Soul Blossoming

Distance

2012-01-30T14:11:00.003+10:00

I never believed people when they shared the usual cliched sayings about time, time passing and time healing. I'm not sure I believe them anymore than I did when they said it to me the first time but I can't deny the fact that yes, time continues to pass and if you're still breathing then you continue to breathe, albeit with a struggle sometimes and suddenly it's 3 years down the grief and loss path.
I feel like this is going to turn into some kind of confession. Out of guilt. Or perhaps this is just a new kind of processing. Is it still called grief after so much time has passed? Is that acceptable?
It all is. Is what you want or need it to be.

I look back over the past year and I feel like there was very little of her in it.
This makes me feel guilty.
Like the addiction to melancholy.
The addiction to sadness.
It is less and less and I am happy.

I've had some fairly big upheaval in my life over the past twelve months and there has been quite a lot of happiness and love for myself. This in itself is fucking huge progress yet there's this lurking guilt that pounces. That moment when you fleetingly think of her. Think of her life and realise you've been so busy living, you feel like she's not there within your grasp.
That she's so far away. So far in the past. I always wondered if I'd ever feel normal again. Secretly hoping that I would be happy.

However I do not want to reach too far into the darkness to find her for fear of getting lost in it.
Is this what living feels like? Accepting loss. Accepting that it's okay to love and laugh. To smile. To feel joy.
To be free of the dark.

I do still struggle with the internal negative voice. Sad girl. She's still hidden in there somewhere. She speaks out if I let her. I know she's always going to be a part of me. She is me. I am her. I will not give her that freedom though. I do acknowledge the thoughts, struggle with them and over think them.

Having met someone, unexpected yet wonderful has been like a whirlwind. I find myself sabotaging it. Thinking of reasons it's not ever going to work for me. Fueling the negative sad girl. Giving her reason to stomp on my heart.

I will work on her. I will continue to laugh, smile, love and live. I will.

History

2012-01-15T22:35:00.003+10:00

I do not know where to begin.

There were fleeting moments recently where all I could feel was how distant it all seems.
How I sometimes feel like I need to fight to keep the memories close, yet knowing deeply that they do not need to be so close to the surface anymore.
It's okay.
It really really is.

I am amazed that I'm here.
The wounds of loss to not burst open. The raw edges do not burn into my heart. The very core of me.

I feel whole.
I feel human.
I feel.

The directions in this journey have been varied but here I am. Still.

She is not less.
I am not less.

We are still real.
Still a story.
Still a part of my history.
This is key.
It's past.
It is not present.
It no longer needs to be first.
The pain.
The grief.
The guilt.
They do not define me.

I am seeing the world with brand new eyes.

Bound

2011-08-06T21:22:00.002+10:00

I want to let it out

I want to write
To flow
To be empty of the swirling thoughts
The never ending buzz in my mind
The restlessness

It won't come

It just swirls and swirls
Violently
Crashing and thrashing from side to side
Fighting for space
Room to breathe
With no release

Neglected Blog=Another Wordless Wednesday

2011-06-29T13:07:00.002+10:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-05-18T10:56:00.003+10:00

Image

2011-04-19T10:09:00.004+10:00

Today I simply glanced at a picture of you and the walls came crumbling down.
It's difficult to explain why.
I've recently put quite a few photos away.
I just didn't want to look at them for a while.
I needed a rest from that lingering wonder.

The smells
The sounds
The feelings
All of the things that go with the memory of you.

Out of sight but it seems you are never out of my mind.
A single photo broke my carefully placed walls.
Opened that neatly closed little box.

A single photo. Photographic evidence of a precious life fading. Of a life that no longer exists.
Of a love that is in question.
Of a time and a place that can only be a memory.

Some days those moments seem so far away.
I think I believed I was really heading in a positive direction and then something rattles your confidence and you're left to rebuild all over again.

I'm tired of rebuilding.

Follow that sign?

2011-04-14T13:51:00.003+10:00

I'm struggling to wait
To be patient
To hold the space for you
To keep giving
To be unsure of what it is I'm holding on to
What will be left when the decisions are made?
When you let me go? Will you let me go?
Do we start over?
Do we walk away?

What direction are we going in?
I thought it was clear
I was feeling again
Now it feels like I'm the only one who was moving forward
Into the future

I was certain
Now it's a struggle to get through each day and I never wanted to feel like that again
Those were horrible dark places
Places that suck everything you have right from the very core of you

I don't want to pretend either
Pretend that I'm okay with this realisation
That the past 10 years are now floating above me in question
The next ten seem so unclear

Did we waste them?
Did I not do enough?
Am I not trying hard enough?
Is this a wasted effort?

This is your shit, not mine but I'm here hoping
Holding on
Hurting
Waiting

Fading into the hurt
The negativity
The self doubt I've been fighting to control all my life
To get back what was taken from me over and over again

Two broken halves

2011-04-04T12:00:00.002+10:00

How long do you think we can pretend?
How long can passion and ignorance sustain this?
What is this we're doing and for who?
It is awkward and always present at the forefront of my thoughts

How long can you give it your all but not receive anything back?
How long before you fade out
Before you are swallowed up by the resent
The hurt

Nothing is real
Nothing makes sense
Nothing
Nothing at all

I'm not sure this I can survive
I'm not sure this I can do forever
I'm not sure anymore

My world is feeling very empty even with you here
You are not present
You are half and I am half but we are not whole

Take it Back

2011-03-30T10:41:00.007+10:00

How do you forget those words spoken in desperation and confusion, hurt and anger?
How do you come back from that place where you say hurtful things because your world is crashing down around you?
How do you forgive those who hurt you?
Words said come from somewhere. They aren't easily undone. They always mean something.
How do you put it behind you and not always wonder if it's really true? Did they really mean it?

It's much easier to forgive than it is to forget.

When is it okay to take on that burden because you know deep down they really need you.
You know they are in a dark place. A place you've been yourself.
When is it okay to hide your own pain for the sake of someone you love?
To put them first.

I don't know how to come back from that.
To find that normality.
It's been a really tough road.
I'm still walking.

I don't want to hurt.
I don't want to be broken again.

Malignant

2011-03-18T08:31:00.002+10:00

It's been on my mind lately.

The nagging.

The painful yearning.

The want.

The lack of understanding.

If only it were as easy as a regimented grief process. With time limits and instructions.

A boot camp.

With someone standing by, encouraging you.

Guiding the very foggy way.

No, it's not like that at all.

Nothing like that at all.

It is not death that haunts me.

Death I can do.

Death is life, life is death.

It simply and complexly is.

It is the gaping hole in me.

The wound that will not heal.

The one thing that made me feel whole.

The one I try to stitch closed.

To keep from the world.

It will not heal.

I do not know how to put you in your rightful place.

The guilt.

The anger.

The hurt.

I do not know where you belong, or how to be rid of you.

I am holding on but I want to shift this feeling.

Spoken like a simple fact.

It is not simple at all.

It is deeply rooted.

Woven and intertwined.

It is malignant.

Long time

2011-02-23T09:04:00.003+10:00

I haven't disappeared off the face of the Earth. It does feel like it sometimes.

We moved. Remember?

It's a wee bit difficult to blog from my phone. I've been itching to get back here and write something meaningful, something interesting, something...

Nope, my head is still spinning. I'm still adjusting and I'm still sleeping on a camping mattress on the floor of our new little house. I'm still without my lovely coffee machine, my craft supplies, my everything really.

My mantra over the past 4 weeks? "We'll get there."

I think I've been so busy trying to make this move a smooth transition for my family that I really haven't had time to think of anything else. There have been a few frustrated and sad tears. But I'm so used to that it's almost nothing. I'm so good at just rolling with those feelings.

I feel like I'm in some kind of limbo though. I don't fee settled yet. At home?

I'm without my things, which in turn makes me feel like I'm without a part of her. Yuna's box of "things". You know statues and photos and bits and pieces. Yet before I moved I didn't feel attached to them? I could feel her. Maybe because I knew they were just there?

There were moments of guilt when you feel like you've left something behind, or when you are so caught up in life, she slips a little bit further into your memory. A little too far. Those moments throw you back under the crashing waves of the grief ocean.

You want to share, you've been away for so long but no one asks. I guess dead babies aren't really a wanted conversation for most of society. Most of the people we know. That makes her feel so far away to me. So unimportant. So forgotten.

But alas, we'll get there. Won't we?

Storm

2011-01-11T19:44:00.005+10:00

How long have I been in this storm
so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form
water's getting harder to tread
with these waves crashing over my head

If I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I'd see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
and everything will be alright

I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
so why am I 10 feet under and upside down
barely surviving has become my purpose
cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface

If I could just see you
everything will be alright
if I see you
the storminess will turn to light

and I will walk on water
and you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright

and I will walk on water
you will catch me if I fall
and I will get lost into your eyes
and everything will be alright
I know everything is alright
everything's alright

Birth Story Presentation

2011-01-06T14:17:00.007+10:00

This is what I presented at the ACM Conference on the Gold Coast to Midwives and mothers from all over Australia. Many of the midwives from the hospital where our journey took place had the opportunity to reflect on their care. The focus of the conference was about Change in Midwifery care. I hoped to spark thought, reflection and understanding in midwives and how they care, support and nurture women.

~A Birth Story~

In the spring of 2008 I was preparing for the birth of our 3^rd child.

I’d experienced 2 traumatic Cesarean births before that so this pregnancy, although a complete surprise was an opportunity for me to learn, to adjust and to discover what it was I really wanted, needed and believed in.

We all have the story of how we became so birth obsessed or passionate as we’d prefer to call it. This journey through pregnancy was mine.

It was about understanding birth for what it was. Understanding what works and doesn’t work. Understanding who’ll support you to achieve those things.

When I knew I would potentially be presenting my birth story I wondered how on earth women as passionate as ourselves could possibly put such an intimate, powerful, life changing event as birth into a few minutes, when we really want to describe every detail from poo scooping, amazing stretching vagina's to the first breath of a child.

So I wont drag this out for hours, I’ll try to put those 12 amazing intense life changing hours into a few minutes.

It’s epic. All birth is.

It doesn’t matter where, who, why or how the birth unfolds it’s the experience we take away from that. For everyone involved.

Most of us here understand that a birth story is not simply the announcement of a new baby. It long lasting.

So for me this is my story.

It’s about sisterhood.

It’s about sharing.

It’s about honesty and passion.

It’s about the choices we make.

It’s about caring and understanding

It’s about being with woman no matter how a woman finds herself in your care

It’s about life and it’s about death.

The Birth

Both my previous labours we 36 hours plus and posterior. I was prepared for that again although strongly hoping it wasn’t going to be the case!

I had two very active boys. An 18 month old, a 6 year old and was 42 weeks pregnant on the school holidays. I’d take posterior labour over that any day!

Labour began with the usual niggles here and there, a general discomfort. Like most we put it down to being huge and uncomfortable. After a day at the beach with my doula I headed home for some raspberry tea and dinner. By the afternoon the contractions were gaining and I thought perhaps we’d better get the pool filled.

I remember that feeling of excitement. Something I had never experienced with other labours. I was prepared. I was comfortable at home and life carried on around me as normal. This included many episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine. There was no rushing, there was no clock checking. It was life mixed in with birth. It just was.

By the time darkness fell and the children we sleeping labour continued and the pool became a new kind of heaven. I had support around me. Fanning here, water there, Bliss. Who knew birth could be this good? I certainly hadn’t expected it.

Early into the morning I decided I simply would prefer an epidural. Oh my that’s what transition is! The point where you think enough already. It’s not as simple as jumping off the treadmill though I discovered. My partner grounded me and I went back into labour land.

Not long after the begging ceased time seemed to stand still.

I focused.

I went within and I connected with my baby.

I knew I could do this. I knew my body would birth my baby.

Those moments of silence were important. Those are the moments of my connection with my baby that I’ll remember forever. Those were the last moments we had together as one.

Not long after that I remember feeling into the water to discover a “fuzzy walnut”. Oh my, a head with hair!

I’m actually having a baby! I’m really pushing a baby out of my vagina!

Time swirled. Energy flowed.

I rallied my strength and pushed out the most beautiful amazing chubby little person.

I’ll never forget reaching down to scoop up my daughter.

My only daughter, in my arms for but a second.

The Journey

My daughter wasn’t breathing when she was born.

I quickly went into shock and we transferred separately to our nearest hospital via ambulance.

I was informed that I had a potential Uterine Rupture. I’d sustained 4^th degree tears and I was potentially bleeding internally.

I was left alone without support from any of my carers and was asked to sign consent for the repairs and investigation into the uterine rupture. It was a good 45 minutes before I was wheeled into theatre.

I was quizzed by the surgeon how many other children I’d had and he decided that my uterus wasn’t needed as it wouldn’t sustain another pregnancy anyway. All this moments before being placed under general anaesthetic he informed me that he felt it was necessary to perform a hysterectomy.

I awoke briefly in recovery without a uterus, a baby or anyone that I knew.

My daughter was flown with her dad to Townsville where they were better equipped to look after my daughter.

I was left with a printed out photo and a beanie that she wore.

It was 3 or more days before I could get a RFDS flight to be in the same hospital as my daughter and my family.

It took the power of just one midwife who called persistently to explain how important it was for me to be there with my baby. It took her understanding and care to get me there.

I was extremely unwell. I spent 12 hours in Emergency waiting for a bed that was already waiting for me due to miscommunication between hospitals. It took that dedication of the same midwife to explain that no one knew if this baby was going to make it and she deserved to have her mother by her side.

This same midwife took my whole bed into the NICU so for the first time in 4 days I got to see, smell and hold my daughter. If it wasn’t for that care I may not have had that opportunity at all.

Those midwives went out of their way to ensure that our family had every opportunity to connect with our daughter. To care for her. To be her parents.

The guided us through the shock and trauma of what was meant to be a joyous birth. They offered advice, they cried and they loved her just as much as we did.

Those same midwives prepared a beautiful bath and beautiful photos. They encouraged simple yet important things like skin to skin. Things we wouldn’t or couldn’t have thought of.

They created beautiful memories in the saddest of times.

They didn’t judge our family; instead they nurtured us and cared for us as a family.

11 days later after a day in the sunshine and gardens we said goodbye to our daughter, Yuna Jane.

I guess the message I’m trying to convey by sharing this is that despite working within a system with policies and rules and guidelines there’s nothing more important than the effect you have on a family, no matter how that family came to be in your care.

I only offer this information because I’ve experienced the other side of this.

In the first couple of hours our family were judged and torn apart as a form of punishment for our birth choices in a time where life and death were critical. In a time where we needed to be together. Where we didn’t need to be told we were terrible parents and that we’d have this burden to bear for the rest of our lives.

Words and actions stick when you are experiencing trauma. They replay in your mind over and over.

You may not approve of a woman’s choice but you need to remember how you affect them. This event may leave you at your lunch break or when you return to your family but for the woman and her family it is forever.

It shapes those memories.

A Journey to a Birth

2011-01-06T13:46:00.002+10:00

After sharing the last decade with you I thought I'd really like to share Yuna's birth with you.

A kind of completion. A letting go. A wish. A journey.

This is the very first edition of Yuna's Birth story. I wrote it a few months after she was born and died. It was healing to see it written on paper and out of my head. I still have so many different perspectives of the birth but this was my first impressions. The most important I think.

I have since rewritten it because I had to present my story at the Australian College of Midwives Conference as a member of the Maternity Coalition. I'll post this version in a separate post. It was accompanied by a slideshow which I really want to include. I'm still working out how to get it from there to here.

~Journey To A Birth~

We had arranged for just the two of us to spend the day snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef and spend the night at a hotel for DP’s birthday. We got back from our day out and had a bubble bath amongst other things before we headed out to dinner. I’d had quite a few drinks and was feeling pretty good. This was the night our third baby was conceived. I knew almost instantly but still got a surprise when I officially noticed I was pregnant. We were definitely not expecting another baby so soon! A blessing all the same.

This was an opportunity to really jump in headfirst and tackle my feelings about birth and how I had experienced birth with my other children. This pregnancy was so completely different from the other two, which were quite similar. I was also so excited to be having a spring baby. A few weeks in and I was as sick as a dog. I was prepared for such an easy ride third time around. I was in for quite a shock. I suffered hideous all day sickness and migraines that lasted well past 16 weeks. It was such a relief to be free from that.

