Friday, February 11, 2011

Your turn

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!

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

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.