So much to think about

My heart hurts today. I've been trying to work on Christmas planning, but it just hurts :( This really isn't getting any easier, but maybe it isn't supposed to yet. It makes me sad knowing that I won't be almost 7 months pregnant at Christmas like I was supposed to be. It's hard to be excited this year, and that's not like me. I'm trying though. I really am.

I'm still not back at work yet. I was meant to go back today but I extended it until Thursday. Had another setback yesterday but feeling better today. Seeing my ob on Weds so I guess I'll take it from there.

To be honest, I don't want to go back to work. Ever. I've come to realise that I'm actually not interested in having a career anymore. It's just not what I want from life now. Yes, I did the uni thing - to prove that I could. And because it was expected of me. And because I thought it was what I wanted. And I've landed in a pretty high-level position and I'm grateful for that. But now I feel empty and unsatisfied, and it's just not where I want to be. It's not what I want to be spending my life doing. My heart's just not in it. At all. And although I could not wish for a better team of people to work with, that just isn't enough.

I realised this the other day when I was reading forum posts from some ladies who are starting maternity leave, and they were saying that they had mixed feelings about putting their careers on hold. That surprised me. And I realised that I couldn't identify with that at all. I was hanging out for mat leave, and I couldn't wait to 'put my career on hold'. To be honest, I was secretly hoping to put it on hold indefinitely, and just find some nice part-time work in a little shop somewhere instead of going back. Much less money, but I've learned that there is much more to life than money.

Well anyway, obviously things haven't gone to plan and now I'm stuck there with no light at the end of the tunnel. Kym says I should hang in there and hopefully it will only be another 9 months or so til I can take mat leave for real. I'm finding it hard to be that optimistic. I just want to cry at the thought of going back :( I'm not the same person anymore. So much has changed in a year :(

Maybe it's not that I don't want a career - maybe I just don't want that career. I'm incredibly disillusioned with the public sector, and feel cheated and let down by some decisions that have been made. I am fed up with the red tape and all the rubbish I have to deal with just to be able to do my job. I do think I need to look elsewhere. I don't have the personality for this after all. I did law to prove that I could, but I think I've made my point.

But what on earth can I do now? Government is OUT. Private practice is OUT (I always said I didn't want to practice law and I meant it!). I hate and despise admin work, call centre work, and supermarket work. Out, out and out. Hmmm. A nice shop would be cool. Or a charity. Somewhere I actually care about. Or I could go to TAFE. I don't like TAFE - my experience with TAFE is that they are disorganised and annoying. But if it's a means to an end... I'd like to do something creative. Or perhaps something child-care related. Early Childhood Education would be nice, but that's at uni rather than TAFE. Not sure I want more uni... But I want a job where I can be myself, and where I can embrace my strengths and passions. Not feel squashed and conflicted because heaven forbid I disagree with the 'M'...

If I can get away from the stress and depression caused by work, then maybe our next pregnancy will actually be a success... Not that I blame work for losing Peanut - I don't. But I also don't feel like I'm in a very good place mentally to be TTC again... I don't feel refreshed. I feel exhausted and wrung out and unsure of everything.

I have a lot to think about. And no idea where to start :(

the healing power of sunshine

Summer is coming. It's definitely not far away now. I adore summer. Summer is the only reason I put up with the other three seasons. Give me baking hot 35+ degree days and extended daylignt all year round and I'd be in bliss. Sadly that's not the case, so I make the most of it while I've got it. As soon as I smell summer, I start to come to life.

Which is why I'm a bit annoyed at the timing of all this. I don't like to feel heavy-hearted coming into summer. Summer deserves better. It deserves a fanfare, a ticker-tape parade, and a red carpet. It normally gets all three from me (figuratively speaking, of course...). But so far this year I'm not feeling it. I'm not coming to life yet. Of course I know why. It's obvious. But knowing why doesn't change the fact that it sucks, and that it's overshadowing my favourite time of year.

I've only ever really had one depressing summer, where I just couldn't find any joy in the days at all. That was the summer of 2001-2002. Actually, the 2001 part was fine - it was the 2002 part that went to hell and had me in a very dark place. The reason? Bad relationship breakup and trust issues with friend who had set it up. Looking back, I'm actually glad it happened. It made me so much stronger and it made me appreciate Kym so much more. I can see now why it had to happen. But at the time it was just horrible... devastating... heartbreaking... like I could never ever be happy again. And every day of that summer was dark. If only I'd known.

I wonder if I'll be saying the same thing in a few years when I look back on this time. Although I don't think I could ever say 'I'm glad it happened' when I reflect on Peanut's short life. I will never, ever be glad about that, and I wish with every fibre of my being that she was still here. But I do hope that I'll be able to look back and understand why it happened. I already know this will help us to appreciate our children even more when we do have them. And I hope I'll be able to look at them and remind myself that if we hadn't lost Peanut then we wouldn't have been blessed with them instead. And maybe that will give me some peace, just in knowing that everything happens for a reason, and that somehow everything does work out the way it is supposed to.

Of course that doesn't make me feel any better about the here and now. Because right now I'm still in the dark place. Still aching for her, still wincing with pain when I see a pregnant woman, and still crying at all kinds of random triggers. Wahhhmbulance, anyone?

