Tuesday, April 27, 2010

All hell broke loose.

My neighbour is crazy. No two ways about it. She's locally known as the "shrew" due to her constantly screaming at her daughter, and husband. The good news is she recently had a baby. The bad news is today I heard her screaming AT the baby.

It really upset me to hear someone yelling at a tiny baby like that. Swearing at a six week old child is completely unacceptable to me!  Well, I posted as my status on Facebook

"can hear her neighbour yelling at her kids, one of which is exactly the age Ariana should be. Lovely".

That was it. You would think I just declared world war three. I was going to  put the 47 comments here - yep, 47 comments. I even copied them since I deleted the thread - it was upsetting me and frankly it was making me want to yell at some people to wake up to themselves. Did you know there are people in this world who will openly JUSTIFY yelling and screaming and swearing at a baby "because they aren't coping?". Even after I pointed out that the child she was swearing at was SIX weeks old!

In my world children are protected from such atrocities. They are not sworn at by their parents. They are not abused. And when they are I sure as hell don't stand up for the parent!

I am so angry. Before I was upset, mainly at the neighbour. Now I am so angry that some people will protect an adult without so much as a second thought for the children. I'm a bad neighbour? Fine. I don't care about her, or myself. I care about the kids.

Unlike others.

It's taken my entire life,

but I think my name suits me.

The name Tamara means "Palm Tree" in Hebrew. Seriously? Palm Tree? Not "Mighty Warrier" or "Strength" or "Compassion" or any of those awesome things a name can mean. Just Palm Tree. I've always sniggered at the meaning of my name, always felt a bit condescending about it. Like it was just silly. I've often thought my parents clearly didn't do their research before they named me.

However. Palm trees, as I've recently learned, a pretty great. They are flexible, they don't snap at the first hard wind that comes through. They grow tall and and straight, as if they have something to aim for, a goal to achieve. A palm tree will often withstand the heaviest things nature throws at it - Cyclones, Hurricanes, Tsunamis, Tornadoes - they still stand.

In the (almost) five years since Matt and I got married we have had some pretty brutal stuff thrown at us. There have been good times, but there have been a lot of sad times as well. Very very sad times. Somehow though, we've stood together. We've stayed upright, fought through and leant on each other when we needed to. We've supported each other, and we've come through it all. Every.Single.Thing.

Nothing has beaten us.

We spent last night in the ED. I started spotting again, and had some pretty vicious cramping going on, and so we took off for what really is a routine early pregnancy check up for me. The hospital was amazing. They took me right back, found me a bed immediately and started drawing blood and organising pain relief and a scan. It took them six attempts to get a line in, which had me in tears but once it was over, and Matt was back by my side, I was good to go again.

Our scan showed an excellent lining around the sac, a sac measuring 5weeks 4 days and what could have been a fetal pole but was too tiny to tell for certain. My beta's were 11000 which they tell me is perfect for gestational size and everything else looked great. I have to be re-scanned in ten days to check for viability, heartbeat and positioning but the doctors seem positive.

The cramping has subsided (although every twinge and Im likely to panic!), and I feel much better this morning although my hands where they blew out the veins are rendered almost useless through pain. The spotting is once again almost non existant.

I hate the first three months of pregnancy. I wish I could just skip into trimester two, where things are more secure, not so volatile!

Meantime, I have a mantra. It goes "Palm Tree, Palm Tree, Palm Tree". Believe it or not - It's helping!

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Veiled Insults

The most insulting thing i think anyone ever said to me when Ariana was dying was "pray harder".

Really? Pray harder? We Have been praying!! From the day we found out she existed we prayed she would live, that she would be our healthy baby. We prayed desperately that it was a nightmare, that our child was not terminally Ill. We prayed our family would survive the pain, we prayed Lucy would not loose her innocence. We prayed. Hard. Everyday. It was all we could do.

When that person said pray harder their ignorance was completley exposed. They made it seem like our lack of faith caused it. That if we had been to church regularly that God wouldn't have picked us to experience the highs and lows of Ariana.

Its taken me four months to come up with a response.

