Day 30

I was completely blown away reading Angie's post today. I don't know if I can come up with anything quite that good :)

As I said yesterday, I'd love to write ... something ...? Not sure what. I did start a Mills & Boon once - I'm not sure I should really admit to that. It's still knocking around our computer somewhere!

Aside from that, I'd like to grow old gracefully with my faculties intact and be the sort of grandmother that my grandma was.

Day 29

My hopes, plans and dreams for the next 365 days.

I don't really plan ahead any more. I've lived what happens when plans got to hell in a handcart, or whatever the phrase is. Maybe my plan should be to start planning more? Live a more effectual life than this one that I meander through.

Always, that the living members of my family remain healthy and well and happy - that we have no more tragedies to live through.

Perhaps Toby will discover his inner sleepyhead? Although that's his plan more than mine. It's just a dream of mine right now!

More prosaically, we have neglected our house. Never DIY-ers at the best of times, we have basically holed up these past two years and ignored the fact that our house is in need of some serious TLC. So, I guess trying to sort that out consistutes something resembling a plan? How dull / middle aged do I sound?

Okay, a little less dull - writing. I'd love to do more. Maybe that's one to expand on tomorrow.

Day 28

The contents of my handbag:

I hate clutter so normally, just the bare essentials.

My purse and keys. My prescription sunglasses (which might sound strange, since I live in the North East of England, where the sun is an exotic sight. I have very sensitive eyes and find they water with even quite weak sunlight, so I'm often the slightly mad looking lady in a woolly hat and shades!!). A hairbrush. My mobile. Some pens and scrap paper (handy for entertaining children in restaurants). Lip balm. Our year pass for entry into a local museum.

I suspect only British readers of a certain age will understand if I confess to writing the above and wanting to end ... "And a Cuddly Toy".

(There is no cuddly toy - they end up in the changing bag.)

Day 27

Worst habits since my loss?

Two:

1) Losing myself completely inside the internet for hours on end without surfacing for human interaction. I can always chart bad patches coming, my internet usage creeps back up when I'm low. Not writing but reading. Immersing myself in other people's stories to escape my own.

2) Comfort eating. No packet of biscuits (or cakes or chocolate) is safe from me since Emma died. It's not attractive and I need to find a way out of it but tiredness and grief do a wicked number on my will power.

Day 26

It's half-term, so this is a different week as Dave teaches and it's a holiday for him as well as Ben & Lucy. But, an ordinary week looks like this:

Mon-Fri: We walk to school (hopefully - but rarely - arriving on time). After dropping Ben and Lucy off, Toby and I come home (sometimes via the cemetery). Most of our days are quiet. I just can't do the local Mother and Baby group any more. Too many of the mums were too useless when Emma died. Time enough for that when Toby is actually more aware that hanging with his mum isn't actually the whizz bang he appears to think it is right now. He naps in the morning and I rush around doing jobs (feeding guinea pigs, washing nappies, ironing -yuck, thrice yuck.) except for the days when the nights have been really bad (often, at the moment) when I might just give up and nap too.

At least once a week, my best friend and her little girl come over to hang with us. Most Thursdays, she and I and the babes attend a sling walk at a local park (although, since the weather has turned there's less walking and more cafe haunting).

Toby and I eat lunch together and then play. If he's grumpy, he hangs out on my back in the sling whilst I wash up. Really, wee man could do with a nap around 3 but we're struggling with that right now because we have to collect Ben and Lucy at 3.20 (except Wednesdays, which is after school club and art club).

Home from school, a drink and a snack for the older two (and some TV but no computer which is rationed to weekends), maybe a short nap for Toby. I cook whilst the children play. Dave is back around 5.30pm. We all eat together where possible. Tuesday night is Rainbows for Lucy. Thursday night is Anchor Boys for Ben. Dave does bath time which all the kids adore. I wash up and clean around downstairs. I head back upstairs for stories - normally I'm Lucy's primary story reader but right now, Ben and I are sharing the second Har.ry Pot.ter so I read to him whilst Dave reads to Lucy. Teeth then prayers and lullabies and good nights. I lie down with Toby and feed him to sleep. Sometimes it works! I head downstairs for time with Dave and/or laptop/TV/embroidery. Until recently, Toby would reliably sleep until 11 but, having made the reckless decision to grow 4 teeth at once, this is no longer a given. I fall into bed far later than I should most nights and am up again every couple of hours right now. I'm looking forward to getting some sleep sometime in the future!

