Tonight

So!

Tonight I will be meeting some fellow bloggers.

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

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

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

Where we're @

A random, not particularly elegant update.

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

In loving memory of Phoebe

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

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

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

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

She usually lay with her front paws crossed.

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

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

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

Stuck in the middle

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

Who killed binks?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's a....

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


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

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

It's a girl!

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

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

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

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

He always asks how "his girls" are doing.

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

Defending the pee stick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pink or blue?

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

Annoying ex-pats!

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

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

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

Thanks to Tamara for this link (love it!)

Where to start on this one??

There is so much to communicate in this post. I've anticipated writing this for so long and yet, here I sit, struggling for words.

First off, I guess, for any reader who has lost a baby... I hope that this post doesn't cause you any pain. I hope it brings you hope.
For any reader struggling with infertility, my heart breaks with you, I hope that those around you continue to pray for your miracle when you no longer can.
And to those who've read this blog since back when life was normal and my biggest concern was the endless goading of those infernal rain spiders: thanks for sticking with me :)

Today is a happy day... mostly. There are a bunch of other emotions floating around there too, of course, but high on the list is happiness.

Here's why...

This is a test taken in early December and today, somehow, marks that first major milestone of 12 weeks.
I know I know I know. How could I possibly not have told you about this? I have felt very guilty if it's any consolation!! The Band and I really wanted to keep this on the down low at least until we made it to the 12 week scan. We knew for more than 3 weeks before we even told our parents! (told them at Christmas) so I hope you don't feel too betrayed.

I am very grateful now, that we made that choice. Against all odds the first trimester sped by and I think it's because noone knew and so it was barely spoken of. Once you are showing, people ask you how far you are basically daily so you are constantly aware of time, this way we could almost not think about it and while that may sound awful, it's been a blessing. I am terrified. I have been anticipating this week's scan for so long now that I had completely freaked myself out by the time I got to the doctor. I have had barely any "symptoms", you see - immune system was low and blood pressure was low but that has really been it - and in some ways I was beginning to think the whole thing was in my head. To finally see a little person on the screen almost surprised me. Then I freaked out because it seemed so still, but wonderful New Gynae pointed to the heart galloping along and I could finally breathe again.

Here's what I saw:

Introducing The Kernel

So far everything is fine... on monday baby was just over 4cm from head to bum and now the real growth begins.

At this stage we have named him/her The Kernel. This was because baby was heading for the size of a popcorn kernel when we found out, but with time we are hoping baby will graduate to The Colonel and take on The Guv!! (surely a Colonel outranks a Governer??)

So where are we at? I am an emotional basket case mostly. My first emotion when I found out was a massive sense of gratitude. Too many people struggle to fall pregnant and I've read of their pain and feared it. A pregnancy is not something I could ever take for granted. It is not a given, it is an absolute blessing and privilege and not one we take lightly. Pretty soon after we found out we had our first appointment and there was some "free fluid" hanging around. We were told it could mean nothing or it could indicate an ectopic pregnancy. Three endless days of waiting for blood test results. I was already in love with this little one and going through that so early on sucked a lot of the joy out and replaced it with cold dark fear. Finally we heard back that everything was fine, but in a way we felt a bit scarred by that. After that I was scared - any little ache or pain would worry me and I was constantly bracing myself for blood. I think in my mind I set the next scan as a deadline to myself... if everything was fine there then it would be time to suck it up - all the fears and worries (haha.. ok, perhaps that's a bit ambitious) but to make a conscious decision to celebrate this pregnancy and believe that perhaps there might just be a living, breathing baby at the end of it.

The reality is that I am deemed "high risk" now. Placental abruption has a 15% recurrence rate - unless it was caused by a fall, which it may have been, but I will never know. And so there'll be a few precautions - for one I had to take additional folic acid (on top of the preg vits) for the first 12 weeks, from now on I have to have 1/4 aspirin a day... something to do with promoting placental growth. I will have more frequent scans and I will be induced a month early (somewhere around the 9th of July!!). But there are no guarantees, and this is the part that makes my heart pound and my breathing shallow.

Next Thursday we are off to the foetal assessment clinic and we will more than likely find out the gender. Any guesses? The Band and I think it's a boy.

