It's all out there now

Dear readers

It seems more people I know in real life read here than I initially thought. I assumed a few knew. I even told some when I started it. I know my family read. I know they know, and I know they know I know. We don't speak of it though, ever, they just let me be. And I thank them for it, because they know the blog isn't who I am. It is just something I do. Because lets face it, I have more spare time these days than most people I know. People talk of the crazy busy world we live in these days. Well I got off that train six months ago. Things move at a pretty leisurely pace in this crap world. Too leisurely for my liking. You all know I want to get on the first express train outta here.

But in recent days, it has come to light that there are quite a few more of my friends lurking out there than I realised.

And for the most part, I am cool with that. Whatever. I never made this private. In a backhanded kinda way, I did show it to you, because before I had the blog, I remember sending some of you links to some of my "favourite" blogs so you'd get an insight in to my pain - because so many others always managed to say it better than I ever could. And I figured if you were brave enough to keep reading those blogs, that eventually you'd follow me back to here.

I did lie to a few of you in the start. As you came out and asked me if I'd started my own blog and I said no. I make no apologies for that, I guess at the time I just wasn't ready for you to know. Even though you probably knew already, which is why you were asking me in the first place.

I never wanted to start this stupid damn blog. In fact I detested the idea at first. But in the end, back to the whole "leisurely life" thing, I just figured it would give me something to make the hours melt away a bit faster. I was out there giving so many others so much love, now it was time for me to get some back. And it has been great, and some real and true friendships have formed. How "lucky" will I be when I finally make it to the mainland of the States where I no doubt have free accommodation waiting for me in all corners of that country. And the same goes over here, in this little corner of the world, if any of you guys ever make it Down Under.

Now that most of this is out in the open, and that I know you know and you know I know you know, some have questioned some of the things I've said. Some of you have said how hard it has been to read, knowing that while you helplessly sit on the sidelines of my life now, you know there is not much you can do for me. Some have expressed relief that I started it, because they enjoy reading the comments I get knowing that I'm getting some much deserved love and understanding back in return. Some have told me they were upset by things I have written and asked I don't directly talk about them again. I guess I can meet those requests, as while it may be hard to believe, I never, ever set out to hurt feelings or to upset anyone. It has just provided me a space to vent my feelings - in all their ugliness. I don't regret anything I have said and I don't take anything back. For the most part, I have not named names and I have tried, where possible, to be kinda vague when it comes to who I am talking about. This has of course not always been possible, because when I have told some stories, the main characters are naturally going to know it is them I am talking about. And if that was you and you didn't like it, well I'm sorry. But like I said, I still can't really apologise, this story is what it is. The word ugly keeps coming up and for the most part it is, this is an ugly kinda story. Tainted here and there with bits of beauty though. Hopefully the ugly/beauty balance will start to shift in coming months. I'm as tired of this as the next person, trust me. I want there to be more beauty.

But I don't hate anyone. I have not defamed or abused anyone. If I "hate" anyone, it is those midwives who let me down in the most disastrous way imaginable in Hope's final days. And I don't even know what they look like and I don't know their names - so I can't defame them, by definition of the law. And I wouldn't anyway. I'm a bereaved mother, I'm not crazy. Well maybe just a little..... Because this is what happens here in this wonderful country when you make "decisions" about how you want your pregnancy managed and where and how you want to birth. If you don't have the money (or feel the need) to pay your way to see a hideously expensive private obstetrician who may well just find himself stuck at the 19th hole or lying on the beach in the Bahamas when it comes time for you to push, your "choice" is to join the queue of thousands of other women and plunge yourself in to the shaky world of our wonderful public health system. You see whoever is on duty that day, be it obstetrician or midwife, depending on how "low risk" you are and just hope they are warm and kind and take a liking to you. Everyone took a liking to me, Simon and my bump. I just lucked out those four days I laboured at home. The nurses on the other end of the phone didn't seem to think much of me, it would seem. I was a number, not a mother. You all know how that went.

I digress.....

So it brings me to censorship. Now I know so many in my real life are reading, do I stop saying some of the things I say? Do I stop writing all together? Do I delete the entire blog and all of the back story? Because that is pretty easily done. Delete. Bam. Gone. Or do I go private? Slink away somewhere. Change the name, change the settings and keep it open only for invited readers. And sorry, but quite a few of you might not get invited this time around. No hard feelings, but I might just need a place where I can say what I want, when I want without fear of being judged or upsetting anyone. Without censorship.

I've never been quite sure who my audience is. It was not and will not ever be for family and friends. If they want to read it, fine, but it is not specifically addressed to them, even though they are always going to feature prominently in it. It is kinda directed at women in my shoes, I guess. I mean I still think they make up the most of my readers. And I know there are others who lurk out there. You might spy on me, but I have spied back (thanks Stat.counter). In fact I can't believe any mother who doesn't know me at all and who has never been touched by stillbirth or the loss of a baby would be so brave to read here. But I can see you there, reading. And hello. And, wow, you're braver than I would be if the tables were turned. I have no doubt I would have remained blissfully ignorant to all of this. I'd do anything to be that girl again.

I guess the blog is for me. Helps me get stuff out of my messy head. Because most of my nights are spent with words buzzing around in my head that I need to get out so I can get some damn sleep. They buzz around in the shower, at the supermarket, in the car. Once upon a time a person would use pen and paper to process those thoughts, and I still do, but I suppose when I come here, others can make contact with me and make me feel less alone. And that's important, because grief is lonely work.

