierce pain.

Birthday party planning

2011-06-22T13:24:00.005+02:00

Would you believe that in less than 3 weeks Tandi turns one?

We are having a Hello Guvvy party :) It's going to be big! Every one of you is invited. Look here's your invite:

I think there will be a LOT of people and we want Tandi's birthday to bless others so I sent this note our with the invite. Hope people don't think it's too cheeky! (Keena is Lily's cousin)

Hi

I’m soooooo excited for my birthday and have been counting down the sleeps to my party, but I’ve also been thinking a lot about my buddy Keena.

Keena lives in Kayamandi and is only a few days older than me (she is actually called Ke Nako coz she was born during the World Cup). I know that I’m going to get really spoilt on my birthday but it makes me sad that Keena won’t be, so I’ve decided I’m going to share some of my presents with her.

Keena has plenty of older brothers, sisters and cousins so if you have any spare toys or clothes at home please think about bringing them along so that her whole family can be spoilt for her birthday.

Lots and lots of love
Tandi x

PS This is a picture of my buddy Keena, mommy and me!

Be prepared for many requests for advice on party food and kiddy entertainment in the next two weeks. I am Captain Clueless!

I won I won

2011-06-14T15:07:00.003+02:00

:) ok ok before you start chucking rotten veggies at me, just calm down. And for your information (helen!), maybe you'd ALSO win sometimes if you ever entered anything.
Ok but I digress as usual. I didn't win a competition, I won a blog award from Nes. Nes discovered my blog a short while ago and is so encouraging and wonderful and complimentary and lovely that she is inspiring me to write more. Thanks Nes :)

Here is my award:

And the rules that go with it:
1.) I have to choose five other people who deserve it and pass the awards along
2.) Regale you all with seven random facts about me
3.) Let the people that you give the awards to know
4.) Thank the person who gave you the award

So first of all my 5 people! I've written their twitter names but linked to their blogs so you can find them either way. Sorry boys, but these are all women that I care about and am inspired by:
@meganstow - she is a very caring mom of two. She's a tough cookie with a big heart. AND it's her birthday today.
@Angelsmind - Angel is kind of this maternal figure to all of us. She has a massive capacity for love. Plus she's arty and creative and drove all the way across Joburg to meet me.
@HoneyBza - what an incredible woman. She is motivated and dedicated and is changing the world! You can help her!!! read more here: www.teenmomsupportkzn.co.za
@mandimadeit - Mandi is super creative and really caring. Actually she and Angel remind me a lot of each other.
@nixgrim - Nicole started a support group called Babies Born Sleeping some years ago. She has 'survived' loss. What I mean by that is that it doesnt define her. She is not hard or bitter. She is empathetic. Sometimes sad. But she lives her life. I think where Nicole is now is where I am getting to. Hope so!

Okay, 7 random facts about me:
1. You probably wouldn't recognise me in real life. I don't mean in terms of looks (ok that too, I mean come on - that header photo was 5.5 years and 2 babies ago!!) but personality wise. I'm a shiny, happy, cheerful, chirping, competitive, teasing, challenging person in real life. Not sure what I portray on here, it's definitely accurate, but it is one facet of me - the facet that I don't really allow people in real life to see.
2. I'm a pastor's wife. TheBand and I lead a congregation called Urban Liberty. It is AWESOME! Seriously. You would love it. Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady, you would!!! Don't panic, I'm not about to wallop you with my bible (it's an iphone app and we don't want to be destroying the beloved iphone) but I am Christian and unapologetically so. And you can't help but love me anyway... can you!?
3. I detest making the bed. It's just one of those things.
4. I have lost my reading and writing mojo and am fighting to get them back. By this time last year I'd read 30 - 40 books and this blog had seen a lot more action. Why have they gone? Is it the busyness of motherhood? of life? of being my own boss? partly. Is it the easy satisfaction and interactivity of twitter? I don't know. Since I learnt to read I've been an avid reader. It's weird that this whole year I've finished only one book. I'm now reading Shantaram at The Band's insistence. Hopefully that will kick start my reading again.
5. Okay, I'm mildly embarassed to share this, but what the hell? Some time toward the end of last year I gave myself a makeover. After two years of pregnancy and many months of fear and self-protectionism, I realised it was time to be me again. I don't want to be a dowdy, pastel-ensconsed, butternut smeared mommy, walking around in beige stretchy pants and sensible shoes. I want to be a foxy lady for my man :) and for me! I'm working on it - exercise, clothes choices, make up, etc and am feeling good :)
6. I am excited about life again. I feel like I am standing at the beginning of something amazing. Family-wise, church-wise, career-wise. Life is sweet. Incredibly so. I am hearing God's voice more clearly. He is challenging me in ways I don't want to be challenged and yet every time I obey Him, He opens up the next door and pours out His blessings. Sorry non-Christians. You probably think I'm moggy. But it's astounding and I'm grateful and stunned.
7. I can wiggle my ears. One at a time or in sync. It's a gift. :)

Life with an 11 month old

2011-06-14T09:31:00.005+02:00

is beautiful.

I am so in love with this little girl. She is entertaining and so clever!

A few weeks ago she took her first steps. She waves hi and bye. She loves to say "mama" and "dada" and "Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuv". And she ADORES The Guv - that poor cat puts up with a lot!!

She loves to shower or bath and her latest thing is to waddle or crawl over to us in the middle of her playing and give a tight hug, and then resume playing. Heart melter of note.

She's still little. Less than 9kg. But strong!And so very beautiful.

It's not fair

2011-06-13T17:14:00.001+02:00

That I blog only when I really need to these days.

It's not fair because so many of you, Dear Invisible Readership, have followed my story for so many years now and these days you only see the toughest parts of my life and that really isn't accurate at all.

There is an odd twilight zone that BLMs with RBs find themselves in. Haha ok, ok, BLMs = baby lost moms (stupid term - they weren't misplaced and anyway, what about dads?) RBs = rainbow babies ( ie Children born subsequent to a loss). I really don't love the lingo!
Where was I?

Ah yes, the twilight zone.

On one hand people who were uncomfortable in your grief (& you yourself) want to pull you into normal life, forget all the sadness, move on, live. And on the other, you feel a longing to remain in griefland and the kinship you have with fellow grievers. There's a guilt even, to celebrating life. I could write an arb fluffy post and potentially hurt someone whose world is falling apart.

The frustrating (if you're the one suffering) and I guess good (if you're not) reality is that life carries on inevitably and incessantly. It's at once unfair and right.

I will be posting a few newsy, merry posts featuring pics and news of my beloved Kernel soon. Please ignore them if you're in a place where they will cause you pain. I hope they don't. I hope instead they bring you hope.

death be not proud

2011-06-09T09:44:00.001+02:00

Today began with an sms from a friend telling me her friend had gone into labour the previous evening and given birth to her daughter at 24 weeks. The little girl lived for less than an hour, lying on her mom's chest.

I agreed to go chat to her this afternoon.

In the meantime I got voice message from the hospital. There's been a stillbirth. Would we come.

Wednesday is the day I will be on call.

I went.

It was awful. The part with the mom was wonderful. She was lovely. But to see that baby. That baby who should be full of life and noise and colour, instead devoid of all this and more. Too soft. The mom didn't want photos and it was the right call, but she wanted hand and footprints and with the help of a very very kind nurse, I took them. I think that moment will haunt me always.

Or will I become immune? Hardened? I can't even begin to describe it and you wouldn't want to read it.

But it meant everything to the mom. I took a photo of her baby (you could just see the bundle) with a teddy bear and gave her the photo and the teddy as well so she had a keepsake.

We spoke - I loved that part. She was lovely. Asking all the same questions I did. Feeling guilt and despair and kinship with me and I with her. Common ground like no other.

This evening I went to the mom of the 24 week old. No baby, just mom and dad. It was good. The mom needed to talk and needed the freedom to talk to someone who understood without explanations. Again - the kinship of shared tragedy.

Home to Tandi who has missed me and is battling to sleep. She has cried and cried this evening and TheBand has now closed me out the room. Rationally I understand his approach, but not tonight. For ME that's not the best thing. For me to hear my little girl's heart breaking tonight is the last thing I need. But I don't feel like fighting over it. And so I went and sat in the dry bath and sobbed. And then I came here to blog. Hi all - this is coming to you live from my hellish day.*

* what would a hellish day be without issues from blogger. Hence not live in the end... written last night and posted today

Babies Born Sleeping

2011-06-06T18:26:00.001+02:00

It's odd that I haven't really blogged about this or tweeted about it or even hardly spoken about it. Babies Born Sleeping is a project I've been in the process of setting up alongside some really wonderful women.

TheBand doesn't know much about it, nor do my family or friends. I have unconsciously kept it separate from the rest of my life. I've confined it for fear that it might spill over, perhaps even burst through the very neat, convenient and surprisingly sturdy wall I've been building round my heart. Today it did.

I'm such a narcissist. Forgive me, invisible readership. This is not about me. it's far bigger than that.

Round the corner from my house is a smallish public hospital with a high risk maternity ward. The aim of BBS is to be there for moms who go through stillbirth.

The tragic reality is that the maternity ward of a public hospital is a busy, chaotic, under-resourced place.

The tragic reality is that moms of stillborns recover from labour in the same ward as all the other new moms with their visitors, their smiles and, of course, their babies.

The tragic reality is that these moms would have little to no understanding and no answers offered as to why their child is dead, whether it was their fault and whether they can have more children.

We hope to be able to be some semblance of comfort to them. We will pray, we will listen,we will most likely cry with them, we will ensure that their babies are wrapped in a soft blanket and given a hat, we will take photos where possible and we will honour their babies.

I went to the hospital today to meet the matron. We are prepared now and its time we got started.

There is no morgue at this hospital and so dead babies are left in the laundry room. The. Laundry. Room.

Today my friend, who was showing me around, showed me this cluttered, untidy, utilitarian room. She pulled out a plastic crib from under a counter explaining that this is where babies are placed before they are collected by a funeral director. And then she swore in shock.

There was a baby. He was wrapped in plastic. Plastic. Stored in the laundry room. Stored.

The rest of my day was a busy one. Work. A friend came over to tell me about her blossoming romance. And then.

And then the friend I'd gone with to the hospital smsd to check on me. Isn't it always human kindness that breaks us?

I'm not crying for me, or even Sophia. I'm crying for the tragic reality of our public health system. The tragic lack of dignity. The countless additional wounds that moms will suffer.

I hope and pray our project will bring even a small bit of dignity and love and hope.

Another mothers day

2011-05-08T10:35:00.001+02:00

Meh.

That is all.

Where I'm at

2011-04-08T10:10:00.000+02:00

*warning: this is a boring work-related post which I needed to write to process things*

Growing up I was always a bunny hugger. Chairperson of the Environmental Society in grade 7, vegetarian from grade 8, member of the SPCA society throughout high school, studied a BSc in conservation ecology. I recycle. Like I actually recycle, I don't just think it's a good idea. I'm a greeny. The dream job of a greeny is to work for the cause, to be part of the solution, to represent The Panda. I've always loved WWF. I dreamt of working there and when it happened I floated about the place for months in a happy bubble.

My job at WWF has sent me tracking wild dog, relocating rhino, travelling to India. I have met with celebs and have been treated like a celeb on all major radio stations and TV stations in the country. I am the last remaining member of the team who brought Earth Hour to SA and have made it happen for the last 3 years, we have garnered the support of presidents and politicians, musicians and sportsmen.

Last year WWF was involved in a court case whereby we sued a mining company and the Department of Mineral Resources for granting mining rights in a place which was environmentally pristine. The area in question provides water to most of Gauteng. It was ludicrous. We joined with a few other NGOs and took the bloody agents to court. We were pouring in millions but how do NGOs compete with endless finances? Then someone from the mining company made the mistake of commenting to the Mail&Gaurdian. Because he broke the "no media" agreement we were allowed to as well. I put together information and comments from our side. It was printed and within days the mining company had withdrawn their mining application and promised to never mine in that area. What millions could not achieve, the media could. I am immensely proud of my part in that.

In my time at WWF I have completed my Masters, had two children and bought a house. I have had 3 cars stolen (I know!) and have had several break ins. I have moved house twice. I have lost my gran, my Phoebe and Sophia. Two of my best friends in all the world are fellow employees.

My point is that while it makes all the sense in the world to no longer be a permanent employee of WWF, my nails are bitten short, I feel queasy and anxious and this is why: While I don't doubt my decision, WWF has been such a large part of who I am for so so long that it feels like in leaving, a little part of me is dying.

Number 3

2011-03-31T11:10:00.000+02:00

Yesterday a friend emailed "So, the question everyone wants to ask and doesn't want to - or does - are you guys planning another?"

Just in case you are all sitting there politely not asking, this was my answer:

"Right now I feel totally unready. I feel like I’m only just getting back to some semblance of me. From Jan 09 – July 10 I was pregnant (with a brief 1.5 month break mid way – ha! “break” – hardly) and I’m still breastfeeding and only just getting my figure back and and and. Yes, I sounds like a selfish little brat. I do get that. But I think that I will know when I’m ready. I've seen people who have a third and don't even stop to take a breath. Almost like the novelty has worn off and life must just continue. It makes me want to cry every time I see that. When my number 3 comes along I want to savour that little life. Treasure and cherish his or her first months and years on this earth. You know? That been said, I have no doubt that if it had to happen unplanned my heart would open right up and love that little baby immediately. But the thought of another pregnancy.... wow. scary, tiring thought."

Later that afternoon, TheBand, Tandi and I went into a shop. A little girl (presumably the owner's daughter) was sitting drawing at a table. She was very taken by Tandi (who turned on the charm of course).

"Awww she's so cute!"
"thanks"
(pauses. then wistfully) "I always wanted a little brother or sister".
"do you have older brothers or sisters?"
"No. I'm an Only Child. I would have had two younger brothers but they both died in my mom's tummy."

Sucker punch to the gut for so many reasons, and yet also my heart lifted. There was just so much that hit me in that moment.

Had anyone ever said such a thing to me before Sophia? And now it seems I hear such things all to often.

The loneliness of this little girl. Her eagerness for some interaction. Her unussualy polite manner. Her frank way of saying it as it is. The way she labelled herself as "an only child". I could almost see a giant stamp coming down and branding her as such. What a sad and lonely label for this little girl. The very first way she introduced herself. The way she defines herself. Heartbreaking.

But in the same moment, to perfect strangers she honestly and openly acknowledged her little brothers. I loved that. I would want Tandi to answer that same way. Childlike, matter-of-fact honesty. Not seeking sympathy or attention. Not fearing awkwardness. Just telling it how it is.

I told her that Tandi's older sister had died in my tummy too.

As we left, I saw a drawing on the table.
"Did you do this?"
Big proud smile and nod.
"It's really brilliant! WOW! Well done" (and I wasn't being nice. It WAS brilliant).
But as I put it down, I saw in the top corner of the picture in her childlike scrawl:
"TO: me". She spent her afternoon sitting in a shop alone besides the shop steward drawing herself pictures.

And as scared as it makes me, and as content as I am (all things considered) in my life at present, I want a little brother or sister for Tandi.

Motherly advice on being sick

2011-03-31T08:53:00.001+02:00

Dear Tandi
First off I must apologize for my previous post in which I very stupidly mentioned that you'd never been sick. Everybody knows that you NEVER state such facts out loud (or the virtual equivalent thereof). Naturally but a day after that bold declaration you became a little snortleby. Filled with sniffs and snorts. Sorry baba.

But since we're here anyway, I though it would be a good chance to impart some motherly wisdom. And so, a few hints, if you will, on being sick:

• sick people sleep a lot. In fact that is really the major perk of it. You get to just chill
• sick people do not wake up continuously like it's a big game
•sick people, when allowed into their parents bed, lie very very still and stay calm and quiet
• sick people do not use objects like water bottles and cellphones to thump their sick and headachy moms on the head
• sick people sometimes cuddle a fluffy toy for a bit of comfort
• sick people do not motor about the house stalking TheGuv and clutching tufts of his fur out

Love you
Mom xxx

1st quarter of 2011

2011-03-28T15:56:00.000+02:00

The first quarter of the year is always crazy busy for me. Earth Hour is like the equivalent for me of an accountant's year end multiplied by ten. Now that it's over I can breathe a little again and update you on what's been happening in my life.

Tandia at 8.5 months
This little girl is busy busy busy. Crawling (and speedily at that). Perfecting Xhosa clicks (that even her dad can't do). Standing at every opportunity and itching to walk. Loving her food. Two teeth in, another on the way if last night was anything to go by. She's a socialite who loves being out and about. She sleeps well - from 7 - 6 so no complaints there. She is a delicate thing - probably weighing about 8kg now which is the same as some 4 month olds I know, but she is strong. Very strong. And she hasn't been sick yet. She ADORES The Guv and he is surprisingly patient as she stalks him only to pounce and clutch at his fur. In short she is a delight and I find myself reflecting on how much I love her umpteen times a day.

Church stuff
A while back our church became what's known as a multi-site. It means that we have several meetings happening on a sunday in different locations. In our case, Stellenbosch and Somerset West. The Sunday evening meeting was called Urban Liberty and is a fresh take on doing church. The fundamentals are the same: the gospel is preached and God is glorified, but the style is younger, more chilled. It's aimed at 20s - 30s. The room is set out in a cafe style - some couches, tables and chairs. very sociable and interactive and with great cappucinos. As of January, TheBand and I now lead the Urban Liberty site or congregation. I'm a little surprised to say that I actually love it. It's busy though - we do a lot of pre-marital counselling with couples (which I love) and I meet with a lot of the girls one on one. Tuesday mornings I meet up with a group of the girls for an early walk on the beach to catch up. The Band is also preaching a lot. Anyway, I'd love to do a bit of research soon about people's perceptions of church - mostly the perceptions of non-christians so watch this space for that.