Saturday: Ben has trampolining at 10.30 and Lucy has just stopped dancing at 12, which frees up our afternoon a little. We try and keep the afternoons a little bit relaxed (aside from cleaning out the guinea pigs and the obligatory "Do I haaaave to?" from their 6YO owner). Sometimes, we see my parents who live locally. Sometimes we do that on Sunday instead. The kids love their Wii right now so we can often be found dancing round like loons. Saturday tea is usually quick and easy (and sometimes nutritious *blush*).

Sunday: Up for church. Our service has just changed from 9.15 to 10.15, which is a relief for us and makes the morning a little less fraught. It's not always the easiest of times. I don't blog much about my ongoing attempts to integrate my faith with what has happened to us but it's turning out to be a long, slow path and I often feel quite low during church.

Back home for lunch and homework (my least favourite time of the week and the time when I seriously wish I home educated!!) If we're not seeing my parents or doing soft play parties then I do stuff with the kids while Dave does his preparation for the following week. Sunday evenings right now, I catch up with both Saturday and Sunday's "Strictly" on i.pla.yer. Love it.

Lost for words

I shouldn't be surprised really. I was asking a lot of myself to think that I'd be able to come here and write with any coherence in the days after Emma's birthday. I remember from last year that the time after was so much harder than the days before (or the day itself). Both Emma's daddy and I have been sunk in a deep funk. We miss her, we miss her so much. I have waded through the last week, just going through the motions. My introverted little heart has had no space for anything else, except me and my grief. I've not been emotionally available to my other children - simply meeting their physical needs has exhausted me (especially short stuff's need to feed at 1am, 3am, 5 am ...)


But, the thing about two years, is I know there's light. Two years ago, I feared I might never smile again. Now I know that these seasons of sadness will always come but so too will better times. I can't force them to happen, I just have to wait until they return. And I think my mood is a little lighter again. Hopefully, I'll manage the last few days of the meme.

Day 17 - A Piece of Art.

For the longest time, I had a chip on my shoulder about "Art". I wasn't well taught, I don't think. My art teachers had a lot of time for those with natural aptitude (I wasn't one of those) but there was very little encouragement for those of us who might have had a lot of enjoyment in the process, even if the result wasn't polished. Nor do I remember being given much encouragement to appreciate beautiful pieces created by others. I was just pretty ground down - both my teacher and I breathed a sigh of relief when I opted not to continue my art to exam level.

So, I had this idea that it was somehow inaccessible to me. My first experience of enjoying art was studying Impressionism for my A-level French. The course included a 4 day stay in Paris (and the resort formerly known as "Euro.Disney"), with a visit to the Musee d'Orsay. And, maybe it's a cliche, but that's when I became engaged with "Art". I had to do a fifteen minute presentation (in French) on this piece. I have a framed reproduction of it on our bedroom wall. Post loss, I still love the innocence I associate with it.

Day 16 - A song that makes you cry (or nearly)

I'm not going to fill in the gaps from the last few days, just pick up with today.

So, songs. I agree with Angie, all music has the capacity to dissolve me into a puddle of sadness. Sometimes, I deliberately play things I know will make me cry, just for the catharsis. All song lyrics are about dead babies, all babylost parents know that. I can't sing many of the songs in church any more. And lullabies and nursery rhymes? I'll be astonished if Toby ever learns the words, as pronounced by his wailing, snot-dribbling mummy as she hugs him so hard he gives his protest squeak.

But, in  particular, a piece of music played by Emma's daddy for her birthday chokes me. I've heard it a lot these past months, as Dave practised it before recording. It has become her music.

And this will always remind me of my beautiful little girl too:

Thank you.

I am listening to Jess reading our babies' names as I type and crying harder than I have cried in a very long time. So many babies loved and gone too, too soon. And, in the midst of so much pain, such love and compassion.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all the wonderful messages of support, the candles and the beautiful acts of kindness done in Emma's name. Her second birthday was very, very special. Thank you.

TWO.

 Presents:

 A cake:

and a lot of love and support and kindness.
I just wish the birthday girl was here.


Emma,
We love you more than you can know and miss you every single second of every single day.
Love from,
Mummy, Daddy, Ben, Lucy & Toby.

No meme today - just memories.

I attended my first SANDS meeting just 5 weeks after Emma died. Dave and I were desperate to know we weren't alone. I remember one mother there, who had just passed her baby's first birthday, talked about how the day before was somehow harder than the actual birthday. How the day before was all about remembering how *this* day x years ago was the last time I was completely happy, completely the person I was before I became this person.