You might be wondering how long the dark place lasted in 2002 and how I got through it. The dark place lasted until late in the year - October to be precise. From January to October. 10 months. And how did I get through it? Going through the motions... getting through each day... focusing on the things I enjoyed in the hopes that they would eventually become enjoyable again... and then there was Kym. Amazing Kym going through the exact same thing. My old friend who I hadn't heard from in three years suddenly called me out of the blue. Both on the rebound, we were a couple by early November. Eight years later, we're still together, married, and disgustingly in love.

Which brings me full circle to the current situation. Good things come out of bad things. Bad things come out of good things. Life is so bizarre. But I know we'll get through this - we are so much stronger than this. Doesn't make it any easier and it sure as hell doesn't make it hurt any less. But at least we're in it together. To love and to cherish, so long as we both shall live, all this I vow and promise. That's more than a lot of people have. Just need to keep counting those blessings.

So. Today was better. Yesterday was a complete write off and I was a complete mess (I even skipped Zumba, that's how bad it was), but today was better. I made myself go out. I went to Marion, got my hair cut, had some major retail therapy, bought some birthday presents, spent way too much money and now can't pay the mortgage this fortnight (whoops), but I honestly couldn't care less (we're ahead anyway). It was necessary. And it actually helped me feel a bit better. I now have a new handbag which I think I love, and a new purse which I think I hate (damn...) which means I might now go out and buy another new purse and hopefully choose better this time. Or I might just learn to like the one I bought today. Meh. I also got cheap petrol. Win. I never get cheap petrol. Like, ever. But I did today. And the sun was out. The sun was beautiful and perfect. And it reminded me in its delicious way that summer is just around the corner. And then I went to Zumba. And I Zumba'd like an old woman, but I Zumba'd nonetheless. And it was good.

And while I'm still finding it hard to be happy about anything - even the things I would normally do backflips for (again, figuratively speaking...) such as summer and Christmas and the horse trials and Equitana, I also know that I shouldn't underestimate the healing powers of sunshine. And I'm sure that, as the warm sunny days and balmy evenings slowly wrap themselves around me, I will find my way out of this dark place. One step at a time.

a setback...

So we hit another speedhump. This was never part of the plan. I never thought I'd be back here. But I am, so...

It's actually been two calendar months exactly today since the D&C. The first D&C, anyway (yeah... I'll get to that). Back on Tuesday 17 August 2010. I was a mess that day. But if you'd asked me then where I thought I would be on Sunday 17 October 2010, I would have been fairly sure that I'd have come a long way and that we would be ready to start trying again. And that would have been a reasonable expectation.

Alas. No. The last couple of months have been monumentally crud. Even by my standards.

So I'd been feeling awful for a long time, but had convinced myself it was all in my head. I didn't want to be the the hysterical post-miscarriage patient who turns into a hypochondriac at every twinge. So I took the proverbial cup of concrete and just kept going. Fast forward to 6 weeks post-D&C. Impatiently waiting for my cycle to resume, but feeling as though something wasn't quite right. So I did what most girls would do in that situation - I did a test. Not because I thought for one moment that I could be pregnant again (ha! I wish!) but because I wanted the negative test as a control for when we did start trying again. In theory it was a good idea. In practice it was an epic fail because the test was as positive as positive can be. The line was as strong (if not stronger) than the test when I was carrying Peanut.

Now, I did make a promise to myself that I wasn't going to curse on my blog. I need to remind myself of that so I don't repeat verbatim what I said when I saw those lines come up...

So. *sigh* I wasn't actually surprised to still be testing positive. I WAS, however, surprised and concerned to be testing THAT positive. Something wasn't right. And this is where it all started to go pear-shaped. My ob was away so it took a few days to get the ball rolling on what to do next. I was told to see my GP and get a blood test done. This was all fine but the long weekend made it impossible to see my GP for almost a week. Then it took a while to chase up the blood test results. All the while, I'm feeling worse and worse. Eventually my GP clinic's nurse calls me with blood test results and announces that they are positive. Clearly she didn't know the background... So I fill her in, she freaks out, and next thing I know there is another GP on the phone telling me to get a scan done NOW in case I've got an ectopic. Meanwhile, my ob was still away AND so was my regular GP.

o.O

I was 99.9999% sure that an ectopic wasn't the cause, but I still thought a scan sounded like a mighty fine idea. So I called Kym and off we went. And of course, this was a Friday afternoon. I got the scan result there and then - the D&C hadn't removed everything. This didn't surprise me. Why? Well, for starters, my ob had discussed this risk with me so I knew it was entirely possible. And also, I Google wayyyy too much. And remember I'd been feeling terrible for weeks. So Dr Google had already told me what the scan confirmed.

The results were sent through to my GP and to my ob. But remember it was Friday afternoon. And both my GP and my ob were away... so I had to wait until Monday for any action... Clearly the universe was trying to teach me patience.