Work
You probably know that since Sophia died I've felt a bit itchy in my job. I've felt like I needed a change. I've felt a little trapped even. I've come up with many business ideas in the interim but none have really gone anywhere until...
Last month BestFriendJosh (who also worked with me for a while) announces that he knows what I Must Do. I must do PR/comms for the small NGOs who can not afford a big agency and don't have internal capacity. I thought it sounded good and forgot about it. But the next morning there was an email from him telling me he'd thought about it all night and it was perfect for me. The email had links to various articles and finally to an advert where a small NGO was looking for just that kind of support. I contacted the NGO in question and voila! First client secured. About a week later I received an email from another NGO asking if I could recommend a comms consultant. ("Why yes, yes I believe that I can). Boom! Client number two. Another organisation (who I spoke to wrt something involving Client No 1) have also asked me to pitch to them (....client No 3 pending). And there you have it. No marketing. Barely any effort and consultancy is happening. My current work contract ends mid-April. I have warned my boss that I am not interested in renewing as is, but with Earth Hour looming we haven't been able to discuss things properly. Hopefully this week. Ideally they would be another client.

I'm really REALLY excited about it. Although it's been hectic managing my current work load while trying to set up shop for going forward. But if all goes well the potential is there for me to work half days and earn double what I'm earning now while doing what I enjoy and working for causes that matter AND working from home with baba nearby.

Ok, well that's my update. Hopefully I will now be a better blogger!! Who knows, maybe one day I'll even finish that meme!

White eyes and sparrows

2011-03-18T22:23:00.001+02:00

When I was pregnant with Sophia I was swimming one day when I noticed our dog carrying something in her mouth. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a little bird. This dog (zebu) is very gentle and hadn't harmed it. She had found it on the ground where it must have fallen from its nest and picked it up. I took the little thing from her, very carefully, it was the tiniest, must gorgeous little bird: a baby cape white eye. Tiny and fragile and perfect. It lay on my open palm and breathed it's final breaths.

It was then that I noticed the commotion going on around me. Two adult white eyes were flitting around in a panic, flying up and down and in circles seemingly searching for their baby.

It broke me.

They were searching in vain. Their child was dead and they didn't even know it. Deep down they must have feared it but they still hoped enough to search. I didn't know what to do. I wanted them to be put out of their misery. I carefully placed the baby up close to where I thought their nest was. They didn't seem to notice. Perhaps they didn't want to notice. Perhaps they wanted to cling on to their last bit of futile hope.

I returned to the pool and sobbed. The situation was too sad. This perfectly formed, delicate, beautiful baby dead too soon. The agony of it's parents hoping against any logic that it might not be so. I stood in the pool hiding my face and sobbing for that little bird and for it's parents.

In Matthew Jesus talks of sparrows being a very cheap commodity and yet even sparrows, if they fall to the ground God knows. The implication is that if He cares for sparrows, how much more does He care for people, for Sophia, for me. If it hurt me so much to see this tragedy, how much more must it have hurt God to see ours.

18 months on

2011-03-03T18:34:00.001+02:00

Can you believe it's a year and a half since That Day?

I feel a little like the smart girl who plays dumb in class to fit in.
I hide a lot of me and of her to fit in.

On Sunday there was a guy visiting our church. He played a guitar piece. Beautiful. After the service I complimented him on it. He complimented me on Tandi and asked if she was my first. I briefly explained. He wasn't uncomfortable at all. He was sad for me. His wife had miscarried and he knew something of the hurt.

As I was leaving he caught me and gave me his CD. Guitar songs he had recorded after his young teenage son was diagnosed with leukaemia. Songs strummed in hospital halls. Fill of pain and hope and beauty and sorrow.

It is wonderful.

Your turn

2011-02-11T12:00:00.000+02:00

5 years ago today I woke up early and walked down to the beach with my bridesmaids. It was The Perfect Day at Nahoon in East London and we had an awesome swim. One of those rare days when the sea is the perfect temperature, the waves aren't lame and are just a little bit scary and you feel like you could stay in forever.

Alas I was dragged out the water because there was much to be done! Hair, make up, The Wedding Dress! what a stunning day all in all. And 5 years married to my best friend have been beautiful. I really can't imagine me minus him. We have grown together, changed together, loved together. We are in sync. We have our own little world. Our own little sense of humour. Our own little random non-sensical songs which we make up and sing (mostly off-key) and they provide the soundtrack to our life.

Hmmm this is turned out mushier than I intended :/

Your turn - any questions about me and The Band (and because of all the confusion last time I'd just like to point out that by Band I mean husBand).

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand GO!

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

2011-02-08T13:05:00.000+02:00

It never fails to leave me flabbergasted. How very short our memories are.
People who saw me weekly or even daily throughout my first pregnancy, who even bought gifts for Sophia and attended her baby shower, who saw us living through the devastating aftermath. These very same people will now jovially ask "So? When's it time for number two?"

I stare at them blankly. "You mean number three".

Averted gaze. Awkward moment. "Yes... er... three. Sorry."

I know they mean no harm. Of course I know that. But it's a little punch to the gut each time. A tattoo wasn't enough. Perhaps I should have had it emblazoned on my forehead instead.

The resounding ache of we sorry bunch of parents who've lost babies is that their personhood - and sometimes even their very existence - is not acknowledged. Sophia was here. She lived. She mattered. She's a soul, same as you and I. She's in Heaven. She is not merely an IUD - as the medical charts reduce her to. She was not simply a pregnancy. She was (is) a PERSON, with a character, with preferences. Do you know that babies even DREAM in the womb? As fully formed and decisive and complete as Tandi was at birth, Sophia was a week moreso when she died (37 weeks vs 36 weeks).

I have grace for people. Really I do. I don't set about trying to make people feel awkward. But once in a while it would be great if they honoured my girl. If they acknowledged her. If they asked.

Out with friends the other night - their son was born just days after Sophia - and they asked about number 3. Just like that. So naturally. They asked whether we prefer to speak about Sophia or not. They asked whether Tandi looks like her. They asked if it is hard for me to see their son. As they asked these things my throat closed and tears streamed down my cheeks in the middle of the restaurant and I ached. But I was filled with such gratitude and relief. The dam that fills and fills and fills way past capacity is allowed some respite in these moments as the sluice gate is opened a bit.

If you ask, you are not making me cry, you are allowing me the relief of crying.

Tandi pics!

2011-01-17T15:38:00.000+02:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2011-01-14T11:27:00.000+02:00

Well I can only hang my head in bad-blogger-shame whilst muttering about IT issues, break ins and so on out the corner of the mouth.

Sneakily though, I am preventing all snarky comments with this little blog post, because this post inspires some sucking up in the best of us :)

This is the Pay It Forward meme. As featured on Angel's blog. With this blog post, I promise to send something I have made with my own two hands to the first 5 people who leave a comment on this post saying they would like to take part.

Here’s how it works.

1. The blogger posting the offer must send something to the 5 commenters before the end of 2011.
2. What is sent to the commenters must be handmade by the blogger.
3. The commenters who ask to take part must post the same offer on their blogs, and then send something handmade to the five commenters who ask to take part, and so on and so on.
4. Please link back to this post and Angel's original post as well.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand GO!

Day 18* → Your views on gay marriage.

2010-12-03T18:06:00.000+02:00

*of this

Oh and how badly is this one going to go down.
*ducks and braces herself for virtual onslaught of fruit in various stages of decay being thrown at her head*

I've been dreading this topic because my views are not PC and the internet is notorious for vicious anonymous attacks. But then, I suppose it is good to be challenged on such things and for me to have to actual explore what I believe.

I think that this topic is a bit narrow. For the most part I don't think gay marriage is what the issue is about.

It's kind of like everyone tuning the pope about having an issue with contraception. They moan because he is against condoms, they say that his stance contributes to the spread of Aids. What they fail to mention is that the pope also is against sex outside of marriage, promiscuity, etc. If they take his full message then the spread of Aids shouldn't be a result of his stance. (please let's not start a catholic bashing session here, I am not against contraception myself and there's much that I don't necessarily agree with in catholicism, but that is besides the point. the point here is about logic or the lack thereof).

Wow... this really is such a loaded topic. I'm a bit unsure where to start.

My hesitation is this:
In short, I'm not for gay marriage and so I suppose I am against it. But if I left it there, with no context, I'd be grossly misrepresenting myself and my faith.

I believe that homosexuality is sin. I also believe that premarital sex is sin. I believe that lying is sin, that slander is sin, that self righteousness is sin. Obviously I sin too, although I try not to.

The bible doesn't talk much about degrees of sin, but to me one of the most repugnant of all sins is hypocrisy.

I am not going to judge a gay couple, or a couple who are sleeping together outside of marriage, unless they call themselves christian. Does that sound a bit weird? I'll try explain.

Synonymous with being a christian is striving toward a biblical standard for your life, Christ-likeness. It is both an awesome privilege to be able to call yourself christian and a weighty responsibility.

In the bible there is an example of a woman caught in adultery. Jesus' famous response to the crowd who are preparing to stone her is "he who is without sin should cast the first stone". The crowd sheepishly disperses. THEN He goes to the women and tells her to leave her life of sin.

The point is that Jesus is against us judging others, but he is ALSO against her life of sin and tells her to leave it.

The biblical exception is among believers. Believers are expected to keep one another accountable.

“If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the
two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not
listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector." (Matthew 18:15 - 18)

I wonder if that sounds controlling, scary, overbearing to you? Actually I see this as one of the gifts of being part of a church community. I couldn't handle being surrounded by a bunch of "Yes-men". Instead I'm surrounded by people who hold me true to my beliefs and values, rather than to my emotions. Emotions are short term and can be fickle - there could, for example, be a colleague of mine who makes me feel special. Perhaps at this time I am feeling particularly down on myself and TheBand is busy, stressed, overlooking me, or whatever. And so I respond to the colleague because he fulfils an emotional need at that time and voila. Disaster.

In such a case I have no doubt that I have plenty of friends who would call me on it before anything had happened and hopefully spare me from a disastrous situation and the same goes for The Band. He is surrounded by people who value us and our marriage and hold us to our vows.

If a christian were to tell me she was gay I'd have to discourage her from pursuing that lifestyle in the same way that I can't agree with my christian friends living with their boyfriends. The reason is that it is hypocritical. You choose to strive toward a biblical standard for your life or you don't. You are christian or you aren't. We all get to choose.

If a non-christian is gay or lives with their boyfriend I have no place to judge because they are not purporting to live by any other standard.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH I hope I've explained this right.

Day 17* → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

2010-12-02T08:22:00.000+02:00

*Of this

(thanks to Lotus07 for the kick up the butt to get back to this meme! :)

After Sophia's death I was floundering. Floundering in my faith. Floundering to find peace. Floundering with where she is now. Floundering with whether I'd ever see her again.

Two books opened my eyes and brought me much peace.

The first is I'll hold you in heaven by Dr Jack Hayford.

It's a little book and a quick read and basically looks at the theology of baby loss and baby salvation. I was astounded at how much the bible actually has to say in this regard. For one thing it explains from a very practical perspective why a child is a 'person' with a soul from the moment of conception. So many who have really early miscarriages - like as in they test positive this morning and bleed that evening - don't understand why it still shakes them so profoundly. I believe that this is the reason. Whether your baby was a few days along or many months along that baby is a person with an eternal life before them. In heaven they'll be whole. In both cases PARENTS have lost children.

It's a beautiful book and the first thing I recommend to anyone who has lost a child - whether through stillbirth, miscarriage, infant death or abortion.

The other book is called Heaven by Randy Alcorn. It's fascinating. I've never been one of those who's wished the second coming would hurry up. Before reading this book I always thought Heaven sounded... well... boring. I don't want to sing all day, and what's with the no marriage deal? What about The Guv and Phoebe? Where do they go? And my family? Will I know them there? Will I be bored? Most importantly, how does my daughter now spend her days?

Alcorn paints a picture of Heaven which is so refreshing and appealing. His point is that we were created with Heaven in mind. We are eternal beings. Heaven is home for us. Therefore it's not going to be some dull and boring place, it'll be inspiring and invigorating and awesome. It will be like the world we're in, minus all the horros, illness, sadness, tragedy, sin and so on. He believes that in Heaven we'll have physical bodies again, that we will recognise and live with our families.
Anyway, long story short, it is the first time that I've been excited about the physical place (yep!) of Heaven.

Dear Mrs Squirrel

2010-11-23T12:04:00.000+02:00

You know those annoying moms? The ones who are super over protective of their kids? The ones who think their kid can do no wrong? Those deluded women who make us grit out teeth in embarassed annoyance? Ya... Let me never judge them again. I'm not quite as bad as that, but what I DO know is that feeling. That physical reaction that happens when someone insults or threatens your child in any way.

A few things have happened since Tandi's arrival. One was someone kissing her while they had a fever blister (what the hell were they thinking... you know how dangerous that can be for a baby?), one was someone saying she wasn't beautiful and one was someone insulting her outfit rather nastily (seriously! Why??).

In all cases these were people who actually love my child. They are not bad people and given some distance and some deep breaths I can admit that they weren't meaning to be as thoughtless, nasty or silly as I felt that they were.

My point is not about what happened. My point is about my reaction to what happened.

To the baffled men out there and to the future moms I thought you should know that this is why I have newfound sympathy or even (shudder) empathy for those annoying moms we all secretly roll our eyes at. When any of these things (or similar situations) occur this is what happens to a mom:

Your throat tightens in a nauseating, sickening kind of way. Your pulse quickens. Adrenaline pumps through your body. You fight to maintain a socially acceptable outward demeanor but inside you are throttling the person Ally MacBeal style. You feel as if the entire world is an evil place and as if you will never be able to forgive that person. If you had hackles (maybe some really hairy women do??) they would rise. Like a cat who senses something dodgy or dangerous nearby, your hair would rise all down your spine (again, that is if you have a hairy spine!) It is a PHYSICAL thing. Emotion-wise you want to wrap your child in your arms, covering them and protecting them from that person. You want to get your child safely away from the situation. And you very very much want to cry.

Now perhaps I should have started this post by assuring you that in real life I am a very calm, even-tempered, rational pacifist. I really and truly am. This is something which is pure instinct and actually I don't think it has too much to do with me having lost a daughter. I think it would be this way regardless.

And so, Mrs Squirrel, I wanted to let you know that when I saw these pics of you today there was no judgement on my part. Nope. I thought: You go girl!

We're not so different, you and I.

Day 16* → Someone or something you definitely could live without.

2010-11-15T12:40:00.000+02:00

* of this

There's plenty that I can and do live without:
alcohol and caffeine (while pregnant), meat (since I was 14), a TV (since we've been married) but the thing I really want to live without today is our builder. Hiss, crackle, tense shoulders, sigh.

The Band is in Madagascar til next week (sob) so I have to manage the builders who are putting up a wall at The New House. By ten this morning I had been to the train station twice, to Benbel hardware store twice, to the brickplace once and to The New House FOUR times.

Disorganised people I can handle. I have patience for that sort of thing. What I can't handle is being spoken to like I'm an idiot, presumably on the basis that I'm a woman.

On my THIRD trip to the house this morning (after waiting for one builder who was 40min late without warning, apology or explanation, making me miss gym and leave my screaming hungry child ....insert a longer, more detailed vent here) I was told "we need spoons"

"Spoons? Why do you need spoons?"

Confer in Xhosa. Annoyed and amused by this silly little woman.
"Spoons! Don't you know what's spoons?"

"Spoons? Spoons?? OOOOH. Spons. A sponge?"

Confer in Xhosa. Annoyed and amused by this silly little woman.
"Yes!" (annoyed, exasperated).

(sigh) "Fine, what sort of sponge? Seeing as you 3 are simply lying on the grass does someone want to come with and run in?"

Confer in Xhosa. Annoyed and amused by this silly little woman.
"A spoons. Just buy a spoons".

Tight smile/grimace and off I went to buy the flippen sponge.

Dear Builder,
I am not your PA, your secretary, your chaffeur or your personal slave. GET ORGANISED. I, believe it or not, have my own job. You're employed by ME!

(rant. rave. breathe in and out. address tension headache)

Day 15* → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

2010-11-12T17:27:00.000+02:00

* what?

This one is easy peezy lemon squeezy because I'm currently trying to live without it:

My phone.

I have been the very happy owner (friend? adorer?) of an iPhone for about a year. So very very much more than a phone. It is (was - sob - more on that later):
* my camera and my photo album - filled with pics of my pregnancy and captured memories of Tandia
* my iPod
* my 24/7 access to social networking - Facebook & Twitter in particular
* my record of what side and when last I breastfed
* my gaming portal for those boring times of breastfeeding somewhere in a room while everyone else socialises
* my chat interface (via WhatsApp) with plenty of friends and family
* my GPS
* my exercise training programme
* my recipe book
and so very much more.

And then alas. On Wednesday, getting back from gym holding gym towel and phone, a dog jumped up to yank my towel from my hand and the phone went flying and smashed on the paving.

Kerbloooosh.

But it looked fine. No cracks or anything. Alas, there was some internal bleeding - the LCD screen to be precise. Overs cadovers.

Wednesday was a long and torturous day - I kept the phone on as I could still receive calls, but the message tone kept beeping and I couldn't read the messages and it gave me a burning feeling in my stomach. (I later discovered that much of that was TheBand sending me random SMSes and WhatsApps to mess with me - ah yes, this is love).

Thursday I was loaned a Nokia. Never have I hated a phone quite so much.
The boredom. The annoying pain of trying to compose an SMS. The complete lack of logic - it took TheBand and I an age to find the photos on the phone and even then we had to ask someone how. This phone leaves us feeling like our parents in the face of baffling, overwhelming technology, except that a Nokia can scarcely be called technology. Haha I really am such a snob!! (and all the Nokia owners hissed and resolved to visit this blog never again).

And then.
AND THEN TODAY I WON A BLACKBERRY.
I know!!

If you are even remotely interested in phones or gadgets of any sort (well not ANY sort) check out www.girlguides.co.za - such an accessible awesome site. Besides, they're giving me a phone!!!

too stoked.

Day 14* → A hero that has let you down. (letter)

2010-11-11T17:17:00.000+02:00

By now I'm sure this needs no explanation, but here it is for the slow learners :)

Dear Body

I thought I would never forgive you. I don't know if I have or if I'm in the process of it or what.

You let me down and I hate you for it. You didn't do what you were designed to do. Over and over people and the books (in their singsong know-it-all tone) say "The safest place for a baby is in their mom's womb". Bullshit. I did all the right things. I cut out caffeine and alcohol and I did moderate exercise with a trainer specialising in pregnancy exercise. I ate healthily and I took my vitamins.