I had decided very early on this was going to be an awesome birth. I was going to do everything I could for my baby and avoid the trauma I had experienced in my other births. I worked hard emotionally to be at a place of peace before I birthed. I looked after myself and was super excited to be welcoming another baby into our family and the opportunity to do it the right way. I was blessed to have such wonderful support.

My pregnancy this time after the initial hurdles was pretty uneventful, just the way it should be. I learnt to let go and just enjoy it. I focused on my responsibility to myself and to my growing baby without all the external influence. It was such an empowering feeling to be totally autonomous. I did my research and began to prepare for the birth. I was so in touch with my own body and my intuition. I felt so wonderful to be so close to my baby. I had always handed that over to someone else. I felt like I really knew this baby.

I eliminated negative energy from those surrounding me and just went within myself. This was my birth. It was an intense few months of accepting and taking responsibility for myself. It was difficult letting go of that medical model even though I knew it served no purpose in my life. I was so used to being in that sort of environment with work, so I gave it up. This in itself was a wonderful step.

As I neared the end of my pregnancy I was so sure this baby would be born on a full moon and my birthday, exactly 39 weeks. The same as my other two children. That day came and went. Nothing about this pregnancy was predictable.

I was so ready. I had everything from my numerous lists. I had a place for everything. DP was ready and excited. DS was thrilled he’d get to swim in the pool soon! So now it was just waiting and waiting and waiting…

I thought I was in labour at one stage but it turned out to be nothing so back to waiting. I was drinking ‘wild woman’ tea like it was going out of fashion.

I was 41+4 or 5 and the kids were driving me bonkers. DS was home on school holidays and extremely bored. I decided we should go to the beach for a play, with the intention of wearing them out completely! I met up with a friend who was also going to be at the birth for support. We let the kids run wild whilst I munched on rice crackers and looked out to sea. I had that familiar ‘cant sit still’ feeling. I was so used to waking up everyday and still being pregnant I thought I might just stay that way.

I had planned on making honey joy’s that afternoon. I was craving them, turns out I never got to make them! We headed home and just relaxed. I was wandering all over the house with butterflies in my stomach I was so excited. I had some more tea and came to the conclusion that I was definitely in labour. It was all so calm. Such a different experience. I was blown away with the feelings of excitement and achievement even before I’d really done anything. I think it was also a place of acceptance. I remember walking around the house thinking, “I’m going to have my baby here, I don’t need to go anywhere!” I was in touch with DP who said he’d be home fairly early. I chatted with the friend I’d spent the day with and she offered to come over and help set up. I am an organisational freak, truly! I had a place for everything.

It was about 4 in the afternoon when I declared myself in early labour.

She arrived and I was just so excited, almost child like. It was really happening. She started washing the pool out and I pottered around inside putting my crystals and herbs out. We put my birth posters up all around the pool, set up the couch with blankets and made the place ready for a joyous birth.

DP arrived home to see us out the front in the driveway with the pool. He looked excited! There was a real buzz in the air. My parents were looking after the kids inside and getting them ready for bed. I came inside and did some rocking between contractions. I watched the children playing around me and it all seemed so normal. This is what it’s all about. I was preparing to give birth and my children played happily around me.

DP and my father talked hoses and attachments at the sink while I sat on my ball. Things were heating up now. I have no concept of time from about this point. I was just so relaxed. I know it was dark but not late enough for the kids to be in bed. J

My salt lamp glowed and I just took it all in, breathing deeply. My friend sat near me and just watched. That’s all I needed.

I don’t remember when we started filling the pool, possibly soon after DP arrived home but I do remember it was absolute bliss and ready exactly when I needed it. Ahhhhh the joys of hot water on a heavy pregnant belly. I always thought it was a bit nutty when people said the pool is really good pain relief. Now I know why!

I was rocking along, in and out of the pool just going with it. Surrendering to birth. I was open and relaxed. DS was eager to get in with me so he gets his towel and slips in behind me with his underwater torch that flashes 3 different colours. He had a great time shining it at my bum! After he gets bored with this he goes off to bed, very content that he got to swim in the pool!

It was getting late and another friend had a pretty long drive to get to me so she was called and asked if she’d like to come.

I tried the ball, which was working in early labour, but it didn't feel right. I decided to get back in the pool and that feeling of submersion is awesome. I was a royal queen in that I had someone fanning me, placing hot towels on my back and serving me water. This was how birth was supposed to be!

I don’t know when but things started getting tough. I needed to focus.

I was tired and hot and cold and uncomfortable and these contractions take you someplace else. I spent a lot of time in the pool on my knees using the side for support. DP and my support team were really getting me through. I was getting to the point where you think what the fuck am I doing? This is insane! They held me, looked me in the eyes and gave me the reassurance I needed.

I could feel everything and my body was surrendered to powers beyond me. That was an overwhelming feeling. I know I’m probably forgetting so much but I’ll add to this I’m sure.

I felt pushy, you know that feeling of the baby moving down? You just want to grunt. I kept looking down waiting for something to happen. No mucous, no liquor, nothing. Then all of a sudden POP! It was amazing, I laughed! I never knew your waters really did pop! I glanced down to check the colour and the pool was still clear so I continued to grip the sides and try to get through it.

I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say that many times I said to those around me that I didn’t care anymore and wanted it to be over. The beauty of strong support people and transition.

I remember clearly for a moment stopping and just taking a deep breath it was almost like everything slowed down. I rested my head on the side of the pool and took a moment. I gathered my thoughts and said to my baby “we are doing this, c’mon lets do it” Everything then seemed to pick up the pace and I was ready. I could feel the fuzzy walnut! OMG I’m having a baby! It’s really there! Despite knowing that yes you are indeed having a baby, nothing beats that feeling!

I stayed on my knees and used one arm for support. My mother who hadn’t really planned on being there got out of bed and was so honoured to be boiling the kettle! She looked so excited. I’ll never forget that.

Then came the burning. I looked to my friend and said “ooooh it’s burning! Oh that must be the head! Oooooh! LOL it’s so funny now because it was the first time I was experiencing it for myself, not just hearing other women’s stories. Almost like being initiated into the gang!

She smiled, nodded and kept me focused.

The burning sensation ceased and I could feel a whole head with masses of soft dark hair. DP slipped into the pool at this stage to get a closer look. He whispered into my ear that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen! I was doing it. I was really giving birth!

I was pushing hard, I couldn’t control the feeling. It felt like an eternity. Then sure enough a baby was born. I scooped HER up out of the water. I had given birth to a daughter out of my vagina! Three children and my first real birth!

A decade or so

2011-01-04T21:29:00.030+10:00

Inspired by a few lovely blogger friends.

I hadn't really thought much about the wow factor of it being 2011. One day tends to blend into another sometimes here. It has a lot to do with survival.

I did however stop and realise that a whole decade passed and I lived it.

I did some pretty awesome things and some things were downright awful.

Those 10 years were years that made me who I am today.

Looking back it's been a massive 10 years of growth and change, wonder and life.

Lets look in more detail what I've been up to for the past decade!

I have packed most of my photos so I'll use what I can find.

Now to remember all the details...

2000

I was 16.

I was feeling very independent and grown up.

I loved school.

Had some pretty interesting friends in many different circles.

Spent a lot of time listening to Limp Bizkit, playing pool, seeing movies and going out for pizza.

Continued to do Army Cadets because there were loads of cute boys to see and I got to wear funky boots.

Went to Canberra with Cadet group sans parents and had the most amazing time.

Went to a party and met a boy.

Fell hard for said boy.

Dated boy.

Loved boy.

My grandfather died.

Taken just a few days before he died.

That was the first time I'd ever lost anyone close to me. It sucked.

Broke it off with boy because I loved him and that scared the heck out of me.

Summer came.

Ate loads of chicken schnitzel sandwiches. Drank cheap alcohol at the beach.

Listened to Powderfinger. Painted on the walls.

Met carnival folk and random tourists.

Cried till I laughed and laughed till it hurt.

Became damaged goods one summer evening.

A new year came.

2001

Loved school a little bit less.

Enjoyed the bus rides more.

Wrote long winded emotional letters to quiet friend who understood.

Developed a serious crush on a boy I'd seen around town.

Smoked pot in a cave.

Hung out in streets and playgrounds being moody, annoying teenagers.

Ate far too many dim dims and microwave chicken rolls from a petrol station across the road.

Watched boys do silly things on skateboards.

Went to my first Debutante Ball. Wore something ridiculous.

April 8th 2001.

Went to after party in hopes crush boy would turn up.

Crush boy did turn up. He gave me his jacket to wear. It smelt like dough and too much deodorant. He was a baker ;)

Saw a fight and a car accident that night.

Walked the streets and talked to crush boy ALL night. Saw the sun come up with crush boy.

Kissed crush boy good morning.

Went camping with my Dad and friend.

Spent many hours on the floor of petrol station on a pay phone talking to crush boy.

My mother had an addiction to the Internet. We had one phone line.

English lit became my all time favourite class.

Got a job as a florist. Got fired from job as florist because I didn't want to leave school.

Got a job as a waitress at Phil's Pizza.

Participated in my own Debutante Ball and again wore something ridiculous.

Learnt to dance silly dances I've never remembered.

Spent every spare moment with crush boy. Fell in love. Dreamt of the future.

Road tripped to Sydney with my PARENTS AND GRANDMOTHER. It very nearly killed me.

2002

Still in love with Crush boy now known as B :) Still dreaming of the future.

In my final year of high school.

Wanting other things in life.

Still working.

Spending less time at home and more time with B at his place.

Convinced finishing school is important.

Talked life and love.

Make plans for a baby.

Create baby in May that year.

Turn 18 in September. 4 months pregnant.

Feel on top of the world.

Quit job to focus on study and growing baby.

Finish school and exams.

Graduate at 30 weeks pregnant.

A hideous photo from my graduation. I hated that dress and the hairdresser ruined my hair. My feet hurt and I was sooooo tired.

Friends drop off the planet due to soon to be born baby and my lack of interest in a social life.

Spend all my time in the ocean over summer with belly babe.

2003

Experience labour and surgical removal of the most incredible little person.

Become a mother to a son on February 1st at 6:05pm.

Skin to skin and first breast feed in Recovery

Experience joy and love beyond words.

Also experience what I now know is PTSD and PND.

Be proposed to. Say yes.

Returned to study Aged Care.

Love being a mother.

Get job in Aged Care.

Learn to drive

Lived life as a family and watched my wee boy grow and turn one.

2004

Co sleeping joy

Cut off all my hair.

Move to Cairns, QLD.

Alexander turns two!

Enrol in a BA at Uni.

Hate Uni. Discover I still hate maths.

Get another job.

Adjust to living in the tropics.

Ditch uni.

Work instead.

2005

Get offered a scholarship to do my Diploma in Nursing.

Get 2nd Job at hospital.

Study Study Study.

Turn 21.

Move into our own house.

Get a cat, Pancakes.

Wish for another babe.

Enjoy our own space.

Explore.

2006

Become pregnant in June.

Finish studying Diploma.

Work as a Nurse in Women's Health.

Discover Joyous Birth.

Discover Doulas.

Enjoy pregnancy and life.

2007

Experience labour and surgical removal of a baby for the second time.

Become a mother to another son on the 14th March at 7:55pm.

Experience love and joy and loss beyond words.

Learn more about PTSD and Birth trauma.

Become heavily disillusioned with the system and mainstream birth support for women.

Begin my doula certification and childbirth education Diploma.

Work slowly through my own birth trauma and become a stronger woman with strong opinions and values.

Turn 23.

2008

Spend a day out on the Reef with B for his Birthday.

Create another baby. A surprise baby that same night.

My most challenging pregnancy yet.

I was ill for a good four months.

Charlie tuns one!

Alexander starts School.

Book Week

Leave my shitty job in a private hospital Women's Health unit to focus on my baby, my birth and healing from old trauma.

Really research, learn, understand, question and grow.

Continue my doula studies.

Make plans for our 3rd birth.

This year was a powerful year of knowing and growth. I felt like I really became a woman. A strong powerful woman.

Had my first Blessingway.

August 2008

Almost 42 Weeks pregnant. 4 days later I would give birth.

Experienced real birth. Had the most amazing baby emerge from my vagina.

Became a mother to a daughter on October 2nd at 4:05am. She shares this day with her great grandmother.

Experience a catastrophic uterine rupture.

Have emergency hysterectomy, very nearly die and discover we wont ever be bringing our daughter home with us.

Journey through and treasure the days we have with our daughter.

Make the decision to let nature take over.

Watch as my daughter takes her last breath.

11 days old and gone.

Survive. Love.

Be away from my family and children for a whole month while I recovered in Hospital.

Be judged. Learn how the world really works.

Face the prospect of criminal charges for choosing to provide a safe, calm and natural birth for my daughter.

Have my world fall to pieces around me.

Pick them up again. Slowly.

My Grandmother died on November 2nd.

The last time I saw my grandmother.

Pull together a memorial service in honour of Yuna Jane. I still don't know how I did it but I did.

December 6th 2008

Got my 2nd Tattoo

2009

Stumble through life grieving, living, loving and learning.

I don't really have much to say about 2009.

It just was.

We survived it.

Went to Canberra to support home birth.

Coming to terms with my womb-less reality.

Went to a counsellor.

Completed my doula certification and Childbirth Education Diploma

Supported births, slowly got my mojo back.

2010

Back on my feet a little more.

Learning to breathe again.

Enjoying the sunshine.

Enjoying my sons.

Continued to immerse myself in all things birth. Took on a paying client and supported a birth.

Made the leap and returned to nursing.

Decided to move back to Victoria.

Presented Yuna's birth story on behalf of the Maternity Coalition at the ACM conference on the Gold Coast. This was amazing and felt so good to share. A major highlight.

Decided I definitely want to continue study and do my Midwifery Degree in the next few years.

A pretty massive decade. Many laughs and many more tears. Much learning and loving.

When your baby dies...

2010-11-19T21:16:00.003+10:00

I spent an hour or so just sorting through paperwork from the bookshelf tonight.

Bank statements

Phone bills

Tax reports

Receipts

Coroner's Reports

When your baby dies booklets...

This is it. My life.

When your baby dies.

I feel a sense of impending urgency sneaking up on me.

We've still got quite a while before we actually move anywhere but I have a sense that something big is going to surface or perhaps shift when we do.

Not a leaving her behind kind of feeling but a moving on feeling.

I know somewhere in me I'm going to feel emotional or sad that we are leaving her place.

I'm nervous about the emotions it will bring. I'm anxious about feeling lost again.

I've sensed her lately

Her love is breathtaking

Her soul is Earthy and pure Goddess

Bigger than I could ever imagine

The tears flow not out of sadness but out of aching love

She is mine

I am hers

Working through it...

2010-11-11T15:39:00.007+10:00

In some ways you can rationalise death. You can process it, understand it and perhaps even be grateful for it. We're all different when it comes to these processes too. It could take years to get there. Sometimes we don't. We stay stuck in one place for a long long time. I feel like that right now. I think it has a lot to do with the stagnant emotional state of those around me. There's a lot of tip toeing and not talking or expressing of emotion. There's also a massive lack of understanding. I worry about me and me only. I have to. I learnt that the hard way.

I'm really struggling not so much to understand but to process? No that's not right either. Maybe I mean to say "find peace" or the like with the reality that I had a hysterectomy and it wasn't something I chose. It was done.

I'm really struggling to grasp that.
I can say it."I've had a hysterectomy." but it really doesn't go deep.
I don't let it.
I feel the knot in my stomach, the ill feeling that washes over me.
The tight chest.
The sting of tears brimming to the surface.
Then I just switch it off.
Change the subject, even in my own mind chatter.

I've read the medical notes, I heard the surgeons explanation but it isn't enough. There seems to be no closure to this. It's not something you just move through. Or is it?

I didn't feel like I was dying. That's trauma. It's sneaky.

Maybe it was his opinion
his attitude
his disgust with me as a mother
as a woman
my choices
Maybe that has made this harder to accept.