So Monday afternoon I get a phone call from my ob, and she asked me to come in on Wednesday. And this is where I start to get emotional and foggy again. Because until now I'd still been putting one foot in front of the other, still slowly distancing myself from August and trying to heal myself and focus on the future. And this was taking me right back to where it all began. I wasn't emotionally ready to go there yet. I didn't think I'd be back there until I was pregnant again. Just the thought of going back there and not being pregnant yet made me want to curl into a ball. But I felt rotten. And I knew it was necessary. And I knew I couldn't be in better hands. So I agreed.

So Kym and I saw her on Weds morning. It wasn't a very long appointment. She had seen the scans and the blood test results (I'd had 3 blood tests in the last week) and she'd already told me the most likely course of action. So it was no surprise to be told I needed another D&C. I feebly attempted to have it scheduled for the following week due to my big Zumba weekend ahead. But who was I kidding? I felt like absolute crud and chances are I wouldn't have been well enough to Zumba properly anyway. So I backed down and agreed to Friday instead. And then went to work armed with antibiotics and the knowledge that I'd finally be able to collapse soon. I know it sounds crazy, but I was actually relieved.

And then it was pretty much history repeating itself, except that I had a bit more warning this time so I was able to get a few things in order at work and make arrangements for not being there. I told my team that I wasn't sure how long I would be off for. I didn't put a return date in my Out of Office message. I've learned from last time. Two months older, two months wiser, and two months more heartbroken.

Friday was fine I guess. Much the same as last time. I thought I'd be okay, actually. And I almost was - until I was in the holding area (I don't know what it's called?) just outside theatre waiting to go in. Then the tears started. And I couldn't stop them. All the memories just hit me, and I felt like I was losing her for the first time all over again. And I was discreet (I've become good at that over the last 2 months) but one of the nurses still noticed. Her name was Allie. She might have been a boss nurse... not sure. I have to say, the staff were wonderful to me. Allie let me wait in her office instead so I had some privacy. And she stayed with me and told me funny stories about her sister's kids to make me giggle. And then my ob came in with the anaesthetist, and they were both wonderful as well. I hope, if I ever need surgery again, I can have that same anaesthetist again, because she was just the best. I'm so grateful that I was surrounded by the right people when I needed them most. I didn't expect to fall apart so badly but I guess I should have known better. I had well and truly run out of concrete.

Recovery has been harder this time. I didn't feel good when I woke up, and it wasn't helped by my emotions being stupid. For some reason I had it in my head that it was the end of the world that I would never know whether Peanut was really a girl or a boy. So there were plenty more tears for a while there, but that settled and then I was okay. Apart from still feeling like crud, of course. I was quite sore afterwards and still am now (much worse than last time), but the painkillers make me really dizzy so I'm opting for the soreness instead. At least for now. I still don't feel well enough to drive, so Kym's having to drive me to Loui. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow.

Emotionally I'm in a bit of a black hole now. I'm starting to think that I might need to see a counsellor after all. I thought I'd be able to pull myself out of this, but now I have my doubts. I keep asking WHY - why did this have to happen? Why us? Why our first child? And I know that I'm being stupid. Worse things happen. And I'm lucky that there was no medical reason for it to happen and there is no reason why we shouldn't be able to have a healthy pregnancy next time. I'm lucky, dammit! But I still feel so lost. I feel like this is never going to end. I thought we'd be trying again by now, but I'm right back at the start again. I wonder if my body is ever going to fix itself and get back to normal, or if I'll be stuck in this vicious circle forever.

But most of all, I miss my little one. I should have been 20 weeks pregnant now. I should have been halfway through. But instead I'm back here again. I guess I'm still grieving badly for what should have been. And I look at Kym and I know what a wonderful dad he will be, and I just ache that I wasn't able to give him the baby we both adored so much. And I know that I will never stop feeling that way, because Peanut will always be our first child. And we'll always miss her and ache for her, and 5th March will always be a sad day for me now.

I keep telling myself that this was just a setback. The second D&C will have fixed everything. So my cycle should return to normal soon, and then we'll be able to try again. And then I'll be so happy to go back to my ob's office, because it will be for the right reasons again.

But that all feels like an impossible dream right now. I'm in a fog, I'm tired, I'm sore, and I just don't want to see anyone or do anything. I just want to cocoon myself in my home for a while and try to heal. Again. That's why I didn't put a return date on my Out of Office. My ob said I can take as long as I need. So did my manager. Last time I went back to work too soon. I wasn't ready but I didn't have a choice. This time I do. I've been struggling so badly for 8 weeks. So maybe this setback has actually been a blessing in disguise. I might finally get the time I need to heal.

God, I hope so.

So a lot has happened. And I'll update soon. But it's all quite raw and to be honest I'm feeling like I'm right back at the start of all this again. So I'm not quite ready to write it down yet. But soon.


To The Child I'll Never Know – by Gloria Dianne

How can I say goodbye

When I never said hello?
Why does my heart grieve

For the child I'll never know?
You were a part of me

For just a little while.
I grieve because I'll never see

The magic in your smile. 


I grieve for all the unsaid words

That you will never say.
I grieve that I will never see

You happily at play. 


I grieve for all the lullabies

That will remain unsung.
I grieve because I'll never see

Your face gleaming like the sun. 


I grieve because you will never know

The comfort of my touch.
I grieve because you will never know

That you were loved so much. 

I grieve for all the tomorrows

That will never be.
I grieve because God chose

To take you back from me. 


