So fourteen and a half months later...

Well aren't I just the Queen of Broken Promises?!!

I believe my last line of my last post went something like... 'I promise you won't have to wait nine months for my next update...'

*cough*

So fourteen and a half months later...

I remember writing that last blog post like it was yesterday. Wednesday 23 November, a beautiful sunny morning - I was up early thanks to pregnancy insomnia and excitement because I knew I was being induced that night :) A deliciously exciting little secret shared only by my husband & best friend. Nobody else knew. Not even family. It was awesome :)

Thumper was induced due to small size plus my anxiety about my ob being away the following week. Damn obstetric conferences being held on people's due dates!

I'm not going to do a birth story right now - maybe later. Needless to say, on Friday 25 November 2011 at 12:51am, after 26 hours of labour and 30 mins of pushing, our precious baby GIRL - Alyssa Jade - entered the world. A pint-size package with a sweet little face and awesome lungs. At 5lb 13oz (2710g) and 48cm, she was tiny indeed - but healthy and beautiful and perfect.

We were in love!

And fourteen and a half months later, we are still in love! So, so, so incredibly in love with our precious little daughter! I look at her and can't believe she is ours. Can't believe we have been blessed and entrusted with something so perfect, so delightful, and so damn cute!

It has been a rough ride but we're doing alright. Lots of challenges - PND, breastfeeding woes (I did succeed but it was tough and I felt very unsupported by the people who should have stuck by me the most), and allergy problems making solids a nightmare - but I got through it :) And I'm so proud to be a mum :) I'm back at work now which kind of sucks, but I've got the childcare-work-home routine mostly sorted. I'm also running my own Creative Memories business.

Wow, a lot has happened in the last fourteen and a half months!

So everything is fine. Blissful. Busy. Perfect chaos, even at 2am. My heart-shaped box is full to bursting as I drink in my darling cheeky little girl and my amazing husband who travels this path with me every day. We are so lucky. So blessed!

So is it any wonder I forgot about my blog? :P

I'm not going to make any promises about when the next post will be! But there is so much I would love to share - so it might be sooner than you think <3 p="">

Then: 28 November 2011

Now: 9 February 2013

A lifetime in a day...

It’s been a while…

Somewhat of an understatement, I know. Like I hinted back in March and April, I have so much to tell you. I’ve had so much to tell you for months and months, but the underlying terror of jinxing myself, even in these later months, has been enough to keep me silent in here. Especially since this blog was born from the deepest and darkest heartbreak I’ve ever known.

But I think it’s time…

I’m about to become a mother. Again. But this time the story is so much happier. I’ve made it to 39 weeks. Actually, 39 weeks and 5 days. I’m due in two days. This Friday. Whether or not this little one actually arrives on Friday remains to be seen. I’m hoping for sooner… bracing myself for later… but waiting with bated breath for signs that the smallest thing I’ve ever put my whole life into is finally on their way.

At first we were terrified. I was fully expecting a repeat of Peanut’s story. When I found out in late March that I was pregnant, it took me a week of testing and watching that line get darker before I would actually believe it. When we had our first appointment in late April, I was convinced that we wouldn’t have a heartbeat. I was in tears in the waiting room, and scared to look at the ultrasound. The relief at being shown a strong heartbeat and correct measurements was overwhelming – frightened tears became happy tears, and our gorgeous ob, the same ob who guided us through last year’s heartbreak, was visibly thrilled for us. Maybe this would be the one?

Being the nervous nellie that I am, we had fortnightly appointments for a while to keep a close eye on growth and development. It was still hard to comprehend that this was what a healthy, normal pregnancy was like. Peanut’s devastating early ultrasound images were burned into my subconscious, so in contrast, seeing visible development into a baby was surreal. Even now, I look at those early images and pinch myself. I can’t believe this miracle has finally happened to us.

We were too scared to tell anyone early after last time – only a tiny handful of absolute closest friends knew (for moral support purposes) and were sworn to secrecy. We told my family on Mother’s Day – I was 11 weeks by then. I was 11 weeks when we lost Peanut last year. I was terrified of history repeating itself, but Mother’s Day was too perfect an opportunity, and the scans were reassuring. And the reaction was priceless! We told Kym’s family on the afternoon of our 12-week scan. We told everyone else at 13 weeks.