"God does amazing things. He answers every prayer. I believe that, honestly. Sometimes though, prayers aren't answered the way we want. Praying repetitively for one thing won't change God's mind, his plan is set. Sure, pray. Cry out, ask for healing. But i don't believe we can beg until God changes his mind. Don't imply it's my fault, or that of my husband. We didn't cause it. God healed our daughter, she has a heavenly body. She is healed. In Gods time. On his terms. And we are ok with that. We asked God for healing, don't say she didn't get it."

-- Post From My iPhone

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Barefoot and Pregnant.

The amazing reality in where a simple pregnancy test can lead me from here on a direct climb to here almost belies belief.

In fact, I'm still not certain I really believe it.

I dreamt today that I was pregnant, and when I had the baby, after many hours in labour, there was but a whisp of smoke, and then it was gone, leaving me lying on the bed with nothing but the faint residue of ash, and no understanding of what had just happened.

How appropriate that I dream of ash, in relation to a baby of mine. My first baby is at childcare today, playing in the mud puddles, and painting with her friends. My second baby sits on the shelf in the lounge room - ash.

Still, this pregnancy has given me the positive. The much needed 'thing' to focus on. And I am grateful.

Peace, Clarity, all of it. Right now, lies in the fusion of a few cells deep in my body. An ultrasound couldn't tell you right now if those cells hold promise, or heartache. But for me, for us, they hold every single positive thought or feeling we manage to conjur up.

The way in which

I 'do' pregnant worries me. I get tired, big sore boobs, a headache, and constipated. That goes on for nine months - or however long I manage to stay pregnant. I had two weeks of feeling seasick with Ariana, but only when I was on a bus, train or in a car. For most of the time I am fine. I wouldn't know morning sickness if it hit me over the head.

People say that I'm lucky not to get sick. Really? I have practically no physical signs that a baby is maybe going to arrive in our world, and when it does go bad and people say 'did your symptoms stop or go away', I get to say 'they were never there to begin with.' which invariably leads to the raised eyebrows and the 'oh, I see.'

There is actually nothing to prove that bad pregnancy syptoms Are due to a healthy thriving baby. Noone can explain why some people get sick and others don't. Some theorize that the pregnancy hormones cause the body to super sensitive to foods that may be dangerous, or not worth digestion, because the immune system becomes repressed during a pregnancy to prevent the body attacking the fetus as it would a 'virus' or other invasion. This makes sense to me. So for whatever reason I just don't get sick. But just like every other person I look to symptoms to tell me the state of my pregnancies. Crazy huh.

This morning when I woke up I was ecstatic. I have been symptom free this pregnancy. That on top of the spotting I was having had me secretly worried it was all over. Then yesterday I noticed I was Exhausted. A good sign. Then today, I'm still exhausted and my boobs are K.I.L.L.I.N.G me! Plus it appears the constipation is kicking in.

The spotting stopped a few days ago now, and with the sudden onset of symtoms, just maybe 'offspring' will make it!

All I know for certain right now is that I am tired. I need a nap!

-- Post From My iPhone

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Missing In Action,

well, sort of.

I am still here. Mostly.

This week has been chaos. I can't believe how totally unprepared I was for going back to work. I did the job for two weeks and I am already two weeks behind in paperwork. And we have accreditation in two months. Head office are breathing down our necks, and I am already struggling!

Of course, there is a reason. There is always a reason. It has been three and a half long years since I last wrote a program. And I have never, ever, written a program for a pre-school age group. Plus a breakdown of communication and quite litterally being unable to even take my full lunch breaks becuase of the chaos, and I find myself dragging work home to finish! If it's this bad in two weeks, imagine if I did go full time in this caper!

Which is incredibly unlikely.

Because of this.


You saw it here first.

That is in fact a positive pregnancy test. Now if you will all pick your jaws up off the floor in an orderly fashion, I will explain.

First of all, yes it is my test. No it is not a joke. Yes, according to that stick, I am pregnant.