You live among the Angels now

Your earthly mission done,
You will be so dearly missed

Goodbye my little one.

Just dealing

So its now been about 6 weeks since we lost her.

I think I'm okay. Mostly. I think I've done a pretty good job of being okay on the surface, at least. Getting on with life and all that. There's a fair bit going on that nobody else can see, but that's okay too. The heavy-heartedness comes in bite-size pieces now, subtle enough that I can deal with them on my own, without needing to unburden on anyone else, or (hopefully) even reveal that anything is amiss. But if I get a bit quiet or withdrawn from time to time, don't worry - I'm just dealing. And I'll be smiling again soon.

Ultrasound photos are what get me most. I guess that's to be expected. And being anywhere near Ashford. And seeing pregnant girls. Especially Kayla. And the cute baby on the immunisation poster at Emmaus. And thinking about March. Wondering how on earth I am going to handle March. That's still uncharted territory actually, because just starting to contemplate it hurts so much that I won't even go there.

But clearly I like to torture myself. Because FB is full of ultrasound photos, and not only am I seeing them, I am actively seeking them out. Why? Because I'm nuts? Or because I'm trying to memorise what a healthy scan looks like? I have no idea. And I always end up closing the window anyway and kicking myself for making it hurt again. Idiot. But we both know I'll do it again. And then there's Ashford. I go past it twice a day on the work commute. And I look. And I see the very window that I was gazing out of on that horrible morning in August. And I feel it ache but at the same time I hope to God that I'll be back in there soon with a new chapter. Pregnant girls are everywhere but I have been making a conscious effort to avoid Kayla. Clearly I know my limits there. That or I'd rather not lose the plot at work again. And I always find myself staring at the immunisation poster - no matter how much it twists the knife, I still love it. And March. Well, the only way I can handle that is by telling myself that I will most likely be pregnant in March, so hopefully that will make it easier. But who am I kidding, seriously? I'll be a mess. Even if I am expecting triplets, that won't stop me aching for my little Peanut and wishing I was finally holding her like I should have been. I suspect that we'll have to go away somewhere. I'm thinking Hamilton Island. Or Dunk Island. Or somewhere else just as tropical and heavenly and ridiculously overpriced.

Guess I'll deal with that when it happens.

It's not all violins though. You'll be proud - I have been living again. Like, actually, living living. Not just going through the motions. And I've been enjoying it! Which is why I haven't updated for a while - just been too busy and/or too exhausted. And even now, I have so much to update, but I don't have the energy tonight. Soon. Maybe tomorrow night. I'll need to be more awake than this to do it all justice... but here's a taste...

Zumba marathon... Loui's hooves... hot pink wigs... karaoke... tequila (never again!)... hungover Zumba... Tomorrow When the War Began... City to Bay... Business Improvement Challenge... scariest meeting ever... badminton club champs... AFL Grand Final that wasn't...

Details to come :)

Sunshine... for real?

So we actually had some sunshine this weekend. Like, actual REAL sunshine. Not the teasing sun-cloud-rain-cloud-more rain-sun-even more cloud-rain thing that has been going on for the past few weeks (except for last week, which was pretty much just solid wind, rain, power cuts, flooded parklands & inside-out umbrellas... great weather for ducks but really not much else...)

I didn't actually believe that it was going to stay sunny at first. Every time the clouds came over I triumphantly thought aha, knew it! only to then see them move over and let the sun through again - and again... and again :) Eventually I was convinced enough to tempt fate and hang out the washing. And amazingly, it actually dried. All of it!

Perhaps this means that Spring is has finally beaten Winter into submission? Fashionably late, but all is forgiven as long as she keeps it up...

Needless to say, ponies were loving it.

Side note: Normally I go straight from Zumba to feed the horses on Saturday mornings, but yesterday I ducked home first to quickly get changed. Why? Well, the hoof trimmer was coming for Loui at 11:15. And while I'm sure that my usual Saturday morning horse-feeding fashion combo of Zumba clothes (for the uninitiated, it's like gym clothes but cooler) with muddy black rubber boots and rainproof jacket would be totally acceptible on the European catwalks (work with me here...), I did think it may have confirmed his suspicions that I am in fact a complete weirdo. So to avoid potential embarrassment to either myself or Loui, and to avoid the hassle of having to find a new hoof trimmer, it was just safer to just go home and change into some jeans. And no, there wasn't actually any point to that story.

Sunshine = rugs off!! Been a while since we could do that. Their eyes just lit up as I started to unbuckle them. Loui even forgot about trying to kick me! Unfortunately that was the extent of his cooperativeness... when it came to trying to get a photo, forget it...

Can't pose. Eating.

WTF was that?

No, I'm still not going to look at the camera...

I gave up shortly after that :P

Remember my revolting swamp of a paddock from last weekend? Well, looky what we have now! See what a few days of sunshine can achieve? It's still marshy and boggy near the gates (precisely where I had to walk to take their rugs off, of course...) but drying out beautifully.

And remember the giant mofo puddle on the driveway from last weekend? Hehehe... conquered! This is what it looked like this afternoon. And I finally drove through it (only to discover that it's, um, not quite as dry as it looked... *cough* I won't show you what my car looks like now...)