Sophia was perfect. She was about a week ahead of schedule throughout. Everything looked good all the way through. I appeared to "glow" in pregnancy. And then.

And then what? What happened, Body, why the fuck did you decide to stop doing your job? What was it in you that suddenly, randomly decided to disconnect placenta from womb? Life supply from baby cradle? How useless is a body that can't provide for it's most important, most treasured occupant?

I remember so clearly showering the day after Sophia was born. I stood there, leaned against the wall. Awkward. Drip in my arm. Spent. Crying. Hating you. Looking down at your swollen breasts, your disgusting floppy, marked, empty stomach. Repelled. Failure. Standing in a pool of blood.

And yet.

And yet even as I type this Tandia is "plugged in". She is feeding from you, from me, as I write.

In some ways you redeemed yourself by bringing her safely into this world. You provide for her in a way that no one else can. You have kept her safe and healthy and you continue to do so. You are even worse for wear after this pregnancy. Stomach even softer. Angry marks on my sides - as if I've had an unfortunate encounter with The Guv. But this time all these marks of motherhood leave me a little in awe of you, because they are no longer only signs of death and failure, but of life.

You let me down and, so very very much worse, you let her down. I'm sorry that I haven't forgiven you yet. I'm not sure when I'll get there. But I am also exceptionally grateful to you. Unforgiveness and gratitude run parallel.

And so, Body, thank you for the gift of protection and provision for Tandi, but oh how I wish you would have also given it to Sophia.

Me.

***
Dear readers:
As you'll know, I don't swear. I think it's coarse and unbecoming of a lady and it's not who I am (yes, yes, I've been called prissy more than once!) but this is how I felt writing this. These are the words I honestly spoke in my head and so, given the choice between tarnishing my blog with vulgar words or with dishonesty/misrepresentation, I chose the former.

Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

2010-11-09T17:55:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme, read all about it

Nah. I'm going to edit this topic bearing in mind that later on in this meme I am compiling a playlist for someone, so I won't double up on those songs.
The new topic is songs which have spoken to particular times in your life.

Well I'm glad you asked :)

1. Sistas are doing it for themselves - no idea - someone Motownish I'm guessing.
Yep! Through some miscommunication, I unintentionally ended up hitchhiking ALONE through Botswana, cell phone less and not entirely sure of where I was meant to be going. I took a few lucky guesses, survived on one little box of eat sum mors, and loved every second of it. In my head I was singing that line on repeat. What an awesomely exhilarating adventure.

2. This year's love - David Gray
This song played in my head throughout my second pregnancy.
"This year's love had better last. Heaven knows it's high time. I've been waiting on my own too long."
It's a slow, beautiful, gentle song. But I almost sang it (to myself) half angrily, half threateningly. I guess God may have wanted to ask "This year's love had better last Or What?" but God is exceedingly tolerant of me :)

3. Music and Lights - some SA band
"Sipping on a cold fanta piney, this is how I make my living: ga rhymy!"
This song was somehow big on SA radio a couple of years back. The Band and I thought it was hysterical and sang along to the parts we knew. It's got happy road trip memories for me.

4. Crowded House - the whole of the Recurring Dream album
LOVE IT.
On our awesome Africa Trip the 4 of us played this CD day in and day out. Good times :)

Day 12* → Something you never get compliments on.

2010-11-05T11:43:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more here.

My green fingers.

I kill plants. I really do. I don't mean to. I'm a bunny hugger, after all. But they are forever dying on my watch. It's pretty flippen depressing.
Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Now fear not. It's not ALL bad news. My most recent 3 plant additions are alive and thriving (AGAINST ALL ODDS)

This orchard was given to me by my MIL when she came to the Cape to meet Tandia. In my head I screamed "noooooooo! Why would you do that to me?? Why would you give me a finicky, pricey plant to care for. Is a newborn child not enough responsibility???" I had visions of me having to go out and purchase a new replacement orchard every time they came to visit. But look. It's thriving. Buds and everything. No idea how. Some snarky person mentioned that orchards thrive under stressed conditions. hmph.

The succulent. You can't go wrong with a succulent. They need basically no attention. This sits in Tandia's room and survives all on its own with pretty much no help from me (the way a plant SHOULD be).

Our newest plant is a tree. A congratulatory gift from our estate agent on the purchase of our new house. Gorgeous and in mint condition as you can see, but then it's only been subjected to my "care" (and I use the term generously!) for about 2 weeks now, so ya. Although a tree in a pot is really an odd concept if you think about it, at least I can give it a hug whenever I forget to take packets with to the shop.

Day 11* → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

2010-11-03T13:29:00.000+02:00

*I'm doing a 30 day meme (ok it's taking a bit longer than that!!) read about it here.

My writing. Ok, it's embarassing to say that here, on my writing portal, but there you have it. It's probably the one thing I receive the most compliments on. That and my entertaining facbook statuses but that's just because none of my facebook friends are on Twitter and so they don't realise that that's where I get them from :)

Anyway, I mentioned in a recent post that I've always wanted to write a book. Cliche, yes, but true. It's one of those things that goes on the life list for One Day When I Have Time. Has anyone ever ever reached That Day?

Didn't think so.

And so, bravely, foolishly, excitingly, yesterday I signed up for NaNoWriMo.

I have pledged to write a novel in a month. Crazy, no?
I am really excited about it though. Truth be told, I need a bit of pressure to get my A into G and so voila. NaNoWriMo is just the thing I need.

Hold me to it, hassle me, ask me for updates, k?

PS In case you were worried that November would be a boring month for me, in addition to writing a 50 000 word novel, I'm going to be Bandless for 10 days while he's in Madagascar. Also, I will be organising a baby shower for a friend AND starting up a small charity. True story! But that's for another post :)

Day 10* → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

2010-10-28T14:30:00.000+02:00

I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read about it here.

I have no really poisonous people in my life. The most poisonous person in my life is me. Not at all the time, not even often, but sometimes I can be my own worst enemy. So the person I wish I didn't know is lazy caz, insecure caz, envious caz, bitter caz, scared caz, mean caz.

That all being said, I don't want to construct something simply because it's the prescribed title of a post and so, in the efforts of honesty (a beeeg value of this blog) let me just say that for the most part I like who I am - particularly post-Sophia me. There's room for improvement, always, and I'm working on it, most of the time.

Cop out? Hope not. Just honest.

Day 09* → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

2010-10-27T13:24:00.000+02:00

I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

When I was a young'un, my oldest brother (12 years my senior) had a serious girlfriend named Jacqui. She was ten years older than me and, considering I am the 4th child with 3 older brothers, she was my hero.

I must have only been about 7 when she came into our lives. She soon became part of the family. There all the time. Early on in their relationship, her younger sister committed suicide. She wasn't just Greg's girlfriend, she was our older sister. I remember when, as a little one, I'd be upset and run to my room in tears, it was Jacqui who would come and console me. I remember how excited she was when I started my period - to her it was an event worthy of flowers and a facial. When I had sleepovers as a 12 or 13 year old all my friends would be so excited for Jacqui to give us manicures and pedicures. She was a profound part of my life for 10 years. 10 hugely formative years. She was there through puberty. She was there through my mom's cancer and chemo. She was there through my childhood. Even today I can see certain parts of my handwriting mimic her handwriting. She was my hero.

And then.

Greg and Jacqui got engaged and moved to Durban. Oblivious me. There were signs which you only see in retrospect.

She ended it. She was in a relationship with her boss, who she subsequently married.
She went from being my hero to being public enemy number 1 in our family. But that's silly. There are, of course, 2 sides to every story.

Anyway, the impact was rather devastating to 14 or 15 year old me. I didn't get why their incompatability should mean that I had to lose a sister. Just like that Jacqui was out of our lives and we never heard from her.

I've seen her only twice in the 14 or so years since and I still miss her. I don't miss Greg and her as a couple, I miss her as my big sister.

In big moments I often wonder where she is and if she knows. Her mom is still in East London and worked at my gran's retirement centre so I have no doubt she's been kept up to date with the major things.

When I'm interviewed on TV or radio for Earth Hour I wonder if she recognises my voice all these years later. I wonder if she knows my new surname. I wonder if she knows about Sophia and I wonder if she longs to meet Tandia. I've no doubt she cried when Noon died. I guess, at the end of it all, the little girl in me wants my childhood hero to be proud of me.

Day 08* → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you badly.

2010-10-26T14:47:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

D'you know, I really can't think of anyone.

Obviously people have given me a hard time along the way, but they haven't had enough of an impact that I want to give them space in my blog. It just seems a bit doff. I'm going to dig around in my brain for people who made me feel bad about myself and then I'm going to rehash the situation and possibly feel that way all over again and worse, tarnish my lovely blog with bitter memories of people who didn't have that much impact to begin with. Pass.

(That's not to say that anyone who has done this post is lame. Not at all. Rather that my particular examples are lame and not worth sharing.)

Day 07* → Someone who has made your life worth living.

2010-10-25T15:02:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

The Band.

The Band who walked just behind me when we hiked all those years ago so that as we went up the hills he could subtly lift my backpack and make it easier for me but without me or anyone else realising he was doing it.

The Band who can never remember the words, rhythm or tune of any song, but gives improvising a good go.

The Band who wrote me poems and songs to win my heart.

The Band who, at the height of a fever, once told me he felt like a boiled baboon.

The Band who sees the potential in everybody and will give anyone a chance.

The Band who is my fiercest competition when it comes to any game. But as team mates we're unbeatable.

The Band who is so dam cute with children.

The Band who is my best friend.

The Band whose dance moves are less Patrick Swaze and more Wall-E malfunctioning.

The Band whose gran gave him one of those very gold very croc pleather catalogue watches for his birthday and so he wore it all weekend over his jersey using any excuse possible to draw attention to his bling.

The Band who will always challenge me beyond my comfort zone and inspire me to expect more of myself.

The Band who cried on his knees after Sophia was born.

The Band who comes up with fascinating ways to entertain and sooth Tandi - from the laughing song, to the mobile throne, to the flying suit, to the sleep train.

The Band who I want to grow old with, playing fierce backgammon tournaments on a porch somewhere by the sea.

Day 06* → Something you hope you never have to do.

2010-10-24T14:48:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Oh come on man. How about some nice light and fluffy post topics. sheesh.

I've already done the most horrific thing I can imagine - I have collected my daughter's ashes from the crematorium.

If I had to cast the scene in the movie, it would have been much as it was: a bleak, overcast, windy day. Crematorium on the outskirts of George. It was, in a word, bleak. Grey. A grey, bleak day.

I hope and pray I never ever have to do that again.

Day 05* → Something you hope to do in your life

2010-10-23T17:58:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

I want to write a book. Yes, yes, I know. Not particularly original. But it's a long time dream of mine. A book that's written beautifully, wittily, inspiringly. A book that leaves readers touched. Changed.

Day 04* → Something you have to forgive someone for.

2010-10-22T10:54:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

I've become quite a sensitive soul. I'm easily hurt these days when it comes to all things children and pregnancy. So sensitive, in fact, that I even get offended on behalf of others... for example when people curl their lips at the thought of the imposition of having children I want to strangle them because I know of the heartache of my friends fighting the infertility war.

Anyway, if I'm harbouring unforgiveness, it's generally around that general topic. Ussually I get over things with time. And so what comes to mind is something which happened this weekend. It was a telephone conversation with a family member who was speaking about a photo of Tandia.

Her: I showed it to my friends and I was telling them that, you know, she may not be a beautiful baby, but she is very cute.
Me: WHAT???? excuse me. Are you saying my child is not beautiful??
Her: umm well I think I'm saying it wrong. She doesn't look like your typical baby. She looks wise. Like she understands everything going on around her.
Me: Yes, I can agree with that, but seriously? You don't think she's beautiful???

I thought I'd be over it by the next morning. I wasn't. I woke up FUMING.

WHO SAYS THAT? Now let's all be honest for a sec here. There are some butt ugly babies out there. No doubt about that. But you NEVER actually SAY IT. ESPECIALLY not to the baby's mom. And in any case, Tandia is sure as hell not one of them. I have strangers coming to tell me that she is one of the most beautiful babies they've ever seen.

Why does this upset me so much? Well it's some healthy mama bear defensiveness coming out. And that's fine and even feels good. But it's also to do with 2 other, more sensitive things. It's to do with my previous post, for one thing. I can't quite put into words exactly how it relates, but you can figure it out for yourself, I'm sure. And it's also to do with the fact that I've never felt pretty. I've always felt mildly insecure about my looks. Some of that, perhaps, is inherited and it's not something that I want to pass on to Tandia. I want her to have a very good self image. We constantly tell her how much we love her. How beautiful she is. How precious she is. From the start I want her to have confidence in these things. There are far too many women walking around feeling bad about themselves for no good reason. I don't want that for my little girl.

Anyway, there is now tension between this person and myself. We haven't really spoken since. All it takes is "I'm sorry, that was not a nice thing to say". But I don't really think that's going to happen. Forgiveness is my duty, but a simple apology would make it a helluva lot easier!

Day 03* → Something you have to forgive yourself for.

2010-10-21T16:03:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Ugh. This is the one I've been dreading. At least it's near the start of this meme so I can get it over with.

The thing I "have to" forgive myself for, and probably (or even definitely) never will, is not checking up on the lack of movement in those last days of my pregnancy with Sophia. You all know the story by now. Pain on the Friday night... then days of things being different. I dismissed it as her having dropped and therefore less movement which is what the books tell you. But there was a gnawing feeling and I ignored it. I didn't want to be an imposition. Stupid stupid vein me.

The day we arrived in Plett we took a drive to see where the hospital was, just in case I went into labour. I remember peering through that window and thinking "maybe I should just find someone to do a quick ultrasound for peace of mind" but I squashed the thought. That would be pricey and paranoid and besides, the first trimester is the risky one, there's no real need. Stupid stupid naive me.

Could I have saved her? No. I don't believe for a second that I could have. We were foretold of her death a week before. Placental abruption can be very quick. I believe that my little girl died on that Friday night. 28 August. Only hours after my last doctor's appointment. And so, if I couldn't have saved her, what's the point of the regret? I guess it's about dignity. It's about the bruising and hurt her little body had endured by the time she was born. I will perhaps never talk about it in detail, but my beautiful, precious daughter was marked by death. Each extra day taking its toll. And so, if I could do things differently I would have gone to the hospital that Friday night (it wasn't even a consideration!!! didn't occur to me AT ALL!) and birthed her then. She would still have looked as she should have. Perfect. My angel baby. I know there are reasons, there are pros. If I'd done that, she'd not have been born in Plett. I wouldn't have had the incredible support and brilliant (all things considered) experience that I did, in a hospital all to myself. It would have been a lot harder on ME. Perhaps I wouldn't have as much peace as I do if the experience hadn't been what it was. But for her... if I hadn't taken so long...if I had listened to my gut... she'd have the dignity of being born whole.

In Heaven though she is whole and beautiful and happy and it's only there that I'll finally be able to forgive myself for this.

Day 02* → Something you love about yourself

2010-10-20T12:45:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here

Can I change it to what I love about my life? that's easy... but no, that is not the topic.

What an arb topic. Seriously.

Fine then. I love my nose :) I do - I think it suits me :)haha. What else? I love my cheesy sense of humour and the groans it results in from those around me. At least I think I'm funny - even if no one else does!

I love that I love to read and write.

I love my maternal instincts and I love myself as a mom, if that makes sense. I think, despite never having changed a single nappy before Tandia's arrival and having no experience of babies, that I'm a natural. I feel at home with her and have done from day one. I love that sense of confidence in myself as her mom.

I also love the perspective I have gained from Sophia - the way she has changed me and grown me and matured me. The empathy I now have. The way trivial issies are seen for what they are.

I keep wanting to refer to some "we's" - to the things I love about The Band & I as a couple, but alas that is off topic. As it is I was probably only meant to say one thing and I'm digressing big time as I always do.

The End

Day 01* → Something you hate about yourself

2010-10-19T11:11:00.000+02:00

*I'm busy with a 30 day meme. Read more about it here.

Ok, I know that it's a bit of a trend to hate this or that about oneself - especially as a woman - but I don't hate a part of myself nor do I hate the sum of the collective parts (ok, fine, I just wanted to say "sum of the collected parts" - I'm cool like that!)I think that what immediately comes to mind under such a title is physical attributes. Am I supposed to list all my physical flaws here? Or does it refer to something deeper - lifelong regrets, personality uglies.

No, I can't say that I'm kept up at night dreaming of plastic surgery or bashing my head on the wall for stupid things said and done. But of course I can recognise where there is room for improvement and of course I have regrets.

So now that I've toned down the topic to "Places where there is room for improvement in you" I'll try address the topic.

On the shallow side I'm obviously carrying the weight of two pregnancies in quick succession and the changed body shape as a result. There are angry little lines where there never were before. I suddenly have chunky arms, a mean little caesar scar and so on. I'm working on improving what I can though - I meet with my personal torturer, er, I mean trainer thrice a week and hopefully that which can be improved will be. The scars and marks I mind less so. They are reminders. Badges of grief and badges of honour. Being able to carry a child must certainly be one of our greatest gifts and privileges and these marks are reminders of that - I'm grateful for them. Ha! Just reread that last sentence. Dam I'm cheesy. But it is true!

In terms of personality improvements... well I need to learn to think before I speak and to consider the feelings of others. I can say that it is pretty much never my express intention to hurt people, but I can do this inadvertantly (if not hurt them, then make them feel silly) by joking or teasing with the best intentions but without considering that people have different levels of tolerance, of sensitivity and simply that everyone is going through their own battles and we will never know someone's context completely. And so I want to learn to consider others in all that I say, but not to become paralysed by that - I like teasing people and joking with them (in a respectful way) because (done right) it brings people out of their shell, it pulls a few laughs and in a way it makes people feel special.