Oh his face right there behind my eyelids.
Always.
Maybe he made the best decision.
Maybe he didn't.
Maybe he was angry and in a stressful situation.
Maybe he acted too quickly.
Maybe he did the best for me.
He'll never tell me
I'll never know

I am hurt that it was taken from me and disposed of.
It was mine and it should have been given back to me.

I try to seek support but it's always the same.
Oh you're so lucky! No more menstruation.
No! I'm not lucky.
I honoured my bleed. I miss that.
I want to feel that again.
I want my womb to ache.
I feel nothing but aching scars.
A constant reminder of my failures.
My disgusting body.
My hatred for myself.

I don't want it to be this way. I want to create beauty out of my pain. I wish I knew how. I can't paint or draw it. It never comes.

I was thinking about asking friends for a bead to represent how they feel about their precious wombs and then I'll connect them all and make a necklace to hold me together. To share with them what it means for me. I don't know. I'm feeling a wee bit insane, even as I type this.

The womb-less woman.

2010-11-04T21:12:00.003+10:00

I am the loving nurturing goddess mother

Inside I am the angry womb-less woman

I am warm and passionate

Inside I am dead, black, empty

Inside I am broken

I am tied in knots

I am womb-less woman

Bitter and Broken

Angry and Confused

She waits for weakness

She captures me

She lives in the darkness

The depths of my despair

I am the angry womb-less woman

Etched forever into my skin

Scar after scar

Disgust after disgust

Pain after pain

I don't know what this is. I need to create with this theme. I need to get it out...

Fell off the wagon

2010-10-28T15:58:00.003+10:00

Totally.

A combination of
life
parenting
work
lack of sleep
and life

all threw me off the wagon. I'm a blogger failure. Oh well.

I'm sure you really didn't miss anything amazing or wonderful or would have really learnt anything new.

Every time I sat down to blog, a million emails needed replying to, bills to be paid, houses to be looked at, removal quotes to be filled out and future schools to be looked at. Occupied much.

Every time I sat at the desk to blog all I wanted to say was how empty my arms feel.
How hollow my body feels without my womb.
How dead my baby is.
How I stretch the memories so far and wonder what she'd look like now that it hurts my head.

I've discovered how tired it makes you to change masks all day long.

Work cheery nurse mask
Mother mask
Partner/Lover mask
Dead baby mask
Healthy eating/ exercise mask
Fat Ugly want to eat chocolate all day mask
Keeping it together/I'm totally fine mask
Total mess mask
It was meant to be mask
Why me? mask
Accepting of my womb less-ness mask
Painful desire to hold another baby of my own mask

I can't keep up.
I can't talk about it.
I can't bring myself to say the words.
Help me. I'm drowning.
I can't just be.
Am I fighting too hard?
Am I not fighting at all?

Day 14 and 15

2010-10-15T16:56:00.002+10:00

Day 14
More books...

A non fictional book that is meaningful to me. Hmm I think one that comes to mind that I've really used almost everyday is my Australian Bush Flower Essence books and cards by Ian White. I love the history, the stories and the knowledge that comes from the Earth. Flowers are no exception. Bush flowers have really saved me. They've pulled me through some of the darkest of days and supported my in processing of life in general really.

Today's flowers for me were Boronia and Sturt Desert Pea.

Day 15

Something about my house? Well I'm kind of in transition at the moment.
Home to me isn't here. My heart is elsewhere. I think it's what you create that makes home, not the actual home itself? Gosh how do you answer this question? I'd like to say I love the fact that my daughter was born here at home but I'm not really sure I do feel that way at the moment.
I have so many future hopes and dreams for our family home and right now we're not there yet. So perhaps I'll leave it at that.

Day 12 and 13

2010-10-13T17:57:00.003+10:00

Day 12
Something you are OCD about.

I just want to say that the term doesn't sit right with me. I'm sure those suffering with this condition wouldn't feel comfortable with the representation of their condition as something to make fun of. It's like the improper use of PTSD and post natal depression or homo or gay or lady. I could write a whole blog post about the use of certain words and how they bug me. In no way is this post meant to be derogatory of those suffering OCD.

On that note...

I'm a pretty serious organiser. List keeper. Date keeper. Time keeper. I stress when things aren't done. It may have something to do with being a Virgo too.
I always have been like this.
If my very dear friend is reading this, she'll understand. In fact I'm pretty sure she'll be LOL'ing at this when she reads it.

It was greatly intensified after the birth of my second son. Trauma does that to you, did you know that? I learnt this at a Midwifery conference. It was one of those "OMG that explains everything, that's why I do that!" moments.

I clean. I put things in order. I have to make the beds every morning or I cannot function. I have to have a clean bench. I have to brush my teeth in the shower or I've not really had a shower...

I clean when I'm stressed. It's more of an angry whirlwind kind of cleaning. Or I get really uptight and irritated when the things around me aren't tidy.
It's about control of the environment around you because really I'm pretty lazy and like to keep stuff.

That being said my experience of losing Yuna made me a lot less uptight about the small things. Worrying about being on time or the mess made by the kids at dinner time seemed so unimportant now. Life is way more important than being consumed by that sort of worrying.

I think I do tend to internalise a lot of my "issues". Who doesn't? It's pretty safe to say anyone that's experienced the death of a child worries about their living children in a kind of morbid (to those who don't understand) way. Like not seeing them again or them not having any photos of their mother or what they'll remember of their sad grieving mother in years to come. I do that a lot. Thankfully I have very similar friends and a very dark sense of humour to get me through the tough days.

I still have my little tendencies about other things that I'll keep to myself or I'll come across even stranger than I already do.

Day 13
A fictional book that is meaningful now

Gosh I read such crap. Really I do. Well it's not crap as such because I love the writers. Their stories and books take up a good part of my life. There's nothing better than putting the kids to bed, making a cup of tea, lighting the candles and getting into my own bed with a good book.

I don't read heavy thinking material. If I did well, it would be birth related and that just spirals out of control into a hole I don't want to force myself into any more.
I read to escape. I read to relax, to imagine, to hope and to dream.
My favourites that I've read recently are The Mortal Instruments books.

So nothing really deep and meaningful or grief related. Perhaps you can recommend some reading material?

Bellycast

2010-10-12T11:35:00.004+10:00

Today I was going to come home and take a nap. But the sun is shining and it's hot.

The past week or so I have been working on strengthening and painting my belly cast from my Blessingway when I was pregnant with Yuna. Yes that was a loooong time ago.

But today as I went to hang some washing out I just stopped, grabbed the oil pastels and started scribbling. Here's the finished product.

A sad yet peaceful day

2010-10-12T07:57:00.002+10:00

I replay this day over and over in my mind.

It still seems
cloudy
fuzzy
not real
but so so very sunny and bright.

Yet here I am two years later on another beautiful bright sunny day and you're still not here.
I certainly didn't dream you.

I'm not sure whether it was shock or a million and one medications or just a general knowing and acceptance right from the start that this day would be coming.
Creeping ever so slowly yet so fast it hits you like a tonne of bricks when it does.

11 days old, so perfect and whole yet so empty

The day we relieved you of the medical machine
The day we got to hold you until our arms ached
The day I used every last bit of strength to be there for you.

9 more hours to see you
to remember you
to touch you
to bathe you
to dress you
9 more hours to fuss
to cry
to worry about your cold feet
to make sure you were always held
For 9 hours you were never alone
9 hours until you slowly faded

I'm alone today
My mind is replaying the last day I spent with you
What do I do today, now that I am alone?
Or are you here, somewhere?
I'm not sure that's ever comforted me

I think you are in the ocean
Swimming
Maybe I'll see you there?
Maybe I'll send you flowers into the waves
Maybe I'll go to sleep and dream of you
Maybe I'll just be alone today and remember you

Maybe...

Day 10 and Day 11 Photos of me

2010-10-11T19:00:00.006+10:00

So I discovered the printer is only a printer and copier, not a scanner too.

Alas thank you Miss Mac I photo boothed my reallllllly old photos. Ta da!

I was hard pressed to even have any photos from 10 years ago. Like I said I was sixteen. The year I started seeing B. The year before we decided to start our family.

So here we are...

The year 2000 and 2001 because I couldn't find anything else.

I have no idea how they make me feel about myself now. I don't feel like I've changed all that much, you be the judge? Maybe my skin was better then...

I've taken one side by side and I'm in my after shower glamour pyjamas, have VERY unwaxed eyebrows, a pimple from eating chocolate on the weekend and I'm exhausted after pre-school swimming lessons and a generally long day of feeling like shit.

This photo was taken the night of a friends debutante ball, the night I kissed B for the first time. Naaaaaw. I think the only night I've ever stayed up all night.

Day 11

A recent photo of myself...

Changed much? I'm not sure. I asked B and he said "you were more carefree back then". I'll ponder that one for a while I think.

As I said in another post I think I look sad now. I don't want to appear that way to the world. I want to smile and feel joy and be carefree again. Although I think when you're left picking up the pieces of your life after your baby dies it's hard to go back.

Day 9 and Pending Day 10

2010-10-10T20:26:00.006+10:00

Day 9

A photo taken since my loss...

Photography has always been a big hobby of mine, even when I was a little kid. So after Yuna died I seemed to take a lot more photos. Of every little thing. Perhaps not wanting to miss another minute of this life. I'm not sure. Despite my loss I think it made me see so much more beauty in the world.

Day 10

A photo taken 10 years ago.

This one requires me to get down an old suitcase full of photos and look for a picture taken that long ago. Gosh I was 16. So so so long ago.

I am determined to do it though because 1. I'm super curious to see how much older I look and feel now and 2. I'm not sure there are actually any photos of myself. I'm always the one behind the camera.

So this one I will come back to. Hopefully tomorrow after mothering, swimming lessons and all the random daily goings on of life I'll have some quiet time to sift through the photos.

Watch this space...

Day 7 and 8 Photos that make you

2010-10-08T16:12:00.010+10:00

I have blisters all over my feet. They hurt. My legs ache.

Working to look after other people all day takes it out of you.

Hence the reason I haven't blogged my day 7 on the right day.

I crashed into bed so early last night, only to be up at 5 to do it all again today.

Home now, enjoying a coffee.

So where were we? Day 7, Share a photo that makes you smile...

Charlie reminds me of Thing 1 and 2 from Dr Seuss. He's always doing something to make me laugh and smile.

This one makes me smile because despite all the mountains and black holes, we're connected. We're together in this and we can rely on each other. Awww super mush hey?

Day 8, a photo that makes you sad...

This one always breaks me. I know how hard it was for B to leave her to see me. He wanted to be with us both every minute of every day. He wanted to do everything he possibly could for her and for me but there was only one of him.

Everyday there is a constant reminder that there is a person missing from our family. That I indeed once upon a time had three children. It doesn't appear that way from the outside but inside it's always there, like a little grey cloud waiting to rain down on me. I needed to in some way put the three of them side by side and together. I was amazed at how much they all look alike.

This photo was a complete accident but still when I saw it I was shocked at how sad I look. Do I look like this to the world all the time?

Day 6 Calming

2010-10-06T11:34:00.002+10:00

Day 6- 20 Things that calm you.

The sunshine
The ocean
Being in the garden
Sleep
Reading a book
Bush Flower Essences
Quiet
Music
Writing
Creating
Space
Long hot showers alone
Swimming
Lighting candles
Yoga
Walking
Cups of herbal tea
The night sky and the moon
Lavender
Massages

Pretty simple things. Now the challenge to include at least one thing from the list each day.

Day 5 Quotes

2010-10-06T11:19:00.002+10:00

Day 5 -A favourite quote.

When I was in hospital for 4 weeks after Yuna's birth and death a nurse came in one day and offered to give me a massage for the hospital beds aren't the comfiest, especially after weeks in one.

During that time she shared with me her experience of loss. A loss in a time where babies who died we just forgotten. No death certificate, no funeral, no ashes to keep in a little box. It just never happened. You were expected to move along.

As she spoke she quoted Kahlil Gibran and told me to find his books.

She was a beautiful, kind and caring woman who tried her very best to nurture me in a shitty place.

So my dad went to the library and returned with 'The Prophet" for me to read.

I loved the way the words made me feel. The emotion, the power, the understanding.

So some of my favourite Gibran quotes...

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of to-morrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Days 1-4

2010-10-04T20:40:00.003+10:00

Day 1 - a song that reminds you of your child, or one that you can't listen to anymore and why.

After Yuna died I went through so many different phases. I hated all the music I used to love. My music tastes change depending on my mood. I've found music my saviour. It soothes me, it heals me. I just drown out the world with music. There are so many different songs that remind me of Yuna. Here's a few from the playlist of Grief.

Warm Whispers-Missy Higgins

Peaches and Cream- John Butler Trio (we played this at her memorial day for B) we recently heard this played live and there we were in a crowd of happy dancing concert goers just overflowing with tears!

Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness- Smashing Pumpkins (The pumpkins get me out of the blackness)

All for Believing-Missy Higgins

Beautiful- Lifehouse

Your Angel- Ophelia of the Spirits

Now Comest The Night- Rob Thomas

Into my Arms- Nick Cave

The Scientist- Cold Play

Like Rain- Ophelia of the Spirits

Day 2 - a movie that helped you get through the hard times, or one that jumps out at you after your loss.

Before Yuna I wasn't really a big movie watcher. I used to fall asleep before the end of most movies and we rarely went to the movies. I did have a big passion for really lame horror movies. I can't watch horror movies now. I've seen enough horror in my own life.

Now however I have spent many a night up late watching absolute garbage movies. Ridiculously NOT funny movies that make you laugh anyway. They're so bad I can't remember any of their names!

I guess laughing at silly movies got us through the tough times. Anything that wouldn't have the potential to make me cry out of sadness. Lots of Seth Rogen, and sbs late night movies.

Day 3 - a television program that helped you either get through hard times or that moves you.

I really got into TV watching after Yuna died. What else was there to do when you were too sick to leave a hospital bed, too tired to get dressed or too awake to sleep? Most of these answers I'm realising are the ways I managed to just tune out the reality of my life for a little while. It's a survival mechanism.

Nothing that really moved me or profound in my journey through loss. Just a non-reality.

Dexter

Sons of Anarchy

Big Love

True Blood

Day 4 - your favorite book. has it changed since your loss?

I don't think I've ever had a "favourite" book as such. There are too many. I read a lot. I read all kinds of books. After my loss I read the Twilight books over and over again. I still don't know why I liked them. Perhaps again escape from my own reality into a world of fantasy. They really are terrible books and I am embarrassed to even admit I've read them. Over and over again. ;)

One book that still sticks with me though about loss was "The Alchemy of Loss" I love this book. I relate to it in such a strange complicated way that makes me realise how far wide the web of grief and loss can stretch and connect people.

Layla's Story was another book I read over and over again. Loss related also.

Lots of Spirituality books too.

Buddhism for Mothers.

I also loved reading the Melissa Marr series and the Cassandra Clare series. When I need a break from said reality I read these books. Nothing heavy, just a world of fantasy.

30 days through the grief looking glass

2010-10-04T20:33:00.002+10:00

As inspired by Still Life With Circles blog post about 30 posts in 30 days. I'm jumping on the band wagon. Who says that anymore? Well I just did. This list is her adapted grief version. After all I'm a dead baby mother too. Sometimes that lens is hard to clear. Chances are majority of these 30 days will be riddled with the dead baby blues.

I'll do a multiple post to include the days I've missed and no that's not cheating. I just like to be up to date. I never handed my assignments in late. OCD started at a young age, okay?