This baby is called Thumper. Our little rabbit. We needed a cute rabbit name – it is still the Year of the Rabbit after all. We have no idea if we’re having a boy or a girl. We both decided we wanted a surprise (much to the frustration of many of our friends, hahaha!). I guess we’ll find out very soon now. We’re both thinking girl… but it’s entirely likely that we are wrong! We have a name picked for each… I can’t wait to finally give Thumper a real name.

I’ve been lucky really – I’ve had a pretty smooth pregnancy. Morning sickness has been kind to me (compared to many!) and I finally hung up my Zumba shoes on Monday at 39+3 which I am very proud of. I’m already missing it and can’t wait to be back, but realistically that probably won’t happen until the new year. I had a small scare (bleed) at 29 weeks which turned out to be harmless, and in recent weeks my ankles have exploded – but overall I have been very lucky.

And now it’s time. I’m due this week. Kym is so excited, it melts my heart – I know he will be an amazing daddy, and I cannot wait to see him holding his child for the first time. I’m excited too – that goes without saying! I cannot wait to finally meet this little person who has held such a huge place in our hearts since before they were conceived.

But I’m going to miss my bump. A lot! I can honestly say I have loved being pregnant. Despite the early anxiety, the tiredness, the having to give up so many foods I love, the blood tests, the swollen ankles, the not fitting into the majority of my wardrobe, and the tiptoeing around friends who are in the same place I was in last year – I have cherished every moment and I’m not quite sure I’m ready for it to be over yet. I will treasure these last days.

And I’ll be honest. I’m nervous. I have no idea how I’m going to handle childbirth. I hope I’ll be okay – but it’s a huge unknown and it’s frightening. I don’t know how Kym is going to handle seeing me in pain. I’m nervous for him as much as I am for me. And I worry about being a good mum. I hope I’ve got what it takes. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into, but this little person is going to be entirely dependent on me. And that’s a frightening responsibility. Frightening, but also the greatest honour and blessing I could ever imagine.

And this makes me wonder… about Peanut. Whether she was sent to help me with this. Because whenever the anxiety sets in and I find myself starting to internally panic about the pain of childbirth or the responsibility of being a mother, I remember Peanut. And I remember that nothing – nothing – could ever be as painful or traumatic as last year was. No amount of physical pain or exhaustion could ever come close to matching that level of emotional pain. And that is strangely comforting. Last year I’d have given anything to be in this situation. Peanut’s memory is helping me to keep the fears in perspective, and stay centred and in control. My little angel is here – I can feel her here so strongly, and I know she is here to get me through the days ahead and help guide her little sister or brother into the world. And it feels like I’ve come full circle. I still cry so much for Peanut (the screen is blurry as I write this) but now, finally, there are happy tears mixed in with the sad. Because I am feeling incredibly blessed to have such a beautiful little guardian angel watching over Thumper and I.

I’ve always believed firmly that everything happens for a reason. A friend told me last year that ‘one day all of this will make sense’. She was right.

(having said that, good vibes for a positive and empowering birth experience would be very much appreciated!)

I promise you won’t have to wait nine months for my next update!

Still here ;)

I haven't forgotten you!

I've just been busy. And biding my time :)

Soon. I promise.

<3

So much to tell you

I have... so much to tell you.

Soon.

Very soon.

Birth guess

It's so stupid, the things that set me off.

Like today it hit me, had things gone the way they were supposed to, there would have been a thread on the forum for my birth guesses by now.

But things didn't go the way they were supposed to.

And I have no birth guesses thread.

And I'll be sad as I start to see birth guesses for the other Autumn girls. Even though I'm happy for them. But I'm only human. And it hurts.

So I'm doing my own birth guess.

She would have been a girl. Of course. 8 pounds. And born on her due date - Saturday 5 March 2011.

I wonder if I would have been right?