This time two years ago, I was already in labour - pretty far on as it turned out. This time two years ago I was excited about the fact we were about to meet the last baby to join our family - our little boy, George Joseph (or maybe George Nathaniel, it wasn't decided). Or, if I was completely wrong about the gender, our little girl ... Felicity Hope / Felicity Joy, maybe? I was SO wrong on so many counts. I don't really remember the physical pain of this day 2 years ago but I remember those wonderful, innocent expectations that things would turn out just the way we planned them.

Thank you and Day 12

Thank you to everyone who responded to my last post. I'm tremendously touched that people are willing to reach out for my little girl and pleased that Thursday will be a day punctuated by small acts of kindness. Thank you.

So, my OCD. My family have often been wont to wonder whether I really, truly do have this illness. I don't think I do, certainly not enough to entail a formal diagnosis. But  I do have a very strong need for things to be "just so". If someone puts a can in the cupboard upside down (or back to front) then I HAVE to turn it around the right way. It is a long running source of humour/frustration for my husband that I cannot -absolutely cannot- go to sleep if he has his pillowcase turned wrong side up - even if it's dark and I can't see it. Just knowing that it is "wrong", is enough to leave me lying uncomfortably awake. When we changed the bookcase in our living area, I ended up demanding that Dave just let me put the books back - he wasn't putting all the books by the same author in the same place, you see. All this seems nothing more than harmlessly idiosyncratic to me ...

I'm always LATE for everything though ...

A request for Emma's birthday (and Day 11)

I feel as though Emma's birthday has hit me out of nowhere. Because Ben and Lucy have birthdays at the end of September, the build up to her special day is short, but intense. I just feel ... malaise ... I want her back, I can't have her back and I don't want to be trying to find ways to make a second birthday that is also a death-day into something meaningful. I mean I do, of course I do, but I don't. Oh ... if you're in this with me, you know. You understand the sentiment behind that befuddled stream of words. Last year, we planned lots of stuff to do. This year, not so much. I'll make a cake and we'll each have a gift (a tradition - if second time through can be said to make a tradition - I hope will continue through the years.) But, I wanted something more for her.

Her name means "All encompassing" or "universal". If that seems a random leap, it's not. I'd like to ask all my bloggy / FB friends if they would be prepared to try and do a small, random act of kindness on October 14th, in memory of Emma - making kindness "universal". It doesn't have to be big (and I know it's not an original idea - I have stolen it directly from lovely Angie!) but it would mean a lot to me to know she is remembered in some little ways around the world. Thank you.

And now ... Day 11. A photo of me now. My husband took the "now" literally and took a picture of me, sitting at the laptop (actually leaving a comment on Angie's blog, if you want to be precise about it) - tired, a bit low, scruffy after a quick tidy round now the kids are in bed. Literally, me NOW. Not the most flattering thing I've ever seen!

Day 10 - A photo over 10 years old.

Me - age 23 - on honeymoon in Malta. So young, so happy.

Excuse my lack of words, Emma's birthday is on Thursday - my brain doesn't have room for much else.

Day 9 - A picture taken since my loss

I just commented on Angie's blog  that I try to avoid having my photo taken - but here's an exception. And I know, it's a picture taken by someone else, not me (Dave!) but, once again, I'm working with the limited resources of the laptop!

But, I like this picture. It's the first time I managed to get Toby on my back using my woven wrap. It's the wrap I bought to use with Emma. I didn't know anything about "babywearing" with Ben and Lucy, although I did have a carrier that I used with them, so I was excited to try it out for real with our third child. The wrap was the only thing I bought new for Emma, little third child with hand-me-downs, that she was. I never got to use it for her but I love snuggling Toby in it - a small connection between him and her.

Day 8 - A photo that makes me angry or sad.

This was taken 20th September 2008. We were celebrating my mother-in-law's 60th birthday by going on the "York eye" - one of those slow moving, viewing  ferris wheels. I don't know who took the photograph - I didn't even know it was being taken, hence the completely unguarded pose. I'm 36ish weeks pregnant, rubbing my bump and chatting to Emma. I feel so sad that a beautiful, full, happy pregnancy ended like this and so angry that I went through a full nine months for "nothing" (not that she is nothing, but you know what I mean). I didn't look at the camera for a long time after Emma died and when I came to sort out the prints I wanted, this was the picture that made me sob and sob and sob.

Day 6 - 20 things that calm me.