Day 1 - a song that reminds you of your child, or one that you can't listen to anymore and why.
Day 2 - a movie that helped you get through the hard times, or one that jumps out at you after your loss.
Day 3 - a television program that helped you either get through hard times or that moves you.
Day 4 - your favorite book. has it changed since your loss?
Day 5 - your favorite quote.
Day 6 - twenty things that calm you.
Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy.
Day 8 - a photo that makes you angry/sad.
Day 9 - a photo you took since your loss.
Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago of you and how it makes you feel seeing it now.
Day 11 - a photo of you recently and how it makes you feel seeing it now.
Day 12 - something you are OCD about.
Day 13 - a fictional book that is meaningful to you since your loss.
Day 14 - a non-fictional book that is meaningful to you since your loss.
Day 15 - what you like about your house.
Day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly).
Day 17 - an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc) that moves you.
Day 18 - my wedding/future wedding/past wedding.
Day 19 - a talent of yours.
Day 20 - a hobby of yours and how it changed since your loss.
Day 21 - a recipe.
Day 22 - a website that has been meaningful since your loss.
Day 23 - a youtube video that makes you laugh.
Day 24 - where you live
Day 25 - your day, in great detail
Day 26 - your week, in great detail
Day 27 - your worst habit since your child's death.
Day 28 - what's in your handbag/purse
Day 29 - hopes, dreams, and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 - a dream for the future

One woman One baby One Birthday

2010-10-03T19:52:00.009+10:00

Yesterday wasn't only Yuna Jane's birthday it was also my grandmother Jane's too.

It's nothing but eerily amazing they share a birthday. She was so thrilled that we'd had a daughter. She used to joke with me and tell me I had to "get rid of B if we had another boy. It's always the mans fault!"

This coming from a woman who'd birthed 6 daughters herself. She also said many a time "love goes out the window when you get married." She was a strong, kind and warm woman.

I made a birthday card for my grandmother a few days before I went into labour. That card I never managed to send. I was busy giving birth to her great granddaughter. I knew she was with me that day though. I knew she knew.

On November 2nd 2008 my grandmother died. Four weeks after Yuna was born.

Again something that makes me wonder about spirituality and souls and life and loss.

We were extremely close when I was growing up. Although she never got to meet Yuna I'm positive they are together somewhere now.

Yuna, a little girl that would look just like me. Dark curly hair and beautiful deep soulful eyes.

Yuna the rain goddess has blessed us with an awful lot of rain. It's been absolutely pouring with rain the last week or so. I mean LOTS of rain. It could also be the fact that we live in the tropics...

So for her birthday this year we didn't plan any outdoor activities. It suited me in fact because really I wasn't sure I wanted to do anything at all. I just rely on the flow of the day itself and hope it all turns out as it should. No planning means no stress.

We went to the markets after breakfast to buy both Yuna and Nan some flowers.

The boys chose the most magnificent violet and blue orchids.

This year we really didn't want to do a birthday cake. It just didn't fit with our family.

So in honour of Nan's favourite chocolates B and I made cherry surprises aka Cherry Ripe.

Chocolate is good for the soul, right?

I painted this star with Alexander to put under her tree. So far it's survived the rain and the cherry flowers are blooming. I managed to get out and take these photos while there was a five minute break in the rain.

So another year has passed and I'm missing my daughter like it's only been a day.

This poem from the Still Life 365 Community is beautiful and seemed so fitting for my post tonight.

In your Memory
by the Community

In your memory, the day after you were born,
We came home and chose music for your funeral.

At 3:33, I close my eyes, commune with you, see your face, touch your cheek,
in a space that's not a space and a time that's not a time. I open my eyes--3:35.

I make embroidery a meditation.
Each cross, a kiss.

Each day, I recall that snap shot image of you I etched into my heart & mind the day you were born. I’ve planted a spring garden for you and talk to you through my thoughts every day.

I make an altar and kneel.
Say a prayer to the Saint of Heartbreak.

I seek out the patterns of the stars;
Your pattern never lost from my heart or the twinkling heavens.

I wake to the early morning light, look through the window to gaze at your garden and think, "Good morning.... I love you".
Then I stroll through the fading evening light to stand at your garden and whisper, "I love you... goodnight".

We plant roses and light candles,
and hold you in our hearts when we'd rather hold you in our arms.

In your memory, today I will reach out and embrace friendship.

Time flies when you're a zombie

2010-09-30T09:30:00.004+10:00

This time two years ago I'd given up all possibilities of ever having a baby.

I was going to be eternally pregnant.

I've just spent a while reading over my pregnancy blog, Journey to a Birth.

Wow what a lifetime ago. What a different place. What happened to all that time?

Grief happened I guess. Life happened too.

Life continues with just a cloud of grief washing over you every now and then.

This Saturday, the 2nd of October was the day Yuna was born. Two whole years ago.

Although the 1st holds more significance for me. The day I laboured. That day I remember so clearly. I have mixed feelings about it. Sometimes it's a wonderful peaceful memory and other times it's a bitter memory of her dying inside me. Not sure what to make of that, so I just let it be.

I wish I had friends here to spend the day with.

I haven't planned anything.

A few people have asked what I'm doing for the day.

Nothing.

I've got a new candle to burn and I had a fleeting intention of painting my belly cast but I doubt it will eventuate.

I am supposed to be attending a birth workers meet tomorrow but I'm not sure I'm up for it.

I just want to sit and stare at a wall.

No what I really want is to go home. To the beach. To sit and stare at the waves all day.

I miss home. I used to spend so much time here. Looking out into forever.

13th Beach, Victoria

Every day forever

2010-09-24T09:15:00.002+10:00

As it's gets closer to her birthday I wonder what that's supposed to mean for me.
Celebrating a birthday that ultimately wasn't a celebration at all.
Birthday wishes for a person who's not here.
Birthday wishes for a person you didn't really know at all?

As our second year without her rushes upon us I wonder what I can do to honour it.
Nothing feels right.
Nothing feels appropriate.
I don't want balloons.
I don't want cake.

For me, right now it feels like it's just another year that she's fading into oblivion.
Like you're fighting against the storm just to keep her near you.
She's dead.
The more years that pass the less people know about her, remember her.

A "birthday" just doesn't cut it when you baby is dead.

Like a smack in the face I realised I'll be at this point at the same time every year for the rest of my life.
What does one do with that shitty realisation?

Sketchbook: The beginning

2010-09-12T19:43:00.005+10:00

So I finally felt like my ideas for the Sketchbook Project fell into place. No longer were they a mess of tangled ideas with a million directions in my little head. Brilliant.

Now where to start. It's always intimidating when you get a new sketchbook. You never ever want to mess up the first page!

I first had to rebind it because the paper was too thin for my liking. I'm lazy. So I sewed the new paper in with my sewing machine! It worked surprisingly well. Impressed easily, I know.

Then I did the cover. Simple but I like it.

My major theme "Great Hopes and Massive Failures"

Minor themes I'm playing with are:

Grief and Loss (surprising eh?)

Music Saved My Life

Lyrics and Poetry

The theme will make more sense and tie together as you see the pages emerge here on the blog.

Checking in

2010-09-09T18:47:00.003+10:00

Just a boring update.

My sketchbook arrived. It's still blank. I need to rebind it and get to work. I've got some interesting ideas running through my head. I just need the time to create now. Woe is me!

Work has been busy. Interesting and great to get my confidence back.

I'm ready to write some letters to people. There's a lot of resentment and anger that I'm holding on to. It no longer serves me. I don't think I'll ever send them but maybe just the act of writing it down and getting it out of my mind will let me sleep.

September here is supposed to be beautiful. Last year it made me bittersweet sad. I remembered the joy of being blissfully pregnant with Yuna. I remembered everything. The smells, the flowers, the sun, the wind. This year I'm just cranky at the humidity and the damn rain. Nothing seems beautiful this Spring. Perhaps it's fading. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

It's my Birthday next week. B and I are going away for the weekend. ALONE! Oh my!
We're going to a music festival. He gets to hear great music and I get the bonus of admiring John Butler.

I've been dreaming about Yuna. Lots. I don't know what that means. It's her birthday so soon. I can't believe it. That in itself deserves an entire blog post. I'll get to that.

Ribbons

2010-08-26T08:46:00.003+10:00

When does this story end?

Maybe it never ends

It will always be layered underneath all my future stories

She is my story

I am her story

Like a ribbon

Gently but tightly weaved all throughout my life

Entwined within my very soul

She holds me together

She tears me apart at the very seams

Pulling me in every direction

Emotional turmoil

Our story strung together with ribbons of

Joy

Pain

Love

Loss

Hope

Health Goals Part 2

2010-08-19T16:20:00.002+10:00

Errr well I've been a bit slack on the health goals posting. No one really noticed though, did you?

Today I had a very intense, no nonsense, let's get to the point and past this garbage therapy session today.

I despise that word. Therapy. It's not therapy. She's not even a psych. She's a VERY alternative social worker. Anyway...

I've been participating in a women's group for the past 6 weeks. This week was our last group. So today was our first session together for many months. I've been plodding along nicely and haven't felt the need to really book in and see her. When the group finished though I decided I'd like to really do some more work with her. There's been something massive I've been avoiding. She knew that, I knew that.

So today it began.

This isn't baby loss related. This is another form of trauma that I've been hanging on to for a good 10 years. Never taken out of the box. Just left lying dormant for one day when I was strong enough to grab it head on and remove it completely from my life. It took losing a whole lot more for me to be able to do this. Funny how grief and loss puts these things into perspective.

Despite being absolutely exhausted I feel lighter. I feel like this is going to be good. Painful and intense and raw but so good.

Uhh so back to the health goals...

I'm mentally processing the garbage
I'm seeing my GP next week with the support of my Social Worker to make a plan of action
I'm drinking plenty of water
I'm eating a little better but still could do with some improvement
I rang the Kickboxing trainer and I'm doing my first class on Saturday morning
I'm taking Billy Goat Plum Essence for my self image issues

How's your week going?

The Sketchbook Project

2010-08-14T10:25:00.002+10:00

This year I'm trying to express more in a creative way.
I love art. I love to create.
I'm also trying to let go of the "I can't do that and it looks crap" voice.

I was so excited to have been reading Curls O Fred's blog and found this project.

I'm terrified and inspired by all the beautiful talented artists but I'm going to jump right in and give it a go. If anything it's not about their art and how silly mine might look amongst theirs.
It's about my process. My journey. My sketchbook.

Finding my way. My style.

So yeah I'm a sucker for a big project. Just the word "project" makes me want to be involved. It's also a really good excuse to buy some new pens and paper. Art supplies make me happy.

I love watercolour but I'm not entirely sure how to achieve greatness. I also recently discovered a love of fine liner pens. I've got lots of experimenting to do.

My sketchbook, I'm thinking will be a combination of drawing, watercolour, collage and written word. I'll post about the theme when my book arrives.

In the meantime check out The Sketchbook Project and get yourself involved.

You died today

2010-08-13T14:47:00.003+10:00

You died today

Not now but a while ago

You let go but it seems I did not

Your eyes closed

Your cheeks grew cold and you just stopped

In the dead of the night

How appropriate it is

I knew it was coming, yet that feeling

The spinning out of control feeling that washes over you

The fog

The heaviness that holds you, yet your feet do not seem to touch the ground

The numbness

The process

The tick- tock

I fussed

I tried not to cry all over you

Too aware everyone was watching me

I fixed your clothes and wrapped you tightly knowing that you wouldn't get out anyway

I kissed your hair

I touched your skin

I looked at you closely

Hoping I'd remember you

I held you for a while but returned you to a foreign place

The smells

The sounds

The lights

It wasn't peaceful anymore

Maybe it was for you

For me it was calm with you in my arms even if you were cold

You died today

and I am still sitting here

trying to remember you

Let me be

2010-08-03T11:51:00.002+10:00

You seem so far away

Time and space do not exist anymore

I cannot reach you

I cannot hear you

I cannot touch you

I cannot feel you

You seem so far away

I am so far away from you

So lost

If I cannot touch you, I do not want to be touched

If I cannot reach you, I do not want to be reached

If I cannot hear you, I do not want to be heard

Let my tears be silent

Let my heart be locked

Let me be with you for I am nothing without you

A head full of garbage

2010-08-01T21:24:00.002+10:00

I'm so awesome at keeping my shit in order.

You know the mental shit we continue to store in our never ending head space?

This week it's a garbled mess of short fuses and broken connections.

I'm not sure why.

It's irritating.

I irritate myself.

Everyone around me is irritating.

The word irritate is irritating.

Get the picture?

There's definitely something lurking there.

Either I'm subconsciously ignoring it and choosing to be cranky at the world instead or I'm going insane.

I guess I already knew both of those options were likely.

I think it may have something to do with going back to paid work for the first time since I was pregnant with Yuna.

I'm a nurse. I work in a hospital.

Not my most favourite place in the world. Lots of history. Lots of memories surface for me.

I coped. Well that's the key isn't it. Coping?

I think though it may have been more of a "put yourself on autopilot, do the job and not think about anything too emotional or you might lose it" mode.

Which in turn has left me feeling like I don't know how I'm feeling at all.

In two months it will be two years since Yuna was born. Saying that and acknowledging that fact seems to create that deep empty black vortex in my chest. The one I've managed to patch closed without too much spilling out.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with this information either.

It would have been her birthday.

It will be her birthday?

I don't know how to approach that this year.

Last year, the first year was a blur. We did things for her but it wasn't felt.

We just did what we thought we should have done.

Like robots.

This year it's all just a big ???? for me.

Health Goals

2010-07-27T22:40:00.004+10:00

As inspired by A Garden For Butterflies blog post.

I'm going to hold myself accountable by writing my health goals here.

I'm not just talking eat less shit and work out more.

I'm talking holistic Mind Body Spirit health goals.

I need to. We all do.

I've been going to a weekly women's group. I hate it but would feel bad if I didn't show up. So I endure it. It's about self care and what we do to nurture ourselves.

I spend a lot of time on my own during the day when the kids are at school and pre school so I guess I feel like that is my self care time. I think though having time away from the kids to hang washing and go to the post office aren't really self caring activities, unless of course you really enjoy those things...

So a health goal that was reignited last week was my decision to brave the gym again. My membership was still current, I just lost interest. It's easy to forget how good it makes you feel to sweat it out on a treadmill. Really easy. Hence my 5 month absence from it.

Goal #1 Try to go to the gym a couple of times a week

Goal #2 Think about the food I'm eating and the possible emotions behind them

Goal #3 Find a kickboxing class and release some of that tension

Goal #4 This one has been really jumping out at me. Create more. Paint, draw, cut and paste. Whatever just create more. It's in me just waiting for an outlet.

That's a good starting point, don't you think?

Jeans

2010-07-27T21:35:00.002+10:00

I am here.

That's about it for me.

I traded my maternity jeans for a pair with an actual name. "THE BUTTLIFTER" and they cost a fortune but they do as the name would claim they do.

I can't commit to anything more than sharing my new jeans with you.

It might get messy.

Mirrors and wisdom

2010-07-17T21:24:00.003+10:00

It's that time again.
The time when my emotions begin to unravel.
The tightly bound ribbon holding it together begins to fray.
The cycle begins.
I get lost in my mind.
It dawns on me, that in fact I'm not great or okay or even as wonderful as I thought I was.
I lied to myself. Or I tricked myself into thinking I really was moving in the right direction.
Or I am okay and just having a "moment".
How many of those are you allowed in a lifetime?

I've been asked on a number of occasions if I've I felt like I've really grieved.
Or if I'm really ready to let her go.

How do you know?
How do you honestly know that you've grieved enough? How do you know it's safe?
How do you let go? Let go of what exactly?

I've spent days pondering this. I say, even out loud I'm ready to let her go.
But what does that mean? What does that involve?

I do realise I'm in a different place in my heart and my head. I'm adjusting to life again but it's rough. I'm different. I'm new. I'm learning about me. It sounds so cliche! The new me. It's ridiculous but on a more serious note, I'll explain.

I spent a weekend away at a training retreat. It was amazing. I went to study and get my practitioner certificate for bush flower essences.
Anyway I shared a cabin with a complete stranger. Intense for me, the loner. We discussed many things over that weekend and I learnt so much about life after trauma. I'm not just talking about grief and loss. I'm talking about any kind of trauma to a person. How it really changes you. Our experiences were so completely different yet so very similar in the aftermath. At one point we both began with the same sentence. "I just woke up one day and looked in the mirror and didn't recognise the person staring back at me."

Only someone that's lived it knows what that really means. So many people tell me I'm still the same person and it will heal over time. Yeah yeah time does heal. You don't have to be stuck in the dark forever. I'm working on that bit.
Slowly.