Bloody hell Steph, stop torturing yourself, seriously :(

PS: Remember Kayla? Pregnant girl at work? She had a little girl. On Friday night. I'm happy for her, I really am. But I should have been next...

A bit much

It's all a bit much really.

So 'Fixy February' didn't quite go down the way I hoped. Although my new job is going well (a thousand times better than the old one!) and mostly things are cruising along nicely in the world of Kym & Steph. Mostly. So that's all good, I guess.

I know a lot of people thought this would be our month. Even I thought the same, to be honest. Especially when I had four straight days of queasiness last week. I didn't test, and I didn't get my hopes up (I've learned my lesson there) but I had a good feeling about it. Until Thursday night. When I started spotting.

And tried so hard to convince myself that it was nothing. So, so hard. Reminded myself that it's not uncommon to bleed in early pregnancy. Told myself it was implantation bleeding (conveniently ignoring the other details that clearly told me it wasn't...). Went to bed screaming to God and hammering on Heaven's door for reassurance.

And when I woke up on Friday morning, I was scared to get up. I didn't want to see more blood. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to face it.

But I did. And there it was. All over for another month.

I didn't even have the energy to cry at first. It was just a crushing, suffocating disappointment. I got ready in a fog. It broke my heart to tell Kym once again.

It wasn't until I'd been at work for about an hour or so that I hid in the toilets and allowed the tears to fall.

Why?!!

I can't believe what this has become.

So. Maybe March will be our month. It's funny really, how I always said that we would never try in March, because a March conception would mean a December bub, and December is too close to Christmas. If I'd only known! December/January was always the time I didn't want to give birth, being so close to Christmas, plus my amazing ob is always away in January and I'm iffy about her back-up.

But... what will be will be. Que sera sera. If the universe wants to give me a baby for Christmas, then I'm not going to argue. We'll figure something out. If my ob is away, then I'll just have to trust that she'll leave me in good hands. One thing I've learned from all this is that there are many things I can't control. Letting go is hard, but I seem to be getting better at it...

But I do wish that it would just happen. I was supposed to be giving birth to Peanut in less than two weeks. The 5th of March is going to be an extremely hard day, and even more so because there is absolutely no sign of her coming back to us yet. I don't know how I'm going to cope yet, I really don't. I have blocked out March for so long, and the fact that it is now so close is scaring the hell out of me.

They say that God only gives us as much as we can cope with. I hope they're right.

less talky, more fixy

I fixed my blog :)

Yes, I knew the background was gone. At first I thought it was just a Firefox thing as it had been working fine in IE. But then I realised that it was in fact cactus, and my pretty heart-shaped box was more of a pale grey slab. Rather uninspiring. But I didn't have the time, energy, or inclination to do anything about it. Til tonight. When I went back onto Hot Bliggity Blog and grabbed the new code. It took me less than one minute. Not sure what all my procrastination was for, really. But anyway. All better now. One day I will have talent and will make my own blog background. But in the meantime I really do like this one.

And while we're on the topic of fixing things, my darling Kym (aka Help Desk) has fixed my computer. It was meant to be an upgrade. Instead it turned into a week-long wipe-everything-and-reinstall drama. But it's all good now :)

I'm hoping this is the month for fixing things.

Of course there is the obvious one. Which I'm not supposed to be thinking about... *lalalalala*

Then the fact that yesterday was my LAST DAY in the job-of-my-dreams-that-I-hated. Monday I start in a new section. Short term but hopefully it will lead to more. I am so relieved. I know it won't be easy. But just the change of scenery alone is enough to make me feel reborn.

Then I start my digital video editing course next weekend at the WEA. Very very excited about that!! The first steps towards what will hopefully become my next career.

And then there is my knee. The knee that I injured in late October. The knee injury that devastated me as it meant I had to cut back on Zumba. I don't think I've blogged properly about Zumba yet. Still trying to find the words to do it justice! But just know that Zumba was (still is!) my therapy. I need to be there. I look forward to it all the time. I can't get enough of it. It is as much an emotional need as a physical one. So the prospect of cutting back was pretty upsetting. I was mostly obedient - took a couple of weeks off (okay, 12 days) and then followed doctor's orders and went no more than twice a week (okay, so maybe three is the new two...). Been seeing the physio and went back to Zumba four times a week after new years. So far so good. It's not right yet. It still hurts. Especially in squats, and on stairs. But it is slowly improving. So here's hoping this month will be full of knee-fixy as well. I would love to be able to do a pain-free Zumba class again sometime (don't get me started on my heel pain. No, seriously, don't).