Anyway... my not-so-noble steed and I were both very glad for some much-needed sunshine this weekend, and now we're hanging out for the bliss that will be daylight savings.

I'm not counting down or anything... 20 days to go...

Strugglesville...

Memories can be painfully tricky. Sometimes you think something will be hard, but then it happens and it's not so bad after all. Sometimes you're pretty sure you'll be okay, and you are. Sometimes you know it will be bad, and it is, but you're sort-of prepared because you knew it would be...

And then sometimes they take you by surprise. You don't really think much of it until you are faced with it, and then suddenly it punches the breath out of you and sends you flying into a crumpled heap in the corner, where you stay, dazed and trembling, because you don't trust yourself to move because it will only hurt more.

That's what happened to me earlier this week. And I'm still shaking in the corner.

Monday 6th September was our 2nd wedding anniversary. It had also been the scheduled date of our first big ultrasound and our next ob appt. I had been so excited about it being scheduled on our anniversary (talk about a cool coincidence!), as it was already such a special occasion for us.

I hadn't really thought much about it since we lost her. I guess I'd already had so much to deal with on a day-by-day basis, that I didn't really look ahead too far. It did prickle my thoughts vaguely from time to time, but I'd pushed it away. I'm kind of good at that, hey?

Monday itself was a nice day. Kym and I both had the day off work, and we went to the Show. Of course it was on my mind, but thankfully there was enough to distract me from dwelling on it too deeply. We went out for dinner Monday night and it was really special. We ended up going to our favourite sushi place at Glenelg which seems to be a tradition for us now. Aside from the obvious I shouldn't be allowed to eat sushi yet here I am thoughts, it was pretty perfect. It's hard to be sad about anything when you have a plate of vegetable inari in front of you (trust me).

It wasn't until afterwards, much later that night at home - then it hit me. That's when all the emotion sneaked up and king hit me from behind. And since then I've gone through the entire spectrum of emotions a few times over and I'm still shaking in that corner, afraid to even try to stand up yet because it feels safer down here. You can't knock someone to the ground if they are already there. Makes sense.

I will stand up soon. Once the emotions slow down a bit - right now they are still spinning too fast and it's making me dizzy. But soon.

I guess it goes without saying then that work has been a disaster this week. I've tried, I really have. But I'm just a write off. Tuesday and Wednesday were both pretty pathetic. Especially Wednesday. I walked in and there was Kayla from upstairs dropping off some files for me. All fine, except that Kayla is pregnant too. She's a few weeks ahead of me (well... not anymore, but you know what I mean). She has a bump now. I've been trying to avoid her because I knew what would happen... same old drill: brave face... straight to office... fall apart. I don't think Kayla knows what happened to me. Or maybe she does. I don't know.

I feel like I'm supposed to be 'okay' now. I had my week off when it happened and work was very patient and understanding. I eased back into it gently and again everyone was very patient and understanding. But now this is my third week back and think that people are thinking that I should be all good and back up to speed now. Last week I wasn't too bad, but this week? Disaster. If anything, this week has been harder than my first week back. That's how hard it hit me on Monday. That's why it's taking me so long to get back up this time.

But I didn't want to admit that to my boss. I've been really lucky in my career so far - I've had some really amazing and inspiring role models as my supervisors. And Jill is right up there with the best of them. She's also one of the most understanding and emotionally receptive people I've ever worked with. So why didn't I want to admit to her that I was struggling? In hindsight, I don't know. At the time, I guess I felt like she (and all my collegues) had already been so understanding and supportive and I didn't want to be seen to be taking advantage of that. I guess I didn't want to worry her or admit how badly I have fallen behind with everything, or give her any reason to doubt me and my ability to do my job. I'm in a pretty high-powered position (which I was freakily lucky to get) and it's difficult to find other people to assist with my role. I guess I felt like I'd already called in enough favours over the last few weeks and I should be hardening up and getting on with it. Not shaking in the corner.

I feel bad though. I feel like I let her down by not admitting it to her. Because she heard me on the phone to Kym yesterday (our offices are next to each other and not very soundproof, plus both doors were open...) so it turns out that she knew exactly what was going on the whole time. She also knew that I didn't want to tell her, but she didn't know why... so now she probably thinks I wasn't comfortable telling her or I didn't trust her enough, which is completely wrong because I know I can go to her and she's made it very clear that she's always there if I need to talk. She has been amazing and so generous and caring, and I couldn't blame her in the slightest if she was offended that I didn't want to admit it to her. Even though it wasn't any reflection on her at all - it was just me trying to be a hero and failing dismally.

Yeah... bad week.

I guess it also doesn't help that I'm still a bit of a mess physically as well (and you can interpret that any way you like) and given that it's been over three weeks now, I'm starting to think that perhaps things might not be quite right. I'm going to give it until next week Tuesday and if there's no improvement then I guess I'll have to call my ob again - even if it's just for peace of mind (I should probably stop reading D&C horror stories now...). I guess my hormones are all over the place, so it's no wonder I'm such an emotional minefield...

One day at a time. Tomorrow WILL be better. It's Friday, for starters. Casual day. Jeans are good. Then weekend. Sleep, Zumba, horses, friends... and hopefully hopefully by next week I'll be standing up again.