But when you look in the mirror and you really have to wonder who you are, what you want, need and love and what happened to you. That's not something you just walk through easily. That's not something that will put itself back together. That takes work. Really hard work.

This same stranger shared stories of love and trauma and of loss. She'd been there and had just barely walked out the other side. Yet here she was 6 years later crying the same tears but without the crippling hold. Without the guilt. She worked hard and processed. She was free from that black hole.

Her words left a lasting imprint in my soul. Something I'd never ever thought of. I was so busy beating myself up with guilt and hurt and pain. I'd never looked at it any other way.

"Your daughter gave up her life for you. She gave up her life so you could walk from this and continue to live, to love and to learn. She gave you her life."

She did.

Stitches

2010-07-05T12:17:00.004+10:00

I keep dreaming about her.

She's alive and healthy and here.

Life is boringly normal. It's nothing exciting, just day to day life stuff but it's all foggy and unclear.

Then I wake up and I swear I've got an actual gaping hole in my chest.

It's tearing apart as I try to breathe.

My world comes crashing down around me as my eyes adjust to the daylight.

It's not supposed to be shocking now, yet it is. It's very real.

I flick on the computer it hums into life and up pops a picture of her feet.

Cute little pink feet bathed in sunlight on a fluffy pink sheepskin rug.

I remember when B took that photo. I was actually out of a hospital bed and in a chair.

I remember the sun out the window.

I remember being humored by the hideous yellow outfit she was wearing.

Then I remember that I once had a little baby girl. I did. I really did.

The hole inside my chest appears again just to let me know that it's real.

This pain is real.

She was real.

I stumble throughout the day trying to keep the hole closed enough for me to breathe.

2010-06-30T14:27:00.002+10:00

I had planned to come here and ramble incoherently about spirituality and astral planes and my deep profound understanding of my life without my daughter.

Instead I'd just like to complain. I'm sure that will be more interesting, wont it?

To say I'm tired and I'd really really appreciate it if i could get some decent sleep.

I'd like to say I don't like babies.

They are in my face today and I don't like it.

Makes it hard when you need to make post natal visits with mothers and their squishy screaming newborns. Even harder to listen intently as they cry and complain about not getting enough sleep and how sick of feeding they are. To be sympathetic to their worries and complaints.

Pregnancy and birth. I'm freakin' excellent at supporting. When it comes to the real live baby at the end, well I really suck. I really do. I just can't be around babies and this is a new feeling.

It makes me feel so uncomfortable and I'm not exactly sure what it is.

More to ponder and analyze. Brilliant. Just what my already over active brain needs.

Perhaps I should go and do some hard core boxing on the Wii. That should help. Or maybe chocolate cake?

Today

2010-06-24T09:45:00.002+10:00

Today.

Today I am happy.

I feel the light in my voice.

I'm enjoying my blueberry polenta breakfast.

It's got maple syrup in it. That would make anyone smile!

I'm enjoying a coffee while listening to Florence+The Machine.

It's cold and I have a headache but meh coffee shall be my cure today.

Today is just today and I am okay.

What is your day today?

Shifting

2010-06-13T21:11:00.002+10:00

I've really spent the last few weeks healing, listening and looking after myself. If I've learnt anything at all over the past two years it's to look after myself. To go within and to listen to the messages I'm receiving.

I really feel a shift of energy. It's quite difficult to put into words but I guess the mantra playing over in me is about letting go, moving forward and really gaining an understanding of what happened to me, my family and more importantly my daughter.

"To hold her forever in my heart, to have her with me and remember her out of love. Not out guilt, sadness or grief."

That sums it up really well. This came to me during a session of healing/ energy work. It seems so simple yet so profound in my ability to shift the stuck feeling. I really feel like I'm making progress.

I had a conversation with a very dear friend and we acknowledged that yes this will always be unfair and sometimes won't always make sense but it's what you do with it that really counts. You're entitled to those days when everything is black, when you really don't want to get out of bed and when you see a baby and your heart aches for what you lost. That's okay.

I am not defined by my grief. I am privileged enough to have had this experience and I've been taught some really valuable lessons about life, death and human emotion. Both positive and negative.

I am ready to process this. I am ready to listen. I am open to understanding.

Floating

2010-05-22T21:22:00.003+10:00

I am floating
without boundaries
making sense of it all
letting go
adjusting
figuring it out
wishing
hoping

I can't put my finger on what I'm feeling right now.
A little bit sad, a little bit lost and a little bit numb...

I do know I'm just floating through it. Letting whatever it is take it's course.
I wish I understood more or perhaps had more of a faith to place it on. To blame. To understand.
Thus the lack of boundaries with all of this.

If anything grief is about winging it. You just do it however it comes. I've never been to a support group, really haven't had intense therapy. I just process piece by piece. Maybe that's the problem?

I'm not angry so much. My daughter died. It's a fact. There's no point being angry at myself or anyone else. It just is. It hurts like hell but it's fact too.

A great portion of this journey has been me figuring out who I am. Wow that sounds so cliché! But truly. I am such a different person, well I WAS such a different person when I was pregnant and preparing for Yuna's birth. Or maybe it's all in my head and I still AM that person?

It really was transformation and now I'm not sure where or who I am. What that transformation was, if it's relevant to me now or what I've learnt from it.
Or more to the point what I want. What I need from all this.
I can't just keep being that woman who had a baby and that baby died. Now that said woman is, well she's just sad.

What do you want?

2010-05-18T21:18:00.002+10:00

I want to move far away

I want a fresh start

I want to pick up the pieces of my life

I want to remember

I want to forget

I want to love

I want to smile

I want to do something meaningful

I want to be loved

I want to be someone

I want passion

I want to focus

I want to run

I want to hide

I want to tell my story

I want no one to know me or my story

I don't want to hurt

I want to know who I am

I want to know why

Today I've had a shit day.

Today I feel like I'm lost.

Spiraling backward into the abyss that is grief.

The black hole of nothingness.

I just want to move on and pick up the pieces of my life.

To forget this sadness.

To just be me. I don't know who I am though. I feel like a miserable awful ugly person.

I just want to be happy and love life again.

Without you that is so very hard...

The Sound of White

2010-05-11T10:19:00.002+10:00

The words of this Missy Higgins song keep playing over and over in my head.

Like a freeze-dried rose, you will never be
What you were, what you were to me in memory
But if I listen to the dark
You'll embrace me like a star
Envelope me, envelope me...

If things get real for me down here,
Promise to take me to before you went away
If only for a day...

But if I never feel again, at least that nothingness
Will end the painful dream, of you and me...

I only seem to feel the deep urge to write here when I'm feeling raw, broken and full of emotion. I guess that's when I reach a point where I can't keep it inside anymore.

There's something about this place that keeps me hiding in the shadows of grief.

Keeps it lurking inside me.

I feel trapped by it.

I need a fresh start.

Fresh air.

I completely understand that to move past grief you must process it but being here I'm stifled. I'm just swimming in it over and over again. I'm not connected to this place. Yuna's not here. She's somewhere but not here. I will always have her, my love. This place isn't it.

You know it's the place that hurts you and causes you repeated pain when you want to vomit at the thought of the hospital.

When you can't go for a nice walk along the esplanade without feeling anxious because it's in your line of vision.

When you're at the local shopping centre and your partner grabs you and hugs you so tight in order to protect you from seeing the surgeon who had his hands inside you.

The person who stole so much of me.

Who broke me into pieces.

Who just so happened to be shopping too.

When you can't go back to work because everyone knows your story

When they don't trust you and don't want to involve themselves.

When you can't breathe.

When you can't start over or even go back to where you were.

Echoes

2010-05-01T20:38:00.004+10:00

I'm sure it's the presence of the moon that sucks me into this deep dark vortex. I just can't seem to cope with anything. Everything is hard, breathing is hard.

I miss you. I miss us.

Perhaps it's the energy it takes to support another woman to birth her baby. It takes me so far back. Back to when life was beautiful. Back to when you existed.

I love it but it's just so painful too. Yet the good seems to outweigh the bad so far. So I forge on. I love and support. I nurture and cherish all while wondering where it all went wrong.

Another woman will be giving birth in the same pool I did. It's so bittersweet.

That's not where I wanted to go with this post though...

Actually I've no idea what I needed to get out.

I'm confused about relationships, about friends or complete lack thereof. Confused about decisions, about choices. About me.

Lots of flashbacks, nightmares and dark moods the past few weeks. I'm struggling to keep afloat I think.

Feeling a lot of guilt but at the same time just wanting to move so far forward it's impossible.

Denial? I skipped that one. I want to just forget. That sounds so selfish.

Something crafty...

I painted a little case with a leather handle today to put Yuna's blanket and a few pieces of her clothes she wore in. I have them sitting in the cupboard in a plastic bag. It's knotted so tightly closed just in case the smell disappears.

My head screams every time I see them. It seems wrong to just have them shoved in the cupboard. They need a place too. It's all I have left of hers that needs to be put somewhere.

After that there's nothing.

That last sentence echoes in my head all night.

Whirlpools of funk

2010-04-15T22:17:00.004+10:00

Absolutely nothing wise, wonderful, beautiful or profound to say.
I'm stuck in a rut. A funk. A mess. A whirlpool.

My eyes are going to fall out of my head it seems. I'm tired. Oh so tired.
Tired enough to burst into tears at the doctors over a simple piece of paper.

I sleep, I can't sleep. Am I sleeping? It's filled with dreams and nightmares and terror.
It sucks and I hate to be like this. I don't want to be this grouchy person ALL of the time.

I just feel like I can't catch my breath. I'm running myself into the ground and it's all coming from my head. Manifesting into other things. I don't know how much longer before I'm buried under it all and I crash.

I'm irritated and angry but I'm working on that, well actually I'm more breathing it out and ignoring the reasons for it. I can't deal with that right now. Another time. Another life. Oh what? We only get one?

Blergh. Totally sums it up without using profanities.

*Random thought #1- All of your pictures look different to me now. You don't look beautiful anymore. You look sad and tired. Pained. That crushes me. Were you feeling that way? The photos of me, you, all of them look different. Wrong somehow. The beauty seems lost. I can't look anymore. Even as I resist the urge to take them away my heart aches. I know even if you aren't on the wall you'll make my heart ache, so why is it so hard to look at you? I need a break.

Words can mean so much more

2010-04-05T13:54:00.007+10:00

As inspired by Still Life's Mid Month April Challenge I've been thinking about all those well meaning and not so well meaning comments I've had thrown at me by a whole variety of people. I thought I'd put them here so I don't lose them in the abyss that is my mind. Not that you forget some of these. I'm also sharing how words can sometimes be so so wrong.
I'm still processing what to do for this challenge, so I'm brainstorming here. Better get to it, I'm running out of time!

At least you've had two other children
You have two other children to worry about
At least it wasn't your first baby
You gave her everything you could
You made the best decisions at the time
You were lucky
It was meant to be
She's an angel now
It was her path, her journey
She was teaching you
She'll always be in your heart
I'm sorry
You'll have this burden to carry for the rest of your life
I know it hurts, I understand
Have you thought about surrogacy/freezing your eggs?
You can always find out about surrogacy
Where's your baby?
Did you have your baby yet?
Was it because you had a homebirth?

What sort of things have people said to you?

Nothing today

2010-04-02T23:58:00.002+10:00

Today I am nothing
I am not sad
I am not happy
I am not tired
I am not awake either

18 months already, where did that time go?
It seems the longer it's been the harder I fight to remember
I panic about losing you from my soul
my heart
my mind
I see the blurry images in my sleep
I hear the silence
I feel the confusion
I wake and it's all the same

I see women walking down the street and I wonder if they too know this kind of pain
I hear of terror and pain and loss
I feel guilty for hanging on to you
but I cannot let you go

I know you are not here nor there but I cannot let you go
I am your mother
you are my daughter

I am not inspired
I am not inspirational
I am nothing today

Random Thought #1 I am not strong or brave. The alternative to that is not to be here. I can't do that. So I am strong. I am brave???

Thoughts escaping

2010-03-15T21:52:00.005+10:00

Drifting away

It seems inevitable

You do not see me

You do not hear me

You do not know me

Yes you love me

You wished and hoped for more

This we cannot change

Cannot undo

I am selfish

I am hurting

I am trying

I want to be honest

I want to speak

I am silent

I am hiding

I am broken

There are so many facets to these feelings.

So many reason that cannot pass my lips.

So many things you do not understand.

It appears I am damaged and selfish but look deeper and you will see me,

See the reasons, the hurt, the confusion.

Random Thought #1

Crying in the shower it came to me. Another little piece of my heart torn. "The last baby YOU held was my baby, my daughter. That hurts and you have absolutely no idea what that feels like."

Something to ponder

2010-03-08T13:45:00.002+10:00

Just a quick one for now. I might come back and revisit this later though.

You can forever wonder and analyze. I know it's not helpful. I really need to just ask myself what I think. What I feel and sit with it. Leave it at that. Let it go. Because with wondering and processing and analyzing we get guilt and self hate. Nothing good can ever come of that.

I need to just accept what is, really. This isn't about accepting that Yuna died or I lost my womb. This is about knowing what I know and accepting. Letting it go.
She'll always be my daughter. I know that, that should be enough. No one else needs to know that.

Letting go doesn't mean forgetting her or what we've been through. Letting go means giving myself some peace. Some love and a whole lot less pain and guilt. This is just a theory though...

I can keep searching, keep googling, keep asking but no one will ever give me the answers I want or need, or know what it feels like to be me. Only I know how I feel. Simple it seems.

So my new process is to TRY and just breathe a little bit more. Let go of this questioning and miss her all the same.

Random Thought Collection

2010-03-02T13:33:00.003+10:00

I'm not sure where this will end up. Or even if I'm coherent. I am after all dying of the common cold. These may be my last words...
Amazing how I've been in a severely worse condition, yet the common cold is a death sentence. I can laugh and joke about dying, I've got the dead baby.

I find the most random thoughts take on a whole new level of deep. Deep became my life after Yuna. Everything was "deep" and significant. I'm not sure why.

Today I can see just a glimmer of the path I've walked the past year. I've become this person. Or was I always that person? I'm just more defined? I'm not sure. When your baby dies you take on some kind of superhuman strength. I know it never really feels that way but yet we survive. I am slowly learning who I am again. What I love. What I hate. The things that make me, well me. I'm seeing her now. Only just.

My connection to B has moved in and out with the tide. We have managed the past 17 months to just be with each other. We take our relationship as it is. No pressure to force ourselves to be something we're not. Which brings me to communication. I'm very much in my head all of the time. So when it comes to communicating with other people, well I'm exhausted and don't want to talk anymore. Highly unproductive. Yet he lets me just be. We'll reconnect eventually.

On to business...

The response came in relation to my complaint against the hospital and the way they treated me. A whole lotta issues there. In fact I think it was about 4 pages worth of dot points.
So in short.
"I'm a lying offensive radical who should be grateful that I'm alive. Oh but we value your feedback and sincere condolences for your loss."

Random Thought #1 She wasn't a loss. She was a person and she had a fucking name arsehole.
Random Thought #2 Maybe I should just let this go.
Random Thought #3 I don't want to give up, just like that. This isn't fair.
Random Though #4 I am NOT grateful you "saved" me. No I will not thank you for that.
Random Thought #5 I want all this to be over. I want to be able to just miss you. To miss you without all the baggage. Without all the paperwork, investigations, complaints and stress.
Random Thought #6 I want to buy you flowers and just miss you.
Random Thought #7 PTSD fucking sucks
Random Thought #8 Your brothers are missing out on so much without you.
Random Thought #9 I miss you

What a collection I had brewing.

Today

2010-03-02T13:02:00.002+10:00

Today you would have been 17 months old
Today I would have been overwhelmed with the love I have for you and your brothers
Today you would have squealed as you learnt how to share with your nearly 3 year old brother
Today you would have smiled and giggled
Today you would have made a mess
Today you would have worn me out
and then
Today you would have snuggled with me
Today I would have been content just to love you and hold you
But today I'm just remembering you
Hoping and wishing you feel me still
Hoping you hear my messages of love
Hoping you catch the tears I've cried for you today

Creative sharing

2010-02-15T21:09:00.008+10:00

I'm in such awe of all the baby lost parents I've encountered along the way. Every single one of them I've never met yet we share such a raw, passionate and sad journey together and I feel like I know them. Or at least know those dark parts of them that I too own.

