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

Autopsy?

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

Amazed

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

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.

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.