Friends, 20 hours, waiting

And the rain is back. Not a moment too soon. Doing a good job of matching my mood again after the damn annoying sunshine yesterday.

I had an ok day yesterday, then you get plunged back in to darkness before you've even had time to catch your breath.

My other friend had her baby yesterday. I think 15 days past her due date in the end. Which I think is just ridiculous, but don't even get me started. Main thing is of course, both mother and child are well. I am so relieved for them both. As with all of us, there was a lot riding on this baby.

Oh, and it was a girl. Of course. Beautiful, beautiful name, too. Haven't seen pictures or heard stories yet, just got woken to the text message at 7am this morning. I knew that's what it would be. And do you think I could stop myself from getting up out of bed, walking to the lounge room to stare at my phone? No.

So yesterday was ok. I had an old, old friend visit who I haven't had much to do with in quite a few years. We used to work together. At first I thought "oh my god he mustn't know," but then I remembered I sent him the text as well, and replied, stunned - as did everyone. He was on Face.book, and was one of the ones constantly asking me "had that baby yet!!!!?"

I looked out my window and there he was, coming up my driveway and before I'd even had time to blink, he was knocking on my front door. Our front door has two glass panels in it, so it is not like I could hide, as he could see straight in to the living room where I was sitting. Where I spend most of my time these sad and sorry days. Just sitting.

I figured he hadn't got the message that I still wasn't really seeing people. He said he had, but decided to come anyway. The chutzpah of this guy!! He said he was going to call and I said if he did, I would have told him he couldn't come. So after that awkward exchange, we just sat out the back and talked.

He asked what I'd been up to, and looked a tad confused when I said not much. Me, seeing his brain ticking over thinking gosh, what has it been now, four months?

He asked if I was going back to work. Ahh, no, and I'm in no hurry either. What I wanted to scream was I'M ON MATERNITY LEAVE. I STILL HAD A BABY DON'T YOU KNOW!

Anyway, it ended up not being too bad. He of course asked if I was ok talking about "it" and I said, yes, of course. Other people who have babies get to talk about them all day, it is no different with Hope, she's just not here for people to gush over. Her picture is on the wall, but not too many gush over that. What's to say really. I mean we think she's beautiful, if other's don't, that's their prerogative I guess.

I still think some guys just really don't get it though. He proceeded to tell me about a couple of the other girls in the office I used to work with who are pregnant. One who is now over due, one due in a few weeks. Gee, she got big. He said of one of them. No really, I thought, they generally do that, pregnant women, you know. Get big. Babies grow. Then they are born and everyone is happy. No, I did not say that either. I just couldn't believe he sat there and talked about pregnant women with me. Pregnant women who I know of, but don't really care to be hearing about these days. We'll just file it under, "I guess he didn't know what to say".

But I guess I can appreciate he meant well. He wants the best for me. He was very sorry to hear what happened. We got to share stories and talk of other people he knew of who had lost babies, then of course had gone on to have more babies, you know, making it all better.

After he left, I went out with one of the girls with the baby boy I threw the birthday non-party for last week. We went for a drive out to a lovely little town. Had fruit scones with jam and cream. Decaf coffee. Lovely.

Her boy is a real delight and really starting to get to know me and respond to me. It is fun. I spent hours with him. He sat and bounced on my lap. We watched birds. Later in the day I fed him his dinner. Carried him around, played with him on the floor with all his toys. It was fun. Yes, my baby died but I can still have fun with other children. Glutton for punishment maybe? I don't know. But I'm trying not to let what happened to me get in the way of my love for my friends' children.

Then I stop and think. I spent 20 hours with Hope. And in those 20 hours, she lay there perfectly still in my arms or in her crib. Still and silent. And cold, quite cold. And so very obviously, not with us. Somewhere else, far, far away.

This little boy is so vibrant and alive. Just as you'd imagine any one year old would be. And it cracks my heart even further open.

My friend who had her baby yesterday had her at almost exactly the same time of day I had Hope. And right now, as I sit and type this, it is exactly the same time of day I let her go the following day. 20 hours later.

20 hours.

20 hours to sit and stare and try and love her back to life.

20 hours to try and make sense of the horror.

20 hours numb and in shock.

20 hours trying to pour a life time of love in to the briefest of moments.

How can 20 hours be enough? Especially when she wasn't even alive for one second of those 20 hours.

I wonder what my friend has been doing in these last 20 hours. I can imagine she's probably fed her baby maybe half a dozen times, probably more. I don't know. They would have heard her cry. Maybe she hasn't stopped crying?

They would know the colour of her eyes. They would have changed her nappy and watched her squirm. They would have done and experienced so, so much. And what I wouldn't give to have those 20 hours. To just have Hope back for another 20 hours. Just to hold her and smell her again and feel her skin on mine.

And now the wait until I can do it again. Well you all know how this works, there is at the very least, nine months. Nine long months. Nine months of fear, worry and panic. Nine long anxiety filled months. Nine months of not knowing, of trying to stay in control, but knowing full well I have no control. Nine months of trusting, again, when trusting last time failed me so very, very badly. Nine months to wait for the big fat unknown.

I'm always waiting. Waiting, waiting. And now with the rain, I can't even really get outside to do anything to make the waiting go faster.