"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.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Three years

Oh, I feel so sheepish to have been so quiet on here.  I have all kinds of good excuses - Christmas, my brother's wedding, a dose of gastro, and most of all, a hilarious baby boy whose laugh makes a room full of strangers smile. 
He is lovely.  We feel impossibly blessed.  He really is a cheery little soul and it blows my mind how much I love him.  I have to pinch myself on a regular basis to remind myself this is actually happening.  The blocks of time for writing are much harder to find, but it's not just that.  So many of the things which I relied on post-accident to make sense of our loss and to keep myself on an even keel have fallen by the way side - yoga, writing, meditation etc.  Somehow it seems so hard to keep up with all the baby / house / renovation / christmas stuff while also wanting to enjoy my time with Ali.  I'd really like to find ways to claw back a bit of time for restorative practices.  In a way I don't need them as desperately as I once did, but I really could do with a little more of the calmness and reflection they gave me.  Am I kidding myself to think that these things are compatible with caring for a small child?  Or do I just need to organise myself better?  It doesn't help that we're also renovating at the moment, so that there is a constant list of decisions to be made, bricks to be cleaned, bills to be paid, calls to be made etc. 

It feels like Z is with us enjoying Ali's babyhood.  She's here in her pomegranate tree in the front yard, in the roses I inhale as I walk up our street, in the few items of her baby clothes that Ali still sometimes wears, in her blanket I use for Ali when we travel, in the stars when I hang the washing in the summer night, in the extra tight cuddles I give Ali when I soothe him to sleep.  The grief still hits me now and then, but it is like a sneeze - I sense it coming, it shakes me, and then it moves on.  I look at Ali's face and wonder what she would have looked like at his age, or as a three-year-old. 

We spent her day and a few days either side of it down the coast, near the bush chapel where her ashes are buried.  We played her some music, we sang her a lullaby, my mum sat next to me and squeezed my hand.  A part of me feels guilty that our grief has mellowed - in some strange way I miss the clean intensity of the early days.  But this is now a grief that is woven in with our lives. 

11 comments:

  1. Yes, woven in, that's just how it is. I sometimes long for some time to entrench myself back in the grief and the missing. I feel guilty too, but my Florence is here with me, just as your Z is with you, woven in to our family.
    Ali is gorgeous. x

    (ps, wanna host a little rag doll on her travels? www.aroundtheworldwithhester.com)

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    1. It is strange isn't it - to almost miss the clear intense grief of those early days - even though it was so excruciating at the time. I guess now I feel that that pain was part of parenting Z, so it feels significant rather than a tragedy or a waste.

      And yes, I cried when I read your story about Hester, because there are all sorts of little girl clothes and toys that I have almost bought and didn't. So yes, I would love to host Hester, in honour of our own would-be three year old girl who would, I'm sure have loved Hester. Will send a message on FB with our address

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  2. So glad to read your words here. I think that sometimes it takes a while for things to settle before you have much time for reflective work like writing.

    And, oh, my goodness, Ali is beautiful!

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    1. Thanks Erica - we think so! Yes, I feel like my brain is broken up into tiny 10 minute bits of attention - so it may take me a while.

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  3. Gosh that boy is delicious. It is a lot of a lot going on in your life just now. Honestly isn't it nice that you don't need this space as much? I need thus space still a lot. Time changes grief and your baby who is alive demands your attention. I think if you need it this space will be here for you. Sending love as always

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    1. Oh, I have way too much going on, I'm afraid. Hence me staying up way too late. So I really can't tell if I don't need this space at the moment, or if I might, but it keeps getting pushed down the list because I need to sleep / do washing / clean bricks / spend time hanging out with Ali. It is a good thing I guess, but I miss the connection with other babylost mamas. Thanks so much for being here.

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  4. xxx change is ok i think. sending love

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    1. It is. And when I think of the acute pain of first losing Z, I'm very glad for that change. sending lots of love to you guys too xxxx

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  5. So lovely to see an update. I've been reading a while now after losing (to miscarriage) two babies, and seeking solace in blogs about baby loss by other lesbians.
    It's wonderful to hear how life goes on with your Ali but with Z well woven in as well.
    Sending good wishes from NZ.
    (pepibebe@wordpress)

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    1. Thanks Pepi! I'm sorry to be so sporadic with the updates. And even sorrier to hear about your losses - hoping you get some good news soon. Lots of good wishes your way too xxx h

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