Might need to do something special for Valentines Day as well. Because I'm feeling mushy and I think we deserve it...

So there we go. Happy Fixy February.

But I'm still scared of facing March.

Now I can talk about it

I can talk about it now.

I really thought January was going to be our month. I was positive. And I was so positive. For the first time since 15 August last year, I was almost happy. It could have just been the relief at being able to try again at last. Either way, it was pretty awesome.

And I waited with anticipation for 20 January. That would be The Date when I would know. Marked on my calendar as 'Fingers Crossed' surrounded by love hearts. But I couldn't resist. I tested a couple of days early. And got a faint positive. It was enough to get me excited. Tested again on the 20th. Another faint positive. Possibly fainter than the first? Hmm... tried not to worry about it... but did. It reminded me too much of those weeks after our first ob appt last year. When she was measuring too small. Even though friends gave words of reassurance, I knew deep down that something wasn't right. And here I was again. Deep down, knowing something wasn't right.

Tested again on Sat morning. Borderline negative. I willed that line with all my heart. Waited patiently, then not-so-patiently. WHERE ARE YOU?!! But I knew. I already knew. I just didn't want to believe it. I couldn't accept it. And then the cramping and bleeding began. And I knew it was over. Before it had really begun. And I cried all morning, cried as though my heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. Because it was.

Part of me was relieved that, if it had to happen, it happened now rather than 11 weeks down the track like last time. But part of me was sadder for this reason. Because it feels harder to acknowledge this one. I want to acknowledge this little angel just as I acknowledged Peanut. But she seems to have existed in my heart only - even Kym can't really accept that she was real. But to me she was real. I've now lost two babies. But I feel like a drama queen even saying that - because I don't think this little one really 'counts' in the eyes of everyone else. Doesn't that sound terrible? I guess it was just too early. But I love her so much. Like I said once before, where there is love, there is life. Even if sometimes that love isn't enough.

Fly free little one ~ you are in my heart always

The last week has been hard.

Australia Day was hard. Fun, but hard. I'm okay with babies and little kids, but I struggle with seeing pregnant women. I guess I never made it far enough to make that mental shift from being pregnant to actually having a child. So I'm grieving for my lost pregnancy, rather than for my lost baby... if that makes any sense. But I have a lot of pregnant friends right now. Friends who are extremely dear to me. Friends that I would move heaven and earth for. Friends that I wish nothing but happiness and blessings on. I cherish them. And I cherish this time of their lives. I do not want to spoil it or even dampen it with my own emotions. This is their moment.

But god it's hard :( Sometimes it is easier not to talk, than to risk breaking down. There is so much unsaid, because I just can't say it yet. So much I want to say, but I'm just not ready. I don't want to cry. I don't want them to feel sad or guilty. I don't want them to know anything but the joyful innocence of a healthy pregnancy. And I don't want them to hear my voice catching, or see the shadows in my eyes. So it's easier not to talk. Or to avoid the topic. It's not because I don't care. It's because I do. Please understand :(

But I'm doing my best.

But today was bad. I spent a fairly large chunk of the morning at work in tears. And when I got to the stage where I couldn't stop the tears, I went outside for a walk. The riverbank was deserted, as is often the case in 40+ degree weather. So I enjoyed both the warmth and the privacy. Today it really hit me. I was supposed to be having a baby in a little over a month's time. It's almost February. February is a short month. After February comes March. Peanut was due on 5th March. Until now I had blocked it out. I just couldn't touch the thought of March. It was too raw. Way too painful. It was just safer not to look. But now March is there. It's in a box in the corner of the February page of my calendar. It's almost here. I can't stop it and I can't block it out any longer. But when I think of it my throat tightens and I feel sick. I don't know how I'm going to cope. I don't know if I can. I know I don't have a choice, but I don't know how to deal with this.

