"Edited to Add"....

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.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Things which don't help

- Not having El Prima around to tell me it is time I went to bed (she's in Sydney for the weekend).
- Staying up till the tiny quiet hours reading and weeping.
- When we decide to go for a walk to the market as a cheer-up, having a heavily pregnant woman ask "Are you pregnant?" (the second such comment in 3 days)
- Getting poured on by rain on the walk home.

Actually, I think the rain did help. There is something about getting completely drenched - as though the internal and external water levels reached a balance. I've lost all compunction about sobbing while walking along the footpath - rain running down my cheeks and fogging my glasses helps.

I'd worn a favorite singlet with a little red corduroy mini - I'd been happy with what I was wearing, and it made me feel better than in my pajamas. But once she said that, I cursed my choice, and that I had nothing with me to hide this belly. It has been nearly 8 weeks. I still look pregnant. I haven't made the t-shirt I wanted to make in hospital. The one that says "I'm not pregnant anymore. My baby has died. Please don't ask". I think I need to make it before I venture outside the house again.

What is worse, the shocked looks on people's faces when they read it, or their unwittingly painful comments?


  1. This sounds horrible. I am sorry you are alone for the weekend. You are honoring your grief and I think that is good. It has ONLY been eight weeks. Every day is a new reminder of what you lost. I don't know what to say other that that I am here, I am listening. I am thinking of you and hoping that those walks and the rain and the anger and the pain begin to start to make sense for you. Don't hurry through this. Don't feel bad about feeling this way.
    I wish I could do more.

  2. xxxxx thanks keely. Eight weeks feels like a long long time. I know it won't always be this sharp and pointy. I'm not sure it will ever make sense, but maybe one day I will be able to live with that non-sense.

    It means a lot that you are hearing this - I wish it didn't have to be so sad. Thanks for staying for the sad bits. xxxxh

  3. Every post you write, my heart breaks a little bit more for you. There's nothing in the world to explain why such horrible things happen to wonderful, deserving people.
    I don't understand the ways of the world. You are so brave to keep writing about it, but I'm so sorry you have to.

  4. Thanks Puffer. It doesn't make any sense. I kind of knew that the world was a randomly cruel place (as well as being a randomly wonderful place), but I know it in a much more real way now.

    It doesn't really feel brave. It just feels like the only thing I can do - to keep going. The other option is unthinkable.

  5. You are such an amazingly strong person. I honestly dont know what I would do if faced with a situation like yours. Probably no one does, or ever wants to. The unfairness of it all is unsettling.
    I send you thoughts of strength, and tolerance for those who make hurtful comments.
    And I wish you luck in your car buying, and all the other things in life that still need to be done.
    You are not alone. Please let us know if we can do anything for you from blogland.
    Many hugs,

  6. xxxx thank you chris - this kind of support does make a big difference xxxh