I digress. Again.

I've been reading lots of blogs and looking at those that use a creative outlet for their grief. It's beautiful. I am a creative person at heart. I love to create but when it comes to Yuna and my journey I feel so stifled. It just wont come. It's there but I just can get it to flow. Maybe I'm thinking too much, trying too hard?

Something I love to do though, is edit my photos. I spend hours looking and re looking at them. You can never have too many photos of a person that you didn't get to keep. So I guess that is a creative outlet. I look at her. I remember her. I make them beautiful.

Well they were always beautiful but you know what I mean?

Sharing my photos is a way of me feeling like she was real. She lived. I have proof in the pictures.

I look at these photos and it feels like my heart could burst right out of my chest with such love and joy and pain. So much love for her, so much joy that I held a beautiful baby girl in my arms, so much pain that she's not here in my world.

What's New?

2010-02-15T15:44:00.002+10:00

Well meaning friend : "So what are you doing with your life?"

Me: Uhhh well I'm studying again this year, parenting albeit in a somewhat crappy less than full capacity function, breathing...

Silence...

And so it begins. The racing thoughts, the panic, the wonder. What am I doing? What is this life. Where am I going. My baby died.

Yeah get over it already? Move along nothing to see here.

Just a woman tangled in death.

A woman who cannot look in the mirror for too long.

A woman who cannot feel happiness for someone she should.

A woman who cannot let her partner near.

A woman who cannot bear to show the world how broken she feels.

Is this me?

The thought process and reality of grief and death are two very different things. I can think something but act/feel so different. Logic cannot undo sorrow or fear. Really, I try every waking moment. To be rational and logical. That sorrow still wins. It's that constant thud of my heart. The wet tear on my cheek.

It's more of an ache now. I'll be honest. Sometimes it's raw and intense but more often than not it's that dull ache in the background. It's heavy. Although saying it like that doesn't quite add up to the reality of the feeling. It IS more than that. Isn't it? What SHOULD it be?

I parted with the baby clothes today. Sent them on their way. It sucked. Really sucked. I managed to do it in a way that didn't really hit the nerve directly. It's just sitting there in my chest all heavy waiting for something else to crack it open.

Shifting

2010-02-08T21:15:00.004+10:00

It's not often that I post quickly and promise to come back, and then actually DO come back! Amazing.

So as far as updates go. I don't know whether 2008-2009 were just really really shit years as far as life goes but this year 2010 seems like it's going to be something better. I can't put my finger on it but I've just felt a shift. That doesn't mean to say I didn't spend most of the afternoon yesterday crying and feeling like crap. Hey that's the wheel isn't it? But this year is different. It doesn't take as long to crawl out of the hole.

I literally in my body feel lighter. To some extent...

I'm not all fluffy and embracing life with a smile. That's just not me. I know that. I'd be fooling myself if I were to believe that!

A little insight into me. I don't really have a religion or faith of any description. I am drawn to many different spiritual paths. I do however feel very drawn to cards. Be it Tarot or Angel cards. It depends on my moods. I don't do them all the time either. Only when I feel the urge to pull them off the shelf. It's quite random. I also know whatever gets you through, is all that matters. Some people pray, some people go to church. Whatever gives you that tiny little bit of peace or hope. Whatever.

I wish I had a picture of the card I pulled tonight to show you. It's Toni Carmine Salerno's work anyway. I'm particularly drawn to his work. I sprawled out on the bed tonight and just lay there thinking about my little girl. How I wished I could be near her again. And I pulled the Archangel Azrael card of Completion. I've played with this deck a million times and I've never seen this card before. It's of a girl with the most piercing blue eyes and dark hair. She reminds me of Yuna. It caught my breath. She's surrounded in a veil of stars. On a side note Azrael means "Whom God Helps". In Islam Azrael is known as the angel of death. Azrael's primary role is to help souls cross over and comfort those grieving.

So the card description talks about grief being a natural emotion and the cycles of life and death. About honoring our feelings of what we've lost but to not lose sight of the bigger picture. To remember that this is a cycle. That our loved ones are where they are meant to be.

Remembering not to get stuck on the wheel of grief. Acceptance...

It's exactly the feelings I've been discovering within myself but fighting so hard to suppress. Because acceptance feels like forgetting. Acceptance and letting go are hard. I do feel it's lighter these days. Maybe not always but definitely something has shifted and I'm moving into a new place. It's beyond my control. I thought I'd control this. I don't want to be stuck here in this pain and guilt but something is pushing me out of it whether I like it or not.

I know deep down that I'll never forget her or the journey I've been on. It's my life but I'm also learning that it doesn't have to be painful all of the time.

I hurt but I also love.

I guess you realise that when you walk through a crowd and nobody knows you or your story. It's only what's inside you that really counts. I felt like I wanted to scream at everyone, tell them how sad I am, how ripped off I felt. Explain to them with the tears how I had a baby and she died. I never did this but I wanted to. I still have those moments. I'm sure they'll always be there but how I respond to them is changing.

All that waffling though I still have those moments where life really is just too fucking hard and I want to eat a block of chocolate and cry. I hate the world and everyone in it. I want to run.

I'm only human.

Raw

2010-02-08T13:42:00.002+10:00

Some days seem so boringly normal.
Time passes and then wham it all feels raw again.
New, fresh, painful all over again.
What is that? Am I trapped in this grief? Am I doing this to myself?
No time now, just needed to get it out.
Back later...

Photo Friday

2010-01-29T21:33:00.003+10:00

It is Friday... right?

No words, just a random picture to share...

The sacred placenta graphic

2010-01-22T21:46:00.015+10:00

I've been thinking about this a lot the past few days. I know I said I'd come back and write about what we did to remember the anniversary of Yuna's death. Well I'm back. I know it's been an awful long time. But I'm like that. Perhaps it's all the rain. The thinking about life in general. The new year. The thriving tree instead of a thriving, bouncing and squealing baby?

I somehow miraculously, considering all else the hospital fucked up managed to save Yuna's placenta. Thanks mostly to a social worker and not crappy hospital staff. Actually come to think of it. I've no idea how amongst all the shit that was occurring someone said "hey keep that!" Amazing.

Anyway. I took the container wrapped in a hand made blanket given to us by the social worker, home with me the day I was released from the hospital. A whole four weeks after Yuna was born. Yep I got to take home a placenta in a bucket rather than a baby. Nice.

Even before I'd given birth I wanted to do something special with the placenta. It was important to me. Almost like a ritual. It was our last baby. Out of all three pregnancies this was the only placenta I would be keeping. It suddenly became even more important considering I didn't get the baby from this placenta. So there was room in the freezer. One day down the track, possibly on the baby's birthday we'd have a special day and plant it.

Fast forward. Dead baby, butchered womb-less mama and a placenta in a bucket. Keeping it in the freezer was eating at me. I needed to do something. I didn't know how or what to feel on the anniversary of her death. It was an odd sensation. Similar to the actual day the year before. A bit hazy yet so very clear. I thought it was time to plant the placenta.

The days were fast approaching. I stumbled across, well actually Charlie (2) knocked a Cherry tree from Bunnings over. Much to the horror of the staff. That was it. It was her tree! Perfect.

So here's me with a 2 year old trying to get this tree into the back of a car. Very unplanned purchase. Perfect all the same.

That whole weekend we prepared in the garden. I took the placenta out of the freezer and let it defrost. All the while never looking inside the container. I just couldn't do it. Not yet anyway. Maybe it was all part of some grand plan? Fate. Meh.

Everything was ready. I spent most of my time supervising the boys digging the hole whilst I painted a few canvases to do prints on. Something else I'd planned to do after our baby's birth. Placenta prints.

I was ready. I finally took the placenta out of the container to do the prints.

And there it was.

That sick feeling.

The pain like a bullet piercing my heart again and again.

The flashes of the surgeons face.

The hospital smell.

The trauma.

My beautiful placenta hacked into pieces, completely severed in half. Parts missing. The cord in pieces.

The tears. The pain. The shock.

I had no idea. No mention of it before we took it home. It was bad enough that we had to wash blue chemicals off it.

"How many more ways can they hurt us?"

B finally convinced me that I should still do the prints, despite the severed placenta.

It looked like a broken heart. Appropriate.

We tied her silk cord ties that I made before the birth on a piece of her cord and planted them in the Earth.

Despite the emotions that surfaced when I saw the placenta it felt so good to return it to the Earth.

Some kind of Peace.

A poem

2010-01-22T21:31:00.002+10:00

This poem featured at Demeter's Feet really sparked something within me. The words, the pain, the passion. It's all there. It's all here in my heart too. So many sharing the same loss, the same heartache, the same pain...

Let me heal from this loss, but never cure it.
Let me heal from this loss, but not get over it.
Let me heal from this loss, but not forget it.
Let me heal from this loss without leaving it behind.
Let my cells heal and my heart open.
Let me walk in strength and welcome what comes.
Let me heal from the inside, let the outside unfold as it will.
Let me heal from this loss while I carry her with me.
Let whatever I require for healing appear now.

Cleaning

2010-01-18T21:15:00.006+10:00

I'm still swinging violently between feelings but I really do think it's better than spending too much time in one kind of emotion. I don't know if it's the new year upon us but I'm busy doing 'stuff' if that counts for anything?

The other night I went into this crazed cleaning mode. I do that sometimes and it's cleansing in a way. I took all the pictures off the walls and redecorated. I rearranged the furniture and dusted the shelf. The shelf. Not just any shelf. The shelf that holds the remains of Yuna. It's still something I'm not sure I understand or haven't processed entirely. Or maybe I just haven't dedicated time to that process yet. In doing so, I then get hung up on all the decisions we made when we knew that we'd be planning a funeral for our baby girl.

Our last baby. Our only daughter. Ever.

So there she sits in a silver and pink container with doves. I just feel sick knowing that we weren't a part of that process. Even in death she was completely alone and there was nothing I could do about it. Another kick in the guts. Feeling like I failed her somehow. Well that's a recurring theme for me. Just the "ugh if things were different...". Well if that were the case, then she'd be here on my bed breastfeeding and playing or sleeping with her brothers. Meh not my REALITY.

And with cleaning comes the feeling that there are things that shouldn't be where they are. The change table that held all my art supplies. Despite it's conversion it was STILL a baby's change table. The clothes in a box under the bed. They all smell fresh and distinctly of the Eco friendly washing powder I only used for the clothes in preparation for her birth. Most of them brand new.

Can I swear? It fucking sucks.

I read The Alchemy of Loss by Abigail Carter after Yuna died and when grieving the death of her husband Abigail did a similar thing. For a long time she kept his clothes in her closet. And the smell was enough to allow a good deep sobbing session. Sometimes that's helpful. Sometimes it seems like a hopeless eternity of pain and despair. What to do with it?

Whilst grief is universally the same it can be so very different when it's your baby. Well it feels like that to me, a baby lost mama. No matter how much support, how many people you connect with or know that are in the same situation, or have been there, you still feel alone.

I guess the cleaning opened that wound again. The one I'd buried in order to function in this world. The one where I remember that this it it. That most people who lose babies keep their things for that baby in the hopes or even knowledge that one day maybe they will have a baby that will use them. A new baby to love. I know it doesn't reduce the pain or even make it easier but that hope IS there. Even if it's not acknowledged openly. Somewhere deep inside you know.

So here I am with a box of lovingly washed, hand dyed, beautiful hand picked over the course of my pregnancy baby clothes and nothing to hope for.

I know it's just 'things' but it's more the meaning behind them that's getting to me. The realisation that these clothes are going to sit in that box and we're not having another baby. Ever.

I just cannot wrap my head around it. It's so much easier to leave it untouched.

*Random Thought of the Day* I fucking hate you *Random Thought of the Day*

Hope Collage

2010-01-18T15:48:00.004+10:00

This was created by Franchesca Cox from Hope Collage. A beautiful and kind thing she does!

Guilt

2010-01-13T08:17:00.002+10:00

It doesn't matter how many years of therapy, how many friends tell me and how much I'm loved, I'll always and forever have this guilt. The chest constricting, stomach lurching, kick in the guts kind. The guilt that I create for myself. The 'burden' I carry all on my own. Created by me.

It's something that just continues on forever. It seems that way. In a state of what ifs' and endless questioning. Despite knowing that I don't have the answers, I don't really truly need them. The what ifs' aren't helpful.

I struggle with that. The struggle with What.Is.

In some other reality I accept that I had a baby and she died. I do, I mean I live with that knowledge every day, so it's a bit difficult not to accept it in some way. However the reality of why or how is different. I have no one to ask, it's only opinion and used against me at this point. After all I'm the one to blame it seems. I accept that. I do it to myself internally anyway.

I can't help but feel responsible. What mother truly doesn't hold on to some of the responsibility for not being able to keep their children alive?

No.Matter.What.

It's what we live for.

So when your baby dies you feel responsible. It doesn't matter how, it was your fault for not being there/doing a better job/making the wrong decision...

That's how it feels.

I often wish I didn't care so much about birth. Wished that I was like everyone else on the conveyor belt. Wished I'd just followed the crowd. But I didn't.

A thousand memories

2010-01-10T15:58:00.000+10:00

2010

2010-01-09T11:37:00.003+10:00

A new year always makes me a little bit crazy. Well more so than normal. I need to organise everything. Clean and de-clutter. Get a new diary. Buy stationary. Yer I know it's weird but totally 100% me.

So I'm feeling creative. I'm going to try and do lots of crafting this year. Expression. Release.

Here's to a new blog layout. You like? I do. I hate changing layouts because it always seems so complicated and I always lose things in the change.

I'm in the process of doing some photo collages that I'll share later. Right now though I should be showering and getting ready for the back to school shop. There's something about new pens and pencil cases that I can't resist.

Well just a mini update post with nothing too scary or depressing or deep. I'll save that for later. However it doesn't always have to be that way does it? Learning learning learning...

To You and some Christmas Inspired Rage

2010-01-07T10:36:00.008+10:00

I wrote this a while ago but couldn't let it out straight away. I needed time to sit with it. Perhaps analyze it, like I do with everything else...

"She's not an angel, she was my baby"

This comment has been on my mind lately. It really seems to sum up how I really feel at the moment. If summing up is at all possible in this situation?

I don't want to offend those around me. Which is generally why I don't share how I'm feeling because I do understand that everyone deals with or in my experience avoids grief. Or likes to think they are okay but that simply means shutting down a part of yourself that is too painful to work with. So here I'm being honest. Offensive or not. I need to let this out.

I do not get all warm and fuzzy when I hear the rain or see a flower. I do not thank my dead daughter for the Christmas bonus. I just don't.

She's. Dead.

That's how it feels to me.

Maybe this is just another 'stage' in a never ending cycle of grief?

I do not find comfort in material or superficial things that are supposed to be representative of my baby. Connections or messages from her.

She's. Dead.

Ash. Bones. Dust. Dead.

My hopes for warmth and protection are slowly faded. Perhaps I'm doing the angry phase. Surely I'm entitled to that?

I'm damn fucking angry!

People die, my baby died.

I know this but I don't understand placing hopes on the 'make believe'. That doesn't comfort me or help me through this.

I don't want prayers or pity.

I want you to acknowledge me.

My intelligence, my choices, my pain, my trauma.

My reality.

That my baby existed, a baby that I grew and loved.

A baby that I nurtured and cherished.

She lived and she died.

It hurts but acknowledge me and that pain. It's real.

Imagine how much more it hurts me?

To know that you feel it's too painful to bear.

I don't get that choice.

I open my eyes to life and relive those days over and over again every day.

That pain is still there when I close them again.

I don't need photos of butterflies and teddy bears to know who she was.

That she existed.

I see her tiny lifeless body every time I close my eyes.

I don't need your judgements and whispers.

I carry plenty upon my shoulders, enough for an eternity of pain.

I do not ask for anything special. Do not go out of your way for me.

Just know I am human, I hurt and I needed you.

I needed you to hear me, to support me regardless of your own pain and beliefs.

To love me and acknowledge my reality.

My journey.

My daughter.