Everyone told me not to worry about March. That I'd be pregnant again by then. I have my doubts, to be honest. I guess it's because I'm afraid to get my hopes up now. I don't think I could cope with another disappointment like this. I hope that February will be our month. But at the same time I am afraid to hope. I'm not supposed to be thinking about it (ha!). Relax and it will happen (yeah right...). I wish I could just switch off to it. I wish I couldn't care. But not caring about this? That's a bit like asking me to stop loving Kym or to start liking Winter. Sooo not going to happen.

So I'm plodding along. Trying to cope as best I can. Some days I am almost normal. Other days I'm just numb to the world. But I'm still here. I guess that's a victory.

A very wise friend told me about positive thinking. I'm trying to embrace it. I need it. I need to focus on the good things to help me ride the sadness waves. And there are good things. I'm working hard to keep myself distracted and busy, and it seems to be working - there are lots of good things, if I can only keep focused on them. Things like:

A miracle pregnancy for one of my dearest friends - how can I let this break my heart when it is so special and so deserved? Simple - I can't. If it can happen to them, it can happen to us. I'm trying to draw hope from this, rather than sadness.

My beautiful network of friends. Messages checking up on me. Offers to keep me company if I need it. Hugs on tap. Surprise cards and gifts in the mail. You beautiful girls keep me afloat when I feel like I'm drowning. I love you all so much and am so grateful for you all.

I have to make mention of a very special pair of yellow booties that arrived in the mail today. I've been told that they are very potent :) Let's hope they work :) Thank you B :)

Zumba. My escape. It's the best fun I've had since my days of eventing on Delta. The music, the moves, and most of all, the amazing girls I've met. Zumba is the highlight of my week, and I credit it for keeping me sane when nothing else will work.

Scrapbooking. My addictive hobby. I have some big projects on the go, and am enjoying it so much. It's even better with friends, and I treasure Friday night scrapping workshops at K's place. I can't wait to see my efforts come together. Lots to look forward to there.

My mum. She's getting better. My only wish for so many years has been for her to get better. And slowly she is. My wish has come true. Wishes DO come true.

Loui. No matter how bad the day has been or how exhausted I am, he's there. Faithful, true, and neighing for his dinner. And even though he loves to stress me out with random injuries and his apparent refusal to gain weight (damn skinny TBs!) he is my boy and I wouldn't be without him. I guess he is just training me to be a good mum.

Last but certainly never least. Kym. My other half, my soulmate, and the love of my life. I know he is grieving just as much as I am - just in a different way. And I know how lucky I am to have such a supportive husband. He's amazing. He treats me so well. And he's understanding, even when he doesn't really understand. I don't know if that makes any sense. But I don't know how else to explain it. He's just the best. I feel so blessed to be his wife. And I know he is going to be an amazing dad when the time comes.

When.

So there you go. Now I can talk about it. Now I have talked about it. Now I'm trying to look ahead. February is a new month. A new cycle. A new chance. I hope and pray it will be our month. But if not, then I just have to look back at this blog post to remember everything I have to be grateful for. Surely anything else in life should be a bonus?

That said, babydust donations would be gratefully accepted. Because I'm only human. And although I'm not supposed to be thinking about it... I can't seem to help myself.

Fading away

I've just watched our second little angel fade away right before my eyes.

I feel helpless.
I feel numb.
I feel sick.
I feel empty.

What is wrong with me? Why does this keep happening?

I've been watching my BFP fade into a BFN since Tuesday. Then today the spotting and cramping started. It's over :(

This hurts so much :(

Misery, guilt, and gratitude

What a week.

I don't mean that in a good way.

