Water

I think as humans, many of us feel a strong connection to water. I have never lived overly close to the ocean, but have always felt drawn there. It does not need to be hot for me to swim, anything over about 25 degrees celcius and I'm in.

Water symbolises so much about life. We need it. We drink it. We bathe in it. It sustains our gardens. I keeps us alive. It falls from the sky, it flows in streams and if you're lucky enough in this world, it even runs clean and clear from your tap. The earth is made up of about 70 per cent water and so are we. None of us could live without it.

In all of our beginnings, it is the warm and safe watery homes of our mothers' wombs that hold us and protect us. And not speaking from experience, obviously, but I guess that is why most little new babies love bath time, because it closely resembles the loving time they spent inside of us. Splashing about, warm and safe.

Our safe, warm, watery wombs. Until for many of us, they become not so safe at all.

For Hope's nine months inside me, Friday night was always bath night. I know baths are not always a good idea in pregnancy, at least not if they are too hot or you are in them for too long with the wrong types of essential oils, but it was the one thing I could not give up. I don't smoke, I didn't drink, I gave up coffee and I avoided my beloved sushi. My baths weren't too hot or I didn't stay in too long and I only took one a week. I just couldn't give them up. It was one thing, once a week, I could really do for me. And for my baby, as I'm sure she loved them just as much as me.

After another long week at work, I would walk out of my big office in the city, sit on my train home for 35 mins, take my five minute walk home from the station, all the while hanging out to get in that bath. I was practically tearing my clothes off as I made my way down the driveway, and I'd turn the bath on to run as soon as I got in the door, before I'd even had time to fetch myself a drink or open my mail.

So Hope and I would pop in to the bath. It is hard to know much about our unborn babies, but I know she loved bath time with me. I would also get some much needed "tummy time" for myself as I was able to, by propping myself up with my thighs and forearms. My belly would sort of float underneath me as I hovered there in the water, and it was as if I was immediately giving her more room to splash about in her own warm bath inside of me. I'd roll back over on to my back, and she'd always be so active, and I just cherish thinking about those times where I watched my big belly move around with the lovely little life blossoming inside of me.

When I put my head under the water, the strangest thing would happen. I would have to lie still and make sure there was no other noise going on around me, but I could hear her heartbeat. I could also hear mine. Slower, and steady. But hers was always there, racing along in the background. That familiar whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. I just loved any chance I got to listen to it. I never knew how significant those moments would be, listening to her alive. I always thought I'd get to see her alive. I wish someone was able to tap me on the shoulder at that point and make me realise just how precious those times were, because they will forever be all I got.

I always knew bath time was over when Simon would arrive home, normally about half an hour later. I'd be all prune-like by then anyway, and starting to get cold. If Simon was a bit late home, I generally had to wait to get out, as I needed his help! He loved coming home on Friday nights looking for me, only to find me, with her, all cosy in the bath. He'd lay a warm, clean towel out for me and help me get up. He'd hold arms and let me put all of my weight on him as I so carefully climbed out. I'd wrap myself up in the towel, dry off and we'd start preparing our meal for the night, looking forward to our weekend ahead, where the three of us could just chill, and where we could really make the most of our time before life got a whole lot more interesting after baby arrived. Who knew just how interesting it was about to get....

Last night was Friday night. And Friday night here is still bath time. Simon was on an afternoon shift, so not due home until late, but it didn't matter, as these days, I clearly don't need his help getting myself out of the bath. I'm just me now. Boring old not-pregnant me.

I had my bath. Hotter, because I can. And with lovely essential oils, because I can. I put my head under, and could hear my heart, still, miraculously pounding away. Despite all the pain it has endured, it still continues to beat.

I still rolled over on to my tummy, but I no longer needed to prop myself up to stop from squashing the little girl within. I still splashed about and felt warm and safe. I still feel good in the water, I still feel drawn to it. I'd still been looking forward to that bath all week.

It is just so sad to me that water which holds so much importance and holds and sustains life is what in the end, took her life. My safe watery home trickled away. The warm comfort of my womb was gone. The little water of mine that was left, poisoned her. The infection took over. It shut down her placenta, got in to her cord and then tragically, got in to her. First her lungs, then her liver. After this happened, I don't think things took long to progress. I do believe it was quick. At some point, I know she must have suffered, but I like to think it wasn't for too long.

When our ultrasound confirmed she was gone, it also showed my fluid was gone, too. And when they went to break my waters the next morning when I birthed her, it was just a small, brown sludgy trickle that we are all warned to look out for. She'd been in distress. In my safe watery home. It is just too sad for words.

I guess I'm hoping with my recent trip to the middle of the Pacific and spending at least a small part of each day, immersed in the salty water of the ocean, it has brought me some healing. That the vastness of the ocean, almost resembling the pool of salty tears I have cried since her death and birth, will restore some of that life in me and pave the way for a new one to join us.

I can only hope I enjoy bath night on Fridays with my next little one as much as I did Hope. I don't think I will be able to give them up again. Because bath night all alone, really isn't much fun at all.