The end is nigh. bugger.

So today is my last day as a lady of leisure. No more moseying out of bed at 8.30ish. No more leisurely morning cups of tea in the sun room with The Guv. No more gymming mid morning. No more deciding at a whim what my day will consist of. Monday I'm back to work.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Had a back-to-work nightmare the other night... dreamt we were all dentists and I didn't know or care about what I was meant to be doing and everyone was p'd off with me.

The reality is that I haven't missed my job. Before going on maternity leave 7 weeks ago I thought I'd miss it. I haven't. I suppose that was a lifetime ago and everything has changed now. Priorities have changed. HA! I actually used to cling to my career woman image. No more. Yes, I want to be doing something, I need a sense of personal achievement - we all do - but to be at an office all day. Not keen. To be constantly bogged down with unnecessary admin - reports and such - no thanks. To be striving for goals set by others - nope. Can't say my heart is in it anymore.

The past week I have begun to dream a bit. A whole new beginning. A venture that would allow me more freedom. A venture to be run from home. A venture that would give me more time with The Band. A venture that would provide great jobs for Lily's mom and sisters. A venture that, in some small way, would honour my daughter. I am working on a business plan now and doing research and dreaming. Maybe this could be something great.

The calm before the storm?

Today has been a good day.

Don't think I've told you guys about Bosom Buddies? It's an organisation involved with visiting and providing basics for new moms at a number of public hospitals in the Western Cape. They are also involved in providing packs to moms whose babies have died – a number which is obviously quite high in public hospitals.

Anyway, I heard about them a while back and thought of getting involved while I was on maternity leave but then "things happened" (got to love those euphimisms). So a couple of weeks ago I made contact to find out about their involvement with moms "who have gone through the same thing that I have". yes. Everyone else avoids calling it what it is so why can't I?

Turns out the one thing they don't have when it comes to moms of stillborns is a camera to at least take a photo of the baby for the mom to keep. (My photos of Sophia are among my most treasured possessions... without them I may forget - my time with her was so brief).

Aaaaaaannnnnnyyyyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaay bla bla bla so I emailed my contact at Canon and voila, just like that Canon said for sure and sent me a beautiful camera - valued at around R6k for Bosom Buddies.

Delivered it today. Stoked

Mind you, tomorrow is Wednesday. Wednesdays are baaaaaaad days for me but who knows... maybe tomorrow will be ok.

Greetings from the Eastern Cape

So the good news is I am not typing this while horribly drunk, all on my own, blaring sad music, clutching Sophia's teddy bear, surrounded by photos and scrunched up tissues (and empty wine bottles).
That was my last post... but I have decided that it's best the Band doesn't leave me alone with the wine collection and my thoughts again any time soon.

This weekend I am with my parents in East London. It's been a good time but intense.

My mom and I spent the day at a spa yesterday. Never done that before. It was great.

It seems that wherever I go there are breeders. Pregnant women and people with babies everywhere I turn. Makes me want to vomit. I didn't even notice it this much when I was pregnant myself, now just about everywhere it's babies and pregnancy. Each time it's like a little fist digging into my solar plexus. Nauseating. literally.

I went to a new gynae on thursday. She seems great. We just chatted - i think she actually started crying a bit. It was a relief to have someone to ask my questions.
Basically the deal for future is this:
You are fertile again within about 2 weeks of giving birth (if you aren't breastfeeding). In terms of my phyusical health she would recommend a minimum of 3 months from Sophia's birth before we start trying to conceive again. Obviously our mindset and all that is another matter which we'd have to decide on.
The cold hard stats are that there is a 10% chance that this - placental abruption - could happen again.
There is NOTHING that they can do to prevent it happening. I could have a scan every single day and it would make no difference - there are no warning signs.
Because I think the abruption happened around 37 weeks (a few days before I started bleeding) they would induce labour for me at 36 weeks in future pregnancies.

The Band and I had a long chat about it. This probably won't make any sense to any of you (unless you have lost a baby) but the hugest part of me is desperate to be pregnant again. Funny - I felt rather sorry for myself while I was pregnant - the cankles, the heartburn, etc. Now I would give anything to go back to that time. But our hearts have been opened to a baby. Our home and our lives were reordered around the arrival of our girl and now she's gone. We still want more children. I still want a baby - one that is HERE. But suddenly trying for a child is not such an easy, carefree decision.

Before we decide that we are willing to try again we have to get our minds around the fact that it is a reality: it could happen again. I'd love to be in denial about that, but it's fact. And what if?? What if it happens again? Would I survive it? Would my relationships survive it? What would it do to me, the Band, my folks?
And yet the thought of not trying, of not having even the possibility of my own baby to hold, to bath, to feed, to clothe, to love is one of the loneliest thoughts I can fathom. We will try again in time. There is no doubt about that, but wow it will be a terrifying time.

Surely I am too young for this? I feel ancient nowadays.

5 weeks past. 3 doors down.

Here without you.

All the miles that separate disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face.
I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby and i dream about you all the time.
I'm here with you baby but you're still with me in my dreams and tonight girl it's only you and me.

Everything I know and everywhere I go
it gets hard but it wont take away my love
and when the last one falls
when its all said and done
it gets hard but it wont take away my love.

Inked

So yesterday I did it.

A big thank you to Ches from this blog for doing the design - love it and really appreciate it.

I asked the guy how bad it was going to be and he said most girls think a wax is worse. So I asked how the guys feel.... he laughed. Apparently guys pass out left right and centre. They have also been known to pee themselves literally. haha
But it wasn't bad at all. Kind of like a deep, slow scratch. Sore but nowhere near a wax, or ear ache or childbirth or even a vit B12 injection.

I was never one of those that always wanted to get a tattoo. It's hardly some fulfilment of the rebel within, but I love it.

When most think about tattoos they think skinheads, tramp stamps, gothic script, dragons, but when I think of this tattoo I think of this in Isaiah 49:

Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains! For the LORD comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

But Zion said, "The LORD has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me."

What's going on?

So I wake up in the morning and I step outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I (pause) scream at the top of my lungs WHAT'S GOING ON??
(Or something like that)

Now that we'll all walk around with the 4 non blondes in our heads the whole day...

A friend of mine who was pregnant with me had her baby boy last monday. I got the standard sms telling of healthy mom and baby and proud dad. All was well.
Last night I heard that the next day the baby developed what turned out to be meningitis. He has been in ICU ever since.

I spoke to my friend today for ages. We cried together. Her baby is still alive. She still has hope, so that is something, but on the other hand she has to watch him suffer the worst physical pain.

My heart is breaking for her. At this stage the doctors have said that they can start being cautiously optimistic that he will make it but there's a high likelihood of some long term effects - deafness, blindness, learning disabilities, social impairment. For now they can only wait and see.

She had a perfect pregnancy just like me. We were those pregnant woman who did everything right. Not like all those smoking, coke drinking, non-exercising people that abound. We were caffeine free, alcohol free, nicotene free, balanced diets, supplement taking exercisers.

I can only imagine the sick feeling she must be carrying around all the time. What should have been the most exciting week of her life has become a nightmare - she was only allowed to hold him yesterday for the first time since tuesday. It is HORRIBLE.
I think it must be a bit like that moment (did I say moment? I meant 'eternity') when they were searching for Sophia Grace's heartbeat. That endless awful sickening dread. Honestly when I think of it I feel bile in my throat. For her it must be like that extended. The not knowing. The fear. The dread.

Thank God it looks like this little boy will live. Thank God there is still hope that he will be fine. Thank God my friend and her husband have a faith to cling to. I can not imagine surviving the loss of my daughter if I didn't believe in heaven. If I didn't know she was there and fine and not in any pain and that I will see her again, I would be destroyed.

Those of you who pray please pray for baby Luke. For his complete healing.

Anniversaries

So the 2nd Sept was the day we got to the hospital and our worlds fell apart, but labour lasted two days and so Sophia Grace was only born on the 3rd. In my head I hate the 2nd. I hate Wednesdays for the same reason. But the 3rd, the 3rd is her birthday, the 3rd is the day that I held my baby girl. In a way I love the 3rd.
So today is a month since her birthday. A month since I held her. Since I inspected her, through my anaesthesia, through my shock, through my exhaustion, through my grief, I sucked it up - as I continue to do - so that I could inspect her. I touched each toe and each finger. I touched her little nose the way that an annoying great aunt would. I felt her little bum. I felt her knees. But I missed a spot... I can't remember seeing her ears and that just breaks my heart.

A month since...

I felt joy
I felt any real optimism
I felt myself
I fell apart
I entered this abyss of grief

For some reason I am really angry that it has been a month since that most awful of moments - "I'm sorry but there is no heartbeat".

I am not sure why the month thing makes me angry but it does.