I'm a relative newcomer to the blogging community, only just beginning to tap into the networks that I can see are as strong, if not stronger, than the online forum communities I hold so dear. These friendships can become so binding - so unwavering - the fact you've never actually met seems to be merely an afterthought. And I guess that has never been highlighted so clearly as during the last week when hundreds of hearts broke simultaneously for one of our own. I cried for a girl I didn't know. I prayed for a miracle, and cried bitter tears when those prayers went unanswered. But in the face of such tragedy, I was privileged to witness the blogging community at its finest. Whether we had met in the flesh was irrelevant - the circle of love for Lori was radiant, the grief intense, the support phenomonal.

You are in my thoughts Lori. All the time.

And then more tragedy. Another much-loved blogger lost her sister suddenly. And then within days, she herself passed away. I discovered her blog on Saturday, via a blog-hop of support for Lori. I didn't realise at the time, when I clicked 'follow', that there would be no more entries to follow. She had already joined her sister. But I cannot bring myself to stop following her blog. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

This week was just, well, tragic doesn't seem to be a strong enough word. Devastating. Heartbreaking. Gut wrenching. Soul destroying. All of those and more. The flooding all over Queensland, and now into Victoria. So many lives lost, families destroyed, people with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Brisbane was my playground. One of my favourite places to be - Brisbane, the Gold Coast, the Sunshine Coast, the Whitsundays, and everything in between. I love everything about it. Well, except the big hairy spiders. But I would put up with them for everything else. I want to live in Queensland. Even now, I still want to live there. I want to be there right now. I want to help fix my playground. And I'm grateful, god I'm so grateful that our loved ones were spared. Our numerous friends and family members, some of whom were perilously close to the danger - all okay. Even their homes were spared. Thank you Lord.

But I'm not there. I'm here. Trying to work out how much I can spend on a Shoebox of Love (or three), and feeling depressed about work.

What right do I have to feel depressed about anything right now? How can I complain about anything when there are people who have lost everything this week?

I still have my husband. I still have my family and friends. Okay, granted, we lost our baby and I'm still pretty emotional about that, particularly with what should have been our due date fast approaching. But I've got the support I need. And with the grace of God and a bit of luck, we may still become parents this year (baby dust donations gratefully appreciated). I have a (very nice) roof over my head, a horse and two adorable cats. Okay, one adorable cat and one pat-at-your-own-risk cat, but you get the idea. I have so much to be grateful for - surely I have no right to be depressed. How could I even consider it, when others have lost so much?

I just am, okay?

I remember the morning we found out we lost Peanut. I remember lying there during the ultrasound, making deals with God - if she was okay, I would never complain about work again... Well, she wasn't okay :( But even that afternoon I was thinking that I'd give anything to be back at work again. For things to be back to normal. For our little one to still be with us.

I guess the worst times make us really appreciate everything else in our lives - even the not-so-great things. And when I see others going through such terrible times, I feel like I shouldn't complain about anything more trivial than what they are going through - like I don't have the right to be unhappy about anything in comparison.

But I do. And I am.

Yes, I'm grateful for everything that is wonderful in my life. But that doesn't change the fact that my job makes me miserable. Every. Day. I've been there almost a year. Almost a year of being miserable and depressed at the thought of going to work.

Is it any wonder that I am making changes?!

I refuse to feel guilty for being unhappy. It may be trivial to many, but to me it is real. It was supposed to be the job of my dreams, so it is quite embarrassing to admit that it hasn’t turned out the way I hoped it would. And the whole situation is made suckier as the (real) job of my dreams was for a while dangling tantalisingly close in front of my nose, but I couldn’t take it on because of the financial risks involved with running your own magazine when you have a mortgage. Quite depressing.

But that may all change... if my plans for this year actually work... must keep looking ahead... I can do this...

I will not allow anyone to make me feel guilty for being unhappy, but at the same time, I am trying really hard not to wallow in it. Because, as I've already established, aside from the train wreck that is currently my career, I’m actually pretty damn lucky. And outside of business hours, I’m generally a pretty happy person…

So in the wake of a week of tragedy, and with another four days of work ahead of me before another treasured weekend (may as well be four months, the way it feels right now...), I think I need to remind myself of some of the aspects of my life that fill me with gratitude...

(and for the purposes of the blog-hop, I will pretend that it is Saturday instead of Monday... Mmmm Saturday...)