If you want the rainbow...

If you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain...

It rained a lot today. A lot. The kind of steady rain that provides a soothing background to trackies and uggies days. Today was the kind of day where you look outside, shake your head, and go 'nup, not going out there'.

Soggy patio...

Soggy pavers by the front door...

Hoping that the fish won't float away...

So trackies and uggies day it was. Which was actually fine by me, as I really didn't feel much like going out. I needed to regroup. Home is my safe place right now. I'll be having to face the world again tomorrow, so I guess I was entitled to hibernate a little today. Or a lot, even.

So I lit Peanut's candle, and settled down with a peppermint tea and some magazines. It wasn't much, but it was what I needed, and it was enough.

Candle is 'Spirituality' by Dusk, in case you were curious. I never intended to buy Peanut a purple candle, but this one just grabbed me - it smells beautiful, and (in my mind) represents her perfectly. So purple candle it is. Perhaps this little angel is telling me that she likes purple?





Gloria Jeans make the best peppermint tea bags in existence. Just in case you were wondering.

And also, while I'm here, I thought I'd show you the angel girl Pandora charm that Kym bought for me the week we lost Peanut. I think it's a beautiful way to keep her close. I'm slowly building up my Pandora bracelet - perhaps my next charm will be the baby stroller or dummy? I can only hope...

I had to face the rain eventually though. Horses need to be fed - rain, hail, or shine. So at about 4pm I donned the old jeans & waterproof jacket, and headed out.

Poor Loui and Red looked so miserable out there in the wet. Although they were warm and dry under their rugs (I checked) they still looked utterly pathetic standing out there in the swamp formerly known as their paddock, fetlock-deep in the mud with water dripping from dreadlocked manes and tails. Poor ponies.

It is horribly slippery out there. Poor Loui was sliding all over the place as he walked up to me.

Food time? I worked hard enough to get here...



View from the other side... absolute swamp :( It's revolting.

Attempting to make feeds in the middle of a huge puddle...

Pray tell me why the water trough was empty when it has done nothing but rain almost solidly for the last week? Weird... Maybe they really really like rainwater?

The driveway puddle I showed you yesterday has grown even bigger. Needless to say, I didn't drive through it today either!

As much as I love Loui, I have to confess I was quietly relieved to get back into my warm car and head home. I am so desperately incompatible with weather like this.

Put up with the rain... yes, I think we have fulfilled that criteria...

I hope this means our rainbow is coming soon...

taking each day as it comes

One day at a time. That seems to be my mantra right now. I'd love to be able to say that I'm doing okay, but I'm not sure that would be truthful. Sometimes I am. I have good days and difficult days. On good days, it is easier to put on the brave face and I feel more like I can cope with the day to day bustle. On difficult days I just feel like I'm wearing this veil of sadness that I can't remove, and every little thing brings me closer to tears. Today is a difficult day. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day. I hope so.

It feels like half of my friends on Facebook are pregnant right now, including two who are expecting twins. And while I am so happy for them, it is also such a slap in the face, because I should have been joining them. I want to rejoice over their ultrasound photos and beautiful bellies and count down the weeks with them, but instead I just feel sick remembering how our last ultrasound ended up. And I have to back away, or else I'll crash again. I don't want to crash again. I don't want to go back there. Not yet. It hurts so much.

I think I'll feel better once we can try again. I think that's the only thing that might help. But I'm not sure when that will be. I'm not physically recovered from the D&C yet, so it will take some time. And then the rollercoaster will begin again. Maybe once I am physically ready I will be mentally ready for that as well. One day at a time.

Apparently it is supposed to be Spring now...

These were taken at about 10am this morning at the stables...

You can't really see the detail of the rain splashing into the puddles (iPhone camera isn't quite that good) but trust me, it was splashing... and there was no way I was driving through that!

10am... and foggy. Rain and fog.

More fog rolling in across the paddocks...

But my beautiful Loui doesn't seem to mind. As long as he has his rug and his hay, he is a pretty happy boy. I have to wonder what's going on in his mind sometimes. Whether he really is that chilled naturally, or whether he has just learned over the years not to sweat the small stuff... I wonder if it bothers him that his paddock has been a swamp for the last month, or that the bore water that fills his water trough has a browny tinge, or that I've never taken him to the beach. Or maybe he just has that wise calm acceptance of an ageing horse who knows that life may not be perfect, but that it's good enough for him. I wonder if he knows how I'm feeling these days. I suspect he does. Horses are so tuned in like that. Perhaps this is his way of keeping my emotions in check. Life has thrown us such a curveball, but Loui is still Loui - faithful, calm, and true. Just what I need from him right now. Yes, he knows.

...we might have a problem here guys... (Peanut's story)

There has been so much discussion about when life really begins. At conception? 12 weeks? That magical 28-week marker? Birth? I don’t know the answer. All I know is that, when there is love, there is life. And I loved her from the moment she was conceived. I loved her so much, there is nothing I wouldn’t have done for her.