We are starting to tell people now and I am nervous... worried about their reactions. This doesn't solve everything, this doesn't stop us mourning Sophia, everything's not magically fixed now, BUT this baby does bring his/her own joy. This baby does deserve to be celebrated and loved.

Keep me in your prayers guys... it's a terrifying road we're on but we're very grateful to be on it!

A poem for the grieving

I saw this beautiful poem on the blog of Molly Piper - daughter-in-law of John Piper. Molly's daughter, Felicity, was also born sleeping.

Resignation
from The Seaside and the Fireside
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended,
But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
Amid these earthly damps
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven’s distant lamps.

There is no Death! What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead,–the child of our affection,–
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister’s stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin’s pollution,
She lives, whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild
In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father’s mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;
And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion
Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest,–

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We may not wholly stay;
By silence sanctifying, not concealing,
The grief that must have way.

Songs of heaven

There is so much music that makes me think of Sophia. I've always been partial to sad music, even in happy times. I've generally got the "depro playlist" going strong on any given day. Music is powerful. There's something in it that floors you, that breaks down your defences, that manages to get right in there, behind the wall, to the place you try to protect.

I've been reduced to tears, running on the treadmill at gym due to the words of songs (and that's songs from my "gym mix"!!) It's incredible how words seem to talk to my precise situation and yet are no doubt simulataneously speaking to so many others.

Just a few...

Carry you home - James Blunt
And they're all born pretty in New York City tonight.
And someone's little girl was taken from the world tonight.
Under the stars and stripes.
As strong as you were, tender you go.
I'm watching you breathing for the last time.
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet I know what that means and I'll carry you home.

and even Who knew - Pink
If someone said 3 years from now
you'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out
coz they're all wrong
That last kiss, I'll cherish
until we meet again
And time makes it harder
I wish I could remember
But I keep your memory
You visit me in my sleep
My darling, who knew?
My darling, I miss you, My darling, who knew?

Here without you - 3 doors down
A hundred days have made me older since the last time that i saw your pretty face

A thousand lights have made me colder and i dont think i can look at this the same.
All the miles that seperate disappear now when im 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 without you, baby, but you're still with me in my dreams
and tonight, it's only you and me

One of the most beautiful things I've heard recently is a recording of Emma's Daddy playing a song for his little girl. You can hear it here. Be prepared... it'll break your heart.

A review of the decade passed

2001: little fledgling caz left the nest and moved 1100km to the other side of the country to attend Stellenbosch University. I enrolled for a BSc I stayed in residence for the first two years. Quite stretching living with a bunch of girls after growing up with 3 older brothers and no sisters. Classes in afrikaans were also challenging. Homesick caz was encouraged at every turn by my gran who wrote to me just about every week from the time I left home. I have a massive pile of blue envelopes in the cupboard next to my bed today. Played waterpolo and attended the South African Universities tournament at the end of the year, representing the Maties team.


2002: the classes were now much smaller as we had moved from general BSc subjects to subjects specific to our focus. My particular focus was only started for the first time with our class – BSc Conservation Ecology. For the most part we were only about 20 students. Adventures included weekends in Kalahari National Park. I remember on the first day looking around and thinking “Seriously, these are the freaks I have to spend the next 3 years with??”* Great year which ended with a trip to the Okavango Delta where I worked on a crocodile research project. I was annoyed when I discovered that one of my freaky classmates would be there as well. We ended up having fun together though and hitchhiked all the way back to South Africa together.
*One of these freaks was to become my husband, many of the others my lifelong best mates.

2003: I moved into a townhouse with some friends and it was great! A tumultous start to the year though... were there feelings between me and aforementioned croc hunting classmate or not? A 5 day hike along the wild coast answered that question! so the great romance between The Band and I was begun. I worked at Waterford Wine Farm. Learnt plenty about the SA wine industry and loved the job. Many adventures through the year, but finally for the South African summer, The (at this stage “future”) Band, The Josh (classmate and future bestman and current work colleague etc) and I went to the US to work at a ski resort for 2 months. New York City was awesome... Lake Placid less so... It became known as “Lake Flaccid, the town that never rose to the occasion”

2004: Our final year together as a class. Good times, good adventures. Ran my first two half marathons. The (future) Band and I began to realise that we were both in this thing for keeps. More adventures – including a trip to Madagascar - and the year was rounded off with some camping and hiking in the Drakensburg and another hike along the Wild Coast.