I'm told by The Band that I'm not good at apologising. I'm not sure if I agree with that actually... I think I'm good at apologising for the bigger things, but for smaller things, not so much. A hypothetical example (in reality we gave up refilling the fridge water months ago):

Me: SHMOO! You didn't fill up the fridge water again!
Him: Actually you were the last one to use it...
Me: No I wasn't...
Him: Yes - remember you had a glass with breakfast?
Me: Oh.... mumble mumble mumble
Him: (haughty tone) I accept your apology!
Me: (stubborn tone) I didn't apologise (sulks).

Where do you see room for improvement in your life?

A cure to bloggers block

2010-10-19T11:07:00.000+02:00

Most of the Twitterverse and the Blogosphere (wow I'm a geek!!) are busy with this meme and I thought it would be a good cure to my writer's block and also probably just a healthy exercise in introspection (which I've been avoiding for the past month!)

The idea is that over 30 days you stick to a list of blog topics. Topics designed to get you thinking about who you are and where you're at. A bit of stocktaking, if you will. Before I even start, let me say that this may or may not happen within 30 calendar days. I am unlikely to crank up the laptop on a Sunday, but you never know.

Here it is:
Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you badly.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Life with Tandi

2010-10-12T12:25:00.000+02:00

Tandia (pronounced "tun-dee-uh" for those who still aren't sure) is an unusual name and it still does not yet just roll off the tongue - not that it doesn't suit her. It suits her perfectly and I love it, but truth be told I don't use it often. Most often she's my shnugglepuff, Little Miss Stinkleton or Snortleby (her very hungry cry is peppered with unladylike snorts which have The Band and I in hysterics!)

Life with Tandia is precious. It's an incredible thing when others are vying for her attention and yet her eyes follow mine alone. The gratitude and love and "chosenness" I feel in those moments - as if the star quarterback has asked ME to the prom :)

We are realising more and more that we've got an easy baby as babies go. As soon as I stopped waking her for feeds (around 3 weeks) she began sleeping for 6 hour stretches at night. She sleeps easily and without fuss. She's little, but is growing faster than her predicted growth curve, so no problems there. She's healthy and strong and has her dad and I wrapped around her tiny little pinky.

When she smiles we can't help but smile back - even if it's 4:30 and she's supposed to be sleeping.

It's amazing what we'll do for a smile. I guess any parents among you will know exactly what i mean. Those first few smiles - Well The Band and I were harmonising nasal "hallo, halloooo, halloooooooo" (in true Wielie Waalie kouse vorm). Our voices go higher and higher and our actions grow larger and larger.

She's THREE MONTHS ALREADY. Can you believe that? which means about 100 baths. And yet I adore bathing her. It doesn't get tired. It's still a privilege. A treat. A dream come true. A prayer granted. I adore this little girl and savour her. I am trying to take it all in. Trying to imprint special moments and memories on my heart.

And spoilt! Me and her both. WOW we have been blessed. So many luxuries have been given as gifts. One friend did a photoshoot for us free (see these), another did 5 week infant massage course for us. LOVED THAT! Another friend of mine is doing personal training with me, also free. Crazy how blessed we are. People are STILL arriving with gifts, 3 months down the line.

Celebrating Sophia

2010-10-12T12:16:00.000+02:00

The Band and I spent Sophia's birthday weekend in Hermanus which was great. We went out for a quiet dinner and each got to spend some time alone by the sea. That evening we opened a special bottle of wine which we'd bought in Plett just days before Everything Happened. When we bought it back then we had planned to celebrate her birth with it. It was a quiet, peaceful time away, but the contrast to what a 1 year old's birthday should have been were glaring.

On the Sunday we invited local family and one or two close friends around and had birthday cake and champagne. I think this will become an annual tradition.

I guess one may have expected a princess cake or something, but this is what I felt would have epitomised Sophia.

In my mind's eye she's being pushed on a tree swing or she's playing in a tree house. She's adventurous and playful and laughs a lot. She loves being outdoors. And so the tree.

It was a good time. Good to have people speak of her. If only a little bit and even if rather awkwardly. Her name was spoken and that meant something.

Ke nako. It is time.

2010-10-12T12:07:00.000+02:00

to blog again.

I've long been out of blogging action. Not because I've had nothing to say. Not because I've had no time. It's more just been that I've not wanted to spend my last few weeks of maternity leave glued to a computer - plenty of time for that when work starts again NEXT WEEK. (le sigh!)

And so, two updates up ahead... Sophia's birthday (more than a month later!) and life with Tandia. Coming up!

Celebrating life

2010-09-25T13:51:00.000+02:00

I have lost my writing mojo for now. I still need to write about Sophia's birthday party and post some pics of that but I just don't have the energy right now. Don't be worried, I am fine, promise. Just feeling very "surface"... I don't want to say superficial - it's not that. It's more that for right now I am simply living day to day.

A few pics from our newborn shoot a few weeks ago....

You, me and the deep blue sea

2010-09-04T04:24:00.000+02:00

I'm sitting on the rocks, huge waves smashing and sea mist cooling my face and my feet. Do you remember the last time we did this? At the Wild Coast last April. Such a beautiful day - just me and you and a random friendly dog that decided to join us on our walk.

I loved that day. I sat there knowing that next time I sat on the rocks you'd be sitting right beside me. I so wish that were true.

Today my experience is tainted. The sea is the same, but these rocks are different. I can see awful insects & weird creatures scuttling in the shadows. They're hideous and quick and I feel unsafe and exposed.

But the sea! The sea is glorious! Majestic! Awesome! Powerful! Strong! Cool, fresh, aquamarine and fluffy, foamy, blinding white. The sea is beauty.

The creatures on the rocks creep closer. I want to leave, to escape them. But in leaving them I leave the sea and the sea is you and the rocks are me.

Instead

2010-09-03T14:46:00.000+02:00

Another long day of labour and then finally there you were. Even after 2 days I felt unready. They handed you to me. You were beautiful and still and ours.

Today should be about balloons and cake, presents and your little-girl-giggles. About a dress with bows and streaks of icing on your face. About flings chips and little friends and countless photos and proud parents.
About you - in all your childish wonder and unbridled joy.

Instead it is quiet.

Happy birthday my precious girl. I wish we were celebrating it together.
Sophia, your mommy loves you with all her heart.

2 September

2010-09-02T20:42:00.000+02:00

I woke up early - maybe 5:30. Not sure but it was dark still. I hopped to the bathroom, flipped the light and looked down. Bright red blood gushing out of me.

I called Stef and told him. "bright red is bad, the book said so."

He called our antenatal teacher. She told him to get me to the hospital.

Still firmly in denial I argued that I should eat first (???) but he was havibg none of it.

On the way there I put on an adrenaline pumping song - dance, dance by fall out boy. I was still weirdly chipper.

Went to the plett mediclinic through to the maternity ward. The sisters were too nice. They were stalling. I started to feel nervous. The midwife arrived. She was far too nice. Trying to find baby's heartbeat but nothing. From that first attempt i think i knew. Then she thought she may have.

My mouth was bone dry. No water for me in case they had to do a Caesar.

The obgyn arrived. Hooked up the sonar. Politely, almost educationally as if I was a student there to learn she pointed and said "this is where we would expect to see the heartbeat but you can see there is no movement".

The doctors version of "your baby is dead. Your life will never ever be the same."

A million thoughts go through your head in that moment - for one the absolute bittersweetness of having what I already knew confirmed: I was carrying a little girl - as I knew I was -I had dreamt of her so often. The feeling of "naturally this would happen. It was all too good to be true. The bubble was bound to burst", the feeling of "thank God for Stef. Thank God I have him in my life and we will go through this together".

I wanted to tell my dad. I think he was the only person I actually told - after that day the whole world seemed to know.

"Dad, they say my baby's dead."

I can't remember what he said except that they'd leave EL straight away and be in plett asap.

The doctor urged me to have a Caesar. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to. She agreed to try the induction but as soon as she felt any risk she'd do a Caesar.

The midwife understood and was determined to help me go natural. In retrospect it was as if they were unintentionally playing good cop bad cop and giving me something to focus on and work towards.

I remember the midwife hugging me and telling me "don't worry - I won't leave you. I'm not going anywhere." I remember thinking how futile that was and yet appreciating that that was the one thing this woman could do for me in this darkest hour and being deeply touched.

They started with the induction drips and the midwife used every other natural method she could think of from massaging reflexology points on my ankles to giving me natural medicines.

Once my folks arrived my dad walked me up and down the hospital hallway late into that night, steering my drip a we walked.

I'm not sure if they drugged me but in spite of the contractions I slept that night.

de ja vu

2010-09-01T12:54:00.000+02:00

A friend visited this morning. While she was here some flowers were delivered. From my parents. Saying they are thinking of us this week. With those flowers came the end of the illusion that I'm fine and this is just another week. With those flowers the return (with a vengeance) of the old familiar nausea. With those flowers a time warp back to one year ago.

I sucked it up and pretended to listen to my friend. Relieved when she left at last.

A year ago we went through to Knysna for lunch, to a place called Cornuttis. It is gorgeous. Right by the Knysna Heads. I remember some older people chatting to us, asking if this was our first. We smiled naively, innocently, proudly.

I remember being anxious for the pregnancy to be over. I was missing my baby - since she had "dropped" on the Friday night she hardly moved at all, and when she did it was totally different. Very slow and soft. Or so I thought.

For some reason I don't have bad memories of Plett, as in I don't dread going to Plett - even though that's where we were that week. But Knysna. I think of the place and I feel ill. There was just an under current in that day of such dread and doom.

WOW I was in such denial. Idiot. Oblivious. I wonder if I will ever forgive myself for not realising, or admitting. Probably not.

A painful night one year on

2010-08-28T12:22:00.000+02:00

Throughout last night I kept waking in pain. My stomach felt like I'd been punched. It felt bruised and really sore. No other symptoms, just that. This morning, when it was more or less at its worst, I realised that a year ago today, on 28 August, it was the beginning of the end.

My last day of work before starting my maternity leave. It was obviously quite a busy day, but I remember a meeting with our PR agency. I was hauling them over the coals about non-delivery and trying to be very firm, but all the while wanting to smile because Sophia was kicking and dancing like crazy and you could see it from the outside. In retrospect I wonder now if she wasn't perhaps already in distress.

I left work a little early and fetched The Band for my doctor's appointment. The doc had tried to cancel, but I'd insisted on keeping the appointment because we were due to leave the next day for a week in Plett. He was rushed and running late. He measured my circumference, felt my belly, and was done. I wonder now, if he may have picked something up with a scan. They say he probably wouldn't have, but who knows? Spots on the placenta, raised fetal heartbeat. Those things would have shown.

Back to the car which had broken down outside the doctor's rooms (which are at the hospital). The Band eventually had to call a mechanic to come tow the car. It kills me that we were Right There. If there had been some kind of sign or warning we were right at the hospital for ages, but there wasnt.

It was a busy evening. Waiting at the mechanics for a while, then off to show face at a farewell. Not sure, but I think I started to feel quite tired there. Then we went to the mall. Whenever we go on holiday we each buy a book and a cd. In the CD shop I suddenly was overcome by this overwhelming feeling of emptiness and sadness. It was so strange. My lower back started to ache. I went to sit a while. The sadness had no logic and so I put on a happy face, but it was there. A horrible feeling.
I wonder at that now. Was it premonition? Had she already died and my body knew it?

Home, bed. Ow. Back ache. So sore. Like period pain in my back but bad. At about 4am I lay in the bath for ages, just topping up the hot water inbetween. I checked my pregnancy book and it said that back ache was one of the early signs of labour - baba could arrive within the next week or two! On that happy note I was quite positive about it. Mildly excited even. Little did I know that somewhere during that night Sophia had died.

By the next morning the pain had eased to tolerable. The Band helped me pack, hot water bottle was positioned on my back and we left for Plett. By the time we arrived at Beacon Isle the pain had gone.

I wonder now, at this time, whether the pain in my stomach, which believe me is very real, is coincidence or somehow psychological.

I am now bracing myself for the days of reliving that are ahead.

the inevitable topic

2010-08-25T13:01:00.000+02:00

The Band and I went for dinner the other night. Casual chatting. Something about a little boy. Then a conversation something along the lines of:
Me: Hopefully the next one is a little boy and then the factory can close.
Him: What? you can't just say that!
Me: well...
Him: We always said 3 kids.
Me: yes, and we've had two!
Him: Yes, but you know what I mean.
Both: let's not talk about this right now

But it upset me. Quite a lot. In retrospect, he's right. It's not something you just say without a decent discussion. I'm not even sure if I mean it or not. But what got me so shaken was two-fold: the thought of going through the terror of another pregnancy, let alone another two, and the realisation that he actually really doesn't know how hard it was for me.

Pregnancy was HARD. TERRIFYING. Worth it? obviously. That goes without saying. And always and forever it is not something I take for granted. I am grateful.

But I am also tired. 2 long pregnancies. A year and a half (more actually) of watching what I eat, drink, do. My body has been through a lot. It is stretched and reshaped. The fear... wow. The nightmares. Months and months made up of moments of sheer sickening terror. I can't tell you how different I feel without the constant fear companion. I have joy too and grief of course, but that nasty, suffocating fear is gone and I don't welcome it back!

In reality, in time, perhaps I'd consider another two pregnancies. But I think I need The Band to realise how much this has cost me. How I held my breath throughout. In real life I put on a brave face, I guess, and I'm sure it's my fault he doesn't really know. I've seen that with family as well - my mom for example - I really think a lot of them think I'm all fixed up now, because I'm not forthcoming with where I'm at (not in real life at least) and if they don't ask, I don't say.

I would definitely be open to one more. Not for me - I feel like Sophia in heaven and Tandia here are enough right now, though that could well change - but for her. I want her to have siblings and family. I want her to have nieces and nephews some day. I want her to have companion(s) when we go on family holidays. All that.

But two?

Two would mean me having FOUR pregnancies. That is A LOT on any woman. Then add to it that they will be high risk pregnancies, that I will be scared. It's big.

I think it's also just far too soon to even contemplate. I am still too worn out from the past year and a half. I think that I need time.

Happy Birthday Noon!

2010-08-12T14:11:00.000+02:00

Noon

91 years old today and no doubt, if you were here, you'd STILL look longingly at big trees and state "that would be a good tree for climbing".

So here we are. Your birthday again.

A bit of an update from my side. Of course there's big news since I last wrote...
Your great granddaughter was born a month ago. She is SO SO precious. Of course I am going to be biased but she really is a gorgeous thing....
exhibit A:

Such a sweet temperament too. She was 4 weeks early and so the books predicted we'd have a few extra battles and her development would be a little delayed, but we've had none of that. She is an absolute pleasure.

Of course Stef is convinced she is a genius. I bet you'd agree. You two are shameless in your bias towards those you love. Love that that about you.

Ah Noon, I wish you were here. I wish you could see her. Actually, I wish I could see you seeing her. Everytime my mom sees her (at this stage via Skype - you'd be amazed by skype!) she melts. My mom is no softy so it's special to see. You would melt Noon. BIG TIME! There would be plenty of tears and you'd assure me that they are happy tears.

I can't tell you how it comforts me to know that you're with Sophia. I bet you wish you could see me seeing her.

Shoh... what a situation we find ourselves in. You there, me here. You with Sophia, me with Tandia. One day Noon, some day, we are going to have such a reunion, the four of us. Can't tell you how I long for that.

Meantime, give my girl a big big love from me...there are no words... and Phoebs too!
Love you.

Pick me! Pick me!

2010-08-12T14:06:00.000+02:00

In case you missed the MASSIVE button on the right hand side, I'd appreciate it if you took a sec to click it and nominate me for the 2010 South African Blog Awards.

I've never really looked into this stuff (hell, I only figured out how to set up Google Reader a couple of days ago - after 4 years of blogging) but what the hell?

If you like my blog please click and nominate it - I guess I'd fit into the "personal blog" category or possibly the "parenting" one.

Ok enough self promotion. I'm starting to feel like a pimp.

Changing Lanes

2010-08-07T17:36:00.000+02:00

*Spoiler alert for LOST fans*
In a recent episode of LOST, some of the survivers are in a submarine and there is an explosion and it starts filling with water. Sun's leg is stuck. The others leave, but her husband stays to save her. They realise he can't get her unstuck. She begs him to leave, he refuses. He'd rather spend their last moments together and die together. Beautiful. Romantic. But tragic. Especially tragic coz they have a daughter who just became an orphan.

A friend of mine was raped as a teenager. Someone broke into their home - their safe place, their refuge - and raped her. She told me that after that she'd sometimes go walking late at night. Almost shaking a fist at life and daring it to throw something else bad her way.

It sounds so silly, but I can relate. After Sophia died I felt that same angry rebellion. Rather than live in fear of something happening you almost want to dare it to, to face things head on. Sure, in my case that never went much further than driving faster and without a seatbelt (yes, yes, mock me if you must) but the sentiment was there. I may have been truly reckless with myself were it not for the realisation that that would be incredibly unfair and selfish to The Band and my family.

Anyway, yesterday I left The Kernel with The Band and popped to the shops. I was interested at how cautious I was. Not simply with my own driving - I'm a safe driver by nature, but even with other cars - the situations that were out of my control. I was literally praying for my safety and protection. Not in a fearful, panicked way. Just in a simple "please keep me safe" kind of way.

My dad is like that. He takes good care of himself, exercises, watches his cholestrol, because he knows we need him. He is the glue, the stability, the anchor of our family and he recognises this and cares for himself. It is the kindest thing he can do for us. The greatest gift he can give us.

My daughter needs me. I need to be ok, to be safe, to be healthy so I can look after her and that's a good realisation and responsibility to have.

The Wunderkind

2010-08-07T17:16:00.000+02:00

4 weeks ago today Tandia AKA The Kernel was born. I am so glad I am home, comfy on my couch typing this, rather than in a hospital bed drugged and in pain. I am so glad we've had the blessing of 4 extra weeks with her. She is an absolute delight.

The past 4 weeks have passed in something of a blur. It's strange how slowly time can pass when you're pregnant and fearful and every day you feel like you're a ticking time bomb. But now, since she is here I would happily press some sort of slow motion setting and savour these moments for longer.

The Band and I can stare at her for ages - in the same way you can be mesmerised staring at a fire. And (from my side anyway) it's not even staring at her and dreaming of everything she might become... it's simply staring at her and taking in all that she is: beauty, seriousness, contentment, wide-eyed wonder, the cutest sneezes, absolute trust.