I hate waking up in the morning and feeling the dread wash through my body. Psyching myself up to get out of bed. Psyching myself up to eat breakfast. Psyching myself up to drag on some clothes and clean my teeth. I have managed to achieve all of the above pretty much every day which is good. But every single day it is a battle of my will.

I hate this place that I'm in and there is no escape and I am powerless to change it and maybe that's what makes me angry.

out of titles

Every up is followed by a severe down. I can now hold a conversation or even suck it up for a whole afternoon and fit in with normal life, but the entire time I’m present with the real world I’m holding a completely different conversation in my head. The whole time I’m talking to someone, watching a movie, doing whatever, my head is somewhere else. I am going over things, questioning, longing, crying out. I pretend not to notice the pregnant women and those with their babies. I act as if the display of baby clothes we just walked past doesn't affect me. I nonchalantly smile at a friend's newborn and even give him a pat or two. It all affects me. It all rips at me. I hide it superbly.

I am so lonely. After The Band leaves for work I can’t help but cry. Not because I am alone. Often I’m not. Good friends are around, but I am lonely all the same. I am apart from them all.

I’ve been reading some blogs of people “who have been through the same thing” which is my lame and annoying euphimism because I can’t bring myself to use the term “stillborn”. It is cold and medical and inhuman.

Someone commented on one of the blogs and her words rang so true:
the funny thing is most (if not all) people think that the birth and the dead baby there in their arms is what they couldn't survive....when in fact those are the fucking HIGHLIGHTS. it's the plain ole daily living without them that will rip your soul bit by bit until you have no choice but to sit the fuck up and decide who you want to be.

That is the reality that people can’t get their minds around. People feel sorry for the experience I “so bravely” endured. People wonder if perhaps I don’t have medical aid and that’s why I didn’t have a caesar. Actually those days were indeed the f*ing highlight. At least she was still physically with me. Reliving holding her is a treat not a horror. Life now is the horror.

The Twilight Zone

Looking at me now you wouldn’t say I gave birth 3 weeks ago. The water retention is gone from my feet and face. My stomach could use a few sit ups but its not bad. My boobs are up a cup size which I’m pretty bitter about and that’s about it. That’s about all I have to show for my pregnancy.

I’m in this weird inbetween place now. I don’t quite fit into the group of new moms but I also don’t fit into the childless category. A couple of random people have asked if I have kids – a salesperson, a manicurist, etc. I can’t bring myself to say “no”. I can’t say I don’t have children. I have a daughter – how can I not acknowledge that? But answering yes inevitably leads to more questions and the admission that she died. Conversation killer right there.

Also body wise if I’m being fitted for a bra or trying on something the reality is that I don’t know what my body is going to do yet. I don’t know if I will still get smaller in the next few weeks. It’s been 3 weeks but I’m not breastfeeding – obviously – so maybe there won’t be more change. Who knows? But I can’t really, like any other mom, say “I just gave birth a couple of weeks ago” with a big happy smile on my face.

I’ve been through 9 months of pregnancy like every other new mom. I went through 36 hours of labour but I don’t fall into the glowing, sleep deprived new mom category. I have no cute little baby to show off to the world. The other day I went somewhere and took The Guv with. People gathered around me admiring this cute little kitten but they should have been gathered around admiring my baby. All I have to show now is a slightly worn out body which is pumped daily with a bunch of prescription supplements and weekly with very sore injections.

where we're @

Yesterday overlooking the sea at The Brass Bell the Band and I chatted a bit for the first time in a while about where we're at.

I mentioned that in some ways it feels like I'm mourning alone. Well in some ways that's true.

It is different for him. He is filled primarily with gratitude for the time we did have with Sophia Grace (Yes, I am totally doing the mom thing and using my child's full name). He is grateful that I am alright. He's grateful for the support of my folks and so many friends and family. He is grateful that we will see her again some day.

He is also burdened a bit by guilt. He feels guilty that I have to carry this thing so much more than anyone else and forever. Though I suppose he knows that I wouldn't let go of this grief given the choice - in some ways it feels it's all I have.

He seems so relaxed. So ok. I know he's hurting too, but I still feel so lonely in my grief. I feel like I will forever be a bit apart from everyone else. I miss HER.

Coping mechanisms

So how do you get out of bed in the morning when life has changed forever?
After a time the SMSs have slowed down, the flower arrangements start dying, people start talking to you about other things, and life around you carries on.

But for you, every morning you wake up to the exact same sickening dread that you felt the day before. People keeping saying each day will be a little bit easier. It's not like that. Healing is not a linear process. Some days are better, but then some days are as bad or even worse than the day it all started. Saturday was like that. Yesterday was fine. This morning was bad again.

My tips for coping with the aftermath of tragedy:
1. Get addicted to a nice series or book or something. The Band and I are into One Tree Hill. It's like this time when you don't have to think about anything but the dramas on screen. Escapism is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately we are on season 6 so we are about to run out. Dam.
2. Get a ridiculously adorable kitten. Thanks to Tamara for letting me know about the township pet rescue organisation (who knew kittens were so scarce!?) Through them the Band and I have adopted The Governer (aka Guv).






He is really beautiful and playful and naughty and although the Freudian link between losing your baby and suddenly getting a little baby kitten to nurture is not hard to figure out, he has been a wonderful distraction. Something so sweet and innocent (well, innocent when he's not mauling my hand) gets you out of yourself to some extent. To wake up to this little thing staring at you about 2 cm from your face and purring like a freight train at least puts a smile on your face.

Anyway, we are off to the Brass Bell in Kalk Bay for lunch and then to movies. The Band is trying to give me reasons to get out of my pyjamas I suspect.

The Meltdown

Last night I had a meltdown. I probably cried the most I have cried since it all happened. The whole day was tough. It was tough having a zillion people around (all the family still here from Friday's memorial). It was tough because it was my due date and it was tough having The Band's sister talking about her pregnancy with such joy on her face*. For her birthday we gave her a book on pregnancy. The same book my mom gave me. As she paged through it I caught a glimpse of one of the pages and it brought back a flood of memories. Every 4 weeks in the book there is a picture of the size of your baby at that stage. I remember poring over that book. Holding it to my belly and imagining my baby inside.

I lay in my room and cried and cried. I cried til I couldn't breathe. I cried til my eyelids were swollen. I cried til I was exhausted. I cried til I had gotten full use of my dwindling tissue supply.

My dad came to the room and held me. I feel so bad for my folks. They are watching their child go through something no one should have to go through and they can't do anything about it. I think it is breaking their hearts. The Band too. He is powerless to help me. I love these three people but I can't feign strength. Sometimes I can be happy and fit in with everyone else as if life hasn't ended, but sometimes I can't.

I hate that life carries on. I have often thought about it and felt guilty for being happy when I've watched others go through pain. Life carries on more or less as normal for everyone else. It seems so... rude. It makes me downright p'd off to hear people laughing at an episode of stupid Top Gear. Yes, yes, I know. But still.

I think the thing that is weighing me down right now is that it feels like I am mourning alone. I knew my child. She was with me every day. I would splash my belly in the bath and she'd love it. When I was alone, I wasn't. She was always with me and I'd talk to her. The most she moved around was when I was singing at church - I choose to believe she was enjoying it :o)Sometimes if I couldn't sleep I'd prod her awake and we'd poke each other back and forth. I remember once flying back to CT and having excrutiating ear ache. If you've ever had bad bad ear ache on a flight you'll know that crying from the pain congests your nasal passages and makes the pain worse so you have to concentrate with all your strength to not cry. I was in the midst of this ear ache SUFFERING and she started prodding me. I would tap my stomach and she would kick in response. It felt like she was cheering me on "come on mom, we're nearly there. You can do it!"

But no one else knew her. No one else played bad 80's music to her amusement. No one else saw her in their dreams.

It feels like the sadness in others is sadness mainly for the Band and I and then for what might have been. Whereas I am missing HER for who she was.

Don't know if that makes any sense at all.

Sometimes it feels like I'm crazy. I'm mourning someone that no one else even really met. As if I had an imaginary friend.

Last night I dreamt that she wasn't dead. She was in East London with my mom. I dreamt that my heart was breaking coz after 2 weeks I still hadn't even fed my baby or bathed her or rocked her to sleep or changed a nappy, but I just had to get to East London and then I could do all that. I wasn't worried about her. I knew she was safe with my mom. But I was aching to be with her. I just needed to get there.

It was so cruel waking up. Hope was gone. But I've thought back to the dream through this morning and perhaps that is the bigger picture. I will get to be with my daughter one day in heaven. For now she is safe and cared for. I just need to hold tight til the day I get to be with her.