2005: All my friends had moved on to travel or start working but I decided to continue my studies with a Bphil Journalism degree, also through Stellenbosch University. What an intense year. 20 students I’d never met before who I now spent pretty much all my waking hours with in this little converted house. Something like 36 subjects ranging from International Journalism to Radio Broadcasting to Media Management, ethics, etc etc. We had to do the news on the local radio station at least once a week as well. I went to Madagascar with the (future) Band on a church trip in the midst of all the work. In August The (future) Band proposed. No guesses as to my answer! Finished off the year (amidst wedding planning) with a one month internship at Getaway Magazine.

2006: February 11th was the big day. A gorgeous, perfect wedding surrounded by all those nearest and dearest to us. Life after honeymoon was to be an adventure... at that stage The Band was earning about R6K (gross) a month, I was to be studying my masters degree and our rent alone was R3500 a month. Ya... Luckily we got many woolies vouchers among our wedding gifts so the poorer we were, the more Woolworths food we ate (foreigners, Woolies in SA is like Marks&Spencers in the UK). I was soon offered a job and decided to work and study at the same time. The job for awful. For the first time in my life I was spending my days doing something I was completely disinterested in. Marriage, however, was great. We were living on a farm up in the mountains. When we drove home at night we’d shine a spotlight and see genets, owls, porcupines, baboons and buck. Gorgeous.

2007: Throughout the December holiday I had nightmares about going back to work. I was truly dreading it. That told me it was high time I started to look for something else. Through a series of coincidences and chance encounters I was given a job at WWF, the conservation organisation. Brilliant. I loved it. Back in the land of adventures! Trips to game reserves, to rhino releases, to bird trails and more and more and more. Finished my masters degree which looked at how the media report on climate change – what an incredible sense of achievement after slogging away for 2 years! Spent the summer holiday doing a lot of cycling including some unforgettable cycles at the Wild Coast with brother Mark, my dad and the Band (3 of my favourite men in the world).

2008: Another good year workwise. My graduation was held early in the year and my parents and very proud gran were there for it. Rode the Argus Cycle Tour and loved it. In August we were all set to travel to East London for my dad’s 60th when (a few days before) I was woken early by a phone call. It was my dad telling me my gran had died. I was devastated. All the “she had a good innings” comments do nothing to help. Yes, I am forever grateful that we had so long with her, but that doesn’t mean I miss her any less or that losing her is any easier. She was one in a million. Heart of gold. Wicked sense of humour. My strongest supporter. But if you’ve been a reader for a while you’ll know all this. Ended the year with an incredible adventure. My gran would so have loved to hear about it – she was an adventurer herself. We (The Band, The Josh and The Harry) spent a month travelling Southern Africa – Bazaruto and the rest of Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Zambia, The Victoria Falls. Incredible. Unforgettable.

2009: Just a few weeks after returning to “real life”, life was to be turned upside down again... two solid lines on a pregnancy test. A year of preparing, preparing our hearts, our home, our budget, our lives. Debating names, building and painting cots and compactums, baby shower after baby shower. Antenatal classes, hospital tours, giddy conversations. Swollen ankles. Swollen everything! Anticipation building, hearts swelling, excitement bursting. FINALLY my last day of work. Severe back ache and days later, blood. The hospital. No heartbeat. The world crashed down. We sunk. I’m still sinking. Labour. Birth. Shock. And then... silence. Our baby girl. In our arms. And then it was all over. Month and months and months only to return to the same house. Packing up the nursery. Watching the flowers wilt and fade. Endless days. The weather warming. Summer creeping up on us, without her. Time passing takes us further from her, but perhaps closer too. Despair. And then the fledgling beginnings of hope.