The Band is, of course, convinced that she is a child prodigy. This is because I read somewhere that it would be a couple of months before she should be able to have enough control of her hands to find her mouth with them, but she regularly sucks her hands. He now sings the "wunderkind" song to her... "are you a little wunderkind? wunderkind! wunderkind!" (repeat infinitely) It's very cute.

She's still a teensy thing. She's weighing in at 2.7 now and still very much in her premmie clothing. I keep looking at items of newborn stuff thinking "this is small, it should fit her" and then holding it up to her and seeing that it's a good 5 - 10cm too long still.

None of the annoying horror stories have come to pass. It is very rare that we have a bad night. For the most part she wakes up once a night for a feed. Not bad going at all. There's plenty of trial and error but we really are just enjoying the journey.

Body views

2010-07-30T10:44:00.000+02:00

After Sophia died I was left with this broken body... after giving birth you have that miff dodgy stomach for a week or two, then they'd given me stuff to stop milk production but there was still colostrum and whatnot. Plus there was the bleeding. All in all I felt this massive sense of defeat. My body depressed me. After all, my body had failed me in the worst possible way.

After Tandia's arrival things are much the same (except the milk story - my cup doth overflow!) but now I look at my body in awe. I am amazed at this little perfect person who is here safe and sound. I am amazed that I can provide for her on demand. There's a sense of triumph and gratitude now where before there was only loathing and failure.

It's a weird thing to walk with Tandia. Before, some people avoided eye contact. Others did the sympathetic, awkward head tilt. Now people, even strangers, just have massive gushy smiles when they see me. In a way I want to hide from it, but really they are admiring my little girl and that's as it should be.

And how would I look at me if I was not me? (get your heads around THAT one! :) )
I think it would have to be a mixture - sadness and gushy joy. The two aren't mutually exclusive.

Right now, as I type this, Tandia is fast asleep on the couch next to me. Teensy little dummy bobbing in and out every now and then. Squeaky little noises here and there. Head rising and falling ever so slightly with each breath. And I feel a quiet peace.

Double helix

2010-07-26T10:56:00.000+02:00

So in about grade 10 we all learnt about the double helix structure of DNA: two parallel strands spiralling upwards with the odd ladder rung between them. Our biology teached had a model of DNA on his desk and every year on the anniversary of the discovery of DNA by Watson and Crick he'd bounce the model from left to write and sing a few lines of Happy Birthday. It was pretty special.

A double helix is where my emotions are.

I am filled with joy, gratitude and a heart set to explode from love, especially in moments like this:

When my gran died she left me a book in which she'd recorded her proud gran moments - times in my and my brothers lives that were precious memories for her. On one of the pages she writes "Every time a new grand child is born your heart swells even bigger to make space for more love. You can actually feel it happen". When I bathed Tandia last night I felt that happening.

But at the same time, running parallel to this time of unbelievable precious beauty, I'm perhaps sadder than I've been all year. Not only is this time a reminder of all I have missed with Sophia, but I think while pregnant I was so consumed with fear that there was less space for raw grief.

At church yesterday the pastor said something along the lines of "thank God for his kindness toward you" and at once the familiar lump was back in my throat. God has been indescribably kind to me (just see the pic above!) but still - in the same moment that the placenta ripped from the uterus lining, my child, my daughter, was forever ripped from this world and from me, her mom. And yes, I use the word 'ripped' because it feels that violent.

The weekends are good. I am happy when I'm around people and when TheBand is around. But many week days are not. Especially the mornings. Especially today.

Beyond the birth

2010-07-18T19:52:00.000+02:00

How do you name a person - another living being. It's such a responsibility and going in to theatre we still hadn't decided. When they told me they were going to have to put me under, they sent The Band outside (I guess so he wouldn't have to see them shoving a pipe down my throat) - they had asked what our name options were and I had told them, with The Band outside I said to them "ok it sucks that I have to go under, but while i'm out you guys can convince The Band on the name I want!"

Apparently they did...

Her name is Tandia Ella (Tandia is pronounced "Tun-dee-uh" with the emphasis on the "dee"). He'd been concerned that Tandia was too ethnic or something, but I've loved the name for years. The two meanings I found were "much loved one" and "prayer"... fitting!!! And now of course, it's hard to imagine her as anything else.

Tandia weighed 2.43 at birth and is a teensy little thing and so so beautiful.

For the first 4 days I didn't sleep... I couldn't. I wasn't even tired. I just wanted to take it all in. I guess I was just on such a high of relief and gratitude.

It's been great to be home... we've had family til tonight so it has been busy, and I'm looking forward to redefining normal now that it's just us.

We're pretty much doing all the "wrong" things in terms of breastfeeding (kind of going with whatever's comfortable rather than the specific positioning the nurses encourage) and sleep - my best is to sleep with her on my chest, else she's on a wedge in our bed. But we have a very content little baby and we're pretty content too so I guess it's working for us!

It's amazing how you get a sense of a baby's character in the womb... it's really accurate. I felt that Tandia would be a bit of a more serious child. Very content. Very sweet and very gentle. A wise little thing. This is really how she comes accross.

That makes me think of Sophia - how I felt I knew her, I did.

Since being home there have been more and more sore moments. I referred to The Kernel as Sophia by mistake. That hurt. Then for some reason my bath really set me off. I had so looked forward to my first post-caesar bath which I was finally allowed to have on Friday night.

The Band filled it with bubbles and dimmed the lights and put on some music for me. I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was the first time I was bathing "alone" for a very long time. No one in my belly. It just made me ache for Sophia. Tandia was never particularly excited about the bath when I was pregnant. But Sophia used to love baths - she'd kick about plenty from the moment I was in the water. Baths were always our time.

Since Friday night I've had a growing ache. An increasing hollow sadness. It's a strange place to be - a mixture of pure joy and relief and awe and reverence and gratitude on the one side and a deep, aching, gaping loneliness and longing on the other.

How I wish Sophia was here to share all this with us. To welcome her little sister into the world. Having our beautiful daughter here with us does not solve it. It doesn't stop us missing our firstborn. In some ways it makes me miss Sophia even more.

And then came The Kernel

2010-07-18T19:42:00.001+02:00

It's true what they say about time disappearing once baby arrives. It's unbelievable. Anyway, bla bla, that's my way of apologising for taking so ridiculously long to write this post.

We arrived at the hospital last Thursday night and they began the induction. I had contractions through the night and much of Friday, but by Friday evening they were slowing down. The doc tried to induce again but by Saturday morning the contractions had stopped. Time for Plan B - a caesar.

Very last bump pic - 36 weeks 1 day

So in we went.

McBand in his scrubs.

I guess I kind of thought that I had earned this idyllic birth experience after everything, but alas, twas not to be... We went into theatre and there was a nice vibe in the team. They started the spinal block and were about to get going when the anaesthetist (THANKFULLY!) saw me grimace when they did something... something I shouldn't have felt. The spinal hadn't worked. bugger. He tried again... nada.
That is not what you want to hear when you're bracing yourself for surgery. Only option was to put me under general anaesthetic. CRAP!

I guess the good thing is that I didn't have much time to think about it. Apparently I had the foresight to tell them that I wanted someone to tell me exactly what had happened the second I woke up... (as we were walking in to theatre the one sister was saying that The Kernel would DEFINITELY have to spend time in NICU etc etc - real little optimist that lady!)

Anyway, next thing I awoke to someone congratulating me and telling me that The Kernel is perfect and healthy and breathing like a champ! I of course started crying - they tried to console me til I explained that those were not sad tears!! Those were the tears of relief of 8 months of fear!

The clock in front of me read 11:30 - we'd gone in to theatre at 10.

I felt so drugged and my stomach and throat were so so sore. They wheeled me through to my room and on the way I caught a glimpse of a topless Band snuggling a little bundle. He brought the bundle to my room and this is what he brought me...

In many ways that moment I'd waited so long for is a blur. I remember being amazed at how light she was and how beautiful. I remember realising that she knew me and I knew her. I remember feeling so drugged and thinking "I should be upset about the way it happened - about the anaethetist's bugger up, about the fact that I only met her an hour and a half after she'd been born" but feeling an overwhelming sense of "I couldn't care less how it happened, she is safe!!!" Relief. Pure relief. Like breathing for the first time in 8 months. Like quenching a thirst that has reached desperate frantic proportions. All else fades. Little else matters. She is here and safe and healthy and perfect.

We're just about there

2010-07-07T18:17:00.000+02:00

I can't believe the day is just about to dawn. Everyone says to me "already?? Wow it's gone fast!" HA! People forget that they only heard at 12 weeks. Also it's fast if you're not living in fear and worry. No... I can't say it's gone fast. This pregnancy has fone from one milestone to the next. We've tried to celebrate each one, to consciously unguard our hearts. This pregnancy has been the hardest thing I've ever done, but it has also probably saved my life. Sounds melodramatic, but the promise of new hope, the joy of pregnancy that you simply can not dampen, has no doubt saved my sanity, maintained some joie de vivre in me. I am entirely, indescribably grateful to have this baby on board.

But I ramble.

Yesterday and today I had my steroid shots. Ow. I've been wide awake since 3.30am - not worrying, not stressing, just awake. Asked the nurse about it today and she says it's a side effect from the shot. Lovely! Hoping for a better night's sleep tonight!

So tomorrow, in I go. 5pm I go to hospital and they will start the induction soon after. By Friday morning the doc will pretty much know if natural is going to happen, if not it'll be a caesar.

It occurred to me yesterday that my only prayer has been for a healthy, living child. It seems greedy to ask for any more. But that's a bit silly, isn't it. God is not a Father who wants to give his kids the bare minimum. With that in mind, here's what I'm praying for... those of you who do, please could you join me in this?

1. A healthy little baby girl (oh and my health too)
2. No need for her to spend time in NICU
3. The induction to take fast so I can avoid a caesar (unfortunately if I have a caesar I'll never be able to go natural again - they can't induce if you've had a caesar. Also with The Kernel being so small she is going to need a lot of love and care from me and I want to be in top form to be able to provide that for her)
4. A fairly quick labour

Those are absolutely in order of priority and number one is the only one that really matters, the rest would be great of course, but to have my baby born safe and healthy will be everything to me.

In the last couple of days I've had so many blog comments, twitter comments, FB messages, smses and phone calls of people all over sending their support, their love, their prayers. It has meant so much. People are incredible. Thanks to all of you for caring so much. I am taking my computer to hospital and as soon as possible I will update you all and post pics. Otherwise, follow me on twitter - that's the easiest for me as it's straight from the phone.

Adios for now :)

The Nursery

2010-07-05T16:16:00.000+02:00

Well the nursery is all done at last so here is the long overdue photoshoot:

We're nearly there

2010-07-01T14:50:00.000+02:00

Time is somehow passing by against all odds. I guess the world cup helps (I wonder if there is any girl in the country who's watched as much soccer as me! I'm really quite into it and will probably have to blow vuvuzelas to put the Kernel to sleep when she's born!). I've somehow been busy with a million little things - final touches on the nursery (hoping to be done by Saturday in which case there will be a MASSIVE photo shoot at long last!) and, in the midst of all the baby preparation, we have made an offer on a house. Ya - apparently we don't like to keep things simple and timing is not our gift! Anyway bla bla bla it is exciting and all that, but it's not really top of mind for me at the moment. We will hear back from the bank in the next week or so and then we'll know if we've got it in which case I'll tell you all about it.

The Band and I had the official Names Talk the other day. We chatted through a bunch of names and eventually pretty much decided though we'll only decide for sure sure when she's born. The Band said to me he'd thought very little about names and perhaps it was because he is protecting himself in case something happens. That was quite hectic. He is always the strong, rational one. The optimist. The voice of reason. It was hectic to hear a little about his fears. I've seen it in other people too (though none of them would admit it I'm sure). My mom would sing to Sophia and wanted to feel her kick and all that. She bought heaps of clothes and stuff for her, but with The Kernel she's done none of that. I think she is guarding her heart as well. A few of my friends are the same. Even my CEO said to me "we will celebrate when she is here". Some people refer vaguely to "the situation" I am in and can't even say "pregnancy" or "baby". They skirt around the topic when it comes to me.

How does that make me feel? Firstly bear in mind it's all subtle of course. I guess it makes me feel sad. Sad for The Kernel. Poor little thing. She's done nothing wrong and yet people are guarding their hearts from her. Of course I understand it completely - you'll remember in the early months I did the same thing until I came to a point where I was strong enough to consciously decide to celebrate her because she deserves it and because even if the worst happened I'd never regret loving her, just as I have never wished that I loved Sophia less so that it could have hurt less. I guess it's just another sad reality of pregnancy after loss: people guard their hearts.

On the positive side I have had a handful of friends who've taken it upon themselves to celebrate with me and sometimes in spite of me. My one friend drops off a wrapped present in my postbox every Friday morning to celebrate another week of pregnancy. How awesome is that? The gifts have ranged from bath toys to babygrows to matching mom and daughter bangles to edible treats and so on. Another friend of mine who I work with talks to The Kernel every time she sees me. She's gunning to be favourite "aunt". People like this have helped stir my excitement and I've needed that.

Yesterday was our final scan. The Kernel now weighs a little over 2kg meaning she'll probably weigh about 2.2 at birth. I'm really hoping and praying she weighs at least that much coz babies still lose weight and I don't think a baby can go home if they weigh less than 2. Anyway we have the cutest premmie outfits and nappies all ready for her - even the newborn stuff looks hefalumpish in comparison!

On Tuesday and Wednesday I will have steroid shots and on Thursday evening I will go into the hospital (can't wait - will feel much safer when I'm there!) and we'll get the induction going so that by Friday morning we should know whether natural will be possible or if we have to go for a caesar.

I can't believe this time next week I'll be just about to drive to the hospital. I don't even know unpregnant Caz anymore. And what of the mourning? What of the moment when I no longer have to keep it together coz I have a baby on board? Is there a massive dark hole ahead of me? Am I the most prime candidate for postnatal depression ever? Or will The Kernel bring such healing and joy that the mourning will continue gently as it has been? My friends who've been through this - a child after losing one - have had such varied experiences. All I know is that I can't wait to hold this little girl. Good luck to The Band, my folks and any other visitors... they will be very lucky if they get a chance to hold her... maybe if I need to pee but that may just be it! :)

Update: The Kernel

2010-06-26T18:00:00.000+02:00

Can you believe that in less than 2 weeks I'll be holding The Kernel at long long looooooooooong last!?

I am so excited.

It has been good to be home. To not be distracted by all the mayhem of work. It means I can be far more conscious of her movements and I now know her routine pretty well (ie less freaking out!). It's often just her and I so we chat a lot more which is great.

My mom (aka The Mothball) was here this week and we got stacks done. We've gone through all the baby clothes and sorted them by size. We've washed them all and all the blankets and also all the nappies. We even sewed little fabric heart tie backs for the nursery!

The nursery is looking gorgeous. In my rather biased opinion it is the most gorgeous nursery ever. I will do a photo post soon - there is one last thing that needs to be done - a bookshelf which will be painted this coming week - and then I promise there will be pics galore.

The hospital bags are packed for her and for me and now its just a case of counting down the last 13 sleeps.

Can't wait!

Updates: The Baby Shower

2010-06-26T17:52:00.000+02:00

The BFF asked me what I wanted for a baby shower... last time it was a huge thing - probably 40 something people, food galore, games, the whole traditional deal.
It was a tough call deciding what to do this time round. One part of me wanted to say "let's rather leave it til she's born"... it seemed safer, less vulnerable. I hated sitting with a million gifts last time, a million happy congratulatory cards, and no baby.

But that wouldn't be right. The Kernel deserves to be celebrated and I can't live in the what ifs... not at this stage!

And so we decided on a totally different baby shower vibe. The Non-Baby Shower. A small group of very specifically selected girls - all people who have really been there for me and really understand and aren't about to moan about their kids or say anything stoopid and insensitive - including a friend who lost her baby at term a few weeks after me and 2 friends who'd recently miscarried - went for dinner. We went to a fancy restaurant in Somerset West - Henri's. It was such a great night. What an awesome group of people. The food was gourmet. Lovely. And we had a room to ourselves. I got spoilt with really really special things for the Little Princess and I think great memories were made.

I've had 5 baby showers now (yep! 3 with Sophia and 2 with The Kernel) and this was certainly the best one.

Updates: The Job

2010-06-26T17:45:00.000+02:00

There is so much to update you on and my writing mojo is really not great at the
moment for some reason so I'm splitting this over a few posts.

Job first... on my last day in the office the boss called and said he didn't want me resigning, could i work from home for 6 months and then if I want to resign and consult that's that. (pretty much what I asked for in the first place)

So ya, that's cool.

My last day of work was awesome - sorted out my office, had a baby shower from my colleagues, then they had a staff football match, then a braai and then we watched the World Cup opening ceremony. Now that's how a day at the office is supposed to be.

Being on maternity leave is AWESOME!!! Loving it! The Band works largely from home so I get to see plenty of him and The Guv which is great :)

The rollercoaster part two

2010-06-12T21:56:00.000+02:00

Firstly all is fine. The Kernel is ok and we are both home now.

Since the last post there were one or two more scary moments - mostly due to nurses lacking tact, but never mind.

At the specialist EVERYTHING was checked and everything is fine. That being said, with the chance of repeated placental abruption the Specialist basically said that the closer I can stick to the hospital, the better. Scary to hear, but that's the nature of this particular little nasty: it can be so random and sudden and out the blue.

Well with that, I have pretty much decided not to leave Somerset West for the next (less than) 4 weeks.

On my 3rd (and last) morning in hospital one of the nurses got me quite shook up. For starters she asked if this was my first baby. I briefly explained. Her response was "ok, so second pregnancy, but first baby". "no," I said "second baby". How can someone not realise how hurtful that is - to reduce my child to a "pregnancy". It really hurt.

The other thing was that she said that if my baby was born now I wouldnt be able to hold her and I'd barely be able to touch her.