* now before you all think she's insensitive, she's not. She battled for absolute ages to fall pregnant and despite unsuccessful visits to fertility experts etc she was overjoyed for me when I was pregnant and she wasn't.

In loving memory

Today - 19/09 - is my official due date. Life was supposed to be very very different by now.

In sunbirds and the scent of spring
In babygrows, lambs and pink things
In all that is beautiful and delicate and rare
In sad songs and happy times and everything fair
Dark wisps of hair, a button nose,
a wizened little face
Tiny hands and little toes, our girl, Sophia Grace

We long for the day that we will meet again
In heaven where there’s no more sorrow, no more longing, no more pain
There we’ll hear your laughter
And you will see our tears
Tears of joy, no more sadness,
when we meet after all those years

For now and always we carry you with us
in our hearts
Our precious girl, our treasured child,
until we’re no longer apart.

Crossing the void

I've always marvelled at people who have suffered great loss in their lives: my friend who lost both parents in the space of a few months, my cousin who lost her dad as a teenager, acidicice who lost her first baby about 5 months into her pregnancy, QCC who lost the love of her life.

I've always wondered how they carry on. How they manage to keep going and see the hope in each new day. How they endure mundane conversations and big events. How they drag themselves out of bed in the morning. The answer my cousin once gave me was "you just do". No matter what loss you have faced, there is still beauty in this life. Beauty enough that it's worth getting out of bed for (most days).

I suppose for me I want to be the kind of person my daughter would have been proud to call her mom.

People keep asking how I'm doing. Well it depends when you ask. The mornings are bad for some reason. Maybe its the prospect of a whole day stretching out in front of me. Yesterday my best mate had her baby. I am happy for her (and very very glad hers is a boy) but it still rips at me. Her and I were meant to be experiencing this together. Sometimes I feel vaguely like my normal optimistic self but that never seems to last very long. I have never known such a void. Such loneliness. Such emptiness. I feel seperate from everyone else. I feel heavy and tired and old. I feel hopeless.

I know that doing nothing is not going to help, but as soon as I go for a walk or anything mildly energetic I bleed more and am in physical pain. Very frustrating. I'd love to be able to crank up the ipod and go for a jog but my body is not up to it.

I'm trying to have things to look forward to. Here are a few:
1. I am going to have my daughter's name tattood on my wrist
2. The band and I are considering scrapping our december plans and going skiing or yachting instead
3. I am excited for the day I can exercise... I have missed the endorphin rush of a jog
4. We might get a kitten

On Friday we are having a small memorial. We have a gorgeous back yard and I'd like to have it there - weather just needs to cooperate.The family are arriving in their droves from thursday. I am looking forward to having my folks here.

One week ago

One week ago my world was ripped from underneath me
One week ago i learnt to fear and despise the foetal heartrate monitor and it’s lack of result
One week ago my heart was ripped from my chest – part of it will forever be absent now
One week ago i became a woman of sorrow
One week ago was the worst day of my life

So I was induced last Wednesday morning. Within hours my parents had arrived in Plett from East London and our pastor had arrived from Somerset West. Together we formed this odd little team. My dad would walk me up and down the hospital passage manning the drip stand, my mom would read out the countless SMSs of support and encouragement which streamed in from around the world. During many of my contractions I'd have everyone bouncing or swaying their hips (doing the hula!) with me.

Wednesday passed in a blur.

By Thursday morning the contractions were still very irregular. I was worried - if labour didn't get going they'd want to do a caesar. Emotionally I could not have coped with that but it was becoming less and less safe for me. This spurred me on. I walked more. Bounced on the labour ball more. Had them pump in more induction stuff in my drips.

Soon the contractions were a bit fiercer and I revelled in them. There is something sweet about pain. Pain is better than feeling numb.

The day went on and by 5 that evening there was nothing sweet about the pain. I asked for an epidural but the anaethetist was in surgery. Finally he came and then battled to get it in. 2 days of labour. Emotional and physical exhaustion. Sweet relief. God bless the inventor of the epidural. So underrated!!

Time to push. No. I wasn't ready. After all that I didn't want it to be over yet. I didn't want her taken from my body. I couldn't imagine her no longer being a part of me. Out she came. The Band held her and spoke to her while I tried to calm down. I was in shock. Shaking, battling to breathe. Unready for the moment.

Finally I calmed myself. I held my little girl. Best and hardest moment of my life. She was battered and bruised like me. But she was beautiful. She was as I had seen her in every dream. A delicate little dark haired thing. A button nose. Pouty lips. Perfect little fingers and toes and a squishy baby bum.

Sophia Grace, born sleeping 3 September, 20:30, 3.1kg

And God? Where was He?
Right beside me throughout. It would be too easy to blame this on God as is He is some cruel sadistic killjoy. He is the opposite. God is a Father and I think He is crying more than us as He watches us in so much pain. God didn’t kill our child. He took her. That is not a terrible thing for her. She will never know pain, hurt, cruelty. She is in a place of peace and joy. It is the Band and I who are suffering. Not her. And we know He has purpose in this. The weekend before we left for Plett we had our 3rd baby shower. There is a man we know who has an incredible gift of prophecy. That may sound weird to you but I have seen him talk to people of situations he knows nothing about with incredible insight and clarity and there is no denying his gift. At the baby shower he had the following to say... it sounded so odd at the time, but in retrospect it was spot on and shows that God knew this would happen and it is part of His plan:
“I believe that this baby will not cry, mess, play around, nappies won’t be changed. I believe that this refers to the baby’s spiritual life. This baby won’t be distracted by the world. This baby will hunger after God. This baby will be a man or woman after God’s heart.”
This prophecy tells me that God foreknew that this would happen. The beauty in that is that it takes away any possible self blame that might creep in. No point in “what ifs” if God knew weeks before.

If this had to happen, for whatever His reason, then it could not have happened in a kinder way. There is so much to thank Him for: I am grateful that there is nothing we could have done or did wrong and that we won’t sit with a lifetime of regret and selfblame. I am grateful that of all the places we were in Plett at an incredible hospital surrounded by incredible staff who honestly treated me as a daughter. They cried with me, carried me, bathed me, held me. Everyone from the cleaning staff to the kitchen were so kind. On some days i was the only patient in the hospital, so to say that I got excellent care would be an understatement. We were like Brangelina - an entire private hospital all to ourselves. I am grateful to the staff for calling in Claudine – a girl who lost her first baby at 32 weeks and also had to deliver her child. It was so helpful learning from her regrets and experience. I am grateful that despite a massive blood clot – or in fact, because of it, I was healthy and strong. My life should have been in grave danger and yet I felt fine. That doesn’t make sense really, but for God. When placenta abrupture happens, the mom generally ends up in ICU at best due to the massive internal bleeding. I am grateful for the people who surrounded and supported me. My parents, our pastor. I am so so grateful for my husband. He is incredible. He is so strong and so gentle and seeing him holding and talking to our little girl when i just couldn’t was one of the most precious moments of my life.

When we first heard she had died on that awful morning I wondered: If i could take back the whole pregnancy, would I?

Today I can tell you that I would not. It is infinitely better to have loved and lost than never to have loved. The Band and I have 9 months of precious memories. We spoke to her, she kicked me and responded when I tapped my stomach. We communicated. She knew my voice. We knew each other. We held her. She is our first born. Our little girl. We are parents.

Numb

Written on Wednesday morning...

How long does it take for a life to change completely? How long for a life to end?

QCC has it right on her blog:
I’m falling apart. I’m barely breathing.With a broken heart that’s still beating... I’m barely holding on.

2 weeks to go and I woke up this morning thinking my water was breaking. But no. It was blood. We rushed to the hospital. They tried and tried but there was no heart beat.

No heart beat. Nothing. I think that was the worst moment of my entire life. I can't begin to describe the eternity, the desperation, the dread, the dawning realisation that your world has just been ripped from under you.

My daughter is dead.

My little girl. I knew she was a little girl. Everyone else said it was a boy. No. She’s a little girl. Gone to heaven before we even met her.

It seems strange that in the wake of losing your baby you are called to make so many decisions. Blood rushing in your ears. A weird calm. A strange peace even. And you must decide – labour or caesar. Autopsy or not. Burial or cremation. Morphine or epidural.

They don’t seem to really know what happened. They are assuming that it is a rupture or something like that. The placenta randomly tears away for some reason. I guess they’ll know more later. They’re telling me there was no way of predicting or knowing. Just a fluke thing that happens out the blue. Naturally I am asking myself if that’s true or if my paranoid feelings the last few days should rather have brought me to a doctor. But then, every pregnant woman is paranoid more or less throughout.

I am now lying in bed waiting for the induction to set in. I am going for natural with all the pain meds they are willing to pump me with. I don’t want to deal with the trauma of surgery on top of everything else tho no doubt labour without an end prize will be hell.

