The power of two

I blogged previously about something that stands to affect our lives in the very near fututre ( and No, I’m not pregnant).

DF and I both went to work yesterday after the preious night’s bombshell, unsure of what was to come.

I had a much better day, clamer classes, I got home early, DF had a better day as well.

We were able to talk about what had happened, and came to the realisation that we COULD do it, build a home and pay the mortgage, however our standard of living that we’ve grown accustomed to will be the first thing to go. I’d rather go without than give up this journey.

We decided that no matter what, as long as we have each other, we’ll make everything work.

It does mean, that until things get back to normal, and we’re in a better financial position, a baby is most definitely on hold until at least 2018. Wow. That seems forever away.

But with DF by my side, we’ll be ok.

Universe and such is life

Well, when it rains, it pours.

The last few days have gone from bad to horribly bad.

Compared to what other people in our community are going through, it seems trivial, but to me, because of someone else’s decision, this falling of the axe is HUGE to my and my DF.

It affects our future, it affects our plans for something as simple as building a home.

It pretty much affects everything.

So on top of having a rough few days emotionally, my classes were off the wall yesterday, I have ruined artwork, and then came home to potentially life altering news.

The home we have just signed to build is literally the only thing keeping me going besides teaching at this school. If that is ripped away as well, I don’t know how I’ll cope.

The one thing I promised DF last night though was that no matter what, we’re getting married on the date we set for next year. Come hell or high water.

Blogging until this too, passes

I’ve hit a wall emotionally. It feels as though I’ve been driving along a straight road, and all of a sudden, BAM!, a wall appears and I smash my “car” into it.

Needless to say, the wreckage isn’t pretty.

I feel as though I have staggered out of an accident, blinking at my new reality. Picking up the pieces.

I posted on my F.B last night that I was pissed off abut the fact that because I am nearly 6 and 3 years post loss, that I feel forgotten, that my babies are forgotten, and the surprising waves of grief that creep up, don’t matter as much as other people’s because they’re fresh into their journey of loss, that their loss is “newer” than mine.

I feel a combination of overwhelming unfairness, as well as a huge cloud of guilt for wanting to throw myself on the floor and scream “MY BABIES COUNT TOO!”.

I don’t have other children, I don’t have a pregnancy to look forward to, I just have me. I consider myself to be a pretty resilient person, but today has just been one of those days where I feel like I am just floating. I feel forgotten.

It’s a strange mix of emotions to be working through.

Guilt

Selfishness

Sad

Longing

This too shall pass…

The ability to see…

If we all posessed the ablilty to see into our futures, I am sure most of us would never have dreamed of a family. Most of us would have seen the heartbreak of pregnancy loss, and the impact of life after loss and walked away with our hands up.

No way, no how. No way would we put ourselves through this if we could see into the future, the damage that it causes.

But we can’t.

We go through it, pregnancy after pregnancy, attempt after attempt, failure after failure.

All in the hopes that because we CAN’T see into our futures, that there may indeed be a baby at the end of it.

One mamma has given up her quest for motherhood, and as painful as it is to have given up, she is looking at not the end of a journey, but the beginning of the rest of her life.

Another dear friend of mine (Mo) has just said goodbye to her beautiful baby boy at just shy of 24 weeks, and is in the place I call “limbo”. Waiting for the beginning of her journey.

A woman I have met through my volunteer work, following the loss of her son, as well as 3 miscarriages and the loss of her current pregnancy’c twin early on, is 38 weeks and counting. And terrified. And overjoyed. She’s about to begin a journey, and I wish her all the best for it.

If any of these women could change what they have been through just by being able to forsee the future?

I don’t think so. I think that many of them would say “no”.

To experience this loss, it takes away all of the superficial crap that we ususally negotiate our way through. I meet regularly with a girl I have only met in person a handful of times. It is never awkward. We just start chatting away.

One of my best friends is a beautiul lady who I have never met IRL. And here I am, planning a trip to see her. Not planning now, its actually happening. Tickets are paid for!

Experiencing loss cuts us to the core. It destroys us, changes us, inspires us.

For us, it is not about who has the flashest car, or the nicest house, or if you come from a different natuonality. Even, at the end of the day, it isn’t about the fact that we do or don’t have children.We are all mothers. Its the experiences that we all have in common are what bring us together.

