Stepping back in time

We're in Plett for the week. The Band's folks randomly decided to camp at the lagoon again for the first time in many, many years and so we've come to join them. This is also the first time we've been back here since Sophia was born 4.5 years ago.

I've not known what to expect. Would it hit home at all or would I remain stoically numb and resigned as I mostly am? Would I fall apart in a dramatic heap? Not likely although sometimes I wish I was more in touch with my emotions. It's been lovely so far, despite the rain.

Today I got away from all the family to get some work done. I'd planned to sit at a coffee shop and catch up a bit, but instead I found myself driving the route I've relived so often, passing the same restaurants we patroned in the days leading up to That Day. The restaurants where people gave me that knowing smile reserved for obviously pregnant women. All the while my baby was already dead and I refused to realise that.

I followed the road to the hospital and went in. It really is such a beautiful, peaceful hospital. No one stopped me as I wandered about. Partly I wanted to see if my memories were accurate or if they had been tainted or romanticised over time. They've not.

I stepped again into the room where I was first lead that morning. The room where they searched in vain for Sophia's heartbeat. That room and that moment which I've relived in my waking and my sleeping infinite times. It was only my second time in that room... after that moment they moved me elsewhere and for the rest of my stay in the hospital I couldn't even look in that room as I passed it. Today I could.

I peered into the room next door. The double room where we set up camp for our time there. Where Stef and I slept. Where my family and a few friends sat. I passed the courtyard where we ate delicious toasted sandwiches (for the ridiculous price of R6 each) while I bounced on a ball to try speed the labour along.

And I sat in the room where I delivered Sophia. Where we met her face to face and in the shock of it all and my exhaustion she felt so incredibly heavy in my arms. All 3.1kg of her. I saw various little stumps of candles on a shelf there and remembered the midwife had lit candles for her birth to somehow soften the blow of it all.

That midwife was amazing. She fought to give me a natural birth despite the gynae encouraging a caesar. She insisted on bringing in a woman who'd lost a child herself to talk to me and advise me - Claudine - she acknowledged the personhood of Sophia from start to finish with the most incredible insight. She treated me like a daughter rather than a patient. I saw her this morning. Sister Barnard. We reminisced. She remembered it all. A stillbirth is something which affects all those involved and nearly 5 years later it still affects her to an extent. I showed her photos of my girls. I told her how happy we are. I told her how I'd had to have caesars since and how grateful I was for my natural birth experience with Sophia. I told her how grateful I was to her for bringing Claudine in - Claudine who I will meet up with later today. I told her how my sister-in-law too had lost her baby and how we'd walked the road together. I told her how many countless others I've known to go through it since. And we agreed that it's a blessing I can be there for them, but yes and no. No... I'd sooner have my daughter with me any day than be a good friend and support and I've no doubt each one of those moms would understand that fully.

Sophia's story

We were interviewed at church about losing Sophia... Here's the video: http://vimeo.com/66966405 I know that hyperlinking that should be simple, but it is beyond me. I hang my head in shame. x

days become weeks become months

We are now 3 months down the line from Lilly's death. And as that time wears on you realise that for my SIL now and for myself back then, the hospital is perhaps the sweetest part of this whole ordeal. Now that sounds ludicrous I'm sure. And many husbands would want to usher their wives out and home as quickly as possible after the child is born, but if you are fortunate enough to have a caring hospital - where you are shown much care and placed far from babies and happy moms - then the hospital may well be the best of the worst. For one thing, the hospital is the first and last place you will have seen your baby and so, agonising as that is, it is precious. There is a closeness. A newness. The pain is raw and searing, but it is pure - untainted just yet by the inevitable anger, bitterness and hopelessness that follows. It is simply what it is: grief in its purest form. And something of that pure grief is beautiful because it connects you to your child. Back in the real world, as the weeks pass by and you're left with only the empty womb which failed you and surrounded by people who are determined to continue with life as it once was, moms will feel a loneliness like nothing on earth. There really is no describing it. People are wonderful and they try, but really it is you, as the mom, who has known your child and so it is you, as the mom, who grieves that child and will do so as long as you live. Dads* and famly and friends mostly grieve the prospect of what might have been - they grieve it, they accept it and they move on. Moms alone grieve what was. What is. What never will be. And how do you keep the bitterness at bay? How can you be happy for the pregnant around you? And how is it possible that every waking female in a 50km radius will joyfully announce their pregnancy within a month or two of your loss? And how do you paste that smile on your face when people say the ridiculous things that they do? And how do you ever ever make peace with the determined way women in our age and culture insist on bitching about the burden of motherhood, almost affectionately, as if they are hard done by heroes? And how long do you ignore the nursery and leave it set up, museum-like for the arrival of the baby that will never happen, and how long til you muster up the courage to unpack the baby bag? How long til you can have caffeine and alcohol and sushi and all the things you so stoically refused during your pregnancy without feeling some misplaced and non-sensical guilt? And how do you muster up enthusiasm for the job you once loved given that you should be home, flawless infant cuddled to your chest? It's hard. And all you can possibly do is try to get up each day and brace yourself to face the world. * This is my experience - I know of some exceptions of dads who have and do grieve their stillborn children deeply and ongoingly