It’s amazing how news spreads. We have been inundated with sms’s. Right now I wouldn’t be surprised if there are over 100 people praying for us. And I can feel it. I really can. I am calm. I am just so sad.

I wonder what God’s purpose is in this. He has a purpose, always. The Band was saying how many special memories we have of this little girl already. Would I take back the whole pregnancy if i could? I honestly don’t know.

We are naming her Sophia Grace. Not the original name we had planned. It didn’t seem fitting. Grace seems right. She is with my gran now. My gran’s dad died 2 weeks before she was born – a sadness she carried with her all her life. My daughter died 2 weeks before she was due to be born. A sadness we will have to carry.

The Band and the staff here are incredible. I can see their hearts are breaking with us. My folks are on their way from East London and I don’t know what I will say to them. Weird as it sounds, i just feel so so bad for them. They have all been so excited. This has been a worry free textbook pregnancy so the shock is substantial.

Hold us in your prayers guys.

Empty

We lost our beautiful baby girl. Broken

Eviction pending

Sorry bout the lack of posts. I finished up work on Friday and depressing little (mmm...not so much) control freak that I am, there was much to get done right up to the very last minute. Anyway, now starts 4 sweet months of no work. yes, yes, annoying people feel this incessant need to point out (read in a nasal voice) "don't think you won't be working, honey. mothering a newborn is the hardest you'll work in your life". Killjoys. Jealously makes them very very nasty. Clearly they have easy, stress free jobs. Not I. Saving the planet is a weighty burden and one I am pleased not to carry til January. OBVIOUSLY the mom bit will be tough in it's own way, but it will be SO different and so rewarding and exciting and exhausting and challenging. So bah humbug you miserable doomsday prophets.

On Saturday the Band and I left for our week in Plett. Our room at The Beacon Isle is fantastic. Waves pounding outside my window. gorgeous views. comfy beds. Great way to start the leave.

The child must appear soon please. I am so uncomfortable. the kicking in the ribs. The headbutting in the - ... well never mind. The heaviness and lack of access to ones own stomach muscles. Forget that my heart is now 1/3 bigger, that my diaphragm has moved up by possibly 10cm, forcing my rib cage to expand for the sake of my lungs, forget the cankles. Imagine having a 3kg bag of flour wedged under your stomach muscles. I tried to explain this to the Band - you have to try not using your stomach muscles to get some idea of what this is like. Like when you get into and out of bed using only your arms and no abs. Or even rolling over in bed. What a mission. It is a 3 point turn each time. Anyway, we have packed in case of the child coming early and we have checked out the new Plett hospital (which is truly gorgeous) and quite frankly I would be happy to pop any day now.*

*If I am still saying this in 2 weeks time be prepared for a miserable, self-pitying caz!

bloodshot eyes*

*not a search term I would recommend entering in google images (shudder)

Well naturally it's been far too long since my last Encounter and so another one was becoming inevitable I suppose.

It happened on Friday. We were in Betty's Bay for the evening and sometime circa 4am I woke up to pee. (That's just the way it is. I've long since kissed the thought of sleeping through the night goodbye for the next decade) Anyway, as I reached for the door handle of the bedroom who do you suppose is skulking there, LEERING at me? 8 hairy legs glinting in the moonlight?

"$#!& man!" I squeal in an embarassingly high pitched voice.

Enter The Band. "What's wrong my girl?"

"one of those- those- those- spider BASTARDS is here lying in wait for me to touch him!!"

Saintly spouse that he is, he duly got up and removed the offending beast.

The rest of the night I was plagued with dreams of these wolf spiders. scuttling. leering. jeering. lurking.

The next morning The Band started to laugh about the whole thing.
"What's so funny?" heavily pregnant, unamused arachnophobe wife asks miserably.

"Well, how did you SPOT the spider? I don't understand how you could have seen him in the dark"

amateur. Does he really think that just because I haven't had an Encounter in 3 months I have let my guard down? NEVER! My spider inspections are taken as seriously as ever and it's a bluddy good thing too. If i had touched the demonic beast I swear I would have popped the baby out there and then!

Is it just me

Or does the baby floating in the box to the right look decidedly asian all of a sudden?

cool stuff i got for being knocked up

so far i've had 2 baby showers - one when I was home in the Eastern Cape in June and one at work last week. I haven't even shown you any of my cute presents yet.
ok so actually "they're not for me". Whatever. Lets be honest here. Cute stuff is for me. The baby will get excited about discovering it's own fingers. I doubt he/she's gonna be too taken by the stuff below at this stage. But I totally am.


Cute little African animals... yep, even a sable. This kid will love Africa!


There's that scene in How I met your mother where Robyn sees the baby socks and she's overs. That's me. Socks are very underrated. Those white ones on the left are minute - about 4cm long.


WHAT? You are using reusable nappies? Are you insane? Bla bla bla. Yes I am. What kind of composting, recycling, carpooling vegetarian would I be if I flooded the landfills with disposables?! Fear not. I also stand to save about R12K by going this route (and that's just on my FIRST child!!)


Awesome sheepskin mocassins. I really wish they fitted me.

Of course there is plenty plenty more, but you are probably all caz's baby'd out by now so I will spare you.

The Band is Hammy

The Band is nesting. Well... i don't know if it's nesting per se, but it's that sort of concept. Maybe a better term would be stockpiling. Or storing up. Or PREPARING. He has gone into Hammy mode.

C'mon guys, you remember Hammy from Over the Hedge? He needs to get all prepared for winter so he stores up stuff? I *think* that was Hammy? Well either way, Hammy was the cute one so I'll stick to it.

Suddenly he is buying all the odds and ends we still need.

"But The Band," I try to tell him; "I can get these cheaper through the antenatal class chick"
"Doesn't matter. Let's just get it so we have it."

Ha... you guys think that is an arb convo to share?? This is coming from a man who in the past would rather buy 3 toothpastes for the price of 2 in a flavour that he hates simply coz of the deal. This is a man who stayed in a cottage WITH NO DRINKING WATER for 2 years coz of the deal. This is a man who had a diet of "budget burgers" (R30 for 30 patties) for months on end* coz of the deal.
Now he is scoffing at a R40 saving!?

Definitely some kind of fathering instinct setting in. Plus today when I got home he has repacked the hospital bag (which we packed the other night amid much hilarity... I was going to take pics of some of the scary ass things that go into a labour bag but thought it may be too traumatic for you guys) and added all kinds of extra stuff. I've decided not to peek.

It really is very cute.

Anyway blogger is giving me hassles so the rest will have to go in a seperate post.

*The end of the pattie era came when he discovered an artery in one one day. I kid you not. I should perhaps mention that to be fair all these budget bargaining horror stories did happen while we were students and despite The Band having been quite the bargain hunter from the start where he himself is concerned, he also happens to be the most generous guy I know.

Happy Birthday Noon

Today would be my gran's 90th birthday. WOW. She made it just past 89.
If she was alive today I guess we'd all be gathered in East London to celebrate such a milestone with her. She LOVED her birthday about as much as me (and that's something!) I guess it was because she had grandchildren from all over the planet phoning her and sending her special gifts.

On her birthday she'd ussually go out for lunch with my folks at Grazias, a fancy East London restaurant overlooking the sea. She'd inevitably order a glass of white - probably Lyric - and sole or prawns and though she looked busy with it, she wouldn't make a very big dent in the meal. She'd end the meal with a cup of coffee.

She would have already walked up to the post office this morning to check for gifts - if any had arrived in advance she may well have snuck a peak. When I was small my regular gift for her was an assortment of jams. She likes to have a different flavour every day. She loved chocolate but due to migraines could only eat white chocolate... or so she claimed. When we sorted out her home after she died we found regular chocolate... sly!

She had special names for people. My dad was "My Richie". My mom was "Barb". My brothers were Marky boo, H.H. (for handsome hunk) and she called me Carrie but would usually say (none too subtly) "You know I love you best in all the world". Perhaps the only real competition for my gran's heart was Phoebe, our border collie. "Oh, I DO love that dog" she'd state emphatically as if anyone would ever question it.

Noon, today is your birthday and I was the one opening all the gifts. My colleagues at work surprised me with a baby shower and people - some of whose names I rarely get right - stunned me with their generosity. Piles and piles of gifts for your great grandchild. I wish I could share this time with you. I wish I had had the opportunity to tell you that if this baby is a girl, she'll be named after you. A better role model I can't imagine.

this weekend

has been a bit depro for me. I've managed to do not all that much. for once there were no birthday things, no 21sts. well we did have people over for saturday brunch and saturday dinner but other than that been chillin. so why am i so blegh?
maybe it's the weather. crap weather. maybe i'm just really really missing my gran today. maybe it's coz when i'm feeling the merest bit depro I put on depro music and indulge in it.