I suppose it comes from all that sex I was having. Except funny story, I went back to work, and was exhausted. We had sex one time (this cycle), - and I'm up the duff. Just personally, I blame my iPhone. According to it, I wasn't ovulating, or even fertile when we did the deed. Of course according to my Iphone, I also had a period at the same time I fell pregnant. I think, somehow, it duplicated an entry, and voila, I thought I was so "totally safe, not even worth worrying about, lets do this.".

Ahem. It would appear I was not as correct about that as I would have liked to have been.

So, at this point. I'm like maybe, if I'm lucky, 5 weeks pregnant. I don't know what to make of it. I'm scared, I've been spotting since I tested. We all know I do not do pregnant "well". But my dear friend Hope said to keep testing, and if the line keeps getting darker then the hormones at least are getting stronger. I think this is decent logic, so I am about to order a pack of 25 pregnancy tests online. I've become a pee stick coveter. I covet pee sticks. I will get more pee sticks.

Seriously though? I have debated backwards and forwards about telling anyone. I'm scared. I don't want to lose another baby, especially since we still don't have those damn autopsy results. Matt is of the opinion that since we do not know if our "offspring"(as in the little turtle from Nemo!), as he or she has been dubbed is going to stick, that we should keep it to ourselves. I however, want to tell everyone.

Not because I'm excited to be pregnant. I haven't hit that emotion yet. But because I'm deathly afraid of dealing with another loss without the support of friends and family.

I get that where a happy, bubbly person used to be is now me. And I get that dealing with all my baby drama must get depressing, and annoying. But really? If this does go bad? I'm going to need you all. And if it goes good, I'm still going to need you all.

So for now, I am waiting. I am hoping that the spotting will stop. As there has been no cramping, or clotting I think, maybe, it might be ok. But this is familiar to me. And I don't like it. I might go to the doctor early next week, and get my levels tested. And maybe get reffered for a scan at 9 weeks, like we always do, if we get that far.

While I don't know if this pregnancy is going to stick - I know I feel a peace about it. It may sound terrible, but I am now of the opinion that we've faced the worst we could imagine. We're due for some happiness. And who know's, maybe this is the baby that we've been trying to bring home for two years now.

I really, really pray it is.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Pinch me, or shake me awake -

In three short years - this happened.

I'm confused. I don't think she is officially a toddler anymore! Toddlers are generally nappy wearing, tantrum throwing, frustrated little beings. Lucy on the other hand, is a toilet trained, articulate, intelligent and generally a well adjusted little girl. Not quite so toddler. More - little person.

I can't believe that it's been three years. I can't believe its ONLY been three years. It feels like she's been here forever, and truly I can't imagine my life without her.

Happy Birthday sweet Lucy. Three years is quite the achievment (especially when I think back on just how bad some of those tantrums were!), and I can't believe that on the 11th Of April, 2007 you made our lives so much better.

But I'll forever be grateful to you for it. x

Sunday, April 11, 2010

710 grams.

What does 710 grams mean to you? For most people, it's nothing. 710 grams is nothing, a small insiginificant number. Most of the time.

To one family, It's a miracle.

Meet Nico.

Nico arrived in this world at 24 weeks gestation, weighing 710 grams, in November 2009.  That is 16 very long weeks too early for such a precious person to be born.

Many, many times, Nico's life hung in the balance.

At ten weeks old, Nico should have still been "on the inside" for another six weeks. Instead, he had been in a NICU unit, recieving the best medical care, thanks to amazing doctors and nurses.

Those tiny fingers, were infinitley smaller, ten long weeks earlier when this miracle arrived in this world. It's impossible to imagine!

Nico's due date came, and Nico celebrated his 16 weeks birthday. Four months earlier, he was a tiny, 710 grams. Now Look at him!

At 18 weeks old, Nico was thriving, growing stronger and gaining weight. Through it all, his dedicated family have been by his side.

By 21 weeks, even the doctors were shaking their heads at this miracle baby. Nobody, ever, expected this. A near perfect baby.

Aside from his chronic lung disease, due to prematurity, and constant ventilation at such a young age - Nico has no medical complications. He can see, perfectly. His hearing is not affected. He is gaining weight, and doing all the things he should be, for his gestational age.

