"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.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Inside-out Day

Friday was the 27th - eight months since our accident. I was trying to figure out why it felt so much harder than seven months. We were in Singapore at the seven month mark, and somehow felt like we were "on holiday" from the grief. I'd just given my conference paper and we had a little holiday ahead of us. I felt close to Z, but the grief felt distant, smoother. Eight months isn't half a year, it didn't make sense for it to be any harder than seven months. The answer was so obvious it took me a while to realise. She lived eight months in my belly, and from now on she would have been dead longer than she existed. I spent eight months gearing up to be a mother, and then the pendulum swung back, and I feared that my whole pregnancy has now unwound - that I'm back to where I started. I know that doesn't really make sense, but it feels like some strange marker. It wasn't such a desperate sadness as the six month anniversary - I feel like I've built her memory into our lives more now.

I dreamt last night that someone was giving away a baby car seat and pram for free - and El Prima and I were discussing - is it too soon to start buying baby things again? I woke, and she'd had a very similar dream - that we'd won baby things in a competition, and were toying with the idea of bringing them home.

Maybe this means we are ready to start again, to push the pendulum back in the direction of hope.


  1. I am cold. I wish I had the strength to post something to help you.

    I hope you can start again. S/he will never replace your loss, of course, but it can be such joy.

    I wish nothing else but this kind of joy for you and your partner - your family.

  2. The pomegranate tree you gave me for my birthday last year is covered in tiny red leaf buds. It will always remind me of Zainab - when she was born it had a single perfect red flower.

    Remember what Jenny said in the hospital: you will always be a mum, and nothing can ever change that.

    It sounds as though your hearts are telling you that you're getting ready to try again. I have a good feeling that the different process for working out the cycle timing will really help this time around.

  3. Roccie - thank you - the good wishes all help - and I hope our wishes can help warm you too. xx

    P - ours too! But I didn't know yours had flowered - that is so lovely. We're so ready - so much so that I'm scared we'll jinx it by wanting it too much. But I can't just be nonchalant about this, that doesn't work. We'll just lay our hearts out again and hope that something happens. xx


  4. It makes sense to me. Our bodies and deep in our minds, we keep track of these things in ways that our conscious minds don't really pay attention to. I know that I dread when my (other) brother turns 21, because 3 months after that, he'll be older than my (first) brother ever got to be. It's grief, yes, markers, but for me, it seems more a reminder that things are Not As They Should Be.

    I love reading about the pomegranate tree. That's beautiful.

  5. time does indeed stand still for our babies hanen, i often wonder what it will be like when harvey has been dead longer than he was alive, but it is inevitable that it will happen. ( hope i didn't jinx myself then!!) you be brave and lay your hearts out again, go ahead and want it with everything you have, it really is the only way to approach having a planned baby, although its not easy to do after a loss. i can guarantee you that thinking positively did not cause the car accident. i say this, but i worry about jinxing myself all the time. i don't remember if i was like this before harvey died or whether its another by product of grief? sending loads of love and remembering z with you xxx

  6. I can see how that would be a really hard marker. I think your dreams are very good omens. Sending love and good wishes for your family.

  7. next time you have those kinds of dreams, take the car seat, bring the baby things home ...

    sending love from the UK. M x

  8. thinking of you and hoping for you

  9. N - thank you. I know that we don't really get to choose how things "should be", but it does still get to me.

    Anne - thanks for all the lovely thoughts. Maybe I need a bumpersticker that says "optimism is not fatal"... I will just have to go ahead and want it, and cross my superstitious fingers against the jinx-fairies. xxh

    Golyweg - I will - I'll close my fingers around those baby things and bring them home. xxh

    thanks B!

  10. And E - thanks so much for the dream interpretations. We will take them as good omens. God knows we need all the good omens we can get! xxxh

  11. I hope those dreams are good omens too. They sound positive to me.

    I agree with N. I think our bodies keep track of things that perhaps we are not aware of. I am sorry that eight months was so especially difficult.

    Hoping for you and El Prima xo