I’m grateful for my wonderful husband, for putting up with me, for supporting my dreams (and dramas), and for loving me unconditionally through good times and bad. There is no one I would rather share my life with, and there are no words for how much I love him.

I’m grateful to horses, just for existing. I can’t imagine a world without you, nor do I ever want to.

I’m grateful to my beautiful horse Delta Song for making me a better person and for giving me the strength to keep going after she passed away.

I’m grateful to my amazing friends for helping to pick me up whenever I am down, and for providing Bella or Baileys (and sometimes both) to drown the sorrows.

I’m grateful for the wonderful girls and support network that are only a click away on various forums and blogs. I’m grateful for internet access to make this possible.

I’m grateful for our beautiful house – my private haven where I am safe from the world, and the only place where I have ever been able to truly be myself. It’s worth being miserable at work to be able to come home to a haven like this. Almost.

I'm grateful for not having had to endure floods, or bushfires, or cyclones, or any other kind of natural disaster as yet.

I'm grateful to Sarah for being the sister I never had.

I’m grateful to the Geelong Cats for the 2007 Grand Final.

I’m grateful for Tim Tams <3 Especially the Classic Dark variety…

I’m grateful for Zumba for being so much fun and for making me feel less guilty about being grateful for Tim Tams, if you get my drift…

I’m grateful to JK Rowling for feeding my imagination so perfectly.

I’m grateful for summer, for sunflowers, for weekends, for Alli’s pink wax, for cupcakes, for Horsewyse magazine, for scrapbooking, for Thelwell, for Christmas, for music, for Facebook on the iPhone, for Shrek, for the colour green, for rain, for girly nights, for midwives, for scented candles, for eventing, and most of all, for having the freedom to make my own choices, and for being able to walk down the street without worrying about being shot.

Yes, work sucks.

Work sucketh biiig hairy balls.

But it’s the only thing that does.

And for that I am very grateful.

Vale Tony

Every now and then, something comes out of left field, rattles you to the core, and reminds you how much you have to be thankful for.

My heart is aching for Lori right now.

She is living my worst nightmare.

I can't imagine. I don't want to imagine. The sheer magnitude of what has just happened to her world makes my head spin. It's a kind of pain I cannot fathom, and I hope beyond hope that I never will. My heart is breaking for a beautiful family that I have never met.

Rest in Peace Tony ~ in the arms of the angels

The winds of change are blowing...

Something has got to change.

I remember thinking a year ago that the only thing I needed to make life perfect would be a permanent job. Once I had permanency, then we would be able to start a family with the security of knowing I had a right of return to my job if needed. I was so sure that a permanent job would be the answer to all of our problems, and that even if I didn't enjoy the work, it wouldn't matter because the benefits would outweigh everything else.

How wrong I was.

I'm not going to go into the details of why I am so miserable in my job. I will only say that I have never held such a demotivating and disempowering role, which is so disappointing given that the job had so much potential when I started. I'm not sure where it all went wrong, but I do know that under their current 'system' it is impossible to do my job properly, and they have absolutely no intention of changing this. They like their power.

I'm disillusioned. I'm disappointed. And I'm starting to realise that nothing I do will work now. It doesn't matter how many changes I try to implement. And trust me, it has taken many sleepless nights and many bouts of tears in the toilets to get to this stage. I used to care. I used to want to make a difference. I used to see a point in trying. But now I'm over it. Now I am only there for the money. Now I resent the whole place. I never used to take sick leave, but this year I've almost drained it. I adore the people in my immediate work group, but even they can't fix this train wreck now. They've tried. To no avail.

What a disaster.

When you hate your job so much that you feel sick all Sunday at the thought of facing another week. When you can't enjoy your last week of holidays because you are already dreading their end. When you lie awake at night because you can no longer switch off. When you watch the clock all day and resent that your beloved sun is shining outside because you can't even see it. When you're given responsiblity in your role only to have it constantly overridden by those higher up. When you feel sickened by decisions that are made above your head, but you're unable to speak out for fear of repercussions. I think that's a sign that something needs to change.