I knew straight away that I was pregnant. Don’t ask me how – call it maternal instinct if you like, but I just knew. It took two weeks to get those magical pink lines, but I didn’t doubt it for a moment. To say I was thrilled would be an understatement. Containing my excitement whilst awaiting ‘formal’ confirmation was almost impossible. And the happiness on Kym’s face when he realised that he was going to become a daddy was a moment that I will treasure forever. I pushed away my flicker of doubt that this was all too good to be true, dismissing it as typical first pregnancy nerves.

Where do I go from here? I guess anyone who has been pregnant will know what followed. The excitement, nerves, and decisions… to go public or private? Obstetrician or midwife? Hospital or home birth? So much to consider. And for someone with a known phobia of the medical profession, these were pretty big decisions. Kym promptly vetoed the home birth option, but left the rest up to me. Whatever I was comfortable with. I’d done my research and knew what I wanted. And, looking back, it is such a blessing that I did. I honestly don’t think I could have chosen anyone better, considering what was to come.

The weeks passed and I could not have been happier. It’s hard to find the words to explain that kind of happiness – just knowing that we had created this little life and that I had the amazing task of nurturing her until she was ready to face the world. It was both amazing and humbling, and I appreciated every moment – even the tiredness, nausea, and cravings. They were all good signs. Right?

Hardly anyone knew. Only a couple of close friends and our employers. We hadn’t really decided when we were going to tell people, and we weren’t set on waiting until 12 weeks – we just figured we would know when the time was right, and it wasn’t time yet.

So we reached 8 weeks and had our first obstetrician appointment. Seeing that little heart beating just took our breath away. I think that’s when it really sank in for Kym. This was real. And this was good. A heartbeat was a good sign, and we were relieved. But she was measuring too small for 8 weeks. By dates we were 8 weeks, but by size more like 6 weeks. Again, that flicker of doubt arose, but again I dismissed it. We had a heartbeat. So she was a bit small. Maybe my dates were wrong after all. Maybe my (clockwork) cycle had done something strange. Maybe… maybe… maybe… Our ob wasn’t overly concerned and neither was Kym. I pushed the doubts away once again, as our expected due date was pushed back from 5 March 2011 to 19 March 2011.

Our little one had about a thousand nicknames already: little rabbit (because she was due in the Year of the Rabbit), Little L (like the song), munchkin, and bubby just to name a few. But the one that stuck was Peanut. And that is what she became known as. Our little Peanut.

The heartbeat seemed to be the signal for Kym that it was time to start telling people, beginning with his family. They were thrilled, as was expected, given that they had been at us to have children for years! We told close friends next, and the reaction was awesome! I could tell you about that weekend, but I would just write forever and never stop because it’s a memory I am desperately clinging to like a life raft: the last time I remember feeling really happy. Everything from seeing my beautiful friend Leah for the first time in months, catching up with my girls for coffee and cake, getting stranded in the Big W carpark for 2 hours because we couldn’t fit a canvas print in Bec’s car, and our girly movie night which Kym kept ruining by belching loudly in the background during the sad parts. Then there was the beautiful wooden baby rocker that Leah just happened to have in her car, the impromptu baby shopping in Big W, Leah buying a heart and dedicating it to ‘Peanut’, getting lost in Burnside Village, Walle the way-too-cute kitten, Zumba, popcorn, M&Ms, and Super Jaffa saving the day… There are no words for how much I love my girls, or for how much I will treasure the memories of that weekend.

We planned to tell my family a week later at a gathering to celebrate my mum and aunty’s (twins) birthdays. It was becoming more and more real every day. I’d almost forgotten about that lingering doubt in the back of my mind. Almost.

Then came Monday 16 August 2010. A day that I would now quite happily wipe off the calendar if I could. Except that it’s also our cousin’s birthday, so that wouldn’t really be very fair… (sorry Juliana!)

We had our next appointment scheduled for that morning. It was supposed to be a 15 minute ‘reassurance’ appointment to make sure that our little Peanut was growing. I’d almost managed to convince myself that everything would be fine – the symptoms were still strong after all. And we already knew she had a heartbeat… that alone significantly reduced the risk of miscarriage… everything was going to be fine. Right?

She couldn’t find the heartbeat at first. Maybe it just wasn’t very clear. The doubts were back. I wanted to push them away but I couldn’t. Peanut had grown. That was good news. But… heartbeat?

We’ll try an internal scan instead – that will be clearer.

Nothing.

Maybe it’s the wand – I’ve had some trouble with this one.

Change of wand. Nothing.

…
…
… We might have a problem here guys.

I feel like I lived a thousand lifetimes in that moment. I remember lying there, looking at the screen but not seeing. I remember Kym gripping my hand. I remember silently making deals with God…

If she’s okay, I’ll never complain about work again.
If she’s okay, I’ll never complain about anything again.
If she’s okay, I’ll be a better person, I swear, just please let her be okay…

I remember the look in our ob’s eyes, and the sound in her voice, and I knew that things weren’t okay. I remember she went out to organise another scan for us downstairs at Bensons. I remember sobbing in Kym’s arms and the cracking in his voice as he held me and whispered ‘I’ve still got you’ over and over. I remember hearing babies in the waiting room and feeling like I could never face going back out there. Ever. But I did. I put on my brave face, and we went downstairs to Bensons.