In 2009 I have learnt

• There is much sadness in this life
• There is much joy in this life
• The things that once mattered much – like holding on to me and who I think i am – mean nothing
• The vast majority of people’s opinions mean nothing
• A shared experience bonds people instantly
• I still like sleeping with a fluffy animal
• Internet/virtual friendships are very real and can greatly impact your life
• Verbalising my feelings is near impossible
• Writing my feelings is therapeutic
• Grief can tear apart a marriage – not because of blame as I once thought but because people get lost in their own journey
• Grief can weld a marriage together – if both people are brave enough to trust each other with their hearts
• I don’t want to let go of my grief
• Grief is not linear. Each day is not a little easier. Grief grows and mutates and reveals new sharp edges – more aspects of loss to be mourned as time passes. It shocks you when you least expect it. It is ever-present. Sometimes revered and sometimes reviled. A constant companion.
• People want to “solve” my grief. They want to fix it. Sometimes grief just needs to be experienced.
• There is no right thing to say – there is only acknowledging that it happened and expressing your sadness
• We are near powerless
• Life is fleeting
• Joy can be found in the simplest of things: a massage, a kitten, sunbirds
• Pregnant women are everywhere
• Holding your own child for the first time is one of the most beautiful moments of your life.... even if that child has already left this world.
• There are incredible people in this world
• People surprise you – in the best and worst ways
• I am stronger than I ever imagined
• A sarky sense of humour is me. Despite what happens, it is there. Some might think that’s irreverant. They’ll get over it.
• A kitten can bring an inordinate amount of joy
• Empathy trumps sympathy a thousand times over.
• People and time invested in them is what matters in this life. You can’t take your job, your car, your achievements with you
• For the first time I am so excited for heaven
• My husband is the finest man I know
• My dad is right up there too (:
• God is a God of second chances.

When you are those "other people"

I guess I've been bracing myself for Christmas. Dreading it. Considering how it was meant to be in comparison to how it would now be. But the pain is never in the obvious things. It's not sitting around the christmas tree opening gifts knowing that your most precious gift is not with you. It's not sleeping in the same room you always do when you are home and not in the one with the cot that you had envisioned sleeping in. It's not waking up on christmas morning knowing that the little red "my first christmas" bib is still sitting in the cupboard in Somerset West never to be worn by Sophia. These expected hurts are dull, present, but not sharp.

The pain is in the unexpected. Wondering if Sophia's name would feature (along with the other family member's names) on my folks' christmas tree and finding that in fact a delicate glass orb with an angel inside has pride of place on the tree, with Sophia's name and birthday inscribed on it. The walls of my parents' house are laden with photos of my neice - their only (living) grandchild. In the garage yesterday I saw the car seat my mom had bought to keep for when we visited with Sophia this holiday. These seemingly benign things rip and claw at my heart.

My brothers (one of which was married last week, another of which is engaged) and their significant others excitedly discuss the prospects of children. With some puffed up bravado they talk of the responsibility to have a boy to carry on the family name. Still, despite what has happened, so oblivious to how fragile, how uncertain childbearing is. It's as if the attitude remains "it'll never happen to me", that sort of thing only happens to other people. That was once my unconscious belief as well. Sometimes, though, you are the "other people".

Lately my grief has morphed into something which I suspect is more similar to the grief that The Band has experienced. In moments all the other side issues and complications are stripped away and the naked longing to hold my daughter is all that is left. It is like a hunger of the soul. A hunger that will remain insatiable this side of heaven.

bah humbug

well I can't say I'm feeling all stoked for Christmas this year. Obviously there is the matter of What Happened, but just in general I am uninspired. It just feels stressful more than anything else.

There's the Christmas shopping which I have barely made a dent in. The chaos of all The Band's family currently staying at my house and for an Undetermined Period of Time.... ya!!! The chaos of all my family on Christmas day. The Christmas carols. The way It Was Meant To Be. The thing is that this month has been so chaotic - a drive around the perimeter of the country (practically), two weekends away, another coming up, my brother's wedding this past saturday (and all the build up to that), christmas in EL (hopefully*) and then back home to all the inlaws for like 2 weeks.

Really, if I could choose, I would probably just have stayed home, me and The Band no one staying at our house, no Boney M, just a good book and a few choice series. Just some down time.

But perhaps I am just feeling jaded because of these two little fun developments that have transpired just this morning:

1. I got an email from SARS saying that I was going to be refunded R3500. NICE! Jubilation! Merry Christmas to me! etc etc. I clicked on the confirmation link and where did it lead? A nasty porn website! I feel defiled!! So no income tax refunds coming my way. I checked online and they only owe my 11c.