I think there is, however, a big bright side to the whole hospital story. Before this week I'd only ever been in hospital once - and it's not exactly the most happy memory. I've been bracing myself for The Kernel's birth... trying to prepare myself for reliving things, for facing the CTG machine for one (my recurring nightmare) and so on. But now, after being there days and having CTGs every couple of hours I think that some of the edge has been taken off and some of the association of hospital is at least not tragic. I think that having had a positive (or at least a fairly neutral) time in hospital now will hugely help on 9 July when I go in to deliver.

Also, I got chatting to the nurses/sisters and most of them were saying that The Kernel is very likely to go on oxygen and probably to have to spend some time in ICU. I would NEVER have expected that... my thought was that sure 36 weeks is early, but plenty of kids are born then and they're fine. Plus she'll be getting steroids for her lungs. But the nurses reckon that coz she's petite she may have to be in the NICU a bit.

How is the above a positive?

Well if I wasn't expecting that (which I totally wasn't before) then it would have been a hell of a shock and fright on the day. Now at least if it does have to happen I am prepared for it, and if it doesn't it's a bonus.

In other news...
I am now 32 weeks and it's as if the hospital stay suddenly woke my body up to the fact that I am in fact pregnant. I really hadn't had any of the pregnancy symptoms, but after a day or two in hospital I'm having Braxton Hicks contractions for the first time, I have the whole breathlessness thing going, my hips are all dodgy and out of joint and the infernal heartburn has begun... last time it started at 12 weeks so I can't complain too much but MAN it is as bad as I remember - like swallowing a ball of tin foil.

Workwise: After basically saying I'm likely to resign, the CEO has now said that I can in fact work from home for 6 months (which is what I originally requested). After that I will likely resign and work as a consultant for them and others.

Anyway, a bit of a factual post, but wanted to update you on the news.

Riding the rollercoaster

2010-06-08T17:09:00.000+02:00

WHAT A DAY!

After all the euphimistic optimism of yesterday: KAZAM!

I woke at 1.30 with bad back ache. De ja vu. There's still that stupid thing in me that is embarassed to overreact and put people out. I dopplered - all good. But the pain wasnt normal so I called the med aid 24 hour medical advice line. The sister there suggested that given "my history" - another of those delightful euphimisms - I should ask the hospital their thoughts. They said that given "my history" I should rather come in. Apologetically woke The Band and off we went.

Funny enough I felt perfectly calm. I could feel her moving and all so that was fine. Got to the hospital and there it was... the moment I've been dreading and nightmaring about for 9 months now.. The CTG machine. Stupid machine. It took at least 20seconds to find her heartbeat and when it did it was so quiet! (Ally McBeal inner voice screamed: "Crank up the volume lady!!!!") *shudder* it was a tough moment!

Anyway, they monitored baby's heartbeat for 30 mins and all looked fine but my doc said I must stay in hospital. Had a scan with her this morning - all fine (but placental abruption doesnt show on scans - but The Kernel was lying horizontally across me)and then another CTG but in this one there wasn't enough activity - the heartbeat was too stable!? Panic. Next thing I'm getting a steroid injection in case we need to do an emergency c-section... and this is the point at which I began to panic. She is only 31.5 weeks and she's little! SO little. Another CTG and off back to the doc... this time the CTG looked good as did the scan. The Kernel had now moved to breech and my back pain was gone so I'm thinking that her transverse position was what was causing the pain (I checked with Dr Google and that's totally possible!)

Anyway, I don't need to tell you the rollercoaster of calm, panic, calm, panic, peptalks from The Band, panic etc today has been. I am still in hospital. BLESS MY DOCTOR - she is taking NO chances! I will be monitored til tomorrow afternoon then I am going to the Fetal Assessment Clinic in Cape Town for an indepth scan to double triple check everything and from there we'll see.

Best case scenario? The Kernel decided to be creative in there and wound up in a very unusual position for this stage of pregnancy which made my back ache and we can carry on as planned to 36 weeks.

This won't be the last time I ask it, :) but please continue to keep The Kernel in your prayers.

Hoping to catch up on some sleep tonight!!!

4.5 weeks to go!

2010-06-07T13:21:00.000+02:00

This is my last week in the office. Possibly ever. Hard to believe!!
Next week I'll work from home and then.. voila maternity leave. Bring It On!
Or as my countrymen like to say: Feel it. It is here!

I'm excited.... and scared and so on. But The Kernel has been a good little kicker lately and I've been sleeping better so I am feeling positive in general.
Here's a 4D scan taken on Thursday... she's sucking her arm/hand it seems.

Cool hey. Happy to see chubbyish cheeks - she is still small (about 1.4kg last week when the average is about 1.7kg). The scan day was bittersweet. Thursday marked 9 months since Sophia was born. There's something doubly sad that from now on as time passes there is more time that she hasn't been here than time she was here.

Anyway, this was just a quick one to show the 4D scan. Hope you are all well in Blogland x

The whys and the what ifs

2010-05-22T20:22:00.000+02:00

My mom called this morning to tell me of the death of a little boy we'd met a couple of times in Morgan Bay. His name is Callam and he's the most gorgeous child. The sort of boy who grabs your heart in an instant. His parents run Yellowwood Park and we've gone there for lunch a few times. Whenever we do, Callam is around, usually covered in mud and full of curiosity, curls, freckles and mud. The way a little boy should be.There are very very few children who stick out in my mind - certainly none that I don't even really know. Callam is the exception just because he was so precious.

On Thursday Callam was hit by a car.

I've cried much today for Callam and for his parents. The world is poorer place without Callam in it. I have only an inkling of what his parents must be going through and their pain. I am so so sad for them. For the hole that is now in their lives. For the journey that they must now begin. The journey of life after Callam. It really is not fair, is it? Why him? But the whys and the what ifs are dangerous... They'll drive you mad.

This week has been tough. I've felt a little of that drowning feeling, that creeping depression threatening to set in. The Nothingness, like in Never-ending Story. I just miss my daughter. I miss her and I want things to be different, but they aren't. Nothing can change the fact that she's gone. I don't know why it's hit me harder this week.. last night was the first I've cried that wracking sob cry in a while. I've avoided it, I suppose. Tried to push it away ("I need to be in a good place right now, can't give in to this").

I wish Callam's parents didn't have to be on this road. It's a horrible road. I wish none of us had to be on it. Yes, time helps and you learn to breath again and you start to see that there is still joy and beauty and hope and love in this life, but always present is that loss. That grief. The way it should be but isn't.

Please pray for them, his parents and his older brother. They are in agony.

Pregnancy after loss

2010-05-21T09:42:00.000+02:00

In the weeks after Sophia died I scoured the net for information on stillbirth, all the causes, the stats, etc etc. I devoured the stories of people who had gone through such a loss and somehow survived it, and better yet, those who went on to have other children. I remember one night reading the story of Julie who lost a son to placental abruption and a year later lost another son the same way. The night I read that story I cracked. The Band was out and our quite nice wine selection beckoned. It was me, The Guv, a bottle (or two) of wine, a bunch of photos and one of Sophia's teddys flopped on the couch listening to my depro music playlist and wailing. The thought, the reality that this can happen again was too much for me. It is unbearable.

Pregnancy after loss is no simple matter. I think the cause of the loss could make a difference, to some extent, as would the timing of the loss. So, for example, if you miscarried at 10 weeks you'd probably be most anxious til then, and after the 10 week mark you may be able to relax a little. But so many of us lose our babies at term. Then there is no relaxing.

Today I am 29 weeks pregnant.7 weeks to go until The Kernel makes her way into the fresh air. This has been the most emotionally exhausting time of my life. Living in fear is one hell of a thing.

Last night I had my now all-too-familiar recurring nightmare. The one where I dream that I go to the bathroom and there's blood. I've lost count of how many times that dream has recurred. But every time it is so, so real. So vivid. In the dream I knew full well that I had 7 weeks to go. I knew when last I had felt baby kick. And then somewhere along the line I woke myself up and the relief flooded in. Relief mixed with nausea.

I'm having plenty nightmares lately. Not all baby-related. But that one, because it is so so real and because I have already lived it out in real life and, obviously, because it is the reenactment of my worst fear, is the worst.

I wouldn't trade this pregnancy for anything in the world. I am grateful beyond words for the opportunity to be a mom to another little girl. I thank God for every kick. I am all too aware that there are thousands or perhaps millions of women who'd give anything at all to be pregnant right now. That all being said, this is the toughest thing I've ever done.

The other day I was stuck in a meeting and baby wasn't moving. The meeting dragged on and on and nothing. Eventually I was downright dizzy with fear. You start playing out scenarios in your head:
What would I literally do? Do you wait a little longer? Do you phone the gynae? Do you head straight to the nearest hospital?

By the time she finally kicked again I was overs. Sat in my office and bawled. Relief, exhaustion, fear.

In 7 weeks time I wonder what'll happen. Will I just fall asleep after she's born out of sheer exhausted relief of being able to breathe again for the first time in 8 months? Or will this fear continue. Will I stare at her all day long. Checking to see that she's breathing.

I long for the day that I'm no longer defined by loss, failure, tragedy - even if only in my own mind. For the day that it feels like The Kernel has always been around and we can hardly imagine a time that she wasn't there.

Shoh... as I wrote the above paragraph I started writing "Sophia" before changing it to The Kernel.
That is the other part of all this, of course. The grieving which has to some extent been put on hold. ("Must be in a good head space"). That will also flood back with a vengeance at some point.

I miss her.

Please pray for this little one. She is small for her age... nothing to worry about, and within a healthy growth curve, but obviously I am worried anyway.

Mother's Day

2010-05-13T10:10:00.000+02:00

You know that movie "I hate Valentine's Day"? Well the title was in my head all of Sunday. I think that I might just hate Mother's Day.

Laaast Mother's Day I was pregnant with Sophia and it was my first Mother's Day. It was exciting - I knew that come 2010 I'd be receiving a gift allegedly from my firstborn (but of course, actually from TheBand). I'd have that maternal glow. I'd probably be wearing a flannel nightgown and dodgy manky pale blue slippers. Hell, perhaps I'd even own some floral clothing. But no. I am not that person. I am basically physically the same person I was a year ago: pregnant. Wearing maternity jeans and my ol' faithful K-way fleece and Tsonga boots. Not the picture of motherhood. Of course internally I am a very different, rather scarred person.

I arrived at church and someone at the door was giving out gift vouchers to the moms. She hesitated and looked awkward not knowing what to do so I grabbed one and walked in.

TheBand was hosting the meeting and so I was sitting up front. They asked all the moms to stand. CRINGE. So what do you do? Do you stand and feel a gazillion pairs of sympathetic eyes boring into your back? or do you stay seated, denying your daughters? With gritted teeth I stood. I wanted to scream out that I'm not merely standing coz I'm pregnant, I'm standing coz I'm a mom of two! You don't become a mom when you nurse your child, you are a mom from the time she's conceived. You start caring for her from that moment - both consciously and unconsciously. My whole attitude to my body and my life completely changed when I fell pregnant. I began to consider the fact that it's not just me and I need to look out for my little one. Part of your heart is forever with that child, even if you aren't.

I got an sms from a friend "to a very special mommy-to-be" Her heart was right, of course it was, but I wanted to throw the phone against the wall. I'm not a future mom. I have two daughters. I am Sophia's mom and even if I wasn't pregnant right now I hope I would have had the guts to stand up. Even if I wasn't pregnant right now I'd consider this my second Mother's Day.

It's a stupid hallmark tradition, right? But it's also an opportunity for kids to honour their moms. I wonder how I'll feel come Mother's Day 2011. I think Mother's Day is always going to hold sadness for me. It's always going to remind me of loss.

After the service I grabbed a friend who recently miscarried - her first pregnancy - and I gave her that voucher and a big hug. She teared up. She too, is a mom. No one else will acknowledge that, probably, but she is.

Changing seasons

2010-05-10T09:59:00.000+02:00

Work is giving me hassles. Originally they seemed quite flexible. Now they are being far less flexible than they were last time I went down this road... It's a complex and probably rather boring story but suffice it to say that I am now in a position where I have to consider my options:

1. Do I agree to what they are proposing: From January be in the office everyday.
Bearing in mind that The Kernel will only be 5 months old - and a premmie at that. That I want to be breastfeeding and that they are moving the offices... likely to be a 2 hour drive in traffic. Last time I was pregnant the offices were round the corner, I was expecting a full term baby and they were happy for me to work from home. Now I have lost a child, I am having a premmie and THEY are moving the offices far away and they suddenly aren't happy for this arrangement. Doesn't seem very fair to me.
Clearly option 1 is no option at all. There is simply no way. It's a win for them and a loss for me.

2. Request unpaid leave for a few months which sucks for me financially, but sucks even more for them: the January - April period is our busiest period with the Earth Hour campaign. I'm integral in that so it would really place them in a crap position too. But it does mean that I keep my job.
Still it seems to me like a lose - lose.

3. Push back. Show them the lack of logic in their proposal. Reiterate my request but insist that broader management (and not just one person) makes the call - the same broader management who were quite happy with this proposal last time.
Obviously this is the logical thing to do but I can't tell you how peeved I am that I have to now fight this fight. 5 weeks before I'm due to go on leave. I brought this up months ago and they wait til just before I leave to make decisions. I certainly do not need to be stressed right now.

4. Resign. Seize the day. Live my dreams. Take a risk.
Obviously this is very appealing, but the timing is bad. Give me a year and then sure, I'm there! But right now? I don't want to be worrying about finances right now. I don't think I should have to! Also I fear part of my motivation in such an action would be to spite them which is not a good reason to make a life decision.

UGH.

Then I read this:
"I was at gym yesterday and saw a dynamic looking woman sitting in the coffee shop entertaining her lively 12 month old baby. I looked at this woman and thought to myself that she was probably a great career woman only 14 months ago and that her skills were probably missed and wasted on sitting idly in a coffee shop talking to a toddler. A thought came to me of how there is all this latent expertise and dynamic energy all over the world in women who are now ‘only’ looking after babies – what a waste!

As all this was passing through my mind a bigger thought hit me. It actually screamed at me in anger: “You mislead idiot – she is doing the most important job in the world! She is not wiping up spilt milkshake, talking baby talk and telling nursery rhymes – No, she is growing a future leader, another generation of mothers, a little life who may one day lead a corporation. She is passing on morals, values and ethics. She is saving the world when she talks to her little one about waste and litter. She is teaching a small mind to think big and be creative. She is not wasting her time and expertise – not at all.”

I realized that there truly is not a more important job she could be doing right now. She is in good company – along with millions of other women who are probably feeling ill equipped for the most important job they have ever done. She probably feels grossly undervalued and may have moments of frustration that she can’t follow her career because she is doing all these ‘mindless’ mothering tasks. But really she is amazing. She is doing the most important job in the world for no thanks at all.

I looked back and saw her little one clamber onto her lap and give her an open mouthed, sloppy kiss and cuddle. She beamed. She lived in that moment – what a clever dynamic woman – a mother."

Sounds great and I need to keep reading it, but the bottom line is I do need to be earning a salary.

SIGH.

Any great pearls of wisdom?

Sleepless nights

2010-05-07T09:33:00.000+02:00

Last night I was woken by 1 pee, 2 phone calls (I KNOW!!! SERIOUSLY!!!!) and the husband having some kind of asthma attack. Between my awake and asleepness I kept waiting to feel The Kernel move and nada. So I was anxious in that half dream half awake eery way. Eventually I psyched myself up to go use the Doppler. I say psyched myself up because (and yes, I realise it defeats the purpose) I hate using it unless I have just recently felt a kick.

The worst moment of my life was that moment in the hospital where they were searching for the heartbeat. Time stretched to infinity as they kept repositioning the probe thing to no avail. It haunts my dreams.

Eventually I got up. Heart pounding in my ears and went to sit in the nursery. I sat in the rocking chair where one day soon I will nurse The Kernel. Whipped up the nightie, splotched on the gel, held my breath and positioned the Doppler. Nauseating few seconds where it picked up my heartbeat and then dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh-dooh. Healthy 147bpm. Relief.

This morning I feel like I've been run over by a truck. I feel on the verge of tears. I'm so tired of fear. So tired of sadness. So tired of that sick nauseous feeling when you are left to simply wait and see if your life is about to end all over again. Most days The Kernel kicks plenty and it's reassurance and bliss, but every now and then when she's quiet I am called to face my gravest fears all over again.

I miss Sophia. I miss her so much. In some ways I think that The Kernel is buffering some of the grief. I can't really face things fully now - I need to be in a strong and healthy space. I fear that I will be overwhelmed with grief when The Kernel is finally born and some of this fear abates. It's kind of inevitable. On one hand I will be rejoicing in that purest, most ecstatic moment of holding my baby girl, hearing her cry, watching her watch me, having the opportunity to mother her at long long last, and on the other I will be grieving all that I never got to do with Sophia. The moments that were taken from us.

Clearly today I am not in a good place. I promise to get much sleep this weekend and to be a bit stronger next week.

It's my blog and I'll vent if I want to

2010-04-25T20:56:00.000+02:00

Ok well at least I'm not a puddle. Actually, I'm more p'd off than anything else.It annoys me (esp when I'm riddled with flu) to be told that u can only get sick if
your mind is not in the right place. Shoh. I guess that makes Stephen Hawking prettydumb then!? Ugh.

Anyway, that's all fine, illogical (what with microbiology and all, but whatever).
What really gets me is that belief that if something bad happens to you it is
because there is a lesson for you to learn. If the same thing keeps happening to
you it is because you are not learning your lesson.

Can I just put it out there what my thoughts are when hearing something like this?
Ok I will

What self righteous, short sighted crap. How quickly such a belief would change
should you yourself ever face true sorrow.

I wonder what lesson, then, I had to learn by losing my daughter. Or does this belief indicate that Sophia had a lesson to learn? I wonder what lesson would so flippantly be ascribed to those suffering the horror of multiple miscarriages
or the heart wrenching pain of infertility. What of those who simply can not
overcome cancer?

It's just such a smug view and one that is so easy to hold when life is peachy for
you and you are healthy, but certainly not one I believe that anyone who has faced
tragedy could possibly concur with.

I don't believe there is a simple "here's why it happened" answer. I really dont
sit too often with the whys. I believe firstly that God never wanted Sophia to die, or for me to suffer. I don't think God is a sadist who sits up there with a
proverbial magnifying glass frying us like ants to teach us lessons.