My current depro playlist includes:
Run - snow patrol
100 years - five for fighting
if you're gone - matchbox 20
broken - lifehouse
fix you - coldplay

what are your depro inducing favourites? any suggestions for me to add so i can indulge even more?

Why women's day rocks

because of the rock silly.

4 years ago on women's day i was given my rock.
The Band proposed on that day. I told him at the time that he has set a precedent now and I will forever expect diamonds on women's day but I suspect he thought I was joking.

Freakish dreams

So last night at the prenatal class thingmajig we learnt all about labour. Needless to say I had weird dreams all night and the evening slumber was not helped by the fact that i woke at 3.30 with excrutiating calf cramps. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT? How can i be all "pregnancy is a piece of cake" if all these little annoyances start happening. No man. I am nearly done - it must go smooth to the end thanks. But seriously, it was BLUDDY sore. The Band had to give me a massage and then I couldn't sleep for ages and when I did I dreamt of GIANT (metre long) bottles of Gaviscon.

You know Gav's become a big part of your life when you are dreaming of him.

what's in a name?

Quite a frikken lot actually.

So as you know we don't know if the baby is a he or a she. We're all set for a girl. Have had the girl's name for years. It has even been mentioned on this blog... don't bother, you won't find it :)
But boy names... not so simple.

Here are the criteria for a boy's name:
It must be strong, manly, perhaps short. not sure tho.

Unfortunately I have a negative connotation for just about every boy's name that's thrown my way. I am quite painful in that regard. (Obviously kissed too many boys in my skanky varsity days. joking people!)

Any suggestions for me to tear apart?

random friday thoughts

blegh:
The Band is sick. He got a blood test for malaria this morning. Sure it's going to come back clear as he was in madagascar about 6 weeks ago. But not great to see him feeling so rough.

hmmm:
It will cost me R500 per day to upgrade from a general to a private ward when i pop. Is R1000 worth it? anyone out there had a kid in a SA private hospital and have some advice?

nice:
4 weeks from today is my last day of work. Bring it on. Can't wait. Stuff loads to do between now and then but the end is nigh. fanfrikkentastic.

Winnie

Winnie. It's never been the best of names. I mean you have Winnie the faecal matter, Winnie the killer of Stompie. And now, a new winnie. Winnie the pain in the ass.

Our new house is fanfrikkentastic. It's rather sick really. but accross the street lives winnie. Some form of overgrown maltese cross something. She is mostly a mottled faded black colour and she HONES. No really. There is serious pong in the vicinity of that dog.

But stinkiness I can handle. It's not like I feel the need to cross the road and visit. What I can't handle is the utter regularity, the consistency, the precision timed 20 second apart, high pitched "NYAP NYAP" that goes on all day and all night.

"NYAP NYAP" ...pause (long enough that you think perhaps...but no-) "NYAP NYAP"
"NYAP NYAP" "NYAP NYAP" AT NOTHING! There is noone there. she has a MASSIVE yard. but still she must sit at the gate all the livelong bluddy day "NYAP NYAP"

I am writing this post from home and above, where you see a nyap nyap - that is a true reflection of the ac- "Nyap NyaP" -tual yapping taking place "Nyap nyap".

The not so elusive Gavin

Who is this infamous Gavin, you ask?
Gavin is my constant companion. He's pretty much always by my side. My heart burns for him when he is afar. I can't say I like him, but I do need him.
Sometimes when I can't have him I battle to sleep or even to function properly... but when I have him he disgusts me. He is vile, but he is necessary.

ANY IDEAS WHO HE IS?

Cankles.

ugh.
it has happened.
i feel pregnant.

yes, yes, i do realise that I am, in fact, well and truly knocked up, but after a looooooong hiatus of reportable "symptoms" i am now feeling it a bit.

For one thing I am tired, even though I slept well. I feel groggy. For another thing, I have cankles. CANKLES PEOPLE. My feet have swollen and I am down to one pair of work shoes.

Fortunately, with a mere 7 weeks to go before the popping happens (and less than 5 weeks of work - WOOHOO)I think I will manage.

Bring on mid-september when I can kiss Gavin* goodbye, I can wear nice shoes again, I can have one frikken massive G&T and pig out on sushi like never before.

*more on him later...

SA's own lady gaga

Ok so maybe you JHB types have all heard this already, but the Cape is a bit behind and I heard this for the first time this weekend... (non-South Africans: this is typical South African humour but unfortunately in Afrikaans)

Click here to download. So very worth it!

Is it just me

or does the baby floating round the countdown thingie to the right of this look super squashed?

55 days... 8 weeks.... and a mere 6 weeks til i'm off work. WOOHOO!

So I finally got a 3G card and I am considering blogging or at least twittering a bit through labour. Perhaps that is overly ambitious of me, but you guys need to be kept up to date. Besides, I need to be distracted. And if it's true that some kind of hormone is released after the kid is out to make you forget about the pain, that would mean we never know the truth about labour unless we are witnessing it.

In the words of that wise sage Nacho Libre "ggggyooo theeenk I'm craseeee, dont gggyooo?"

"You're looking swell"

har har har har har heh heh heh heh heh
No really. You crack me up! That's brilliant. Did you eat a clown for breakfast? NO??? You thought that one up on your own!? Really? I can tell. It's SUPER original.

People are stoopid.

sometime this morning

my sister in law who I love becomes my ex sister in law.

my neice officially becomes the child of a broken home.

my brother signs and seals his gravest mistake.

tick tock tick tock

MUERTO.

Our CEO is away at the moment and I wish he'd come back already. If he doesn't, I am quite certain his PA could peg on us. You see, my office is right near hers, so every time she trudges out with a ciggie between her fingers, huffing and puffing along, I see (and hear).

Alice* is a smoker. Not just a social smoker. Not a mere "every now and then" sort. Oh no. When her boss is away it rises to a whole new level. It's practically half hourly. She is early 60s and looks like shes in her mid-70s. She literally huffs as she walks. I thought I struggled with the odd bout of breathlessness. Please I am an AMATEUR - this lady is actually battling to breathe and her panting is punctuated with a hacking smoker's cough. The worst is that quite often she likes to have a post-ciggie chat. She comes into my office and I kid you not - no exagerration at all - the entire room stinks of camel cigarettes. And honestly, the smell lingers for a good 20 minutes after she leaves.

Alice is rather deluded on the issue of smoking... she's not your typical, slightly sheepish, always-intending-to-quit-but-never-getting-round-to-it, always-conscious-of-stinking sorts of smokers. Oh no. She has actually told me that she believes her smoking keeps her from getting colds and flu (well that's great but I'd take flu over emphysema??). She has also said that in fact it's STRESS that's the killer and smoking is therefore good for her health as it relieves her stress. The best was the other day where she went on a rampage about how the anti-smoking lobby is merely a political ploy to gain pats on the back. "It's absolute rubbish. Some studies have shown smoking to reduce alzheimers but you'll never hear about that will you?" (Cough, hack, cough cough). "And what about alcohol. That kills more people but you can drink where you like and drive drunk and noone says anything (really?). Drinking is the evil" (incidentally, yes, she does drink and, no, I don't get the logic either).

If ever there was a reason to not start smoking, it must be the sight of this prematurely aged woman trudging past my office constantly, cigarette dangling between her fingers, panting and coughing, the foul odour of smoke surrounding her, mouth shrivelled from 4 decades of addiction. It truly is a sad sight.

CEO, if you are listening, please come back... else Alice might peg.

* Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. Alice was chosen as for the very obvious reason that this woman smokes Camels.

2 months and counting

People, in a mere 2 months i am due to pop.

I am super excited to:
• Be able to close my jeans again
• Be able to wear hot bras again
• Be able to stop drinking gaviscon by the litre
• Be able to not be at work (woohoo)
• Be able to climb stairs without starting to pant
• Be able to go for a jog
• Be able to use all the cool and super higher grade baby gadgets that people
have bought us
• Be able to not feel slightly physically insipid and weak the whole time
• Be able to not have to pee constantly
• Be able to get through any social occasion without being asked: "when are
you due? How has it been? Any morning sickness? Do you know what it is? Do
you know what you're in for!? Natural birth or caesar?" (followed by the
inevitable horror stories of both)

Now fear not... I realise that these wont all be instant improvements, but I'm assured that the heartburn and the breathlessness DO disappear instantly and that is good enough for me! The rest I can work on.

I am OF COURSE excited to meet the bambino and finally see if he's a he or she's a she, but that all feels very surreal and hard to imagine at this stage.