His family never once, gave up hope.

Their son, is proof, that God is amazing, and that he makes amazing doctors.

Love can be enough. Sometimes, It is all that you need.

Today, Nico is one day off being six months old.
For six months, his family has battled, they have prayed, they have cried and they have juggled. They have a two year old daughter, Nico's big sister. Her name is Brooklyn, and she is beautiful. Nico's mum Karin, has gone back to work. She juggles.

Brooklyn wants her baby brother to come home. She wants her family to be the all in the one place, under the one roof.

Pretty soon, she'll have her wish.

After all, Nico is just like his mummy and daddy, a fighter. Look how far he has come! The day they are all home together is approaching quickly. So keep them in your prayers - this has been a six month battle and it's not over yet.

And anytime you see someone collecting money for neonatal research - think of Nico. Think of Ellery. And think, that you just never know where you life will lead you, or what path you will take.

Donate to these charities, to these causes. Otherwise, Nico and Ellery, and thousands of other babies, will be lost. One day, you could find yourself walking this path. I did.

Babies are dying. Nico is a face of hope. Don't let him out of your memory - or others may suffer.

And there can be no greater tragedy than that.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The one where I yell at an ambo..

Yeah. I am Classy.

But in my defence, he was a douchebag.

Seriously? If I call an ambulance, for my three year old daughter, It's because I think she needs to go to the hospital. Not to the GP. The GP can't do blood tests, the GP can't do Urine tests and the GP can't do a chest Xray. Which is what the 1300Health line told me she would need. Which is why they recommended getting her to hospital, immediately.

I did. Via ambulance.

Dear Mr Ambulance Man,

Your job, in case your unaware, is to respond to medical call outs. We did not call the emergency number, as it was not an emergency. But we still requested an ambulance transfer, and are quite within our rights to do so. Just because you think I am a young, stupid mother, doesn't give you the right to demand I see my GP, and act like a complete asshole the entire time you are in my presence. Yes, I am aware that by accepting our non-urgent transfer you had to by-pass a more serious case (truck fire), but, you know what? I live in a CITY.We have more than one ambulance, and there were others there. And contrary to what you think you know, You are not a doctor. You are also not at liberty to decide what I do, and Don't do with my daughter. So pull your arrogant head in.


I may have yelled, a little at the ambulance asshole. One guy was perfectly lovely, and quietly bit his tongue, and smiled while I went troppo. But seriously, the child was delusional. Telling me "its just a cold" probably isn't a good idea. Snorting when I tell you that, yes, Maybe I am over-reacting a bit, but I'm following the advice of trained medical professionals, and having lost a baby at the start of the year I am a tad over-emotional, Is a big mistake.

By the time I yelled " your bedside manner sucks! Now, would you just do your damn job, and drive this god damn ambulance", I think I was getting through to him..

Lucy is home now, and feeling much better. She is on continual doses of Demazin, Panadol, Nurofen and Cough Mixture, just to keep her home, and not in hospital. Whatever she has, is not a "cold". She's looking terrible, and feeling worse.

I feel sorry for the next person who gets that ambo - he should be sacked.

Friday, April 9, 2010

39 degrees,

And still rising is my munchkins body temperature right now. For those who use fahrenhiet that's 102 and steadily going up after panadol (motrin). I'm at a loss, the hospital sent us home, saying that she needs to fight the temp a bit as it's killing the virus but now she is so shaky she can hardly move, and refusing all fluids. She has 1 hour to settle things down, or we're going back to hospital - soon.

-- Post From My iPhone

Thursday, April 8, 2010

I have a terrible flaw.

When it comes to family, and friends, I am so overprotective that at times, It's ridiculous!

Lucy gives me a heart attack on a regular basis. Just being a kid, Climbing, Riding Bikes, and all other kid-like activities have my heart in my throat. I think I am so afraid of losing her, of her suddenly not being a part of my life that I fear stupid, inconsequential activities will harm her far more than they ever could, or would.