I believe we live in a fallen world where bad things happen. Yes, God is sovereign and He allows them to happen, but I don't believe He delights in them.
I believe God's heart breaks to see my sorrow. I believe that He uses all
sorrows though.

I believe that when I get to heaven and am reunited with Sophia I will be
in a place where I will have the grace to bear all the why's. I believe that there may be a million good things that come from sophia's death - that God can use it in many ways in many different lives, but this side of heaven I don't have the grace to know them - until i am with her they could never be enough for me. And sure, among those many reasons the Band and I may have had some lessons to learn, but these lessons, whatever they may be are not the simple and sole reason for my daughter's death.

That would imply that people who live through hard lives do so because they have lessons to learn. well what of those real shmucks who have a smooth time of it? I guess they need to be reincarnated to learn their lessons.

And anyway, what's the point of all these supposed lessons? Greater consciousness or some such thing? If it's about lessons and God simply punishes us until we get it right than He should have just created us enlightened and saved He and us both the trouble. No, I believe that God created us for relationship with Him. We live in a fallen world and He never promised us a smooth ride, but He did promise to never leave us or forsake us. He does promise us hope and a future. He is a loving God.

The wedding

2010-04-19T16:20:00.000+02:00

Thanks for all your support following my little meltdown on Friday night. It really helped seeing as I didn't have the... what's the word? The 'altogetherness' (or something) to actually share it with anyone face to face.

The wedding, in the end, was great. Sometimes in this grieving thing you have to be strong enough to set your own tone... some days this is possible and some days it is not. But Saturday it was. Some people asked "how's your lighty doing? You were pregnant last I saw you" and similar such questions and I told them, frankly, what had happened. Others knew and asked questions and I answered and steered the conversation elsewhere, but somehow I managed to be normal and this seemed to allow them to treat me as such. (*as any other grievers will know this is not a simple thing that you can do at will, but every now and then you can and it's a relief to feel strong enough*)

Anyway, one thing I have noticed, which I found really interesting (in a objective, looking in at my experience from the outside type of way) is that men seem mostly a whole lot more comfortable around me and the topic than woman. Many woman are incredibly awkward and yet men will even just bring it up out the blue. Interesting.

So one guy who I haven't seen in years, so much so that I didn't actually even recognise him, started talking to me. He said something along the lines of "So I know about what happened and I just want you to know that there are so so many people around the world but certainly in East London praying for you. My prayer group has been praying for you since the day it happened."

Hectic, hey?

Turns out he can really relate to that vulnerable feeling of knowing you're the subject of converation and pity. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer and given 6 months to live (in 2008 - he is now in remission). He said it got to a point where he just wanted to actually move somewhere else because he couldn't bear the looks that he got all the time (you know: the head tilt or worse, the eye avoidance). But he said his wife gave him good perspective: she said that "yes, a lot of people are thinking about you, but even if just a fraction of those people are praying for you, well, then it's worth it, isn't it?"

I like that. She's right.

I am also quite interested at the evolution of my process. I know that many have lamented the reactions of other people and their awkwardness around us ('us' being those who've lost children). And up to this weekend it had actually never really bothered me. I wonder if that's one of the stages of this thing. Because this feeling of vulnerability in relation to others is certainly quite new to me.

This weekend I will be in East London and my mom wants me to go to church with her. I am dreading it. I know all those people have prayed for me, but now that I am showing they will all be looking at me with concern and saying "look after yourself" etc etc. Which is perfectly normal but it is INTENSE!

There was a conversation in the work kitchen a short while ago... a friend said something about me having an internal thermostat and the other people were like "Oh! so are you??" type of thing. Everyone is very happy etc etc but then came the inevitable stern finger wag and the "Jy moet rerig na jouself nou sorg. Jy moet aseblief versigtig wees!" (You must really look after yourself. You must please be careful!)

I KNOW!!!!!!!!! I KNOW THAT!!!! please please for the love of all things sacred PLEASE don't assume that I would be anything other than downright frikken paranoid! I haven't had a sip of alcohol, not a sip. Not a sip of coffee or tea. Not a sniff of real sushi. Nothing. I shout at drivers when I'm the passenger to ensure that they drive at snail's pace over speed bumps. SPEED BUMPS!! BUT(!!!) I didn't cause Sophia's death and I couldn't have prevented it and do you not realise that this warning implies exactly that to me??

Fear not, I smiled at the nice aunty and nodded. I didn't scream out the above paragraph. I was restrained. She means well. Course she does. But the above paragraph is what I screamed inside my head.

Stripped naked

2010-04-16T22:10:00.001+02:00

I am in Riebeek Kasteel for my brothers wedding. The wedding is tomorrow and tonight we all had snacks and drinks at a nearby restaurant. I had no idea how rough it was going to be for me.

I saw some people for the first time since Sophia and many people for the first time since i've been pregnant again. It has been horrible.

Everyone is, of course, very nice, but it's the same look, the same concerned questions and the same false self-assurances over and over.

Concerned frown, head tilt, "and so? everything going ok with this little one? You going for lots of scans? What's the doc say?" as if assuring themselves that it will be fine. THERE IS NOTHING I COULD HAVE DONE THEN AND THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO NOW.

People who I've known of perhaps, but have only met tonight for the first time all seem to know. I can see it in the way they look at me, in the things they say or don't say. I am, as my boss's wife so tactlessly put it, "that woman whose baby was born at 38 weeks... Dead." I can't make the casual chat with strangers that is required at these sort of things. How can I when I am snowed under by that unspoken title? How can I be frivolous and chatty and cheerful and happy when I know that from the corner of thir eyes they are watching and wondering about me and how I'm doing and what the story is.

I feel like my heart (which in real life I keep safely and firmly tucked away far from all but the most ardent seeker) has been plopped out on display for a room of family, family friends and strangers. It is horrible. By the time I eventually feigned tiredness and snuck out I could hardly breathe. I am lying here feeling sickened and dreading more of this tomorrow.

Sophia is my daughter. My mourning her feels so personal, so private that I have even stopped sharing it on this blog. Tonight it felt like something of that was put on display. Of course it wasn't overtly, but it felt that way and maybe I feel robbed by that. I have very little of Sophia but my grief. It is a precious thing and never to be shared flippantly.

The kicker

2010-04-14T09:59:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, as often happens, I suddenly realised I hadn't felt much movement. I was stuck in a brutal meeting and there was no escape. My heart was beating faster. I could no longer concentrate on the boring budgeting and then...finally she seemed to wake up and began kicking.

This is just how it is. It is exhausting feeling fear and worry so often. On the other hand, my overriding confidence freaks me out too. The truth is I am now expecting a healthy little baby girl come 9 July. I've always been an optimist, always expected good things. I'm overconfident by nature. And all these traits, which I thought were destroyed in September, have crept back with each milestone, each scan, even each kick. It scares me. There is no real comfort in "It's all going to be fine". We simply don't know. There's no sense in pretending we do. That's just a platitude, isn't it? And yet I can't help hoping. Guarding my heart has gone out the window. You can not guard your heart from your own child. Or at least I can't. I'm invested. If something were to happen again I really would not want to live. That is the truth. I'm not saying I'd top myself... don't worry. I would never do that. But my will to live, my joy, my hope, would be crushed.

A friend whose son was also stillborn in September recently became pregnant and over Easter weekend she miscarried. It's not fair. The stillbirth and the miscarriage aren't even related. It is simply two chance occurences. I can't even begin to process what she must be feeling. It sickens me. It hurts me.

Almost as if to compensate for giving me a fright yesterday, last night The Kernel kicked good and proper so that The Band could feel her for the first time.

Tomorrow we have a very big scan. It costs a packet and is at the Fetal Assessment Clinic in Cape Town. They will look indepth into all the usual things that the 23/24 week scan ussually assesses but in my case they will be specifically trying to analyse the placenta, how it is growing, blood flow to and from, etc. I'm quite nervous. I would almost even say that I am a little self-conscious or ashamed or something (not the right words) of my placenta. I know, ludicrous. Of course it is. But it is a part of me and happens to be the part that failed me dismally last time. Placenta's are freaky things. Not pretty at all. But they are VITAL and I really need this placenta to be healthy. So, if it's not too gross, please pray for this placenta :) The Kernel needs it!!!

#Pray4ZA

2010-04-09T10:31:00.000+02:00

pugh.

I started to write a summary of what's been going on in SA and a brief history of Malema's craziness but it was making me too tense and so I am giving up on it.

Here is the latest: the video in which he resorts (as usual) to inane racism, the victim this time is a BBC journalist. Oh the shame. Every journalist should have stood and left in solidarity with him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpIcwctC7nQ

Please be praying for this country, with all that is going on we are in the most delicate place we've been in for 16 years.

To my gran

2010-04-03T11:27:00.002+02:00

Dear Noon

It has been so so long since I’ve written to you and this is the first time I’ve typed to you, I’m sure.

How are things? What is your news? And now you really can’t say nothing!

I guess you already know the news from this side. Or maybe you don’t? In many ways I hope you don’t. Too much sadness. When you died so suddenly, just days before I was due to see you again, I felt robbed. I felt robbed that I never told you my plan to name my child after you. I felt robbed that I never got to share my pregnancy with you, but now I see God’s wisdom in it all. Sophia’s death would have broken your heart. My heartbreak would have been excrutiating for you and now I am thankful that you never had to know of it. I’m grateful too that I never told you about my name plans, because they changed when she died. I couldn’t have both Sydney-Ellas in heaven with me still here.

I’m glad you never knew of Pierre’s his awful death. That would have hurt you so much and I’m so so glad that Phoebe outlived you. In some ways her death would have been the hardest of all for you – others may not understand that, but I do. I really do.

Today marks 7 months since my little girl was born and today I miss you so so much. I think in some ways I delayed some of my mourning your death, knowing I would have to deal with it once Sophia was born – I had so wanted you at her birth and it would be bitter-sweet without you, but then, of course, her birth was marked with tragedy and I’ve mourned ever since.

At the end of the month we are all going to be in Kei Mouth and when I think about it my heart always lifts in excitement, but then it drops again when I realise that neither you nor Phoebe will be there. It just will never be the same. The last time I was there, we had a baby shower for Sophia. Now even she will not be with me.

I wonder what things are like where you are. I believe that you, Sophia and Phoebe are together – my three girls. WOW what a reunion it will be – I long for that day.

Don’t get me wrong Noon, and please don’t worry too much. There is still much joy in this life. Stef, as you know, is an incredible man. My best friend and a source of joy and strength. Also this little one on board – I fall more in love with her with every little kick and nudge.

It’s amazing how different the character of two babies can seems – even in the womb. In some ways this baby seems more shy, quieter than Sophia. With Sophia I think she was like you and I – an adventurous, feminine tomboy. She would have climbed trees and journeyed to Antarctica.

This little one, I suspect, will be a gentle lady.

Noon, one day I’d love to bring both my girls to lunch with you. You were intent on making me a lady (you! Who declared that many foods simply tasted better when eaten with your hands!). We’d go to The Quarter Deck – The height of elegance in East London – and we’d have cloth napkins on our laps, a good glass of white, those incredible hot rolls with garlic butter. You’d order the sole and finish off with a cup of coffee. I don’t remember what I ate.

I wonder if you know what’s happening here? Mostly I don’t mind if you don’t know. You and Sophia – I don’t want you to be sad for me. I really don’t want that. I don’t want you worrying about me. But here is some stuff that you would want to know:

Firstly Mark has finally moved back to South Africa! You wished for this day for years and years and years and finally it has come. Two weeks from today he is due to be married to a girl named Sara. Imagine – you would have had to stop calling him Marky Boo – that was the deal, remember? You were allowed to call him Marky Boo until he was married. (Who knew it would take him so long! )

And so Matt and his new wife – Karen (you knew her) – will be in the country as well and the whole family will be together in the Cape. If you were here you’d have bought your outfit about 6 months ago when they first got engaged! You would be SO excited. You would come stay at our house for a bit and would absolutely proud of it and of me and you’d come with to my next scan and would DEFINITELY cry – “Happy tears” you would assure me.

But no, you are where you should be, surrounded by so much love and so many who are so precious to you. I am so grateful for the years I had with you – they must have been such difficult years for you – almost 20 years after your husband’s death – and yet you never complained, never lost your joie de vivre, your sense of adventure, your giving spirit. I don’t know how you maintained such grace, but you did.

Please give Sophia an extra big hug for me today. I long for her in a way that words could never really touch on. I am so grateful you were there to meet her and that Phoebe is there too to watch over both of you.

I love you Noon, God bless, love me

Say what??

2010-03-30T15:44:00.000+02:00

Fellow twitterbugs will know this already but this is a conversation that happened yesterday.

Sitting outside for lunch yesterday and a colleague - who is a little strange - and she asks if I have any kids. I briefly explain that I lost a child last year, but that I am now 5 months pregnant. She responds with sympathy to the loss and then says....wait for it..... "So have you decided if you are going to keep this one?"

SAY WHAT?

Ok so abortion is legal in SA. Since 1997 abortion, or the ever euphimistic "termination of pregnancy" has been pretty much legal up to 20 weeks. There seems to be a belief that the kindest thing to do is to abort if you don't want / can't afford a child. Some believe that thousands of SA orphanages are filled with kids wishing for families. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. If, for example, you were wanting to adopt a white kid in SA you would have to wait 5 - 8 years. White women in this country abort. Now don't get me wrong: we have orphanages, but I'd guesstimate that the majority of kids in these homes are Aids orphans or else have been removed from abusive / unhealthy situations. This last sentence is my impression and I stand to be corrected but I think it's true.

I am close to a few people who are adopted and I also have friends with adopted children. I can't see that any of these people believe it would have been kinder to have been killed in utero than to live a good life with people who have actually chosen them. Ok, granted, I am perhaps simplifying the situation quite a lot, but it's just that abortion has always been a heartbreaking thing to me and NOW! WOW! now I see those disgusting quickie "same day abortion" signs on Cape Town street poles and it makes me feel ill. There are so so many of us who would give anything for our child to live and all the while people are "terminating" pregnancies.

Anyway, of course abortion is its own entire debate and people will inevitably say "yes, but what if this and what if that". But what if, as I suspect, most abortions don't fall into the incest, rape, etc categories. They simply fall into the "Oh ****, that's not what I had planned!" category.

Back to the lunchtime conversation. WHY ON EARTH would a woman - who is a mother herself - EVER even legitimise a person like me - earning a good salary, married, fairly established - having an abortion?
I mean lets not even go near the fact that I've lost a child fullterm on top of it. But how on earth could it possibly be ok in her mind for me to consider abortion?

I thought about it a bit and realised the reason... this lady is particularly militant when it comes to feminism. A few examples: don't dare say "spokesman" or the "average guy on the street" or refer to people as "man" (like as in "fellow man"). It's all sexist in her eyes. I have a t-shirt that says "the incredible shopping with reusable bags woman" and it really upsets her! ("It's not like shopping is a woman's job!" nope... but I am a woman?!)
Anyway, you get the message. And so the only thing that makes sense to me is that her saying that is her just making the point that I do, in fact, have a choice.

It's got to be that, surely?

Yes, I have a choice. It's called condoms, the pill, abstinence, whatever. A middle income, 27 year old, married woman with a perfectly healthy baby on board choosing to have an abortion is not CHOICE, it's sick. If that's women's lib you can count me out.

(Besides at this stage I really need my bra and ain't nobody gonna be burning it!!)

Choosing bitterness or not

2010-03-29T12:32:00.000+02:00

This weekend has given me some food for thought (ok, if I'm honest plenty of food for consumption as well - that appetite has kicked in!). Actually both an incident that happened this weekend and one that happened last week. What am I on about?

Incident 1: The hospital
Last week I (very bravely) went to visit a friend in hospital after her baby girl had been born. It was... easier and harder than I thought. The things you expect to be sore aren't so bad, but as always, it's the things you don't expect: the smell of the hospital, the sight of little ones fighting for their lives in the NICU. Anyway we were there past visiting hours and a nurse came in with definite gestapo tendencies informing us that visiting hours are now over and we are expected to leave promptly. We did (with a subtle Heil Hitler thrown in when she wasnt looking) and I guess when we left the room our friends mentioned to her that they'd specifically invited us at a time when there wouldnt be other visitors because of what we'd been through.

We were nearly out the maternity ward when she caught up to us. Her entire countenance had changed. She came to tell me that she too had lost a baby - stillborn at 32 weeks. We chatted for a bit, commiserated, empathised and parted as friends. You see the thing is that when you share that kind of common ground with someone all else fades a way. She was no longer gestapo nurse and I was no longer rule breaking visitor. We were both in The Club. The Club that no one ever wants to be a part of, but when you are you are dam grateful that you're not alone. Anyway, I am sure that when I am back in July she will be my fiercest supporter.

Incident 2: Earth Hour
So Saturday night saw the culmination of many months of hard work. There was basically a core team of 5 of us working to ensure that Earth Hour happened in SA. My role was all the media relations stuff and considering that our media monitoring service has picked up 200 media hits just in the last 2 days you can imagine it's been pretty busy.

Anyway, typically, I digress!
So Saturday night I was at the Earth Hour media function in CT. My boss's wife was there as well. Chat chat chat, polite stuff etc. Until.... "Oh yes, you're the one whose baby was born at 38 weeks.... Dead."

Nice.

What the hell do you say to that? "Yep, that's me! I'm that one!"??? Felt like I'd been kicked in the throat.
However, she went on to say that her first husband was killed when she was 5 months pregnant with her first child. When the child was born there were complications and 10 days later her first child died.

I felt sick. I can not even begin to imagine having your life snatched from you like that - in 4 months you lose your husband and your child. Horrific.

The thing is though that I've always wondered about this lady. There is a hardness about her. A bitterness. Her mouth turns down. I know that's an arb thing to say, but it is true both physcially and metaphorically. I guess when she told me her story - coldly, detachedly (<== is that a word?), bluntly, I think she started to make a lot more sense to me.