2. *The Band called earlier to say that he had bad news. He had checked our flights to EL (to my family for Christmas) and discovered that he had somehow booked them for OCTOBER!!! So never mind the cost of new flights, there actually aren't any to EL! they are all booked. Lovely. So now we are flying into PE and hiring a car from there. What a mission. Costing an extra R4k! Ridiculous expense but my dad insists on paying for it. He wants us home for Christmas, doesn't care about the cost. I'm very very blessed to have a dad like that.

Anyway, truth be told I am a bit of a sucker for Christmas. Perhaps it will be better than I expect. 
Wishing you and yours a very special Christmas x

2.5 kids and a white picket fence

The Band and I still obviously want to have kids. Ah. I say that so calmly and rationally, actually, like those of you who've lost a child will know all to well, I am desperate to hold my own baby. I may avoid other babies like the plague, but to hold my own baby... I dream of that.

Everyone seems to have an opinion on the matter.

Plett Gynae said wait 3 months for your body to heal and 9 months for your heart to heal.
Antenatal Class Teacher said give it time, but not too much.
Shrink Lady (she of the no-lying-on-the-chaise-lounge!) said "I hope you aren't putting it off now!
And New Gynae (replacement of Unpopular Previous Gynae) suggested that physically I am healthy so we should just live and let live.

So who do you listen to? Considering that not one of these women have experienced this themselves... Well, you listen to yourself of course! :) In other words you choose the opinions you like and ignore those you don't. So instead of waiting to officially start trying at some distant point (and all the pressure that goes with that) in theory we are going with option D "live and let live". I say in theory because I have never been so conscious of my own cycle before.

Guv Bio

I mentioned a while ago that I would be doing a post about The Guv. When "everything happened" we decided to get a kitten. I'd wanted one for aaaages. It sounds simple, right? Actually it was really tough tracking down a kitten in September... apparently that's not "kitten season". Ya, who knew!? Anyway, eventually Tamara told me about Pets, a township pet rescue organisation. After filling in a 5 page adoption application form (which had to include references!!) and convincing them that I am, in fact, a rather eligible person to own a pet (hallo, I am a bunny hugging vegetarian who works for WWF!??!?), we got a little ball of fluff who we named The Guv.

 

Here he is about 5 weeks old only. So sweet. Looks so helpless and gentle...

mmm.

Well that didn't last! The Guv is growing up fast and he has demonic tendencies! Like when The Band and I returned from our weekend away a couple of weeks ago and he punished us by unceasingly attacking our bright red burnt legs. He is a law unto himself and the poor dogs are being a terrorised now that he's a bit bigger. He chases them round the house and they flee in terror!

He takes up the whole bed. Really, we can't get a decent night's sleep coz he will be smack bang in the middle and you have to squish to the side so as to not inconvenience His Majesty.

You know how sometimes you make bunny ears behind someone's head in a photo?

He enjoys making a mess wherever he goes. Attacking packets, toilet paper, clothes, dogs and us is just one of the services he offers.

And most peculiar of all.....

He has a water fetish. I didn't even think DOGS drank out the toilet in real life but The Guv will do so at any opportunity! He has hopped in the shower and the bath before (the shower is his favourite though). Not normal, not by a long shot.

Here The Band displays The Guv's 6 pack.... at least someone in the house has one!!

Perhaps The Guv's most useful attribute is that he is an incredible Fly Slayer. It's unbelievable. He is a stealthy hunter. When there is a fly around he will start making squeaky little miaows. To the untrained ear they sound almost sweet, but to those in the know, it is time to fear! The hunt begins and he is ruthless. He will knock over lamps, climb the blinds and demolish any breakables until he catches it and he ALWAYS catches it (and eats it - eew) in the end.

Truth be told, we adore The Guv and he adores us. When we arrive home he meets us at the door and proceeds to follow us around the house as long as we're there. He hates to be ignored and if I am cooking, or brushing my teeth, or washing the dishes or whatever he will simply climb up my leg and sit on my shoulder. Cute and a little sore from a 5 week old kitten, frikken excrutiating from a 4 month old cat. EINA!