Christmas Inspired Rage

Written over Christmas:

I feel so much resentment, hurt and anger it chokes me sometimes.

Twists my stomach.

Like pure rage.

I'm terrified.

I want to take away her pictures, never look at them again.

Throw away her clothes, she never wore.

I resent her? Myself?

I feel anger when I look at her tiny face.

She didn't deserve any of this.

Why Why Why?

I don't want to celebrate the end of the year or a new one coming.

Hope for what?

I don't want to buy a gift to 'remember' her.

I just don't.

Christmas

2009-12-23T07:33:00.004+10:00

It's difficult not to be sucked in by the Christmas propaganda. Really it's everywhere. I'm not normally one to "deck the halls" and be "merry" or become overly nostalgic about the year and family I never see or hear from. But it seems that these times make you feel a little worse for wear. Is it the idea that everyone should be joyful and loving and celebrating their lives with one another? Meh. I don't know. What I do know is, I'm sad. Yep just a general sad. Sad that Yuna's not here. Sad that she's not alive. Sad that I can't make her a dress to wear, make her all the beautiful toys I know she'd love to play with. In reality I do know that my attitude toward Christmas or Giftmas wouldn't have really changed all that much if she were here but it still feels empty. Something missing.

I think it's the fake joy. I don't want to pretend just for the sake of a day that means nothing to me anyway.
Santa sucks.
We do giftmas for the boys. It's about them too. They deserve joy and love but I also feel that the sadness around their sister should be just as acknowledged as the rest of it.
The gifts, the food, the fake joy.
But what to acknowledge? How? When? I always struggle with what's appropriate. I guess it shouldn't matter. But I'm kind of in-between with how I'm feeling right now, so that makes how I'm feeling more confusing. I'm angry at the whole situation. I know it will pass but for now I'm just going with it. Letting it settle and then I'll work with it.

Last giftmas I had only been out of hospital a few weeks, Yuna had only been dead two months. So it was all a bit of a whirlwind. We spent too much on the kids, trying to compensate for such a shitty few months. Shitty doesn't even cover it but you know what I mean. I was still in a state of shock so nothing really went beyond the surface. We just went with the tide. Trying not to drown in it.
Then this year it's been long enough to have felt real emotions. To know what's missing. Long enough for the family to have distanced themselves. It's been long enough to realise that I'm going to have a life full of occasions, events, celebrations, birthdays that she wont be here for. I'll always feel like something is missing. I'll always miss her and be sad that I can't be her mama but how to put it into perspective? How to not drown in the overwhelming sadness? How to not be sucked in by all the crap?

Still here

2009-12-17T11:23:00.003+10:00

I find that no matter how much time passes I'm still in a relative state of shock.

The shock, the raw feelings that surface when I look back on what I've endured, enduring...

The shock, the trauma. The reality that I carried my baby for nearly 10 months and gave birth. A very significant event in any woman's life. I had a daughter, a baby. Then like a dream it was gone again. It didn't feel real. It's all still so unreal. Like a hazy dream. Or nightmare?

A painful raw open wound that just wont heal. It stings every time you touch it. The raw edges like fire, burning further and further into my soul. Nothing heals that kind of hurt.

There seems to be a whole lot of anger. Anger going nowhere, aimed at no-one. Just being carried upon my shoulders, along with everything else.

The sting of hurt every time I remember the two contrasts of my life then and my life now. It's hard to swallow. Like two completely different worlds, one full of colours and the other a dreary grey. I'm two different people. The woman, goddess, mother before Yuna and just me now. I don't know where I'm going if anywhere at all.

The sting of the happy homebirth planning, the dreams of toast and celebration after the arrival of our new baby. How did it disappear so fast?

I'll question and guilt myself over every decision, every tiny detail, every minute but I know it still doesn't change anything. I'm just lost in a web of empty answers. Dead ends. Confusion.

The cycle of grief is never ending. It just jumps from one pain to another. People just occupy themselves with life but never really heal. It doesn't get better with time. Life just creeps back in around you and you have no choice but to pick up the pieces.

Sink or swim?

It angers those around me when I express how much I'd wished I hadn't survived. I desperately didn't want to wake up after Yuna was born. I knew that then and I know that now.

Isn't it selfish for them to want me? Selfish for them to need me?

If they'd felt what I felt, heard what I'd heard and seen it through my eyes, they too would have begged like I did, to not recover from this. But here I am. Alone in my thoughts, in my head. Wondering what happened. Wondering how it could have been different. Wondering...

Questioning life itself.

peachyfuckingnot

2009-10-30T21:11:00.003+10:00

Back to what I do have.

I don't blog about that much. Well because this blog is about me, about grief, about Yuna.

I'm not for a second ungrateful for what I do have. It's just earth shattering to realise the finality of where I'm at right now. The loss of my womb at only 24.

My feelings as a woman, as a mother.

I love my children. I do. But I also miss, well grieve the daughter I will never see live a long life. The baby I'll never know. She is memory more than real. I just struggle knowing it was all taken from me. Motherhood.

I don't say I have three children anymore. That's not forgetting, it just seems now time has passed it's socially unacceptable to do so. To talk of a dead baby as if she were part of the family. *insert sarcasm here*

This Western world sucks at death. Especially dead babies.

Ssh it's taboo. I want it to be real. To cry in public. Swear at Dr Fuckwitt and his pink shirts. Tell random strangers how sad I am. Reveal myself. Not pretend.

Be socially unacceptable.

Peachyfuckingnot...

They have pills for that kind of behaviour though.

Blogger vomit and random thoughts

2009-10-30T20:47:00.003+10:00

This is a few days old or maybe it's weeks now... When I ovulate it seems to coincide with a very intense journal writing session. So here it is.

Night. Dark.

Enemy or trusted companion?

I can be open. Be true to myself, yet I despise this time so much.

I dread waiting for it to arrive yet at the same time I crave it too.

But faithfully it always arrives. Soaks my soul. Whispers to me, to let it out. It's safe here, now.

The days are too bright. They don't truly reflect my inner core. It's fake, cheery. I am not.

The days I spend functioning. Being human. Fulfilling my mother role. Getting on with it but internally struggling with the mere act of breathing in and out. Enjoying my boys like every other day but the night comes and I'm alone in my world, darkness as friend.

The world where it's real. The world where I feel.

The world where the waves crash upon my fragile self over and over again.

I don't know what it is, perhaps when the children sleep, the quiet is overwhelming. My duties are complete yet there is always something missing.

Time heals I know. I don't think that missing feeling will ever fade in intensity. It just is.

I wasn't even consciously thinking of her last night when the darkness became too much. I felt that thumping in my chest begin to pound furiously and then the tears fell. It shocked me. Usually it's a photo, a smell, a day, a place. This time it was nothing. It took over. Crying makes me feel heavy and generally worse. It just makes me think more.

Random Thoughts:

It's the little things I miss. Breastfeeding mostly. I never got that opportunity.
Through birth I am her mother, a mother to a daughter but I will never BE her mother or a mother to a daughter.
I cannot imagine her. Does that make me awful because I cannot imagine what she would have looked like? It hurts to think about that. She would have looked just like me but she's not here so why try to imagine?
I hate seeing photos of me as a child because I see her in me. I'll never see her grow.
I can't stand this light hearted banter about things she's doing or would do either here or in spirit. Nor her personality.
She's not an angel or in heaven. Nor am I an angel mummy.
She was my baby, my daughter, a human person and yes she's dead.
I hate him, my body, his hands, Them.
I am not a woman. I am a sliced, mutilated, butchered empty shell.

Well those were quite random and much deeper than I expected to go. I'm not entirely sure blog world is ready for that.

The first year.

2009-10-18T20:26:00.004+10:00

Perhaps I don't blog as often as I'd like because I feel the need to blog something of importance or interest? Not that anything already here is interesting or important. It's just a blergh blog. I'm happy with that. It makes me feel better to vent. Even if I'm the only one reading it.

Tonight shall be a free blog. Whatever comes.

I'd like to be the girl with the journal. Always writing, but it just doesn't come. I don't know how many of those I've started in my years. Nothing ever flows. Maybe at 2am when I can't sleep but really, who actually wakes up enough to write in a journal? Maybe I need to.

So the "big" week is over. A friend actually said "so it's all over now" as if now that her first birthday has passed and the first anniversary of her death is done we can all move on, put it behind us? Perhaps for some. I'm not at all saying that we should live in the past or be gloomy forever. It just took me by surprise that those around me must have been waiting for this big event with the anticipation that life would once again go back to normal. That they can stop treading on ice and put it all behind them now.Stop asking how I am? Stop caring? Stop saying they'll think if her? Stop understanding?

No need to mention it again. Like the first is the one to make a big deal of. All the rest, well it depends how you want to grieve. Some anniversaries will be just as intense as the first. Some easier. I'm not sure where I'm headed. Best not to make plans. I think that's how I survived the year. Don't make plans. Don't expect anything. Just wake up each day and breathe...

Her birthing day (the day before her actual birthday) was more intense for me. All those feelings, memories, smells, dreams and wishes came flooding back. Like time had never passed. I felt like a video played in my head. It was all so clear. The bitter sweetness of it all. The complete change in our lives from those few hours the year before. Life couldn't have been better. I was giving birth and it was wonderful, beyond words. I spent the day mostly alone, arranging flowers, lighting candles and just wandering around keeping busy. Much the same as I would have been doing the year before.

Then we entered into the intensity of the "birthday" where for me I don't really remember much, actually. It wasn't a significant day for me. I guess we just did what we thought we were supposed to do. Celebrate your dead daughters would have been first birthday. It was just a weird strained feeling. Nice looking from the outside, but something was missing. Hmmph funny about that. I'm glad we did what we did, but it was all just out of place. Although I felt like we should have done something, not nothing, even if none of us actually wanted to.

Then came the ultimate low. Almost like coming down from that birth high. I was left feeling numb and sad. We just spent 2-3 days trying to pretend we're a happy family "celebrating" a person's birthday who isn't here. Life returns to the way it was before. We retreat to the corner to lick our wounds. Go our own way. Alone. Functioning as the days pass into the next year. We survived the first year after the death. Apparently that's a triumph?

I know I know

2009-10-10T20:21:00.004+10:00

Is it for me or is it for you? That I'm not entirely sure. I guess it doesn't really matter. Once it's out, it's out. Said and done.

Again this week is moving like slow motion. A lot like the same week a year ago. Only I was high on a cocktail of drugs and trapped inside a hospital. This time I'm only trapped inside myself. My own thoughts. I'm not sure which is worse.

I'm too exhausted to post photos from Yuna's birthday or even blog about it for that matter. I'll get around to it eventually. I also have some placenta planting stuff to blog about but that can wait a few days too. I need to compose my thoughts a little more. I know, a lot less random. Not my usual style! But as always I like to piece out my thoughts, see where they came from and where they're taking me next. There are so many emotions flowing through me I don't know where to start.

This week has been like flying blind. Not knowing how, when or what to feel. Searching for things that I'll never grasp. Story of my life these days. I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. No one ever wrote a book about the 12 step program to recovery when your baby dies.

Trying to remember the little details. Reliving every moment just to know I'm not dreaming.

Feeling a wee bit insane. Trying to forge on, cheer up and love.

Love. That's a tough one. Maybe I need a whole new blog about my love issues?

Feeling and Letting Go

2009-09-24T16:52:00.004+10:00

When you are visited by grief it takes a while to feel it. I mean really feel it.

You know when you do though.

It's thick. Sticky. Hard to shake.

It's like smoke. It seeps into your soul. Gets under your skin, fills your lungs with black and clutches at your heart.

It may seem odd but it's difficult to let that go.

I know the intense feelings of love and amazement when I gave birth to Yuna, then in a flash it was overcome with other feelings. The slap in the face kind of intensity of new but just as powerful feelings. Pain, loss and grief.

So it begins. You nurture it. Cradle it. Hold those new feelings closer than you'd really like to. You begin to need that feeling over and over again. It after all seems to be the only way you can feel. It keeps you floating along in this foreign sea of loss. It seems to be the only connection to the original feelings. The feelings that were.

That connection to you, Yuna.

Because if you're feeling pain then it must mean I'm not forgetting you. It means I'm loving you.

But surely there's a way to love you and be connected to you without the grief, sucking the life out of my very heart and soul.

Perhaps just the fact that you existed should be enough?

It's scary to let go because almost like every ache, every pain is like a way to show my heart, the world how much I wish you were here in my arms.

It's memories now. Distant yet vibrant memories. It feels sometimes that I'm making them up. I have to wonder if they were indeed a reality. Your birth, your short life, even your death.

If I close my eyes could I reach you?

Somehow, somewhere.

I never wanted to let my grief take me away from who I am. Sometimes you just have to be that grief as a whole. I didn't want it to define me, but I see it's now a part of who I am. There are many parts to me. This is just another for the collection in this life.

I hope, I was going to say I hope there are less tears and more smiles but I know there will be. I also know there are plenty more tears for you, Yuna. That's okay too.

Your beautiful face and those wise soulful eyes. Magical.

I'll always remember them.

It's just hard to be happy and feel joy when I ache to hold you again.

The struggle to understand the grand plan. The lesson. Perhaps that is the plan, letting those ideals go too?

Silent thougths

2009-09-20T22:23:00.004+10:00

As inspired by a fellow blogger A Garden for Butterflies I thought I'd let go of the many random thoughts that never pass my lips. They forever swirl around my mind until they are suppressed into the depths of my soul for a later date or transformed into some other negative feeling. This exercise is to be a regular occurrence. If only we could be socially acceptable despite screaming motherfucker at the world itself. I know I'd feel better by doing it. Wouldn't you?

Some random thoughts for today. Some sad, some crazy, some just me.

*Oh goddess she was beautiful* (looking at her not so tiny feet sculptures)
*What will I do with that placenta in my freezer? I should be planning something special*
*What happened to me? Said as I examined myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes*
*I shouldn't be fearing the days to come. I should be planning Yuna's very first birthday party*
*I never got to make my chocolate labour cake. Was that an omen of things to come? She would never have a birthday?*

What were your random thoughts you kept to yourself today?

Quite Random

2009-09-20T21:39:00.004+10:00

I've been floating along in my own little bubble. I much prefer the air in here to that of the big bad world. The air is thick and makes it hard to breathe. Detrimental perhaps to my social self but it's safe. Much safer than crying to a stranger at random. Or wanting to make them see sense. Or scream at the mother who was physically smacking her 6 month old baby because she was crying. Yes, you read that right. The world does my head in. I can't relate. I do not belong here. I belong somewhere else. I belong in a world where my daughter lives. Impossible dreams and hopes will forever linger in my mind. They'll never be any lighter to carry upon my heart. They just wont. The longing for her will still forever break my heart and crush my ribcage like a wild animal hunting it's prey. Dramatic? I think it perfectly describes that feeling when you realise your not in fact dreaming. That this world is your reality. That you do not have a baby in your arms. That baby is no longer.

I swing violently between knowing that all things happen for a reason and my daughter had a purpose yada yada to this is all bullshit and unfair. I guess that's a normal response too. We can't always be level headed, all of the time. I am rational. I'm not a screaming lunatic, well publicly at least. Maybe I'd feel better if I did do it in the middle of a crowded street?

I was told that most of the first year after losing someone you spend struggling to make it reality. To accept that it's real, that they're dead. I feel like I'll forever be waking up wondering how the fuck my life ended up this way. How the fuck did I go from blissfully pregnant to giving birth, to almost dead, to watching and waiting for my perfect looking daughter to take her very last breath? I don't know. I just don't know. I'm waiting for some kind of awakening. Doubt it.

Writing that makes me realise that I never got that "time" to grieve. Sure it's been almost a year. A whole year since my daughter was born and died but I just can't help feeling like I missed something. I could go on for eons about what I didn't get but there is something I can't put my finger on. It's just all out of order. Like I missed some process after she died. I know everyone does it differently. I just feel like I should have been at home, in private. In the place she was born, surrounded by her things. The birth smells. Her home. My home. Our home.

Instead I was a patient in a disgusting hospital and alone, completely alone.
There it is. The salty tears. Perhaps that's it.
I was separated from those I needed most. My daughter was gone and I was busy being poked and prodded and x-rayed and filled with tubes and pumps. Being examined and judged and watched.

