Honest Scrap

Today has been a sad one but I was uplifted to get this from Lachlan's mum. Thank you - I was touched.

The rules are:
Choose a minimum of 7 blogs you find brilliant in content or design. Show the 7 winners’ names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they have won the Honest Scrap award.

So, here are my 7 nominations for the award (a tough one this. I find every blog I visit speaks to me in some way):

Opus Angara
Baby Bean v1.1
I lost a World
Knocked up, knocked down
Inanna Journey
After Iris
Waiting for Happy

I hope you're all able to participate. The 10 interesting facts bit is hard!!!

... And now for the ten probably not-very-interesting facts about me:

1) I ADORE "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen. I read it for the first time when I about nine and I've read it about 20 times since then.

2) Thanks to my husband and my DS I can quote very large chunks of St.ar Wa.rs - the original trilogy (none of this prequel rubbish) . I do a mean Chewbacca impression!

3) My Victoria sponge cakes NEVER rise but I make a fabulous milk chocolate cake with lashings of milk chocolate icing.

4) I learned to belly dance when I was university. I figured with the amount of belly I had it had to be meant for something. I was good and would love to do it again.

5) I love Meatloaf ( hey, this is HONEST scrap!!) and was once on a television programme that he was on.

6) I did half an A-level in Latin Literature and a year of Chinese Language and Literature as part of my degree.

7) I used to have a phobia of bananas. I still hate them but made myself touch them when I was weaning my DS & again with DD ... both of whom now also hate them!!

8) I can't whistle at all. Just can't do it.

9) My absolute favourite colour is purple and I used to dress in it from neck to toe when I was a teenager - even though it clashed with my very red hair (not natural unfortunately - courtesy of a bag or seven of henna).

10) I failed my driving test four times and only passed my fifth because I was not asked to reverse park. I'd still be taking driving tests 14 years later if I had had to reverse park because I still can't do it. I have very limited spatial awareness!!

A pregnancy post.

Where to start ... in a little over an hour, I will be 17 weeks pregnant. I have been feeling small amounts of fluttering from Jurgen for several weeks now and this past week they have turned into definite movements - not regular yet but there.

I am completely in love. Any idea I had that I might remain detached was a falsehood. I adore this little one, just as I adored each of his or her brother and sisters. I have survived (am surviving - I don't know when it gets to be past tense) babyloss once, I don't know how I would do it again. I am just hoping and hoping that I don't have to.

I have never had a distressing ultrasound. Emma died 7 minutes (7 stupid, tiny minutes) before I pushed her into this world so the first we knew of our descent into hell was the paediatrician turning away from her and saying "I'm sorry". Those sickening words. So, I shouldn't fear ultrasounds, right? Except losing Emma has brought me into a world where babies die at every possible gestation - and beyond. And losing one child does not exempt you from the possibility of losing another to completely random and different circumstances. So, as my "big" scan approaches I can feel myself tensing. I try to shrug it off. I try to focus on now. I cannot change anything that is happening within me. I simply have to surrender to it happening and love my baby with everything I have ... and I do. Sometimes I dare to hope. As one of my fellow posters on MDC said of her own new pregnancy, "Being hopeful is brave. Be brave."


I do manage sometimes. I dreamed I was holding a little dark haired newborn boy with startlingly blue eyes. I try to hold onto that dream. I bought a pair of maternity jeans today and a journal with enough space to include not only my diary of the pregnancy but of milestones beyond. I looked at the newborn clothes too but didn't buy - I'm not there yet. We've discussed names - since D. is the one who christened Jurgen, you can see why we might need to start the conversation for "real" names somewhat early. We've debated whether to find out Jurgen's gender or have a surprise (still undecided). Yet, it all feels a little bit surreal and "naughty" as if I shouldn't be doing those things.

At 14 weeks, my Obstetrician asked me if I was feeling anymore reassured yet after three "good" first trimester scans. He seemed surprised when I said that I wasn't. I was surprised he expected me to feel reassurance at any point in this pregnancy. I will never reach a safe milestone. Emma died at 40 weeks, this baby will come at 38 weeks. He or she will need to be in my arms before I can tell my OB I feel reassured and even then ...

All I can do is love and hope and be brave.