I try not to let her see this. I let her climb, ride bikes and play. I try and follow the three D's before I intervene - if what she is doing is not Dangerous, Destructive or Disturbing (Thanks BFM!), then I try not to get involved. The fact that almost every activity that has her feet of the ground disturbs me, is not reason enough to stop her from doing it. She is a child, and children need to be free to make their own mistakes (within reason, and reasonable guidelines!), and to learn, through play. You can't learn to ride a bike if you're never allowed too!

And then we come to my husband. I can't stand injustice against him. He has been completely miserable in his job. We've been trying to get him out of there, and he's been looking for work in other places since early this year, but as yet nothing that works for us as a family, and financially has been offered. Most has been a substantial pay cut, and while we can deal with a small loss in income if it means he is happy in his job, we can't afford to lose a third, which is what some are offering. It's times like these I hate the economy.

He cops a lot of bullshit from his boss. A lot of it is misdirected stupidity, on the bosses part. A small part of it may be justified, if he makes a mistake, or lets something slide that he shouldn't. But I know Matt, and he is pretty good at accepting responsibility for his actions. He doesn't look for excuses, he says "oh shit, I screwed that up, I'm sorry". It's a great trait to have, one that isn't seen that often, and one that I really struggled to learn when I first started working. But it is a very positive ability to have, and one that has served me well. I know he does this, because he does it at home. He doesn't lie, or try and cover his tracks. He doesn't try and blame other people. He acts with integrity, He lives, with integrity.

So when his boss had a mini flip out this week, and piled all this crap on him, I lost the plot. And not in a little way. It all actually came to a head last week, when despite all the extra stuff Matt does, his boss accused him of not pulling his weight, and of slacking off, and always being late to work. I was livid.

And then on Tuesday, it hit the proverbial fan again. I was at work when Matt rang me to say he'd been summoned to a disciplinary hearing, to be held on Wednesday regarding some of his work. I was so angry, when he explained to me that not only had the boss not asked him why the problems had occurred, but that when Matt tried to explain to him, he threw his hands up in the air, and walked away mid conversation. We don't tolerate that behaviour from Lucy, and she's not quite three!

Matt investigated the situations, and after looking at the facts and figures, it turns out he isn't actually able to be held accountable for any one of the incidents they intended to discipline him over. They threw six scenarios at him, and not a single. one, as far as we can see, was his fault! If it were, he'd take the hearing and move on. It is so clearly a witch hunt, which is why we moved onto the next logical step.

I pushed him to involve HR. He contacted them and requested a rep come up, and make themselves available for this meeting. The HR rep advised that he was "unable to attend" and so Matt had to involve a different line manager. He also said he would be taking a witness into the meeting. (Mel to the rescue, again!).

My anger levels went through the roof when Matt told me his boss was insisting the meeting go ahead, regardless. And so then, we wrote the letter of complaint.

"The" letter, is four pages long. It details every complaint Matt has had with his boss in the past year, since his last written complaint against him, and brings up some very unprofessional behaviours and attitudes. Amazingly enough, HR has now become available to visit the office, and an investigation has been launched. Matt may get rapped over the knuckles by HR, if they find him lacking or not measuring up in anyway, which we are ready for. Matt doesn't care! He just wants people to finally recognise what he tolerates, and puts up with from someone who is meant to be in a senior management roll. The same person, who after ten years in the fuel industry didn't know there was an additive in petrol!

I get so angry when he comes home and tells me what he's been dealing with. He's not one to complain, he never has been, so when it gets to a point that I can say "call HR", and he goes "yeah, I think it's time", things are bad.

We're so lucky to live in a country where he can't be discriminated against for standing up for himself. I don't even work at this place, and I can't stand it. I hate how miserable he is there, I hate that he hates going to work, and that he still has to go there, even though he can't stand the thought of it. I feel so helpless, all I can do is offer suggestions, and help him sort out his head at the end of every day. I'm so glad Mel is there, for him to yell at, especially since I'm working again now and can't always answer the phone when he calls to decompress.