I managed to hold it together until we reached the quiet privacy of the Bensons ultrasound room. Seeing that screen, knowing where that heartbeat should be and seeing nothing – the tears started falling again. And I just couldn’t stop. I saw those dreaded letters at the bottom of the screen: NO FHB.

I knew what that meant.

All I could do was lie there and cry. She was gone. We’d lost her and she didn’t even have a real name yet.

Back upstairs to our ob’s office. Our 15-minute appointment had already lasted over an hour. Waiting room full of babies again, but thankfully we were ushered straight through into the office. To hear what we already knew.

I really didn’t envy our ob at all. It can’t have been very nice for her to watch our hearts break as she confirmed the worst, and then have to get down to business with what happens next. I was pretty numb by then. I know how cliché it is to say that it felt like a bad dream, but that’s exactly how it did feel. This could not be happening. It just couldn’t be. We were 11 weeks… we were nearly ‘safe’…

And at the same time, deep down I was feeling like I had somehow known that this would happen all along. Perhaps that same maternal instinct that first told me I was pregnant. Those doubts that I had been constantly pushing away – how it was too good to be true, how my dates had to be correct, how there is no way my cycle would do anything that strange, how she just wasn’t growing properly… how our little Peanut just wasn’t meant for this world after all… sometimes love isn’t enough after all…

The rest is kind of a blur. Obviously we hadn’t miscarried naturally so I was booked in for surgery the next day. This wasn’t the way I’d imagined Peanut coming into the world at all. I think I was in shock, as I couldn’t stop shaking as I tried to fill in the admission forms. The rest of the day was spent organising leave from work and trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Poor Kym had unavoidable commitments that night, so he organised for the beautiful Bec to stay with me until he came home. Bec already knew – the girlfriend grapevine worked well. She came armed with Lindt hot chocolate and endless hugs, and she was my lifeline on the evening of the worst night of my life. I’m forever grateful.

I think Kym and I got about an hour’s worth of sleep between us that night. Even if I could have slept, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to miss a moment of my last night of being pregnant. Even though I knew our little one had grown her angel wings, I still wanted to keep her safe inside me. The thought of what was going to happen the next day made me feel like screaming. I wasn’t ready to let go of her yet. The tears just wouldn’t stop.

It really hit me the next morning. I knew it would. Sitting in the day surgery waiting room after admission, looking down at the hospital bracelet on my wrist and knowing that it was all so wrong – that’s when it suddenly became real. And again, the tears wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. It was all over and it was hitting me like a tonne of bricks. Kym was my rock. I couldn’t have made it through without him. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him, but he held me together every time I fell apart.

For someone who always had a phobia of hospitals and needles, I think I did pretty well. Although truthfully, I was so distraught, I couldn’t have cared less what they did to me. I’d have done anything – anything – to keep her alive. The blood test was the hardest thing. Because I’d always associated those with having healthy babies… not with this. She was so gentle but I was shaking too much for it to be quick and easy. I was just a mess. By the time I went into theatre, I just wanted it to be over. I was still crying when they put me to sleep.

I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. I love you.

And I was crying when I woke up in recovery. A nurse was asking if I had pain. I think she meant a different kind of pain, but I nodded anyway. Fuzzy drugs helped.

After a while they wheeled me into a private recovery room, and the sun was unexpectedly shining brightly through the window. I love the sun. It made me smile and it helped me feel calmer. I’d like to think that the sun was our little one reassuring me that everything was okay. I was still crying, but it helped.

It’s been over a week now. I can say without any doubt that last week was the worst week of our lives. I’ve now been back at work for two days, and it’s hard. I’m not really sure that I should be back yet, but taking more time off isn’t really an option (even though our ob did offer to give me more time). We had our follow-up appointment this morning. It went as well as could be expected. I got through it, made it out the door and around the corner, then dissolved into tears again. That seems to be the pattern at the moment. Put on brave face, get through whatever it is, then find somewhere private and fall apart for a few minutes. I’m sure it will get easier. It will just take time.

I’ll be honest. I’m scared that it will happen again. One thing we have learned from all this is how desperately we want to start a family. And this has really shaken my confidence in my ability to carry a child. I know people suffer multiple miscarriages and get through it, but I don’t know how they keep going. I’m just not sure that I could. But this has also proven to me that there is nothing – nothing – that Kym and I can’t handle together as a couple. At the end of the day, we’ve got each other and everything else in life is a bonus. We’ll try again once we’ve got the all-clear and we feel emotionally ready.

We may have only had our little Peanut for 11 weeks, but it was the best 11 weeks of our lives. We will cherish that time forever, and I feel so blessed that we were chosen to be her parents for a while. I just wish she could have stayed with us - I'd have given anything to be able to hold onto her. Nothing has ever hurt this much.

I don't know how to end this. It's the hardest blog entry I've ever written, but also the most important. So important that I deleted my old blog with it's seemingly meaningless blurb as it didn't seem a special enough place to keep this memory. And I don't want to forget a moment of Peanut's time with us. Even though she has broken our hearts and taken a piece of them to heaven with her, I need to hold onto her memories here. Heart Shaped Box seems like the right place for that. A place to keep her memory safe, with everything else I hold dear. It's all I can do.