Do you guys remember the Earth Hour competition that I pleaded, cajoled, manipulated all into helping me win? I told you I won it right? So anyway, the Band and I will be spending a week here:
all expenses paid and doesn't count as leave. The catch? It's from 29 August - 5 September in Plettenberg Bay. I will be 38 weeks pregnant. You can be dam sure I'm going anyway! No two ways about it. And hey, if i pop in Plett so be it!

Unravelling the mystery

It all started with a big bang. BANG!

And following that musical interlude...
I LOVE YOU GUYS! It's FANTASTIC you are clueless about compactums! I was clueless until about 3 months ago. I mean seriously, the word "compactum" sounds suspiciously similar to constipation in my opinion. And when one thinks about it... well, never mind that. If you are looking for toilet references go visit Ches, but you won't find them here!*

So, my precious little fellow ignorami, what is a compactum, you ask. Well a compactum is pretty much a surface that is high enough to change/bath a baby without breaking your back. It usually has shelves and stuff built in for storage, but that's the gist of it. Now don't ask me why it needs it's whole own poncy name. I find it borderline offensive... it just sounds rude "compactum". ugh. But the world of pregnancy LOVES to gooi all kinds of never-before heard lingo at us poor, deer-in-the-headlights pregnant peeps. As it is we are dealing with pregnancy amnesia (it's a medical truth people - check me!)now we have to learn words like lanugo and vernix and compactum and oh don't get me started on merconium.

*ok fine, so I contradicted myself by mentioning merconium, but 99% of you didn't know that so i figure that one doesn't count. But listen, if I ever turn into one of those "Ooh he made a solid one today" sorts please do something dramatic to me. I'm not sure how dramatic you can really get through cyberspace, but you're a creative lot, you'll think of something.

Nesting up a storm

People please accept my humblest apologies for being such a crappy blogger. Last week I was all like "must prove my worth to this company, must work my ass off", this week I'm all like "must get everything ready for The Bump's imminent arrival immediately". I never claimed to be stable. Anyway, perhaps one day I'll go back to my usual state of "must blog coz it's cheaper than a shrink".

So last week I was up in JHB for work. The mothball (my mom) was here for the weekend and it was great though exhausting. Honestly I don't know where that woman gets her energy. It's both inspirational and scary. On Saturday we got more done in terms of baby stuff than I have done in the past 7 months of pregnancy. No exagerration at all sadly! My parental units spoilt us with a bunch of stuff including a pram, car seat and the frikken rolls royce of baby monitors (if it could just change nappies...)

The Band was busy all weekend building cots and compactums and stuff. He is now Bob the Builder. Very cute.. er.. I mean manly having him all covered in saw dust and using machines I never knew existed.

The Mothball and I painted and varnished and sanded. Ok, not so much with the sanding but that sentence seemed to need a third verb.
Here is the finished compactum (cot is still being finished off):

muchos impressive, no?

Ordered my reusable planet saving (cash saving) nappies today from inkland (ya ya ya I know I know. I don't have the energy to defend my choice so I'll just let you know how it goes in reality ok?) so we have gone from having a couple of vests and stuff last week to being just about well and truly sorted this week. Don't know why after being little miss laid back the whole time so far I have now manifested into someone who NEEDS TO HAVE EVERYTHING READY NOW.

Baby: You are not invited to pop any time soon. Stick it out another 2 months please - else my maternity leave will be up mid December which will be completely inconvenient.

Speaking of The Unborn One - went for a scan last week and apparently the baby is weighing in at a solid 1.6kg. That's big in my opinion. It's UBER weird seeing my stomach move and being able to feel a foot. Weird, but quite cool.

Attitude

A good one. It's what I'm trying to have. Not about Life In General. No, no, Life In General is fantastic. Got the Band back from foreign locales, got the baby who apparently thinks he/she is a contender for the next Confed Cup, got the homely home which I love, got the Mothball - that's my mom people, try to keep up :O)- visiting this weekend. Life In General is a happy place to be.

It's work that is... challenging. I realised this when I spotted on my boss's calendar that I would in all likelihood not be seeing her for the next 3 weeks and felt delirious happiness. That's not a good sign, is it?

I am currently busy trying to navigate the treacherous valley of delicateness that is my work condition post-maternity leave. ugh. What I'm proposing is that they let me work from home primarily but obviously come in for meetings and when necessary. I'll have a full time someone with the bambino, but I still don't feel right about leaving a 3 month old home all day minus his or her mom. So I'm hoping that the controlling old school powers-that-be are won over by logic and you know, the fact that we are running out of office space and I am about to go from my own office to sharing (BLEGH) because we are so short of space, plus the fact that we should encourage working from home as a principle in terms of reducing carbon footprint etc etc etc. Plus the fact that people are more productive from home.

Anyway I am freaking a bit. If they say no I'm not sure what I'll do... Unpaid leave - we can't afford it. eep

Guys I tried

I really did.
I tried to put together a mini-post on my cruddy Sony Ericsson, but alas twas not to be. I've been sick, you see. Bronchitis has had me in bed far away from decent internet connection.

So a quick recap on the last week and a bit to get you up to speed...

Had great weekend in Kei Mouth. Was very well looked after and the mothball (thats my mom) organised a little baby shower for me so the bambino is now decidedly more sorted!! Very very cute little outfits. Was great to see my family and friends from home.

The adorable neice was up for waking up whoever she could at the crack of dawn every morning. Eventually after being rerouted by each of us in turn "Why don't you go lie with granny and grandpa for a while..." one morning she gave up on the humans and decided to serenade my dog... the off-key melody of "YOU ARE MY PHOOOOEEEEEBEEEEEE, my only PHOEBEEEEEEEE, you make me HAAAAAAAPPPPYYYYYYYYYYYY, when skies are greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey" could be heard reverberating through the house.

I got flu while i was there and on the flight back I reckon people thought I was in labour - the ear ache was excrutiating and I resorted to using labour breathing techniques to get me through the flight.

Anyway since I got back I have moved house, the Band has returned at last from Madagascar and I have been in bed.

And before you think to yourself "seriously, that's the post? I waited over a week for that?" you just consider how you'd feel on medication, sick, blocked up and in your 3rd trimester. That's right. shame on you for judging me!

Nearly there..

so i'm sitting in the airport with monstrous backache having some kind of nasty hot flush caused by the insanely speedy manner in which i downed my milo which I was forced to drink to try and cope with the heartburn induced after the super salty "chippery" chips (R15... sorry i mean 15 BLUDDY ront!!) I had to scoff when I discovered that I had somehow gained a bluddy hour (when does that happen) and it was still a few years til i got fed onboard the plane and this is all AFTER being here for ages already catching up on all my email, reading a couple of chapters and mooching around in general.

Whereforth do I sojourn?

To the Eastern Cape. WOOHOO. Almost makes the hot flush, heartburn and back agony worth it. Yep - they're all still here. soddit.
And Ches, can I just play the victim and point out "At least you can HAVE pain killers" the ONLY pain killers a knocked up chick is allowed are Panados. PANADOS!!!!! ha! you thought Myprodol were lame.

Anyway. Back to the fantastical weekend I have planned.

In case I didn't mention, The Band is currently in Madagascar and I am missing him insanely. Disturbingly, since he has been gone I am actually sleeping through the night which I feel both relieved and mildly guilty about... surely I should sleep better when he's around??? But I assured him it was a deep-seated subconscious defence mechanism - i refuse to wake up my usual twice an evening coz I would never get back to sleep without him! (He seemed mildly satisfied with that explanation).

Anyway, so much digressing. Ah yes. So my folks, and some of my other family AND PHOEBE MY GORGEOUS DOG are all going to Kei Mouth for the weekend and are flying me up to join them. YAY!! My dad has been counting down the sleeps for about a month and it will be the first time they all see The Bump. Plus I will have 3 little slaves at my beck and call - little cousins and my niece. I will, no doubt wake up to 3 pairs of eyes staring intently into my face at a disturbingly close range at 5am-ish and sighing loudly and repeatedly, but it will be worth it.

I am soooo excited to be oohed and aahed over, fed and pampered. There really is no place like home, most especially when you are the GOLDEN GIRL who is about to provide a beloved grandchild!

Restaurant Review: Buena Vista Social Cafe

So last night I went with a few colleagues to Buena Vista which is somewhere between Stellenbosch and Somerset West. As usual it was great. The decor is really cool - very authentic and atmospheric. Old pics of grannies smoking cigars, random candles burning black marks on the walls, mismatched pics and frames and odds and ends. Considering this is a franchise they have done really well to make it seem unique.

The food is what you'd expect from a cuban restaurant. Burritos, nachos, mojitos and a bunch of other "o's". But that's not what makes me loyal to the place. It's the personal touch that does it.