The journey of stillbirth - part 2

It's been at least 2 years since I've felt so utterly depressed. And really, the word depressed is not one I throw around. Down is not depressed. Sad is not depressed. Depression is dark. It is a sense of utter hopelessness and that is what I am now fighting. Thank God for Tandi. A million zillion times over. Thank you God for Tandi. It's very hard to cry with a little girl splashing water in your face from her bath, trying to hide Gubby (the Guv) in the cupboard or pinching your nose and wrenching open your jaw to try shove food in while laughing manically. She is incredible. Thank you God for Tandi. Back to the stillbirth journey. I really hope that these posts can be of help to someone.. I mentioned how important it is to hold your baby - you wouldn't want to miss that - but there are of course times it won't be a good idea. If the baby is in a bad way then perhaps it's best not to and that is a very very tough call to make. It's important to take photos - even just to keep in case the mom ever wants them. I took many photos of my neice (her name is Lily) and sat with a friend who helped me edit them to soften the colour etc. I printed them and my folks bought a special album on which we engraved Lily's name. Well I only chose the very best of the photos for the album (want to play with the others a bit more) and every time I see my SIL the album is either in her hands or nearby. It is utterly precious to her and I'm so glad I did it. In some of the photos I placed one of Lily's toys, a bunny, and my SIL now has that bunny to keep forever. I also helped the nurses take hand and footprints - not always possible to do - but it is another precious keepsake for my SIL. The hospital room is a safe place. People who visit are there briefly to pay their respects and the nurses, hopefully, would be caring. But once you leave that hospital the world will confront you. In my case, we stopped at a chemist on the way home to collect my prescriptions. I stayed in the car while The Band went in. Sitting there, I saw a woman walk past. She had her baby to her chest in a kango pouch, covered in a blanked. All I could see was a little pair of pink-clad legs. It was all I needed to see. I will never forget the searing pain of that sight. Once you are out of your hospital room, in 'normal' contexts, people feel the need to act normal. I remember going to dinner with my folks (we were all staying in a hotel in Plett when it happened and so dinner out was a given). I remember my folks making conversation and seeming very cheerful and having a drink or whatever and by the time we walked into the hotel I lost it. I could not take the normalcy, how quickly they returned to normal, how quickly they could laugh again, how quickly they could forget, how quickly they could move on. I broke down and said it was all just a bit much. Last night - my SIL's first night out the hospital - was the same and I feel sick for not preempting it. There were too many of us there and we were chatting. OF COURSE none of us had forgotten and of course I now know that my folks were doing their level best that night in Plett to try cheer me up and had not at all forgotten - but that is how it felt and that is how my SIL felt last night. It is an agonising thing. People - even your very closest family - WILL forget. They WILL move on. but it won't be in the first week. The other thing that happens by about day 3 is that you start to be able to have conversations yourself about other things and even to laugh and have pleasant moments. Unfortunately, the aftermath is fierce. You feel sick and guilty and like a bad mom for forgetting for a moment that you have lost your child. It is a sickening awful feeling which makes you want to guard your grief almost jealously to avoid feeling that way again. TBC

The journey of stillbirth - what to expect part 1

I am reliving so many of the things I'd forgotten. I am recognising so many of my sis-in-law's emotions and feeling them myself for her. One of the first things you feel when you lose a baby at the end of a pregnancy is "how can I possibly start all over again". You feel exhausted and utterly defeated at the thought of starting from scratch. You have worked so hard to get this far and it's all come to nothing. "What was the point of all of this?" But soon - like within the same day - you feel desperate to start again. Basically life has been concentrated down to one miniscule, utterly focused point - having a child - and it seems to have very little point beyond that and so in those moments the only thing that seems to have any glimmer of hope or value in it and the only reason there seems to be for bothering to go on is the prospect of still being able to have a child. With both her and I, we lost our first. I guess it might be different if we had already had children. I remember not really speaking about it too much as people think you are loopy and should just focus on getting through the days ahead. They may be right, but so are we, because really, the only possible thing that gets you through those days, when a massive, gigantic all encompassing baby shaped hole takes up your heart, is the possibility of another child. Basicaly you need that hope. I remember saying something like "I will have a baby by next christmas or else". Else what? Else I would throw a tantrum? Hate the world? Top myself? No idea. Basically I don't think I'd have been able to breathe without a baby. That's more or less how it felt. Of course, at the same time, there is nothing more terrifying than the prospect of another pregnancy - naivete gone now that it is - but still, despite that horrific, choking fear, the prospect of NOT being pregnant is even worse. Rock and a hard place of note. With your first baby, your first pregnancy, the prospect of a child remains a bit abstract until you hold him or her. Of course you love that child and dream of her and all that, but only once you hold her does an entire shift in you occur. That's true either way. Many moms would be nervous or reluctant to hold their stillborn - of course they would - but part of why it is so important is because that mother's love envelops you when you do and so you can then mourn her wholeheartedly. And what an utterly bittersweet moment it is, to hold your child for the first and last time. To feel all the love in the world for a child who has already left the world. For the mom of a stillborn you feel much bitterness ahead of the time. You feel angry and victimised by life. But seeing and holding your child softens you. It's as if, for a while after that at least, that pain is distilled into something very pure and sweet. The simple sadness of a mom who has lost her little girl. That sadness must be the most agonising pain on earth (ok one of them at least), but it is such a beautiful thing. So much of the grief that follows is tainted by offence and bitterness and fear and all muddied emotions, but that sadness is just you and your girl. When I felt it again a while ago I treasured it. A friend offered to pray for the pain to go and I said something like "don't you dare. It is too precious and rare to feel that untainted grief". ***side note: I just overheard my dad saying to someone "now we know why caz had to go through this herself - so she can help others". Meh. Yes and no. MEH! That doesn't answer why others have to go through it. ugh. I mean I agree and I disagree and it all just sucks. Ok I have to go. there is more, much more, and perhaps this will be helpful to anyone else who has to support and try to understand someone going through this.