I think if I knew the heartache that LALwould bring, I’d never have gone for it. At the same time, if I could have seen the beautiful, simple, amazing friendships that had been spun from my losses, I’d do it a million times over.

This post is for all of you- no matter where you are in your LAL journey.

 

Babies, October, Peace and Overseas

I’m thrilled to announce that I have now planned, booked and paid for (mostly) my very first overseas holiday! I’ve never even left the country, so why not go BIG time and hit up America. I am off to visit two very special ladies.

I’ve never met either of these people in “real life”, however the sisterhood formed online is one that is stronger than any I have ever shared with any other person.

I am flying to the “States” in October, just in time for October 15th. I am playing with the idea of hosting a service with Kay (http://mommyofoctoberangels.blogspot.com), just something simple, honest and lovely. If it is just us, then how amazing will it be for us to share such a significant day with one of the few people who “get” the world of “young” loss. But if it is with a small crowd, I hope to bring a sense of peace surrounding the day. A chance for them to know they’re not alone. And their babies are remembered and loved.

More on that to come.

I am also spending 4 wonderful days with a dear friend, who lost her daughter a month after I lost Lily. We were both pregnant at the same time, believed both our babes were girls, both lost our babes to the same fate. Both of us struggled, fought with ourselves, and reched out. She was the hand who pulled me from the edge, and I was hers. Together, via email, we recovered. Slowly. I took the chance to read through our emails, a correspondence that lasted 2 years before we got busy and found each other on FB. <3 That 2 years worth of emails made me realise that it isn’t weird to pay a lot of money to visit people I have never met. Its our experiences that have brought us together.

I get to meet these beautiful laides this year. In 8 months time. IS it October yet?

Thanks to our babies.

Remembering

Lily Natalie

“Little Speck”

James Michael

Kylie Rose

Daniel Bishop

Lilla Bjorn

Sara

Complex Situatuions…

Some weeks it is impossible to keep your head above water, emotionally, and this week has been one of them. One of my good friends found out her baby died at 9 weeks into her pregnancy. She’d seen the heartbeat, and was hoping that this time, this could be it…

How can the universe be so cruel?

Another friend of mine buried the ashes of her son this week as well.

It was a beautifully moving service. Perfect to honour a perfect little boy.

Again- how can the universe be so cruel to take a little boy from his mother?

I just don’t even know how to articulate what I am trying to say.

The universe sucks.

The Finishing Line

A while back, I blogged that it was “my first day of my last year of study”.

Well

Today is the last day of my first bachelor’s degree.

After today’s assessment, I am a qualified teacher.

It is the end of this journey for me. I look back over the last 5 years ( 4 of which were taken up by my studies), and cannot believe I am here. Finally. After years of struggles, tears, joy, way to much wine, long nights, early mornings, beautiful friends, I am here.

Lily gave me the push in the direction of following my dream of becoming a teacher, and Little Speck, even more so.

I had so mnay moments where I was convinced I COULD NOT GO ON, I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t good enough. I think I’ll always continue to do this, but for now, I’ll do it with a qualifiection in my hand!

I am now a teacher, ready to change the future, to change lives, even if it is only on person at a time.

I’ve always said that if I can make the difference that one of my high school teacher’s made to my life ( she was amazing when I revealed that I had suffered a miscarriage, she was my support person for a long time after that.), to just one student, if I can help them through the roughest point of their life by just listening, I will know I have done my job.

To NB- Thankyou, from the very bottom of my heart.

I am a teacher now.

I did it.

Vivid Preggo Dreams…But Not Preggo….

Urrrgh. I had a nast spell of 4 nights of very little sleep.

This has been followd up with almost a week of amazing, 10 hours a night sleep. And being up at a decent hour.

The only issue with amazing sleep?

The CRAZY ASS, VIVID, “Dream like I am pregnant, but not pregnant” dreams.

This morning, it was my grandmother being the head of a secret service organisation, rescuing me from Korea or something, and before that, I had a dream that my friend’s dad- who Idon’t like- came to live with us, bragging about how much he earns. Seriously! WTF!