I have been to BVSC probably about 10 times or more since it opened - it's great for sundowners in Summer with the south american music blaring forth and also The Band and I developed a bit of a nachos obsession at some point so we were there a lot trying to satisfy that one :)

Anyway, last night I was there with colleagues. It was a great evening with the girls(though I was peering enviously at their mojitos while sipping on my somewhat dismal G&T minus the G!).

At the start of the meal I asked about the ice cream and chocolate sauce: is it hot chocolate sauce, or mere chocolate sauce? (Hey, there is nothing wrong with forward planning!) The waiter said it was mere chocolate sauce but he's fairly sure they could make a plan to upgrade it to hot chocolate sauce. Good man. I assured him that he need not be shy with the chocolate. Naturally throughout this exchange my friends gave the affectionate head tilt (to the left) and murmured "she's pregnant after all" in those soothing tones people usually use on the certifiably insane. I just smiled knowingly. I would ask such a question knocked up or not. It's elementary!

Anyway, when it came to it, a friend and I shared the Ice Cream and HOT Chocolate Sauce. It came with a fresh cherry on top. yuck. I offered it to the table but my friend stopped me: "Hey! Don't take my cherry!" To which we all cackled gleefully!

At this point the chef himself came out with a second jug of the good stuff - HOT chocolate sauce - and said "I believe someone here is eating for two?" Bless that good man.

I was just starting to tell the girls that this was the first time I'd come to Buena Vista without being given a free drink. I was midway through the story when the manager, Nick Slaughter, arrived with a tray of shooters... cherry liqueur and something else with a cherry on top for each of us. "Now you can all have your own cherries back" he said with a wicked smile.

WHAT A BEAUT!!

South African Tragedy: Part 2

So yesterday I went with Lily's mom - Khuselwa - to Stellenbosch Hospital for her meeting with the doctors involved. This sounds simple enough - for me I snuck out of work and took an extended lunch hour, but for Khuselwa it meant a R20 taxi fair from Tygerberg Hospital - where her child is now and where she is currently living! and for her sister, Shumi - it meant excusing herself from work. When you are living hand to mouth and earning R2000 in a good month these are not simple sacrifices.

We got there for the appointment only to be told the doctor was not available - he was busy at another hospital and would be there later but they couldn't say when. I explained to the appointment setter upper that that was not good enough - this mom has left her child to be here and best he ensure that the meeting happens TODAY and SOON.

In the meantime I took the ladies to Legal Aid. When we told the story the lawyers eyes just grew bigger and bigger. Next step is that they will find a law firm that specialises in case of medical misconduct and try get them to take the case on pro bono. My heart just about broke when Khuselwa discretely asked me if I knew what Legal Aid were going to charge her. Got to be careful not to take for granted that people understand things like Pro Bono!

The hospital called later to say the doctor was there. We went to get the low down from him. Amongst much waffling and jargon and me asking the same question over and over in a different way to get down to facts, the basic thing is this:
Gas was used on Lily and a number of other children that morning. All was fine and the anaethetist escorted her to recovery. She was not on oxygen as it was just gas and she was breathing fine on her own. Her oxygen levels were, however, being monitored.

A while later a nurse came to him and said the child was not waking up and she was concerned. He went back to recovery and the child was blue and the monitor registered her oxygen at zero. She was not breathing and had no pulse. He resuscitated her and gave her a shot of adrenalin to the heart. From then she was put on oxygen and transferred to Tygerberg Hospital.

He has no idea what caused her to stop breathing. He says it could be any number of things from a bit of tooth caught in her throat, to the child choking on vomit, to a heart error, to her moving her head as she began to wake up and cutting her own oxygen supply (which seems the most likely). The point is though, that what the hell is the point of an oxygen monitor is no one is watching it and if it does not have a function to alert if the levels drop. As Mrs Hall says, a child needs to be monitored throughout the anaesthesia process - including when they are waking up.

The anaesthetist brought up the fact that Lily was a prem baby and she is still small for her age - 8kg when she should be 12kg. He said this may have made her weaker and less able to respond. BULLDUST. That really got me. As Khuselwa said: Surely you had her file and you knew she was small? Is this the first small child you've worked with? Go Khuselwa. That is a bulldust argument because:
1. If there was any added risk with the child being small rather DON'T DO THE PROCEDURE! It's bloody toothache on a MILK TOOTH for goodness sake. Give the child panado and wait til it falls out rather than put a life at risk.
2. If the child WAS considered higher risk then surely she should have been even MORE closely monitored.
3. He then tried to say: what i mean is that if you strangle a healthy person and a sick person, the healthy one will be best able to cope with it. "Rubbish," I said, "the problem isn't the level of health, the problem is that the strangling happened. If you starve any brain of oxygen it will be damaged."
The reason this whole insinuation offended me so much was that I could see that it upset Khuselwa. As a pregnant woman I know that there is an implication that if you have a prem / low birth weight child it is your fault (and sometimes, frankly, it is) but the child is now 2 - she should never have been allowed to go without oxygen long enough to turn blue!!

If it is a capacity problem - shortage of nurses or whatever - then they should have allowed the mom in to sit with her child as she recovered. You can bet a mom will notice if her child stops breathing!!

Anyway, to be fair, aside from that stupid comment, the anaesthetist is tormented by this case. And the bottom line is that he cryptically implied that she should seek legal counsel.

Next it was a meeting with the medical superintendent. He was a lot more sketchy and evasive "It's not about pointing fingers, it's about looking at how we can do better". No no... if you don't figure out exactly what happened then how the hell do you prevent a rerun?? This isn't about not hurting feelings, it's about saving lives.
ugh.

anyway. that is basically that from Stellenbosch Hospital. From here on they won't give access to a report or anything unless Khuselwa goes the legal route.

The burning questions for me now are:
> what if Lily lives on and on with no improvement? what will that practically mean for her impoverished mom?
> what about all the other times that something like this has happened and there's been no-one to tell the family about Legal Aid etc? How many times have things like this been swept under the proverbial carpet?

South African tragedy

The Band always knows when something is big to me coz I take a long time to talk about it. I generally like to process stuff first but this one is far from sufficiently processed so perhaps writing about it will be therapeutic.

I have a fantastic housekeeper, maid, char, whatever the politically correct term is. For the foreigners among you: having a "cleaning lady" once or twice a week is more or less the norm in SA. It provides employment and is seen as a positive thing.
Anyway, Mavis is fantastic and has worked for us for about 2 years now and we are pretty close as far as an employer/employee relationship goes.

2 and a half weeks ago her niece (a 2 year old girl named Lili) had to go to Stellenbosch Hospital (a small government hospital)to have a tooth removed. Mavis's sister (Lili's mom) was told there was some sort of complication and so Lili was transferred to Tygerberg Hospital - a big provincial government hospital. The doctors there looked into it and did scans and so on and it seems that after going in for tooth ache, Lili is now severely brain damaged. The doctors say she is blind, deaf, unable to talk or even swallow. She is basically catatonic. Days went by with no improvement and on that Saturday the doctors decided it was time to take her off life support. Her family was told she could die immediately, or in minutes or in hours. A week and a half later she is still alive.

This story is tormenting me. I didn't know Lili before - except for what Mavis had told me about her, but the utter injustice and waste of it keeps me up at night.

On Sunday I went to the hospital. I wanted to see what the story was for myself and also to pray for this child. The children's ward at a public South African hospital is a heart breaking place. I saw babies smaller than the one I am carrying lying in the open - no incubator or blanket. The nurses and doctors are lovely and clearly care about what they do, but the facilities are just no good.

Lili is a beautiful child, really gorgeous big brown eyes that are mostly vacant but every now and then they seem to focus which gives you hope. The doctors give no hope beyond a miracle. I will keep praying for that.

A friend of a friend is a paediatrician at the hospital and so she called him for me. He knew exactly which child she was talking about immediately and said "off the record" that it was gross negligence on the part of Stellenbosch Hospital - something to do with a lack of post-operation monitoring which resulted in oxygen starvation and then severe brain damage.

Guys how the hell is it possible that a kid has a toothache and comes out severely brain damaged??

Anyway, the sad reality in SA is that the poorer people are very accepting. The mom is not particularly angry, just sad and confused. I am attending a meeting at Stellenbosch Hospital tomorrow with Lili's mom at which they are discussing the case and tomorrow afternoon I will go with her to Legal Aid. The off-the-record doctor says that they should be able to either sue the hospital or the state for millions. I haven't said that to Mavis and her sister. I've just said that we need to make sure that this never happens to anyone else.

Guys I'm in this one for the long haul. It is not ok that because these guys are poor the hospital gets away with this. If this was a white kid in a private hospital it would be front page news! I'm in media relations and I'm not above taking this to the media if that's what it takes to get some sort of justice for this family.

