Funny how my mind still thinks in weeks...

Monday 31st July 2000

Tomorrow it's back to see Pam, I've come a long way, yet also stayed still. It surprises me how much time has passed since Aaron died, it still feels so new, to others it seems like "get over it". I still feel an overwhelming need to talk about what happened to us, nobody wants to listen, the subject is changed as soon as it's bought up. Often it just isn't bought up at all, even with close friends. It doesn't make any sense to me, I can't speak aloud about the pain, the unbearable pain of holding our baby in my arms for such a brief time before they took him away to all that pain, to tubes and drugs, and specialists. Holding him afterwards was a joy I would never change. All those women whose babies were whisked away for their own good, it's the one thing that keeps me sane, to be able to hold him, feel his tiny fingers curled around mine, marvel at just how perfect, how beautiful, how much like Sam, my crooked nose.

If I could write in code, and then decode my words, I would feel secure with emotions that otherwise would just drift away each day. I have to keep record, feelings change so dramatically day to day.

It’s been a dramatic weekend, I took Thursday of work because the cars clutch started to go. Had a long weekend which was so nice, Thursday we thought I might be pregnant again, I can't tell you how excited I was, already planning who to tell, should we wait for the twelve weeks to go by, no way, I want to tell everyone now. Stopped at the supermarket to get the test kit. Thought I had a big secret. Busting for a wee, hold on till I read the instructions, just waiting for those double pink lines that say you're pregnant, sat in the car waiting to ring Sam with the news, talking to Aaron about a new brother or sister, rubbing my stomach with such joy, hey baby.

One pink line not two, where is the other one? Crying, disappointment, didn't realize how much I wanted this, it is meant to be two pink lines. Trying to get control, it would be mad to be pregnant again so soon after Aaron’s birth. My cycle is not in sync yet, and I'm way of my long service, I wouldn't qualify for health care. God I wanted it to be true, and hang the problems.

Last day of the month, only one more month of winter to go, I thought winter would be hard, all the leaves fallen, cold and death, but it is not like that at all. Even on the Grey days, and there are plenty of those, the earth is still alive and growing, bulbs are coming through, snow on our mountain that I thought Aaron would get to see. Deciding where to go this Christmas, it doesn't matter, no need to argue over where Aaron spends his first Christmas. No first Christmas, no joy, no presents for him, no wrapping paper to play with, no photos, he would be eight months, I thought how great it would be at Christmas for him, he'd be old enough to enjoy it. I love Christmas, I wanted to share that love with my family, Sam and Aaron.

Funny how my mind still thinks in weeks, 12 weeks since his death, the magical 12 weeks where no more worries are necessary, then waiting for the amnio, longest time I thought, time dragged, way past the danger time, no worries, fine, fine, fine, every time at Dr Baileys, no problems, listen to his heart beating, strong, good, relief every time, what a breeze this pregnancy thing is, heartburn about the worst thing to deal with, how I would whinge about the heartburn. Not being able to sleep. Now I still can't sleep, still drinking Milo before bed in the hope that I won't stay awake thinking.

So many things that I must not forget.

This third period lost so much blood. Scared, blood just everywhere.

Thinking I was pregnant again, taking the test and how it felt when it came up negative.

Watching Sam walk up the hill with David by his side in the snow, watching him play with any child.

Crying at work when a lady came in holding her baby the same way Robyn did when she bought him in to us still warm and soft, seeing his feet hanging.

Nearly every song on the radio

Hearing Andrea Botcelli at Knox, not being able to move, then it kept playing over and over.

The first time to a shopping centre, walking through Myers all the baby things, at Medicare when that baby started to cry and then I couldn’t stop. Looking anywhere else, trying not to cry.

Seeing Lisa the first time since

Laminating his photo and it buckling up, crying in the street couldn't speak for lunch.

Wanting to warn every pregnant woman I came into contact with, don't trust them.

Picking up our records from the Angliss, baby burns, his heartbeat reading, parents came to visit, held baby’s hand.

Driving home the same way that we'd practiced and timed so often.

Buying mum his little bear, picking his funeral flowers, trying to explain what they were for and snapping at that poor woman.