I have no idea how to wrap this post up. I guess the point I was trying to make before I got crazily distracted, and rambled on, was that I am so protective of people close to me. Sometimes, I don't know how to put that into action. Believe it or not, I actually hate confrontation, I usually cry, and it gets messy, but I see the need for it when the occasion arises. In the meantime, I just do what I can to help, and support - and keep the three D's mantra on repeat in my brain.

So, Easter,

yeah, that's THIS post. It's the post I've been avoiding, dodging if you will. I don't want to face it, talk about it, or deal with it. Even though it's come and gone, I still don't want to actually acknowledge the fact that we had a BIG.DAY. Without our daughter, without our child, who easter should have been all about this year. Of course it was all about Lucy as well, but it should have been the big FIRST for Ariana.

The first without her.

The day did not go well. Not for me anyway. If I'm honest with myself, I hated it. Every measly second. Even while my smile was pasted on my face, even while i ran, chasing Lucy on the Easter egg hunt, even while we oohed and aahed over the easter bunnies gifts, and those from family and friends, I hated it.

I hate feeling like this. I hate that I was so sad on a day that is supposed to be filled with joy. I hate that by mid afternoon I was in tears, desperately trying to be happy for my daughter. I hate that by that night I needed a drink.

I never need a drink. Needing a drink worries me, It's not how I deal with things. It's why I came home from hospital without pain meds, without sleeping tables, without drugs to alter, or enhance my mood. It's because I know I can get addicted. Easily.

Even in the "dead baby haze", I knew enough about myself to refuse offers of tablets to get me through. I knew I needed to face things head on. Yet, that night, I turned to alcohol.

I feel like I let myself down. Like I failed, myself and my family. Especially my daughters, both of them.

Easter was awful. I hope I never have another "special" day as miserable as that one ended up being.

For everyone's sake.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Love me, or hate me,

I am me.

A new perspective

Or maybe, just a wake up call. A few days ago I was moaning about how my neighbour has had her baby,, a baby due the same week as Ariana was.

Last night it occured to me that I am such a bitch! I was talking to Mr Neighbour, and he told me their daughter Amelia was born on the 16th of March.

I have been so busy thinking it's not fair that the neighbour was exactly as pregnant as I was, without even thinking of their circumstances, of what maybe they had been through.

I don't know them very well, they have a little girl Hayley who talks to Lucy over the fence (there is a month between them), but we never talk much, more of a wave hello on the way across the yard. I don't know what they have been through, if they have ever suffered loss.

But imagine if they have! If they have suffered a miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, stillbirth, or had a baby, or a child pass away? Imagine if they struggle with infertility.

Why didn't it occur to me, that for them, this baby could be the miracle they have prayed over, and begged God for? Just like Ariana was ours, Amelia could be their miracle. God works in mysterious ways, he said yes to us with Ariana. He let her live long enough to part of our family, to meet her sister, and family. The yes was not the yes we wanted, but it was something. How do I know, that the same thing isn't true of Amelia! That she is an answer to their prayers!

I can't imagine how upset I would be, to hear someone was complaining about me having a baby, after all the loss we have suffered. It would break my heart. Yet that is what I have been doing to them! BITCH!

Sometimes I get so caught up in the grief, the anger and the denial that I forget that I'm not alone. That I am not the only person who carries this burden around, there are millions of us. Women and men across the world who lose children.

So now, instead if keeping the door closed, so I don't have to see, I am choosing to open it. To see their happiness, their joy, and their newest addition. To witness their lives and to be a small part of what might be, their very own miracle.

-- Post From My iPhone

Monday, April 5, 2010


What autopsy?

I just need to know.

Closure. Finality. Knowledge. All the things I'm missing. All the things I need.

My head is a mess today - I just need that report.

And God knows where it is.

At what point,

does this become Ok? And really, Do I deserve this?

3 months

We still question why.
We still don't know.
We still cry.
We still grieve.
We still mourn.
We still wonder.
We still love.

We will always miss you, with every fibre of our being.

3 long months.