I remember vividly only on one occasion during my hospital stay did I completely collapse in a mess of tears. Well in view of others anyway. A whole team (I'm talking 10 or more people) of medical students and the senior staff barged in and there I was in a chair wailing. They quickly apologised and left me alone in the room. They demanded the social worker see me because I was upset.

What part of that isn't normal? A woman whose had everything taken from her, including her uterus, her baby is dead and you're concerned she's acting like a crazy woman?

Okay this post was supposed to be about something completely different. In fact it was to contain the use of the word "motherfucker". Although I'm sure I could use that word on more than one occasion when describing most of my interaction with hospitals. I'm thinking that would have been more fun to blog about but it seems my heart has poured itself all over the keyboard and taken over.

I guess that's pure release of some kind. Don't know how it helps but it's worth a shot, right?

Visitors

2009-09-19T22:33:00.002+10:00

If you read this blog I'd really love to hear from you.

So feel free to drop by and leave a comment. :)

Where?

2009-09-10T11:50:00.003+10:00

Where do you go when I sleep?

When I close my eyes and dream of you?

Whispers of love sent

Passages of hope dreamt

Time fading

Memories wet with tears

Where do you go when my heart aches for you?

She

2009-09-10T11:48:00.003+10:00

She dreams

She creates

She loves

Dust, Earth, Salt

Tears

She is free

Hope, Peace, Love

She dreams

Open heart

She loves

Open hands

She creates

Open soul

She dreams

Alone into the night

2009-09-10T11:44:00.003+10:00

Being alone appeals to me

I guess it's running from pain even though I know it's still going to be there

Yet this self imprisonment allows some kind of inner torture

Punishment

For what I'm not sure

A broken mother

Crashing

Being swallowed

Looming darkness

Outstretched claws

Ready

Waiting

Whispering

Weakness

Pulling me down just a little deeper

Into the night

Inside

2009-09-10T11:35:00.003+10:00

How does one survive when there was no inner core, no strength, no stability to begin with?

You crumble, you drown, you fight for air.

It's hard to love when you don't love yourself.

I feel like I'm forever picking up the pieces. Rebuilding over and over. From the ground up.

Turmoil, pain and a whole lot of self hate.

I'm detached and disconnected because I'm afraid to hurt. Of the hurt.

You've been broken it's hard to get that back.

Self confidence.

Love and passion.

I need to work out how to love me first.

I don't want to. I don't deserve love.

I am learning. Slowly but learning it's okay to live.

The dual nature of the human spirit.

We can be happy yet be sad too.

Joy and pain.

There is no one or the other. Everything just is.

Accept it with grace? Learn to be.

Not one or the other, just be.

Everything.

Easier said than done.

Soul

2009-08-07T11:28:00.001+10:00

Mystic Weavings

An ultimate reality believed from insightful gifts

Visions from Creator and my contemplative spirit uplifts

The reason I was born, a puzzle pieced with forgiveness divine

An expression of creativity connected, unrelated to bloodline

My greater purpose courses through the veins of my past

As surroundings are experienced with intimate contrast

I am meant to serve by transforming perceptions ignored

So that rites of passage are lived with a valued, inner reward

A deep satisfaction as I personally grow to share

That making a difference in the world is love in prayer

Each new breath of gratitude I’ll weave within nature

With discernment, not judgment to specific nomenclature

No monastery, castle or dogmatic school of thought

Just peace, love and devotion within, eternally walked and talked.

TK Rosevear

2009-06-14T18:52:00.003+10:00

"...and the time came

when the risk it took to remain

in a tightly closed bud

became infinitely more painful

than the risk it took to blossom."

~Anais Nin~

I'm unfolding

blossoming

somewhere deep in here

I will emerge

fresh

new

and possibly wiser...

Cords

2009-06-02T13:04:00.003+10:00

In fear of forgetting I seem to hold onto this deep earthbound grief. It has it's ups and downs but letting that go almost seems like I'm letting her go. Forgetting a part of her. I know that's not possible but it's something I'm emotionally struggling with. I'm seeing a pattern here and seem to hold on to negative people only because they're connected to me and to my experience. When in reality it' s unhelpful and causing me more grief that I need. I need to break those ties. Let them go yet not be afraid that I'll lose the love I've got. Still feel her with the passion of a mother that I do now.

I am grasping at any kind of connection to her. As a way to keep living. When the reality is those people aren't always the right people to connect with.

So deep work is needed. I need to sever those cords of attachment. Live this on my own.

Meh

2009-05-26T10:57:00.003+10:00

It's raining
I'm cold
I'm exhausted

Nothing profound to share
Just another shitty day

Mother Woman

2009-05-22T19:26:00.006+10:00

We all imagine our lives contain chapters or phases. We generally move through them without much thought or notice. I guess we take that for granted but when you are forced into a new chapter or phase in your life you're left wondering how to cope.
How to keep turning the pages. How to learn who you are all over again.
I spent a good seven or eight years discovering who I am as a woman and also as a mother. Only in the last two did I fully develop this new sense of womanhood.
I embraced it and really found depths of myself I only ever dreamed of, or saw in other women.

I wanted to be that warrior, that goddess, that nurturing mother. I finally found her and suddenly I feel like I've been swallowed up by the enormity of this new part of my life.
I've spent so many years in that role as life giver and mother, now that chapter has ended.

I never imagined I'd be walking this path, living this chapter so soon.
I thought I'd be that crone.
The wise woman, an older woman.
Not me. Not now.

Who am I? Or more importantly what to do with me now?
I guess it's just adjusting to the reality of my life.

Who ever thinks they'd wake up without a uterus one day? Seriously. It's not something you think about on a day to day basis is it?

Perhaps I let motherhood define who I am?

A dear friend said that she's a woman and parenting is something she does.
I find it hard to separate the two.
I have for so long felt like a mother and rarely saw the woman in me.
I'm faced with the reality that bringing life into this world is a memory now.
Past not future.
So how to get that woman back?
How to look inside me and remember the woman warrior goddess?
I felt like I found that woman within me by becoming a mother and birthing.
Can they really be separated?
Womanhood and motherhood.

Roads

2009-05-15T20:42:00.005+10:00

I find it interesting when I speak to people they ask if I've had counselling, as if that's some kind of helpful statement. I guess some people just don't know what to say or feel that the death of a baby requires treatment. Yes it's traumatic and incomprehensible but it's a part of the great cycle. Like the GP who on more than one occasion tried to tell me I needed sedatives and anti depressants in order to get my life in order and feel better.

I guess you can only whole heartedly accept that death and more specifically the death of your child is a plain truth, a part of our cycle when you are slapped square in the face with it.

In short I just cannot sit in a chair and be counselled through this grief. Some can, not me. Perhaps blogging is my therapy?

I'm rational and I'm functioning. Not so well ALL the time but hey that's fine by me.

I simply living one day at a time. Sometimes it's hour by hour.

Admittedly I'm sitting in a foreign place sometimes just holding on to my grief. In some kind of other world. A world that belongs only to me, yet knowing there are others.

Those experiencing grief or loss or trauma or a combination of all of those walk their own path. You can read all the 'right' books and do all the 'right' things but ultimately we walk this path alone and eventually we walk to somewhere in the future and we've miraculously survived.

I've read many a story of loss. It's like my drug of choice. You find a sad kind of comfort in reading about other people who know what you've been through. Not that you'd wish it upon anyone, you find a place of peace knowing your not the only one. It's tragic. I've shed many a tear not only for my daughter but for all the children who've returned to the great mother.

For the parents who've got empty arms and broken hearts.

So back to walking this road. One thing I've learnt from sharing my experience is that you do survive. It doesn't always look so bright, I can say that honestly because some days ARE bleak and you can't hold back the buckets of tears. You don't ever forget, you may move forward but you don't forget. I imagine I'll still be shedding tears for my daughter in 20 or more years.

A common thread in the web of loss is that one day something within you will shift. It might be a series of little shifts or a big massive one. You wake up and it's not so hard to breathe. You see joy. You feel the presence of love. It can be overwhelming. It took me a long time to realise that's what was happening.

I feel my daughter all around me or perhaps it's the enormity of my love for her radiating from within me? Or both?

You haven't forgotten.

You never forget.

It's all we've got.

Memories.

Gee you look good.

2009-05-12T11:32:00.003+10:00

I find it amusing when people tell me I look good after they hear what I've been through in the last few months, as if that's some kind of compensation?

I tell you what I wouldn't give to be told "gee you look like shit."
What I wouldn't give to be still in my pyjamas at three in the afternoon.
Pyjamas that are covered in baby vomit.
What I wouldn't give to wake to my baby during the night.
To hear her cry
To carry her in a sling
Feed her
Dress her
Hold her in my arms...

But I look well? What's that supposed to really mean?

2009-05-11T12:28:00.005+10:00

Slap In The Face

2009-05-10T20:48:00.002+10:00

For a fleeting moment surrounded in madness I felt that urge, that pang, that "Oh how I'd love to have a baby." The maternal rush.

I know it's impossible so I dismissed it, squashed it as deep as it would go, covered it in darkness. We all know these kinds of things feed and grow in darkness. Like a fungus.

Somehow it felt better to push it away, out into oblivion. Far far away.

I too realise that I cannot deny these feelings. They exist and I need to acknowledge them. It's easier to write about it than to actually voice them. That way they're not as physically real. You say them and someone might hear you...

I'm always going to have these feelings, I always have. Albeit it's the first time I've felt this way since Yuna's birth and death. I never thought I'd feel this way again. I realise I've got a very long life to live with these feelings, those pangs in the heart, in the pit of your stomach, in your aching empty breasts and the constant slap in the face reminder that, that's all they'll be. Feelings. Dreams. Wants.

Never a reality. My days as child bearer are over and it kills me. A huge part of me is gone, my life, my purpose, my existence.

How do you heal from that too? Am I supposed to be learning something from all this? It all just feels like a cruel joke.

Haven't I been challenged enough?

Ebb and Flow

2009-05-10T20:07:00.003+10:00

Full Moon Saturday 9th May 2009

The weather is cold and miserable and I feel about the same. My emotions feel so out of control and extreme today. It is a full moon. I guess it's to be expected. I'm just having so many feelings rushing through me, I feel like I'm going to burst.

I'm not big on the whole Mother's Day consumer rubbish but for some reason I'm feeling a little flat that this year I should have been celebrating our first mothers day with Yuna. I should have been woken up far too early, bleary eyed and looked down to see our chubby 7 month old girl staring back at me. Instead I'm left looking at her photos and a jar full of ashes dreaming about what might have been. That is not how I thought I'd ever have to spend a mothers day, any day for that matter.

I just haven't been able to stem the flow of tears today. Everything hurts far too much. I'm so tired of this ride. I want it to stop, just for a moment.

I'm supposed to be organising a family trip to Sydney in October but I jut keep putting it off, as if it wont ever be October. I am terrified.

It's been day to day for so long and you almost don't realise that time is passing and passing far too quickly. Well you do realise, it's always present somewhere in your mind.

I just never imagined that I'd be anticipating the twelve months since my daughters birth and death. Not one whole year, look how big she's grown. I know it's only been seven months but the thought of October looming makes me want to vomit. I guess the anticipation is far worse than the day itself?

I just wonder sometimes how I keep going. I guess the same way I managed every other day. How I managed to survive even though I willed myself to die after she was born and yet here I am. You just do. You wake up every morning and the nightmare still exists. You feel the fire constantly breathing down your neck. The darkness always one step away. The claws scratching at your soul.

I've come to realise now there are so many women and men that know the pain of losing a child yet despite this knowledge and access to this sometimes secret society I'm left speechless and shocked by it, time and time again.

I watched a montage of a couple's baby daughter who was stillborn and through the tears all I could think was that no one should ever have to place their baby into a coffin. No one should ever have to feel that pain. Yet many of us do. Those are the images that rip me open to the core. Twist my insides and shatter my heart into a million pieces. I never knew you could physically feel your heart break, yet I'm left feeling rattled at the numerous times I've felt it over the past few months. It never feels any less painful.

That blow is never any easier to take.

Keys of Use

2009-05-08T16:16:00.002+10:00

On some days I'd like to

Select All
Cut
Delete
Erase
Shift
Esc
Pause/Break
End
Ctrl

If only those keyboard keys applied to my life...

Loving and Living and Marshmallows Too

2009-05-07T13:12:00.011+10:00

In the spirit of this blog 'from loss to living'. I'm taking it one step at a time. I'm learning that life does go on. That I need to enjoy it while I've got it.

Yeah there are days when I'm not feeling like that but that's okay too.

My major lesson from my daughters birth and death is that I need to love to live and ultimately live to love ;) Got that? Sound simple? Not all the time.

It's about finding balance too. You cannot surround yourself with grief and expect to feel anything but that. I'm not saying we cant, wont or don't grieve. I'm saying there is a time for other things too. We need to cry and be angry but we also need to see beauty and nature and love. We need these things. I'm reaching a point where I feel that my daughter came to teach me something. She didn't come to teach me pain and anger and saddness. This is the human reaction to loss and to the physical/material world. She's physically gone and I'm grieving that, but in reality, she's still very much surrounding me. Filling my heart.

Perhaps I'm having a better day than usual?

So back to the point about finding that balance in life.

Finding those ways to love and live.

What do you do?

You bundle the family into the car, buy a tent along the way and you sleep in the bush.

Watch in awe as your children marvel in the bugs and the dirt.

You do something you would have only attempted to do as a child, you let go.

You feel the wind in your face.

You squeal in excitement along with your children.

You watch the sunset and watch it rise again on a new day

Oh and you eat far too many marshmallows toasted in the campfire...

Wild Tree

2009-05-07T12:31:00.005+10:00

If I could capture in just one image all my thoughts and emotions for the moment, this would be it. Something drew me to this tree. It almost felt like she was calling my name. Whispering it in the wind. I made Brendan stop the car on the side of the road so I could take her picture.

I see me in this image. It expresses me.

There is darkness surrounding her, yet there is light.

The storm clouds lingering,

ready to pour down on the earth.

This lonesome tree in the middle of a field.

She is complicated and delicate.

Her branches are twisted and bare.

Yet she stands strong,

Her roots planted firmly in the soil.

Those roots so intricately entwined around the deep heart of the earth.

She continues to grow despite her harsh conditions.

Standing the test of time.

She continues to survive.

There is more to her than I see.

Her wild branches reach for the skies,

Searching,

Searching for something.

I read about a farmer who saw great trees sprout where young calves were born still.

Perhaps I share in the pain of loss with this great tree?

Honouring what once was.

It is nature

It is life

It is death

It is life...

Soul Blossoming

Distance

History

Bound

Neglected Blog=Another Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Image

Follow that sign?

Two broken halves

Take it Back

Malignant

Long time

Storm

Birth Story Presentation

A Journey to a Birth

A decade or so

When your baby dies...

Working through it...

The womb-less woman.

Fell off the wagon

Day 14 and 15

Day 12 and 13

Bellycast

A sad yet peaceful day

Day 10 and Day 11 Photos of me

Day 9 and Pending Day 10

Day 7 and 8 Photos that make you

Day 6 Calming

Day 5 Quotes

Days 1-4

30 days through the grief looking glass

One woman One baby One Birthday

Time flies when you're a zombie

Every day forever

Sketchbook: The beginning

Checking in

Ribbons

Health Goals Part 2

The Sketchbook Project

You died today

Let me be

A head full of garbage

Health Goals

Jeans

Mirrors and wisdom

Stitches

Today

Shifting

Floating

What do you want?

The Sound of White

Echoes

Whirlpools of funk

Words can mean so much more

Nothing today

Thoughts escaping

Something to ponder

Random Thought Collection

Today

Creative sharing

What's New?

Shifting

Raw

Photo Friday

The sacred placenta *graphic*

A poem

Cleaning

Hope Collage

Guilt

A thousand memories

2010

To You and some Christmas Inspired Rage

Christmas

Still here

peachyfuckingnot

Blogger vomit and random thoughts

The first year.

I know I know

Feeling and Letting Go

Silent thougths

The sacred placenta graphic