But I have a dream. A small dream. I have a small business idea. It is something that I think I would love. But I won't know unless I try it. It is something I have been wanting to do for so long, but I haven't allowed myself the time or money to do the training (and there will be a lot of training). But I think now is the time. I don't know how I'm going to fit the training in around work hours (especially as I have no leave left!) but I will come up with something. This is too important now. If all goes well, this time next year I will be blogging about how much I love my new career.

The winds of change are blowing. And it feels beautiful.

Not an apology...

It has been a while.

I'm not sure why it has been a while. It's not that I haven't had the need to blog. I have. I've needed to blog very badly. But I haven't been able to find the mental energy or emotional strength to get it out. Lately it has just been easier (or less hard) to sit and internalise, rather than let the words flow. And I make no apologies for that. Like everything, I guess it just wasn't the right time.

Wasn't the right time.

Gee, like I haven't heard that enough times this year... last year... whatever...

So. What's new with me? I'm still here. Still standing. And it's New Years Day. So I guess that means I made it through the rest of 2010 relatively intact. Rockin.

There's a lot I need to say, but it feels like a massive boulder sitting deep in my chest. It hurts to let it sit there, but it hurts to move it as well. And it's hard to move. I haven't actually figured out how to move it yet. I try, but it's stuck and the words won't come. So I think most of it will remain unsaid for a while. I'll just keep chipping away at the boulder, and maybe I'll get enough little pieces off to make the rest of it more manageable. But that will take a while.

I think my last update was October. Just after I needed the second surgery. I was a real mess then. I took time off work and never wanted to go back... but of course I did go back eventually. And nothing really changed. Work was still depressing, stressful and demotivating, to the point where I started looking for other roles. I've got a few things in the pipeline, but I'm not holding my breath. What I do know is that things have got to change this year. I cannot put up with another year like the last one - from the depressing dark cold conditions of our isolated unit to the oppressive 'management' of the M and her blatant disregard for anything other than her own political agenda... I go back on Wednesday and I am dreading it. I feel sick. I do not ever want to go back. This isn't healthy. Something has got to change, or I'm going to snap and I'm going to quit. If we didn't need the money so badly I would have quit ages ago.

Christmas hit me hard this year. Of course I was looking forward to it. I love Christmas! It's my favourite time of year - I love the decorating, the music, the gift-planning, the card-writing, the baking, the socialising, the hot weather - I absolutely adore it and it is the highlight of my year, every year. But this time it was hard. This time I was supposed to be almost 7 months pregnant. This time I was supposed to be starting maternity leave straight after the Christmas break (yes, I was planning to go early... can't imagine why...). This time I was supposed to be preparing the nursery, writing shortlists of names, and organising my baby shower. But then everything changed and suddenly none of that was going to happen. And although I'd had 5 months to get used to the idea that things were going to be different, that really didn't make it hurt any less. The tears still flowed. I'd be okay, and then suddenly I wouldn't be. I didn't expect it to hurt so much, but it really did. I had to work hard to get into the spirit.

But I managed. I cleaned. I decorated. I baked. I shopped. I giftwrapped. I sent about 60 cards, did 2 Kris Kringles, 2 forum Christmas Card Exchanges, and the Smith Family Christmas Deliveries. I partied with my Zumba girls, drank cocktails, appreciated the good things, and embraced my beloved Christmas.

And I think I did okay. And I'd like to think that Peanut was looking down on her earth-family and enjoying the festivities. And I hope she liked her special ornament on our tree. My aunty hand-crafted Peanut's little angel girl ornament for us.

Oh little one, you are so very loved and so deeply missed.

New Years Eve was hard for the same reason. And it was bittersweet, as dear friends of ours announced their pregnancy that night. I wish I could be sharing their journey as we were supposed to - we would be having little ones only about three months apart, and it would have been so much fun. But I honestly could not be happier for them - and who knows, if all goes well we could still have little ones three months apart ;) I will admit to shedding many tears both last night and this morning. But they were healing tears. And I guess they were cleansing tears - getting the emotions ready to face 2011.

So. 2011. Please, please, please be kind to us. That's all I dare to ask.

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.