Lightning strikes twice

It's a funny thing. Just yesterday, mother's day (which I still hate), I was missing Sophia and wondering at how I have taken to avoiding grief and even this blog. I've meant to write often but always found a reason not to. The reason has largely been that I've wanted to avoid being sucked back into the awful world of grief and loss. I've wanted to deny my membership of this club of angel mommies. Not that I've wanted to deny Sophia - never. But I've wanted to avoid the raw pain of this world.

Today life dealt us another vicious blow. My brother and sis-in-law who we are very close to and who live in the same town as us tried for a long time to fall pregnant. The pregnancy has gone well and I've told all who would listen how much I love my niece. Ive marveled at my love for this little girl - how could I so love a child who wasn't even my own? I've been privileged enough to go to two of the scans and have seen my niece wink at me onscreen. I've helped talk through the endless decisions of planning for a baby - prams and monitors and nursery colour schemes and baby showers. Painting curtain rails and washing clothes and preparing hospital bags. And I've moaned about how long the next 5 weeks are going to take and how I can't wait to meet this little girl.

This morning we got a call. Bad news. No heartbeat. Time warp back to September 2009 - the worst thing a mom can hear. No heartbeat.

My SIL had had pains for the last week. Random, undistinguished pains. Upper back. Here and there. She'd been to the doc 3 times. All looked one each time. She'd had extra scans to check blood flow and she'd been on the ECG. All fine.

This morning no movement was worrying her and so she went in. 4th time in less than a week. No heartbeat.

Tonight we are at the hospital. My SIL has had a Caesar and I've just taken photos of my precious little niece. She is beautiful. I'm not just saying that. She is. The marks of death are not yet on her and I am so grateful for that.

Tonight I rejoin that club in support of my SIL and for the first time I feel some gratitude for having been there myself. I can support her and understand her in the dark months to come.

I'm so very sad for them and our family and her family and for me. For the niece I love so much and for tandi who would have been her BFF. But I'm glad that she'll have a guided tour of Heaven with Sophia and a BFF up there.

Rest in peace precious treasure. Your aunty loves you so very much.

Good bye Chaka

A friend of mine's cat was run over yesterday and I'd be lying if I said I didn't fight the tears when I heard. I've been sad ever since and keep thinking of her beautiful cat and my beautiful friend.

To the non-cat lovers out there (how do you survive on the Internet, seriously?) perhaps that sounds absurd. In the wake of all the tragedy around, how can I be so sad over just one little cat?

It's coz there is no such thing as just a cat.

Just as my Guv quite possibly saved my sanity in my darkest hours and is still my baby who i adore (sure he may be demon possessed but still!), this cat played a similar role in my friend's life.

This friend is a warm and lovely person. She turned 40 on Thursday and has been married many years but has been unable to conceive. Her husband wasn't too keen on pets and so it's always just been the two of them at home until last year when her mom was going through the last stages of cancer. My friend was taking strain and seeing her mom weakening and suffering new each day.

In the final months of her mom's life a kitten started showing up at my friend's house. A kitten who refused to leave.

Her husband may have tried a weak protest but was soon won over by this lovable little cat.

My friend advertised that she'd found a cat but after receiving no queries she finally allowed herself to believe that this, Chaka, was to be her baby.

Through all the visits to her mom and through her mom's death, the funeral arrangements and the lonely months that followed, this little cat was there. She brought joy and silliness and laughs and love in a dark and lonely time. She lit up the home and she lit up my friend. Each time I saw her she'd animatedly regale the Chaka's latest antics.

Next thing Chaka was pregnant and my friend was playing midwife and nanny and granny to more kittens (2 of which she kept and the rest of which went to her own sister). Now my friend's flawless home was really the territory of 3 gorgeous, young and mischievous cats. But Chaka remained my friend's baby.

And so yesterday, the day after my friend turned 40, when her Chaka was run over, I cried.

That silly saying about God sending people for a reason or a season (or something) is evident in this story. Seems to me God saw fit to use a little cat to get my friend through her hardest time.

The sweetness of pain

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

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

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

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

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

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

South African tragedy update

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

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 :)

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

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

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

:) 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

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.