-- Post From My iPhone

Sunday, April 4, 2010


I often have reason to be amazed while writting here. In the past year particularly, the outpouring of love, and support has astounded me. Not much leaves me speechless (truly), but today, to recieve my first 'blog award' left me in that state. To be honest, it made me cry a little, especially since the beautiful woman who bestowed such an honour on me deserved to hold it close to her heart, for all eternity. If you want to see, and read the details you can go here
You won't regret it. And Ti, thankyou, just so much.

-- Post From My iPhone

Saturday, April 3, 2010

The Empty Easter

Who knew Easter could leave such a bad taste in my mouth. The ultimate sacrifice was made. How can that be viewed with any negativity.

The empty feeling in my arms, and my heart, is particularly bad tonight. Knowing that tomorrow should have been one of Ariana's "firsts". Facing Easter without my precious daughter. Seeing her untouched Christmas presents is hard enough, not buying anything for her for Easter is terrible.

It's been going over and over in my head. "Well God lost his son, Gave him so we could live". Amazing. Such a sacrifice, such love.

But God knew Jesus would rise again. He knew his son would ascend to heaven. But then Ariana is in heaven as well. I know I'll be with her again. But God only had to wait three days. I have to wait a lifetime. But then who knows how long a lifetime will be. And God had to watch them murder his son. I had to let my daughter go.

Over and Over.

Empty. So Empty. I want to be excited, but I'm filled with dread.

On Monday, It will have been three months. Three long months since I last saw her beautiful face. Touched her tiny fingers, and kissed her little head. Three long Months since I could feel her, tangibly see her and know she existed.

The first "first" surely has to be the worst. Please tell me it's the worst. Because I don't know how I can live with this feeling, every single time we have something to celebrate.

Happy Easter Everyone. Loss is a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when it feels insignificant to another.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I love

I love the smell of rain, but I'm not much into the actual wet, rainy part of rain.

I love the smell of freshly cut grass.

I love the sound of children laughing, preferably after 9am on a Sunday morning.

I love to read. If I couldn't read anymore, I think I would lose my mind.

I love being with good friends. Lighthearted conversations, laughter and joking around is my idea of a perfect day.

I love Music. Music speaks to me, in a way that normal conversation cannot.

I love conversations. Not just mindless chatter, but deep, important conversations.

I love to feel valued, like I contribute, Like what I think matters.

I love to be alone. I am good company, even for myself.

I love to be busy, days that I spend going from place to place, acomplishing things, marking things off, are among my favourite.

I love Coffee.

I love Food. I'm not experimental with food, But I love to eat (explains a few things about me!).

I love writing this blog. I love this medium, the way thoughts seem to flow out of me, my fingers flying while my brain struggles to keep up with what my heart is saying.

I love to just be. To just sit, and stare out the window, blank. Waiting for what, i don't know. Just being.

I love that I still, after everything, can be alone, without being afraid of my thoughts.

I love that I am not afraid. I am not scared. I do not fear.

I love that my family is crazy. They are a very strange collection of people, and I wouldn't have them any other way.

I love that every day I wake up, ready and able, to get out of bed.

I love that Ariana existed, that she was a part of this world.

I love that I can speak her name, openly, and without tears.

I love that the days the tears do come, are the days that I know I can turn to my husband.

I love that he picked me.

I love that he loves me, unconditionally.

I Love him.

I love watching terrible TV shows, with a coffee and a pack of tim tams.

I love sleeping

I love playing with playdoh with Lucy.

I love to lick the beaters after Matt makes one of his amazing concoctions.

I love that he lets me!

I love to drive aimlessly, music blaring, laughing at the world.

I love to sit, and talk about rubbish with anyone, laughing until we worry we will throw up

I love that Matt lets me tickle him, even though he hates it, and it drives him crazy.

I love the smell of a freshly dried load of towels.

I love the feel of crisp, cool, fresh sheets on a hot summer night.

I love that my brothers cat keeps sleeping on my bed during the day, as if begging to be a member of our little family.

I love that I feel free enough now to say what I feel I need to, without worrying about it being socially acceptable.

I love that I am better.

I love that I am more.

I love that I am loved, that I am worthy, that I am accepted.

I love my life.

It's just taken me some time to remember why.