The night before, however, I had the most disturbing, horrific dream. I have been known for, in the past, to have dreams that turn out to be an accurate predictor of future events. I choose not to “tap” into this, however people do believe that we all have an “ability” to see into the future, or to speak to the deceased…

I dreamed that a friend of mine ,who I have fallen out of contact with (currently preggo with number 4), was stabbed to death, as well as her 5 children, and thier grandmother. Left behind her partner. The whole thing stemmed from a neighborhood dispute I think.

Seriously, brain??? It was a horrible,vivid dream, one that I have not been able to get out of my head.

Who dreams like this??

Oh.

Me.

Hmmm….

The “R” word and the “S” word

I wish I was talking about roses and sapphires here, I really do.

Anyone who knows me, reads my blog, or recieves emails from me, knows I talk. A lot.

And more often than not, I swear, I ramble, and I say things I know I shouldn’t.

I call people stupid, I call myself lazy, retarded and a bit of a spaz.

Yes, people, THOSE “R” and “S” words.

Admittedly, I don’t think twice about it, its something that has become a part of everyday conversation, just another word.

It’s something I do not even realise I do.

So today, I managed to completely insult a group of women very dear to my heart, but unintentionally/not thinking about the connotatios of the word “spaz”. I forget, that for such a long time, it was used as a word to mock people with intellectual or physical disabilities. And I use those words as simply another part of my everyday vocabulary.

And its something, that I now, feel incredibly silly for doing.

These women are right. What “good” does it do by using those words?

Do I have a disabled child? NO.

Do I know what it is like to face the prospect of raising one? NO

Is it correct to even use the words? NO.

What entitles me to use them?

Nothing.

So to these ladies, I aplogise from the bottom of my heart. I feel silly, naieve, juvenile for using them, and for having to have it POINTED out to me that “GUESS WHAT- that offends people!”.

I am now making a conscious effort to not to do it.

Which, if I was a good person, I wouldn’t have to do in the first place.

I guess that what I am trying to say is that I need to change, and society needs to change. Using these words only upsets people who truly know the meaning behind the words.

Change begins with the individual.

Change begins with me. I can blame my age, or the fact it has become so common to use the words that they have lost meaning to many, or that it is just a part of society.

I could.

But it’s not.

It’s not good enough to make excuses.

I have to stop. And THINK. And make a change.

To these ladies ( you know who you are), you have such a special place in my heart, and I am absolutley mortified that I have upset you. I apologise from the bottom of my heart.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am aware of the fact that I am not a mother, I am certainly not a mother to a child that may be physically or mentally less-abled.

I am aware, though, that 50-60% of miscarriages occur because of chromosomal abnormalities-because there was something significantly wrong with the developing baby.

My reasons for my miscarriages? I chose not to know, not to have any further testing.

But there’s a pretty high chance that it was chromosomal, and therfore a pretty high chance that I could have parented a disabled child.

It was my body that killed my babies, and given the fact that it “could have been me”, I do need to think about what I am saying.

Feeling very ashamed of myself tonight.

 

So, last Thursday, I cracked.

Big time.

Months of stress, exhaustion and frustration finally came out and I crashed mentally.

I think I have finally reached what people call ‘burn out’.

I. Am. Just. Exhausted.

I went home to my parents for a 4 day rest. Needless to say, I needed it.

I am studying full time, working part time, at uni 4 out of 7 days usually, money is very worrying right now, I run a house, do the grocery shopping, do the majority of the cooking and cleaning in a home of 4 people, I am always, ALWAYS there for my friends and family when they need me.

My mother says that I simply undervalue what I do. I do a lot- too much for me to cope with lately. I have always believed that I am ‘just’ a student, therefore am unofficially expected to do a little more than my house mates. But in all honesty, they’re taking it for granted. Even DF.

So an increase in my happy pills Zoloft and a brief break have allowed me to slowly get my head back together. I’m on 100mg a day now, and playing it by ear. Also we see a return to the therapist. Tell you- batshit crazy here.

I am no where near ok, but I am coping. My housemate even cleaned the whole house the other day.

I haven’t been able to pick up a text book or do any form of study since the week before last. I have grand plans to sit down and do some work tomorrow. Honest. I think my poor brain just needs a break.

I’m exhausted, shattered, but working through it.

And on this note;

“This morning’s dawn light painted by the sky for you…Today the breeze dances in honour of you…Tonight it will be the moon and the stars sending out shining rays…” (Unknown Author)