This started as a pregnancy blog when I fell pregnant in May 2009 after four years of finding a donor, doing all the counselling / paperwork / tests and trying.
And now, thanks to a 4WD which skidded onto our side of the road, killing our baby daughter at 34w and injuring me, my partner and two of my stepdaughters on 27 December 2009, it has turned into something else. We didn't want this something else, but apparently it is all we've got to go on with.
was ALL that I could think of this afternoon after I escaped from a videoconference meeting at work. The idea lodged its sticky self in my red bean brain, and would not leave me alone until I marched all the way down to the sweet bun bakery and got not one, but two different kinds of red bean bun. (heavy gelatinous, rolled in hairy coconunt red bean bun, and golden baked bun with a frighteningly scary dough-face red bean bun - these are probably not the correct terms)
And I made ravenous pregnant woman faces at people on the street as I wolfed them down while walking back to the office. (clarification - I was wolfing down the buns, not the people on the street. Though they better watch out - particularly when I'm hungry and on the hunt for red bean bun!)
In other scintillating gestational news - a friend pointed out that my sticky-outy bellybutton is actually a little bit off-centre - slightly to the left (just like Beyonce). In fact, the "linea negra" above and below my bellybutton don't even line up! It is like my belly button is some kind of traffic-reducing chicane on the grand highway of my linea negra. (I love the word chicane. My brother had to explain it to me - this is probably why I love it so much).
Last week I waited around all day so I could have the "big chat" re our relocation with my boss. And thankfully, he was absolutely lovely about it - sad that I wouldn't be coming back after having haloumi, but understanding about my reasons why. I wasn't surprised, because he's always been very supportive, but it was a huge relief. And that means I can let my other colleagues know - also sad because they have made it the most friendly & supportive workplace I've ever worked in, but nice to no longer have to be studiously vague about my plans post-maternity leave. I'm lousy at carrying secrets - they exhaust me. It is nice to no longer be carrying that one.
And last but not least, you know in the Olympic gymnastics - the event where the gymnast sprints like the clackers down a track, bounces on a trampoline and then boings off a padded wooden horse with two feet? It feels like haloumi's been doing quite a bit of that! Not painful or anything - but quite strong!
El Prima - my *ex* partner & aaineh number one. Yep, she's a lady. And so am I. Scandalous. Even better, she's Lebanese - and not just in a euphemistic way.
"the girls" - El Prima's two teenage daughters, Snacky & Snazzy, who live with us, and put up with my poor attempts at stepmama-ing. Her eldest daughter is 20 and living in another city. Snacky moved up to Sydney to study in Feb 2012 after finishing high school. Snazzy still lives with us (or at the house, with El Prima) and visits me and Ali where we are staying with friends,
Z - (aka Haloumi or khallila) our baby daughter, who died from placental abruption at 34w in the car accident on 27 December 2009.
Ali - long awaited little brother to the girls and to Z, born in May 2012
*edited on 13 July to add*
[where did my ticker go? It broke - I guess pregnancy tickers don't magically transform into "x days since our baby would hypothetically have been born, had she not died 6 weeks before" tickers. And I'm not sure I need a little program to tell me anyway.]
*edited on 11 Jan 2010 to add*
I think the reason why I'm leaving this ticker up here is because it is important to my mourning right now. We've had a funeral for our beautiful little girl, but in accordance with El Prima's faith (and my wishes) we will have a further, more public, ceremony around 40 days after she died. In some kind of wierd coincidence, 40 days was almost exactly how many days were left until her due date at the time she died. (I think that counts as irony of the saddest kind)
So while the significance has changed so radically, we are still counting down to something, even if it is not what we expected.
The fine print
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