She is remarried now - for more than 15 years and she has two daughters, but you can see the bitterness on her face, hear it in her words and in the way she speaks them and feel it in her manner.
I don't want that to be me. I don't want to carry bitterness like a shield. Am I wounded? absolutely! Is that loss a part of me? Always. But not only LOSS, also the joy of the time we did have with Sophia and the anticipation of the eternity we'll spend with her. Also the gratitude for the life I have - my husband, my family, my friends, my health and of course The Kernel on her way.

Today I wrote to a friend that I was proud of her. It's something that has always annoyed me when people have said it of me and this situation. What's there to be proud of? the fact that I'm surviving? That I get dressed and brush my teeth everyday? That's not an achievement, it's barely even a choice. But I realised that actually there is something to be proud of, or at least glad about: I am proud of her because despite losing the love of her life she still loves life. Despite suffering the most unfair loss, she is not bitter. And I guess I think and I hope that (for the most part, at least) I can say the same of myself.

21 weeks

2010-03-27T12:59:00.001+02:00

All seems to be going well. I had a scan on Thursday and The Kernel is healthy. We are now confirmed for 9 July - we will be doing the induction that day, on the 36 week mark. Hoping and praying that the induction works so I don't have to have a caesar. **104 sleeps til The Kernel arrives**

Else all fine. Still feeling good - lots of waking up in the middle of the night, but aside from that I'm ok.

Wow this really is a boring post. Sorry... work has been frantic in the lead up to Earth Hour tonight which myself and about 4 colleagues have organised in South Africa. I do all the media side of things and so it has been contant interviews and press releases and sorting out footage and photos and and and.
I'll be VERY glad when it's done and everything is a little calmer!

In just over 2 months I'll be on maternity leave and in just over 3 months I'll be holding my baby at last. yay

Yep, I've joined the Desktop Activists #SpeakZA

2010-03-25T09:05:00.000+02:00

Enough with the bullying, ANC Youth League, we've all had enough.

If you'd like to echo these sentiments (which are in turn being echoed by me) - please do your own version of this post and add your name to the blog roll below. (Just cut and paste the post and blogroll below and then add your own link at the bottom. Like a chain letter, only cooler. :) Then tweet/Facebook about it too.

The hash tag is #SpeakZA

The post we are sharing is:

Last week, shocking revelations concerning the activities of the ANC Youth League spokesperson Nyiko Floyd Shivambu came to the fore. According to a letter published in various news outlets, a complaint was laid by 19 political journalists with the Secretary General of the ANC, against Shivambu. This complaint letter detailed attempts by Shivambu to leak a dossier to certain journalists, purporting to expose the money laundering practices of Dumisani Lubisi, a journalist at the City Press. The letter also detailed the intimidation that followed when these journalists refused to publish these revelations.

We condemn in the strongest possible terms the reprisals against journalists by Shivambu. His actions constitute a blatant attack on media freedom and a grave infringement on Constitutional rights. It is a disturbing step towards dictatorial rule in South Africa. We call on the ANC and the ANC Youth League to distance themselves from the actions of Shivambu. The media have, time and again, been a vital democratic safeguard by exposing the actions of individuals who have abused their positions of power for personal and political gain.

The press have played a vital role in the liberation struggle, operating under difficult and often dangerous conditions to document some of the most crucial moments in the struggle against apartheid. It is therefore distressing to note that certain people within the ruling party are willing to maliciously target journalists by invading their privacy and threatening their colleagues in a bid to silence them in their legitimate work.

We also note the breathtaking hubris displayed by Shivambu and the ANC Youth League President Julius Malema in their response to the letter of complaint. Shivambu and Malema clearly have no respect for the media and the rights afforded to the media by the Constitution of South Africa. Such a response serves only to reinforce the position that the motive for leaking the so-called dossier was not a legitimate concern, but an insolent effort to intimidate and bully a journalist who had exposed embarrassing information about the Youth League President.

We urge the ANC as a whole to reaffirm its commitment to media freedom and other Constitutional rights we enjoy as a country.

Blog Roll:
http://bridesmaid-to-be.blogspot.com
http://thoughtleader.co.za/siphohlongwane
http://rwrant.co.za
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/munadia/
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/shafiqmorton/
http://blogs.news24.com/needpoint
http://capetowngirl.co.za
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sentletsediakanyo
http://thoughtleader.co.za/davidjsmith
http://letterdash.com/one-eye-only
http://boyuninterrupted.blogspot.com
http://amandasevasti.com
http://blog.empyrean.co.za/
http://letterdash.com/brencro
http://6000.co.za
http://chrisroper.co.za
http://pieftw.com
http://hamishpillay.wordpress.com
http://memoirs4kimya.blogspot.com
http://thoughtleader.co.za/azadessa
http://watkykjy.co.za
http://fredhatman.co.za
http://thelifeanddeathchronicles.blogspot.com/
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/common-dialogue/
http://clivesimpkins.blogs.com/
http://mashadutoit.wordpress.com
http://nicharalambous.com
http://sarocks.co.za
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/stompies/
http://helenmoffett.book.co.za/blog/
http://01universe.blogspot.com
http://groundwork.worpress.com
http://iwrotethisforyou.me
http://fionasnyckers.book.co.za
http://attentiontodetail.wordpress.com
http://blogs.women24.com/editor
http://www.missmillib.blogspot.com
http://snowgoose.co.za
http://dreamfoundry.co.za
http://www.vanoodle.blogspot.com
http://www.exmi.co.za
http://cat-dubai.blogspot.com
http://alistairfairweather.com
http://www.zanedickens.com
http://www.nickhuntdavis.com
http://guysa.blogspot.com
http://book.co.za
http://baldy.co.za
http://skinnylaminx.com
http://blogs.african-writing.com/zukiswa
http://www.mielie.wordpress.com
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/gatherer/
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sarahbritten
http://stii.co.za
http://blogs.news24.com/FSB_AP
http://twistedkoeksuster.blogspot.com
http://whensmokegetsinyoureyes.blogspot.com/
http://trinklebean.wordpress.com
http://commentry.wordpress.com/
http://matthewbuckland.com
http://blogs.news24.com/colour-me-fran
http://gormendizer.co.za
http://helenmoffett.book.co.za/blog/
http://www.harassedmom.co.za
http://ravingfans.co.za
http://khadijapatel.co.za
http://simon.co.za/speakza
http://gnatj.com
http://moralfibre.co.za
http://www.exmi.co.za
http://fsi.org.za/

Progress...

2010-03-12T11:09:00.000+02:00

I haven't been blogging much coz work has been keeping me crazily busy - between planning for Earth Hour and trying (with success - woohoo) to stop the mining in the winelands it has been manic.

I don't have too much news. Last weekend The Band and I went shopping for a carpet for the nursery at Mat's Carpets - meh he he.

The carpet arrived on Tuesday and it is gorgeous. We splashed out and got a really soft one - the only carpet in the whole house (the rest being wooden and washed stone/cement?). It is soooo soft. The Band and I lie on it frequently - SO NICE. It transforms the room completely. The Band has also moved the furniture back in so it is starting to look gorgeous. Pics soon, but still a bit to be done!

The Parental Units arrived last night. My dad is cycling the Argus on Sunday.

As for movement... I have maybe felt teeeeeeeeeeeeensy movements every other day but they are SO small. Hoping they get much bigger soon! And that's about it.

A successful peptalk

2010-03-08T10:41:00.001+02:00

The heat. The infernal heat. Generally I can't bear grumpy people. But if there is one thing that makes me grumpy it is this endless heatwave we're having. Temperatures in the 40s. THE FORTIES! Today is meant to be 43 in the winelands. Apparently if you're pregnant you're about 2 degrees hotter! The sad thing is that on weekends it actually occurs to me that I'd rather be at work with aircon than at home without. That is how bad it is. (To all readers in Europe freezing your bums off, I KNOW! But extremity is bad either way!) I showered I think 4 times (sorry planet!) and also showered the two dogs and even a VERY compliant Guv - he let me soak him and was quite grateful!!

Anyway, The Band and I were plonked on the bed yesterday afternoon with two fans going and I decided to give The Kernel a pep talk. It went something along these lines:
"Why do you refuse to kick me? Seriously... just about anyone else would take that opportunity if it was offered to them!"
About ten minutes later, voila! She kicks! And a while after that again.

YAY.

Kernel: we're halfway there!

2010-03-05T12:14:00.000+02:00

Today I hit the halfway mark - 18 weeks pregnant - in 18 weeks I will be induced (I'd like to add in a little disclaimer like "if all goes well" but bugger that. It's time to stop with the disclaimers, the constant fear, the provisos just in case.*)

In 18 weeks we will meet The Kernel face to face.

The sorting of the cupboard was difficult, but also good. It was difficult to decide what to keep for The Kernel, what to give away and what to treasure always as Sophia's. But it was also good. I never really got to sort through the majority of the stuff last time as we went to Plett days after the (3rd) baby shower. Much of the stuff was completely unfamiliar - don't remember it at all. In keeping with my sentiment in the paragraph above I went about ripping off tags, taking all manner of thermometers and bath mats and spoons etc etc out of their plastic packaging and placing them properly as if this cupboard is indeed going to be used for a baby (and quite soon too!). I did a big load of washing and will be packing everything in place. I'm not sure if it is the process or the timing of the process but I am starting to feel optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, it will all be fine and the Kernel will make her way into this world with a hearty cry! (hopefully hers, not mine!)

It was on the 18 week mark that I first felt Sophia's little kicks. I remember it so clearly. Lying on my back and two little taps. I sort of rubbed that spot and tap tap happened again. Hoping to feel The Kernel's movements soon.

6 months and a gift

2010-03-03T14:09:00.000+02:00

Today marks 6 long months since you were born. If you were here now perhaps you'd be teething and starting on solids. We'd know all your habits so well and I bet we'd wonder if there was ever a time when you hadn't been part of our little family. I think the dogs would be protective of you and your dad would probably have a special something - perhaps a put on voice or a method of zerbit to make you laugh. I think I'd be so proud of you but would try not to be too obvious about it and everyone would see straight through the feeble attempts at feigned humility. I'd show you off bigtime. I think you'd have LOVED bath time. You did when you were in my belly. You also loved the singing at church.. that was your absolute favourite.

This morning I resolved to sort out your cupboard tonight. More and more is being bought for your sister by excited family and friends and your cupboard is overflowing. I need to decide what I am going to be ok with giving to your sister, what I want to give away to Bosom Buddies and what I want to set aside forever, what's yours. I guess if you were still here it might be the same and that's the way I should look at it. There would be hand-me-downs and stuff that I'd rather give away and stuff that was essentially yours. I need to not be cut up that a cupboard bursting with all your things gets minimised to a shelf. I've put off this process for six months. Leaving the cupboard mostly closed, but now and then opening it and breathing in the sweet pink smell of baby products and touching your clothing. Perhaps it's silly sentamentalism - it's certainly not like you need these things where you are, but hey, I guess the guilt proves I'm a mom! :)

Today I saw something I've never seen before...
When I held you for that all too short time in the hospital there was a moment where your little rosebud mouth fell open. A perfect baby overbite. Eyes closed as if peacefully asleep. I've often regretted not having a photo of that.
This morning I looked at your dad and I saw the same image. I'd never seen the resemblance before, but something about how he was sleeping and the expression on his face mirrored how you looked that night 6 months ago. I don't need the photo. You are etched on my heart.

17.5 weeks and all is well

2010-03-02T11:54:00.000+02:00

I can't say I got much sleep on Sunday night. I had weird nightmares galore... snakes, chinese babies with terminal cancer and, of course, the ubiquitous spiders all haunted my sleep.

By the time I got up I felt ill. Didn't want to eat. Scale was still down. eesh.

Luckily Best Mate was with me and somehow we got to the doctor's by which time I was a bit of a useless wreck with a heartbeat rivalling the baby's for speed!

Yes... the baby's. There is a heartbeat. Worst fear did not come true. Baby is alive and well and even waved at me:

She is now about 13cm long and everything is looking just as it should.

Big relief to say the least. I don't know how I manage to work myself up so much every time. I have now stopped enquiring about people's pregnancies, I avoid reading pregnancy websites and I stay far away from pregnancy mags because reading "I felt the first wonderful flutters at 13 weeks" when I'm close on 18 with no flutters at all does not help me. Fear is a nasty thing to have following you around!

Truth be told I am having the "dream pregnancy" in terms of the physical side. No nausea, no headaches, no sore boobs, no heartburn, barely showing. All the things that most preggers women would envy. But emotionally? Emotionally this is the most exhausting thing I've ever been thru... and I'm only half way!

the writer in me is wilting

2010-02-26T13:53:00.000+02:00

in this INFERNAL heat. Seriously!! the mercury hit the 40s last weekend and is threatening to do the same this weekend. BRING ON WINTER.

The heat is my excuse for such uninspirational posts of late. I totally get why mediterranean countries go for the siesta vibe. I am pretty much useless come afternoon. The heat is just too much.

Last week I checked my weight and I'd gained 2kg from start of preg, but today the scale was down one and a half. Yes, I do realise the irony of me complaining about weight loss when just 4 months ago it was goal number 1 (BTW I did manage to lose all the pregnancy weight - 9 or 10kg - before this pregnancy). But in pregnancy weight loss is not good. I promptly SMSd The Band for perspective and the reality is that this bump is blossoming. Perhaps just our cheapass scale and the fact that The Guv is weirdly obsessed with it for some reason. Anyway, to be safe I had a MASSIVE breakfast and a largish lunch.
Suck on that, Scale!

Anyway, the next scan is on Monday so while the rest of Cape Town soaks up the sun and dreams of ways to lengthen the weekend I will be praying for winter and wishing away the days! Wish The Band was going to be there. Scans terrify me - at least until I see the heartbeat - and then they are awesome.

You'll be glad to know I have started (a little rudely even perhaps) to ask people at the start of their pregnancy stories whether it was a bad story and if so I certainly don't need to hear it. (Hell, much of the time I don't even necessarily want to hear the normal stories about babies - it still just hurts so much).

I have to constantly take my thoughts captive and give myself almost "out loud" stern talkings to so as not to lose my mind. My tendency when something really worries me but is more or less out of my hands is to shut it out and not think about it, but in this case, the "it" is no it at all, but a little princess who needs her mommy to suck it up, conquer her fears and pour love on her.

All prayers much appreciated!

Tonight

2010-02-25T16:10:00.000+02:00

So!

Tonight I will be meeting some fellow bloggers.

I've never met any of my blog buddies actually - except Tamara very briefly at a work type thing.
So it seems that Being Brazen has organised this get together in Long Street tonight (at Neighbourhood at 18:30 if any CT bloggers read this).

I am actually a little nervous. It's one thing having virtual friendships... it's a whole nother ball game meeting face to face but someone challenged me on this the other day in fact and so yes, I will take the proverbial* bull by the horns and off I go to Cape Town.

*I'd never be so mean to a bull - I'm a bunny hugger at heart after all!

Where we're @

2010-02-22T15:35:00.000+02:00

A random, not particularly elegant update.

I have a bit of a bump starting to happen and I am sure that I am getting a few curious looks from colleagues - many of whom don't know that I'm pregnant coz I don't have the ----- (fill in every blank you can think of: energy, will, strength, bother, etc) to tell them.
I have gained 2 kgs
I am now 16.5weeks pregnant
I still haven't felt movement. I try. I lie on my side. I plead with her. But still nada. (It's just the placenta in the way, it's just the placenta in the way - I tell myself constantly)
Next appointment is in a week - next monday
The Band left today for a week in Madagascar. He gets back next Tuesday. I have been dreading his trip forever. Best Mate nikki is moving in in the mean time and will come with me to my appointment next week.
Some people have recurring nightmares of writing their matric exams, or appearing starkers in a public place. Not me. My recurring nightmare is that I wake up bleeding. It is awful. The start of the end of life as I know it relived again and again.
I seem to have a lot of people telling me terrible stories. Not quite sure how to get around it. By the time I could say something it's already been said... stories of repeated abruptions. Stories of baby tragedies. How about just letting me try claw my way into a bit of positivity?
eeeeeeeesh.

In loving memory of Phoebe

2010-02-16T16:57:00.000+02:00

Yesterday the best dog this world has seen was put down. I am heart broken.

We got Phoebs when I was in high school. Every Sunday I took her to puppy training - she loved it. Pretty soon she became my dad's running partner. She'd stop to pee randomly (ussually, conveniently, on an uphill!) and they'd both enjoy the excuse for a quick break.

Phoebe was super intelligent. Her favourite place in the world was the beach. We couldn't say the word "beach" in the house unless we were about to take her, because she'd get completely excited and then you'd HAVE to take her. Once on the beach Phoebe would steal everyone's hearts. She would fetch a stick or a ball, but her favourite was a waterpolo ball which we'd kick for her. She would "herd" it back. Once I, or whoever had taken her, got a bit tired of this game and sat for a bit of a break, she'd simply deliver her ball to the next person who walked by and look on expectantly until they figured out the game.

She loved to swim and even on a miserable day if we went for a walk along the river she'd innocently drop her ball in the water and have a quick dip. If we threw her ball in the pool at home and it was out of reach of the sides, in she'd jump and herd it to the shallow end.

She usually lay with her front paws crossed.

Phoebe was very very patient with children and put up with quite a lot! At some point she managed to switch a game of fetch with my neice so that she was 'throwing' the ball and my neice was bringing it back to her.

Phoebe loved all of us - my parents, me, my brothers, everyone who met her fell in love right back, but without a doubt the person she adored more than anyone else in the world was my gran, Noon... and the feeling was completely mutual. They couldn't get enough of each other and each time my gran came to the house Phoebe would go beserk. They would play together for ages as my gran doted on her shamelessly "what a clever girl you are - black eyelashes on your black patch eye and white eyelashes on your white side"... and frequent exclamations of "oh I do love that dog!"

We regularly go to a house in Kei Mouth for holidays. The house has a deck with steps down onto the beach. I think for Phoebe this place was heaven on earth - most of the people she loved in one place and the beach RIGHT THERE. I think that she's somewhere like this now... back with Noon at last, waiting for us to arrive and throw the ball. I miss you girl.

Stuck in the middle

2010-02-10T14:14:00.000+02:00

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?

2010-02-05T11:01:00.000+02:00

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.