10 months

Double figures. Perhaps because nine months was SO hard, Emma's ten month day is passing far more gently than expected. Perhaps it's because it's the long summer holiday and I have my other two and D. here with me so there isn't silence where there should be a whirlwind of infant activity. Perhaps it's because the past few weeks have been very hard and at some point I had to climb back out of the pit for a breath.

I still wish I could have known her at ten months - my other two were earlyish walkers (11&10 months) so perhaps she'd be cruising around the furniture. 6YO is building an elaborate wooden traintrack - I'm quite sure she'd be tasting the trains and messing up the design.

I wish.

Miss you sweet little girl.

Catharsis

I started with the cupboard under the stairs, then moved on to the cupboard containing the pram we bought for Emma (a proud E.ba.y moment that one!), the sideboard, the bookshelves, the cupboards in the children's room, the garage. Cleaning, decluttering, bringing order. I am not a hoarder by nature and chaos distresses me. Hurling broken toys and mouldy carpets into the giant skips at the tip felt GOOD. I look around and I feel accomplished.

If only it were so easy to do the same with my brain.

Healing & Holidays

I love the sea. I always find being near it calms me in a way that nothing else can. We don't have a great line in palm fringed sandy paradises with calm azure waters here in the North East of England. Our coastline is rugged and dramatic and beautiful. It rains a lot too. Standing by the sea here is a salutary reminder of nature's power and its unpredictability. The coast round here is studded with ruined castles, relics from an era when Vikings and others ravaged our little bit of England, the sea is studded with wrecks of ships who have come a cropper in these dangerous waters.


Last year we loaded up our brand new people carrier (well, brand new to us), bought to accommodate our need for 3 car seats, and trooped to a cottage on the Northumbrian coast. I was 34 weeks pregnant and we were all so happy. The weather was blissful and we stayed on the beach from morning (well lunchtime by the time I'd had my nap) until night.

D. & I headed back this way in November. The friends who let us use their cottage gifted us with a weekend here - a tiny opportunity to heal in the bleakest and darkest of days. We left the little ones with auntie, loaded up the too big car with logs for the open fire and lots and lots and lots of wine and comfort food. We hid away for a day or two.

... and we came back this year, uncertain if we were doing the right thing. Coming back without Emma. It was bittersweet, of course. How could it not be? But it was still a lovely holiday. The weather was not so kind this year but it was still good enough to spend our days building sandcastles and certainly not cold enough to deter our eldest daughter (who is almost certainly part mermaid) from braving the sea!


We arrived late afternoon on Monday and went for an evening stroll on the beach. Reaching out over the sea was a beautiful and vibrant rainbow. It wasn't the weak or vacillating sort. It was a perfect arch and it lasted the whole time we walked and played and climbed over the dunes back to our car. We claimed it as a good sign, a promise. Of what? I'm not too sure really. Of hope for brighter times to come I think.

Most mornings our children played outside the cottage whilst we got ready to head out. There is a family who have made a life for themselves, in this very remote spot. They live there all year round, the only permanent residents in a row of holiday homes. Their three children let ours use their ride along tractors and climbing frames and secret dens last year, and the friendships were renewed this year. We didn't really get to know the parents last year but I remember that their mother gave us a sympathetic and sad smile as we were leaving last November. This year, she cajoled me around for tea and parsnip cake (yes, really. Root vegetable cake! It's absolutely delicious). As I've said on this blog many times, I don't really socialise any more. Actually making small talk with a stranger ranks pretty high on my list of nightmares but I braced myself and went. She was lovely. Without any preamble she poured tea and said, "I'm so very sorry for your loss". Someone who said the right thing. How incredible is that?

"The same happened to me nine years ago. Our first child, our first son was stillborn." That's how she knew what to say. I always feel so sad when I hear that somebody else has lived through this awful experience but there is such relief in pouring it all out to someone who truly knows.

Yes, this holiday certainly had its sad moments. I stood on the beach and ached to know how Emma would have reacted to sand - would she have eaten it? (a la big sister) Would she have screamed at the sight of it? (a la big brother) Would she have a completely different reaction all of her own?

But, you know there were moments of peace and joy and even, maybe, a tiny bit of healing.