In no order:
1) Listening to Classic FM.
2) Cross Stitch.
3) Card Making.
4) Playing Lego with Ben.
5) Playing "Princess" Snap with Lucy.
6) A rise and fall of Toby's chest when he's peacefully asleep (not teething, like now :( ).
7) The "good" walks home from school, chattering about nothing much with the children.
8) Colouring in!
9) The Sea - especially on cold, dreary days.
10) Sunsets.
11) Visiting Emma's grave.
12) Revisiting an old book or getting completely hooked on a new one.
13) Browsing (but never buying) the For Sale folder of the babywearing forum I recently joined.
14) Toby's grin and babbling when he's in the wrap on my front.
15) A lovely cup of tea (keeping up the best of British, Jeanette!)
16) Singing along to really cheesy pop.
17) Praying (when I am able to).
18) Galaxy chocolate.
19) Setting the world to rights with my best friend.
20) Lighting some candles and snuggling on the sofa with Dave.

Day 5 - Your Favourite Quote.

Maya Angelou has plenty of pithy stuff to say about life. At college I had her poem "Phenomenal Woman" on my wall (although it isn't entirely true to suggest that I had men falling on their knees around me. But I'm allowed a little poetic licence, surely?)

I like this one of hers:

"When we knew what we knew, we did what we did - when we knew better, we did better"

 (I found slightly different versions when googling this, so I don't know if this the actual quotation). 

Immediately after Emma died, both Dave and I talked about becoming better parents as a result of her death. It doesn't always work that way, I know. Grief is tiring and sometimes, of necessity, selfish. Sometimes I have been a far worse parent when I am mired in thick, sludgy sadness. But, now that I know better than most how precious and fragile the lives of my children are, I try to do better by them.

Day Four - Favourite Book

Day 4 - your favourite book. has it changed since your loss?
 
This could be a V-E-R-Y long post if I were to allow it but I'm supposed to be online grocery shopping so I shall attempt to edit myself. I'm interested by the fact that a lot of the stuff this "sort-of meme" is throwing up, I blogged about, back in the rawer days of my early grief. I blogged here about the fact that I missed reading immediately after Emma's death. I'm pleased to report that I have now rediscovered my inner bookworm. But, yes, my reading choices have changed since my loss. I remain an ardent Jane Austen fan but I'm not sure when I'll be able to read Emma again. I know that I couldn't watch the BBC serialisation of it last year. My daughter is not exactly named for the book but, when we struggling to come up with a girls name for a baby we were certain was a boy, Dave suggested Emma. He likes classic names and thought I might agree to it because of the Austen link. So, she's not named for the eponymous heroine but her name is a respectful nod in that direction.

I still prefer a walk on the lighter side of literature - the adventures of the boy wizard will always, always allow me to escape and relax. I still find it very hard to read a book without peeking forward these days. I don't want nasty surprises to leap out on me.

One book which I loved before Emma died - and which I re-read as a direct result of a DBM blog about it, is The Red Tent. I wrote about it here. I still want to live in a red tent with only babylost mothers for company. I still think it is a book that profoundly honours baby loss.

And finally, something I really "enjoyed" - or rather, was captivated by, is the Stig Larsson Millenium trilogy, which I read this summer. Easy prose, very tough on the stomach ideas. I really don't know if I would have enjoyed these books, if I had read them before becoming baby-lost. I suspect I might have found them too disturbing but, since I live with the disturbing fact of baby death every single day, fictional distress doesn't deter me anymore. I have a stronger stomach for it.

Late as usual! Day Three.

I've just read Angie's idea for thirty posts in thirty days and I love it and hope it might help me out of my bloggy rut. Although, given that three posts in thirty days would be a challenge for me, I'm not entirely sure how this will work out!! So, immediately, I'm cheating. I'm going to skip days one and two and leap straight into day three.

A Television Show.

Immediately after Emma died, Dave and I spent long hours sitting on the sofa, after the children were in bed, watching DVDs and drinking wine. Amongst others, we watched Series One and Two of  "My Name is Earl". Perhaps, comedy was not the most obvious choice for grieving parents - or perhaps it was the most natural choice in the world. We laughed a lot - and took a break from watching when we realised we were unconsciously allowing the show's simplistic views on karma to influence our feelings about Emma's death. That sound so silly now but, back then, lost in a world where nothing made sense, where the foundations of our Christian faith had been rocked utterly; it was too easy to allow something that was never meant to be more than a handy hook from which to hang implausibly silly situations, become a philosophical possibility. I really don't have much of a clue about karma but I'm quite sure I'm not going to understand it any better by watching "My Name is Earl" Still, we've been watching them again recently - purely for pleasure and not to garner deep insights into the universe. They still make me laugh.