Thursday 10th August 2000
Days are warm, sunny days help to lift my spirits. I love to see the sun coming up as I drive to work in the morning. It breaks behind me as I drive, and floods into the car. I say to Aaron “see the world is just so beautiful” I often sing “here comes the sun” the Nina Simone version, singing in the car when I’m on my own usually makes me cry, tears stream down my face, I don’t wipe them away, they come too fast. I like the feel of them on my skin, the taste of the salt on my tongue.
Looking through a book about motherhood makes me wonder what Aaron would be like now, he’d be three months old. What would he be doing? Rolling over from his back to his tummy and back again. Taken so much for granted, all of these simple things are taken for granted by parents whose baby hasn’t died.
My back is so sore at the moment, also my coccyx bone, I’m very tired all the time. Feel so old, would love to have an overhaul, some new clothes, or a haircut. Trying to get back into shape is a constant battle, with the down days usually wining. I think that I have to get back into shape for the next pregnancy, I know that I should, it’s hard to be positive.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
It's all fake...
Wednesday 15th August
Back still sore, went to the physio at lunchtime. Asked her about exercises for postnatal women for the book. Feeling down the last few days, Sam put Celine Dion on the CD player and I just was waiting for "Fly" to come on, I cried, he held me. Wrong choice of CD, yet also the right choice, it's such a beautiful song. Tears wouldn't stop. Just when I think there are no tears left I get overwhelmed with them again. Sad, still sad.
Work is hard, every pregnant woman seems to make a beeline straight for me. They all want "something for the nursery" Stomachs bulging, it hurts so much. I ask, "When are you due?" Ask all the questions that people asked me when I was pregnant, I keep the secret, I wonder how many people I spoke to also kept the secret from me?
People still come in that don't know, we got an invite from one of Sam's friends, she doesn't even know that I was pregnant.
Mum gets her cheery voice still, is that what I sound like?
It's all fake.
Back still sore, went to the physio at lunchtime. Asked her about exercises for postnatal women for the book. Feeling down the last few days, Sam put Celine Dion on the CD player and I just was waiting for "Fly" to come on, I cried, he held me. Wrong choice of CD, yet also the right choice, it's such a beautiful song. Tears wouldn't stop. Just when I think there are no tears left I get overwhelmed with them again. Sad, still sad.
Work is hard, every pregnant woman seems to make a beeline straight for me. They all want "something for the nursery" Stomachs bulging, it hurts so much. I ask, "When are you due?" Ask all the questions that people asked me when I was pregnant, I keep the secret, I wonder how many people I spoke to also kept the secret from me?
People still come in that don't know, we got an invite from one of Sam's friends, she doesn't even know that I was pregnant.
Mum gets her cheery voice still, is that what I sound like?
It's all fake.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Smile though your heart is aching
Wednesday 9th August
Smile though your heart is aching,
Smile even though it's breaking,
......
If you just smile.
Don’t cry out loud,
just keep it inside.
Learn how to hide your feelings.
Smile though your heart is aching,
Smile even though it's breaking,
......
If you just smile.
Don’t cry out loud,
just keep it inside.
Learn how to hide your feelings.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
be careful what you wish for...
Monday 7th August 2000
Yesterday was Sam's birthday, I wanted to give him something special. Ended up typing a list of why I love him, so often in life we see the negative sides, even of those we love, and forget about all the positive. There are plenty of positives about Sam, I wouldn't change him. Lost the first edition, had to try to do it again, I'm so glad that I did, as he really seemed to like it. I should let my feelings show more often.
I saw Pam last Tuesday, we spoke about a lot of ideas, I put on my coping face and she understands the unspoken. I told her about my book, about how I'd written that I've come a long way yet also stayed still, she wanted to know about both. Moving forward has been happening slowly, I have done a lot since last I saw her. Went back to the hospital for my records, told her about what a nightmare that turned into. Talked about the autopsy, how hard it was to read, how much that meeting with the doctor put my mind at rest, yet left me with nowhere to go with all this anger, seems I can't blame the midwife, or the doctor, or the hospital, why did this happen then? I still think that if I had been checked as closely as I will be the next time then this wouldn't have happened to Aaron.
So many things happened to cause distress that could have been avoided. I finally found out how long Aaron was, 52cm, one more thing to cross of my list. What happens when nothing is left on the list? Each thing that I do makes me feel a little bit better, yet a little more lost. People say stupid things, you know the sort of things they say, "you can have another one" and the great little line "it was probably for the best" that’s a ripper that one. Why are we so badly educated about death and grief, why is this such a taboo subject? How can I change the way people react? Going back to work, some people at work just act as if nothing has changed, my whole life has come crashing down and they talk about the weather and the football. There is total avoidance, even from people that I've known for years.
I judge everyone now, a close friend at work told me "that I have to snap out of it" guess which way she went. I'll never think of her in the same way, friendships change, some are lost others have developed. I can't help it and I don't have to, only I know the final judgement. How does it make me feel? Angry, it makes me so angry. I was pregnant last time they saw me and now I'm not, there's no baby, doesn't that strike them as weird? Taboo subject’s only change when they are talked about, Pam said that a friend of hers told her that you can sit at the dinner table and talk about your heart attack, but you can't talk about your cancer.