Back to school

So last night The Band and I went to our first prenatal class. It was great. The chick who takes it is hysterical and muchos irreverent. Disappointingly there was none of the suck-suck-pant breathing technique stuff. Perhaps later on. There was a doll which looked a little like Chucky on a bad day. There was also a bunch of ladies with boeps waddling to the bathroom constantly. All due in September and ranging from mini-bumps to massive girths.

random thoughts of caz today

Ghandi ... the super calloused, fragile mystic, hexed by hallitosis.

Oompaloompas of blogland. Today I am feeling very ineloquent so pardon the mush of random thoughts that serve as little more than a nice distraction from the pile of work awaiting me!

1. People are so very odd. I have this friend, we shall call her Bee, who has a very good heart and is extremely caring and all that, but she just makes the most nasty comments, (usually realises instantly and backs off with a self deprecating comment). FOOT IN MOUTH disease of note. One such example I have already mentioned here... when I said I was lucky to have had an easy pregnancy thus far and she quickly told me that i have no reason to believe the next one will be so easy and it could be rough! haha. The other one was today. My mother-in-law, bless her, thinks that Nadal looks just like The Band. Nadal is great and all, but I don't see the resemblance. Someone said "nah - Nadal has a funny nose" so Bee says "ha! maybe that's the resemblance". I mean SERIOUSLY!! About my HUSBAND! In a room full of work colleagues. Forget the fact that as you know, The Band is basically flawless and HOT DAM he is gorgeous, but WHO SAYS THAT?? Anyway it was fairly awkward!! I made light of it saying "please, the man is HOT" but I'm still waiting for her to at least come say a sorry. Surely?? right? Fear not, dear readers, i am not taking offence and if no apology is forthcoming I will not be bitter and twisted, I'll just think it is so odd. Very very odd. There is an added element of weirdness in that we are old family friends and I got her the job here! weird woman.

Anywho on to number 2
2.Today I am officially in my 3rd trimester. Bring on September!! Yay. Can't wait for the bambino's arrival and 4 months of maternity leave. (of course between now and then I am going away twice, moving house, needing to buy everything for a baby - no people, i haven't bought ONE SINGLE THING YET!!! but hey, you know, whatever, bring it on!)

3. The Band goes to Madagascar for like 10 days on wednesday. I am not entirely sure how I will survive. It's so frikken cold at night!! Who is going to warm me up after each of my multiple trips to pee??? I am going to FREEZE TO DEATH!

4. I am going to Kei Mouth for the long weekend. Going to spend it with the folks and some fam. CAN'T WAIT!!! No place like the Eastern Cape. No dog like my phoebe.
You've seen pics before, but it this blog needs sprucing up so here she is again:

Because it's Friday!

(apologies to intelligent foreigners reading this blog!!!)

These questions about South Africa were posted on a South African Tourism Website and were answered by the website owner....

Q: Does it ever get windy in South Africa? I have never seen it rain on TV, so how do the plants grow? (UK)
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.

Q: Will I be able to see elephants in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Durban to Cape Town - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only two thousand kilometres take lots of water.....

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in South Africa? (Sweden)
A: So it's true what they say about Swedes...

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in South Africa? Can you send me a list of them in JHB, Cape Town , Knysna and Jeffrey's Bay? (UK)
A: What did your last slave die of?

Q: Can you give me some information about Koala Bear racing in South Africa? (USA )
A: Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the pacific. A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe which does not...oh forget it. Sure, the Koala Bear racing is every Tuesday night in Hillbrow. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is north in South Africa? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 90 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into South Africa? (UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is...oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Hillbrow, straight after the Koala Bear races. Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in South Africa? (France)
A: No, WE don 't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in South Africa? (USA)
A: Anywhere where a significant number of Americans gather.

Q: Can you tell me the regions in South Africa where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes, gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in South Africa ? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.

Q: Are there killer bees in South Africa ? (Germany)
A: Not yet, but for you, we'll import them.

Q: Are there supermarkets in Cape Town and is milk available all year round?
A: No, we are a peaceful civilisation of vegan hunter-gatherers. Milk is illegal.

Q: Please send a list of all doctors in South Africa who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca, which is where YOU come from... All South African snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.

Q: I was in South Africa in 1969, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Hillbrow. Can you help? (USA)
A: Yes, but you will probably still have to pay her by the hour.

Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

PS Happy 250th Blog Post to me!!

Disturbing information

I'm in a carpool. When you see the same people first thing every morning, throughout the day and for the drive home in the evening you start to tell each other fairly arb stuff. There's an odd complacency which comes - kind of like those couples who've been married for twelve years and have reached a point where the wife plucks his nose hairs and the husband remembers to buy her her senokot. *shudder*
Anyway, as a carpool we have started to reach that point. It's a fascinating phenomenon really. The way we fight over who gets to ride shotgun and then portray nonchalance when it's not us. The way we play vicious games of Beer Me (whack the roof and shout "BEER ME!" whenever you see a car with one dim or broken headlight - this weather is GREAT for Beer Me!). The way one of us can cunningly get a bad 80's song stuck in everyone's head for an entire week. And the arbitrary little things we share with one another. This morning, for example, I felt to share the fact that I had my first ever GENUINE mock charge when I tasted some off milk. Just in case they were interested - you understand. Hellion, a commenter on this blog and possibly the only person in my real life who actually has access to it (oh the privilege!! - bring cake!) shared with us some particularly disturbing information. According to her, according to her friend, according to a pilot, if someone dies on board an aeroplane they have to be strapped in to a seat for the landing! Apparently it's the law. From now on I am choosing my plane seats more carefully. If someone looks touch and go I'm gonna find a reason to move... before it's too late!!

Post Toast Roast Coast

I have been such a dedicated blogger lately *pats herself on the back*
*grins cheesily* *grin develops into something of a grimace as heartburn starts up* BUGGER IT.

Being knocked up is not for sissies people. But sometimes it also really is. Like how no one can be bent with you if you fade. And NO ONE can fade like I can. It's inspiring really. I've been known to fall asleep in movies, watching DVDs, at dinner tables, at braais. There is definite narcolepsy in me. I have ALWAYS been this way. Take me as I am and all that. But now no one rolls their eyes when I do it. No one frowns disappointed at me. No one shakes their head thinking "Typical". Nope. They all just tilt their heads to the right (it's always the right - check next time you earn yourself a head tilt) and smile affectionately. "She is pregnant after all. Bless".

Anyway, time for an afternoon nap and some Gaviscon.

Choosing names wisely...

A psychiatrist was conducting a group therapy session with four young mothers and their small children.

'You all have obsessions,' he observed.

To the first mother, he said, 'You are obsessed with eating. You've even named your daughter Candy.'

He turned to the second Mom: 'Your obsession is with money. Again,it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny.'

He turned to the third Mom: 'Your obsession is alcohol. This too shows itself in your child's name, Brandy.'

At this point, the fourth mother quietly got up, took her little boy by the hand and whispered, 'Come on Dick, this guy has no idea what he's talking about.......... Lets pick Willy up from school and go home.'

The nesting phase

So I'm 25 weeks along. Crikey. Time is flying and dragging. This weekend I baked rusks for goodness sake. RUSKS people. And The Band and I looked at COTS. COTS! Incidentally The Band has his heart set on making the cot and compactum - which is just an annoyingly OTT name for shelves which are high enough to change a nappy without breaking your back).

BTW: If you ever want to have kids DO NOT go to Kids R us or Babies R us or whatever the name is until you are knocked up and it's too late. It's not just the painful abbreviation of the word "are" to "R" or the unnecessary use of inverted commas. There's something more about that place just gives me the heebees! I think it's all the kitschness. So much plastic. So many evil messages being sent to the kids. Like the game for 3 years + little girls called Shop til you Drop. Now why, as the kid's presumed only source of funding for the next 18 years, would you want to encourage that mindset? I think it may also be a combination of the stark flourescent lighting, the depressing clutter and chaos of random toys and yelling whiny kids and the cheap and nasty linoleum floors.

But, I digress.

What was I on about? Ah yes. The nesting phase. So you'd think we'd have been all babied out after those shops *Caz shudders* but no. We got home and (after a rather indulgent 3rd jacuzzi for the weekend) we lay in bed dreaming up nursery layouts. WHAT???? I KNOW!!!

So anyway. I'm not a Beatrix Potter, shades of pink, shades of blue or Winnie the Pooh nursery sort (isn't there enough of that happening once you have a baby?? Must the bear really be called that vile name??) My nursery idea is animals. AAAAH. I'm thinking of having low key decor - biscuit and white coloured stuff with fairy lights and then pics of baby animals printed onto canvas. AAAAAH. Now before you all vomit, look at the pics I have in mind...







I mean can you blame me for getting a little broody??