The year that was

A lot of people I know will today be saying 2008 was the best year of their lives. They had babies, got married or both. They got promotions, travelled overseas for the first time, got engaged or finally fell pregnant. They bought houses, got a puppy or lost a heap of weight. I know a lot of people who had a really fantastic 2008.

I did, too.

The best year of my life, the most complete form of happiness I have ever known, just with the saddest and most tragic ending.

I'm not even sure how to feel about saying goodbye to this year. It is certainly a bittersweet feeling. I can only hope that if 2009 doesn't start off well, I get a fairytale ending so that this time next year I can be sitting here saying 2009 was the best year of my life.

Whatever I had left of my baby weight to lose, I think I lost it today. I reckon I had about eight kilograms of hair cut off. I needed it. I had a good three inches of regrowth which to me just screamed: "this is how long your baby has been dead, three inches worth of hair". I'd had my hair freshly done just before she was born. I had a low maintenance cut. Short, but not too short. Long enough to still tie back as I knew I wouldn't have much time to be fussing over my hair once a baby was on the scene. I had a similar cut today, only because I really just don't care how my hair looks anymore. I had it dyed though. Bye, bye blonde, I've gone darker now. Much like Carrie Bradshaw did after her personal tragedy in the Sex and the City movie, although I now realise her personal tragedy isn't a patch on mine. Not even close!

Of course as I predicted, going to a completely new salon where no one knows me, I got the "so you got any kids?" question. And I just can't lie when I get asked that (mind you, this was the first time).

"I had a little girl, but she passed away." The colour drained from the woman's face, and she just kept on chatting and kept on cutting. I may as well have said: "I like icecream".

She then asked if I was on holidays. I paused, then continued with my horror story. "I'm on maternity leave," I said. She paused. "Oh, did your daughter only just recently pass away?" "Yes, during my labour a few months ago." Not another word from her, apart from "how's that, short enough for you?"

I have a feeling she may have discounted my haircut though, as it was ridiculously cheap for what I had done. Given our recent shopping spree for necessary and not so necessary electronic items, I was glad to accept this form of pity, if that's what it was.

After my haircut, I had a pressing urge to go and visit Hope. I dunno, maybe I was worried she wouldn't recognise me anymore with the new flash 'do. Maybe I just wanted to say goodbye to her, again, on this the last day of 2008.

It was a beautiful sunny day, so I drove over to the cemetery and I sat at her grave for 20 minutes or so and picked the weeds out and brushed the dirt away.

I tried to talk to her, but I'm just not sure it feels right for me. Instead, I just tried to enjoy the peace and quiet, aside from the birds chirping, just as they did through her funeral.

It wasn't long though, before a family arrived, I think to visit a parent/grandparent. I could sort of just tell, as they certainly didn't look like they'd been run over by a steamroller like me.

There was a mum, a dad and three kids - lets say about 8, 10 and 12.

The girl, 12, was walking around and looking at other graves, and stopped by a grave right near Hope's of another little stillborn baby boy named Jack, who died and was born last December.

"Mummy look, they made a mistake on this one. It says this little boy died one day and was born two days later."

The mother and the rest of the family, made their way over to this grave. No one said anything, and the mother didn't tell this girl that yes, sometimes babies do die before they are born. She was protecting her daughter from this horror. A child does not want to know that babies die. Babies who haven't been born yet. Cemeteries are where you go to visit old people. Grandparents who died of old age. Not tiny babies who died before their actual birthdays.

Not long later, the family left. I wondered if they noticed me sitting there. I was only a few metres away. I wondered if they thought about who I might be visiting. I bet they didn't think it would be a baby. Another stillborn baby. Just two graves away from little Jack. I wonder if next time they come, they will come and look at Hope's grave. I wonder if the girl will ask her mum exactly what "born sleeping" means, which is the wording we decided on for Hope's grave....

So we have no plans tonight. Just me and Simon, the dogs and the new fridge and tv. We're going to roast a bit of meat on the bbq outside and after that, we might take the dogs for a walk then watch a movie.

I don't really mind that we don't have plans. Six months ago, I couldn't have envisioned us doing much on New Year's Eve. What, with a new baby and all. So really, we are probably just having the night we would have had anyway - just no baby. And without the company of others. Maybe we would have had friends here, maybe we would have visited friends, but it would have been low key.

We'll go to bed, and we'll wake up and it will be 2009. I can hardly believe it really, I have made it to the end of the year, and I'm still standing, without my daughter.

Never did I think this would be possible. I've been so down and miserable these last few months, and with damn good reason, but I guess I do need to give myself credit for making it. For surviving.

Here's to surviving 2009.