I told her about my night out with the girls, how at that table there was so much suffering, ten women and we all had our masks on. Just look under the surface and there was so much pain, myself, Connie whose baby died thirteen years ago, a little boy, he was twelve weeks old, cot death. She didn't wash the sheets after because she thought she'd catch a disease from them if they got dirty enough and die. People say they know how you feel, they don't, she does. I wanted to grab her and talk and talk, but the masks came back, others were around, can't show the pain, nobody wants to see that.
Another girl at the table had a mastectomy, breast cancer, I didn't know, I was just waiting for someone to ask me about Aaron, and she was waiting for the same chance to talk about her cancer. She told me later that when she was talking about becoming a mother that she saw my face drop, it was like getting hit with a baseball bat, it comes out of the blue. I never know what's going to hit home. Then there was Nancy, her three miscarriages, lots of pain there, her Dad dying, more pain.
Ambulance sirens send my blood cold, it is such a physical reaction. That sound, Sam looks at me, I'm back in that ambulance, that ride through the night, the tapping, the praying, the shock. Now I can instantly know what that siren means, I hope for the person inside, I know that ride. I often wondered what it would be like to ride in an ambulance, be careful what you wish for.
Yesterday was Sam's birthday, I wanted to give him something special. Ended up typing a list of why I love him, so often in life we see the negative sides, even of those we love, and forget about all the positive. There are plenty of positives about Sam, I wouldn't change him. Lost the first edition, had to try to do it again, I'm so glad that I did, as he really seemed to like it. I should let my feelings show more often.
I saw Pam last Tuesday, we spoke about a lot of ideas, I put on my coping face and she understands the unspoken. I told her about my book, about how I'd written that I've come a long way yet also stayed still, she wanted to know about both. Moving forward has been happening slowly, I have done a lot since last I saw her. Went back to the hospital for my records, told her about what a nightmare that turned into. Talked about the autopsy, how hard it was to read, how much that meeting with the doctor put my mind at rest, yet left me with nowhere to go with all this anger, seems I can't blame the midwife, or the doctor, or the hospital, why did this happen then? I still think that if I had been checked as closely as I will be the next time then this wouldn't have happened to Aaron.
So many things happened to cause distress that could have been avoided. I finally found out how long Aaron was, 52cm, one more thing to cross of my list. What happens when nothing is left on the list? Each thing that I do makes me feel a little bit better, yet a little more lost. People say stupid things, you know the sort of things they say, "you can have another one" and the great little line "it was probably for the best" that’s a ripper that one. Why are we so badly educated about death and grief, why is this such a taboo subject? How can I change the way people react? Going back to work, some people at work just act as if nothing has changed, my whole life has come crashing down and they talk about the weather and the football. There is total avoidance, even from people that I've known for years.
I judge everyone now, a close friend at work told me "that I have to snap out of it" guess which way she went. I'll never think of her in the same way, friendships change, some are lost others have developed. I can't help it and I don't have to, only I know the final judgement. How does it make me feel? Angry, it makes me so angry. I was pregnant last time they saw me and now I'm not, there's no baby, doesn't that strike them as weird? Taboo subject’s only change when they are talked about, Pam said that a friend of hers told her that you can sit at the dinner table and talk about your heart attack, but you can't talk about your cancer.
I told her about my night out with the girls, how at that table there was so much suffering, ten women and we all had our masks on. Just look under the surface and there was so much pain, myself, Connie whose baby died thirteen years ago, a little boy, he was twelve weeks old, cot death. She didn't wash the sheets after because she thought she'd catch a disease from them if they got dirty enough and die. People say they know how you feel, they don't, she does. I wanted to grab her and talk and talk, but the masks came back, others were around, can't show the pain, nobody wants to see that.
Another girl at the table had a mastectomy, breast cancer, I didn't know, I was just waiting for someone to ask me about Aaron, and she was waiting for the same chance to talk about her cancer. She told me later that when she was talking about becoming a mother that she saw my face drop, it was like getting hit with a baseball bat, it comes out of the blue. I never know what's going to hit home. Then there was Nancy, her three miscarriages, lots of pain there, her Dad dying, more pain.
Ambulance sirens send my blood cold, it is such a physical reaction. That sound, Sam looks at me, I'm back in that ambulance, that ride through the night, the tapping, the praying, the shock. Now I can instantly know what that siren means, I hope for the person inside, I know that ride. I often wondered what it would be like to ride in an ambulance, be careful what you wish for.
Friday, August 6, 2010
"If you cry you're on your own...
Sunday 6th August
"If you are reading this book, there is a high probability that your heart is broken"
The first time I read this line I cried, and I thought "Yes that's it, my heart is broken"
"There are no stages of grief"
"We receive no education about grief"
"Don't cry"... Meaning don't feel bad,
"On Saturday we'll get you a new dog"...Meaning replace the loss
"If you cry you're on your own.
"If you are reading this book, there is a high probability that your heart is broken"
The first time I read this line I cried, and I thought "Yes that's it, my heart is broken"
"There are no stages of grief"
"We receive no education about grief"
"Don't cry"... Meaning don't feel bad,
"On Saturday we'll get you a new dog"...Meaning replace the loss
"If you cry you're on your own.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 26, 2010
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