I worry my head is so messy some days. Clearly I needed to do more writing before I set off to visit my friend and her twin girls yesterday. There I was driving towards her house and before I knew it, I'd taken an exit and ended up on the freeway to Crap Knows Where before I realised, "holy shit Sally, where the eff are you going?" I have always prided myself on being someone who doesn't need a map to get somewhere the second time around. I only need to go there once and I generally remember my way when I'm headed there again. Well clearly not this time. I pulled over, got my street directory out and got myself back on track. I 'spose I have to excuse myself though, as the last time we went there, Simon was driving and it did fall within the last six months, and my mind these days is not what it once was.

But I digress again.....

I have always loved writing. And since I left uni, I've been lucky enough to get paid to do it. But it doesn't always help with that whole "paying the bills" thing. I had to give up the writing I loved, my journalism, and go and write about other things that got me, I sheepishly admit, a fatter pay cheque each fortnight. I have always wanted to write about something I am passionate about. Because I will wholeheartedly admit, retirement savings products are NOT what I am passionate about. And never will be. As important as some people may think they are, they are hardly life or death. They don't matter. No one will die as a result of not having them or having them, as the case may be. My daughter is what I am passionate about. And now with this here blog, I can finally write about my passion all day and night. And I don't really give a flying fuck who is listening when I talk about her. I don't care if no one does. I'm passionate about her, and I want to write about her and the journey of grief I have found myself on and if you want to read along with me, then that's all ok with me. Just strap yourselves in for the ride, folks.

So today I received two very interesting emails. One from someone I have never met and probably never will meet and one from a girl who is on the very fringes of my life and who I have actually only met in person a handful of times. But she has said some lovely things since I lost Hope, and despite months of not hearing from her, she popped in to my life again today. The timing was uncanny, given this post has been buzzing around in my head all day (and I swear I wasn't going to post today, I swear).

Here is the first email I received:

Hi Sally

I’m sorry to email you but I don’t know how to add a comment, and I just wanted to tell you how brilliant I think you are. A quick rundown of who the hell I am (you are probably wondering!) I’m 33 and live in X and I too live in a world without my little girl. My daughter X died 5 years ago coming up 11 May, she was 39 weeks and had a kidney disease they call “not compatible with life”. She fought like crazy, but died 31 minutes after her birth. I found out at 38 weeks during a routine growth scan as she was getting very big.

Anyway, I forget how I found your blog (probably one of those late nights trawling the internet for meaning, understanding, I don’t know what I’m searching for to tell you truth.) So I found your blog and have read every word, I mean every word you've ever written and I think your writing is amazing. I have spent years trying to articulate exactly what you have said.

Everything from friendships, relationships, withdrawal, overwhelming intense grief, faith, the all consuming world of trying to fall pregnant again...all of it. There’s not one entry that doesn't resonate with me in some way. I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say (I am NOT a gifted writer like yourself!)...but I feel a real connection with your journey. You have made such a difference in my life and I couldn't not let you know.

I also feel a connection with you and your gorgeous Hope, as my son X (I have gone on to have two sons) was also born 19 August last year. (I hope that’s OK to say – I understand how hard it can be to hear). I too wish for another little girl to hold one day, but love my boys with all my heart.

OK, feel like I’m rambling a bit now, so I all I will say, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the words you write. I feel like I've done nothing in X's honour and look at you in awe.

Much much love
X

This is the sort of email that makes me realise I am not going to take the the blog down, censor myself or move it to another place where people can't find it. As much as I thought it was just for me, now I see it can be and is for others. Who knew I could help people? And this women went through this five years ago, not last week. I should be learning from people like her! Amazing. (And I hope you don't mind me sharing this, X.)

And then this from the other above-mentioned girl on the fringes of my life:

Hey Sally

I just wanted to let you know that I was thinking of you and Simon and your Hope today. (And lots of other days). I think you are so extraordinarily brave, and dealing with the shittest possible thing in life in the most strong and honest way. I read your blog every now and again (I hope that’s ok?) and just wanted you to know that Hope hasn't been forgotten. I talk with X about Hope sometimes, too. She sure is a much loved beautiful girl.

I have my fingers and toes firmly crossed for you guys, and hope that next beautiful screaming baby is not too far away. You are an amazing Mum already.

Thinking of you,
X

She obviously found out about the blog somehow, off someone. And she's been kind and brave enough to tell me she reads and, blow me down, she thinks about me! I know lots and lots of people must think about me. All the time. I would even guess that some people think about me every day. Maybe multiple times a day. Or maybe I'm kidding myself. But I'm not a mind reader. I can't feel it when the thought of me or Hope passes through your mind. So it was nice of this girl to stop by and remind me that I am not alone in my old life either. That new and old friends, real life and interweb friends, are thinking about me.

I know I have caught some of you red handed reading here. I pulled you up on it and asked and you were kind enough to be honest with me and let me know that yes, you did poke you head in here from time to time (read: multiple times a day - yes, I can see you). If you know me and I don't already know you read here then please tell me. I'm not mad. I understand why you probably haven't told me already, and that's because you thought I might be pissed. Because I never showed you this place in the first place, so I guess you assumed if I wanted you to know, I would have told you. And if you're not sure if I know, then assume I don't, because I have clearly been wrong in my assumptions of who reads here. I was stupid enough to think that only three or four people (aside from my family) actually read along. So send me an email. If you know me, you have my address. And if you're one of those small handful of people I actually sent the link to, and I told you it was top secret information, and not to be shared with others, but in the end you found it so deeply fascinating or heart-breaking or both, you decided to pass it on to someone/s, I also don't hate you. Just 'fess up. Because this is all now doing my head in. And my head is messy enough as it is. I want to know who knows about this place.

This is the internet. This info is readily available to anyone who wants to come searching for it. And even though I can hit the magical delete button at any given moment, so it is gone (as gone as can be gone in this day and age), at this very moment, it is all out there now.

Signed,

Sally, AKA Bitter and Bereaved Mother who promises to have something much more interesting to say next time. And I think I might just put a bit of time between now and my next time.