On the horizon

There are a few big days ahead on this journey of grief for me that have me quite feeling ill.

Hope's nine month anniversary and...... Mothers Day (which is "celebrated" here in Australia on Sunday May 10).

I have always tried not to make a big deal of the anniversaries, and tried not to last weekend when it clicked over eight months. But I failed, miserably.

Saturday, the eight month anniversary of when Hope died inside my belly, was a very close friend's 30th birthday party. His younger sister happens to be the one who was due the same day as me, who gave birth to her big chubby baby girl the day after our due date, the same day the hospital sent me home as my labour was not far enough along. I can't go to any parties for him, his wife or his daughter anymore, as I don't ever want to see his sister again, or her baby girl. I am not that close to her, but we did share a lot of the pregnancy via email and in person the few times we caught up. Oh, we have such cute pics together comparing our bumps. It broke my heart I could not be at this friend's party and to think about everyone there fussing over that adorable eight month old baby girl. I sent him a couple of texts to say how sorry I was that I could not be there, and he wrote back "Don't stress". That's the thing though, I do stress. I hate it. I'm at a stage now where I feel that perhaps I can start attending a few more events like that, but not when that girl and that baby is going to be there. I do stress, it does worry me. I wish I could have been there. I wish I could now be comparing my baby with that girl. I wish they could be having their photos taken together. I wish for that and so much more.

My friend's actual birthday was the next day, Hope's eight month "birthday", and it was also the same day my brother and his girlfriend went to the christening for their brand new niece Lily. And as I've said before, that was supposed to be Hope's name, but I chose not to bury it, and that decision does not sit overly comfortably with me now. Finding out that's where my brother was, and hey, it was my fault - I rang him and asked what he was doing - sent me in to a tailspin. It was my first bad day in a long time. But I'm always going to have bad days, I'm never going to be able to avoid those. Thankfully, they don't come as frequently anymore. But that of course just leaves me feeling so far away from her, as the pain is all I have that connects me to her. Pain and joy, and the joy seems as if it was in another life time.

I realise now anniversaries are a big deal to me. I do feel worse those days and I know I will feel even worse when nine months comes around.

Because that will mean nine months here, nine months gone.

It is almost too much for me to wrap my head around. Every day from that day forward is going to feel so far away from her. I will have grieved the entire length of a pregnancy. It seems like it has been forever since I have known this pain, yet sometimes it still feels like yesterday I lost her.

Its like I am now entering the final stages of her pregnancy all over again, only I am grieving her, not growing her. Those final weeks where all was in place and I was so ready. I finished work at 36 weeks and the nursery was finished. I was catching up with all my other friends already home with babies and enjoying life to the fullest before the huge change. All I had left to do was give birth. Push the baby out just like everyone else I know has managed to do so effortlessly. I wanted to go early as I was ready, and I hoped my baby was ready too. I was told at all my appointments her head was engaged, and it was just a matter of time. Everyone said I looked "low", most seemed to think I was close. The Olympics started and Hope and I spent so much time sitting and watching them on TV, as I tried to coax her out of me. In the end, she arrived about half way through the Olympics, five days past her due date as most of you know. I remember those early days when I was home from hospital and in such a frightful daze, I was still watching the stupid Olympics. However everything now was not how it was supposed to be. In fact it was all fucking wrong. I can still here the music they played at the start of each telecast ringing in my brain. Hope was supposed to be my gold medal, my greatest prize, but I was left with nothing except a life in tatters.

And with anniversaries, it has also become very clear that my Hope is no longer top of mind for my friends. In fact, I'm sure this shift happened many, many months ago. I just hadn't caught up yet. A friend asked me out around the time her nine month anniversary will be, and I turned her down, saying it would coincide with the nine month anniversary, and she asked "the nine month anniversary for what?" And let me reassure you, she's one of the good ones. One of the great ones in fact. She's been a wonderful support. Completely stoic. But she's no longer counting the days and months like I am. In fact she probably never was. Only I feel the loss this intensely, and that is something that is still hard for me to get my head around. Everyone else has their own lives to live, their own shit to get done. I guess being so alone so much of the time now, I forget that. She certainly gave me a huge wake up call. I am so alone in this grief.

Then of course there is Mothers Day, just a few short weeks away. A stupid hall.mark day, at least that's what I've always thought. But I was almost smug last Mothers Day. Well in to the "safe" stage of my pregnancy with Hope, I just couldn't wait until Mothers Day 2009 rolled around so I could "celebrate" it for the first time in my life. It would then become so much more than a stupid commercial day. It would have meaning, as I would be in THE club. I even got a few messages last Mothers Day. Wishing me a happy day, as I was "almost" a mother. I was a mother then damn it, only no one really recognises our unborn babies. They don't seem to really matter until they are here. And that is so clear to me now when you hear some of the stupid things people say about stillborn babies. And in some countries, you can't even get a birth certificate for your stillborn baby. They are just a fetus, and in the eyes of most, they never really existed.

I volunteered at a fun run to raise money for breast cancer last Mothers Day. I had the cutest little bump poking out the top of my grey tracksuit pants, which on that day I realised for the first time were a bit too tight. Simon also came with me, then we went out for yum cha in the city. It was just a table for two, but of course there was three. Our little girl inside who never made it out alive.

Mothers Day 2009 is almost here, but now what the hell am I supposed to do? I know on other big occasions like this I have wanted to be surrounded by family for support, but I think on this day, I want to be far, far away and alone. I know Simon will be with me, but I'm going to feel so alone.

I suppose I should visit the cemetery again? I have not been since New Year's Eve. I suppose there will be a few people there that day, just as there was Christmas Day? I can't imagine anyone will think I am there visiting my baby. The childless mother on her "first" Mothers Day. Who could really imagine such horror?

I wonder who, if anyone, will contact me on the day? I'm just not sure many would think to - I know I wouldn't know what to do if the situation was flipped. And I know how worried everyone is of hurting me more and saying the wrong thing. I mean who even considers me a mother anyway? Most days I doubt that myself. My new life has become so normal now. I am used to the emptiness, the nothingness and the entire pointlessness of it all without my baby girl. I can't really imagine how my life would be with an eight month old, I just have no idea. I stay up late when I want to. I sleep in when I want to. I no longer imagine her cries at night. I don't feel pain walking in to her room, as it does not feel like her room at all anymore. It never was her room. It is just "the baby's room", but what baby, I don't know.

I just think this day is going to be particularly cruel and nasty. The media is already saturated with sappy Mothers Day ads. I can't really avoid it. Its going to happen, and its going to suck. I know a lot say the build up can be worse than the day itself, but I don't believe that will be true for this day. It was supposed to be My Day. Our Day. But mostly My Day. Simon would have bought a gift and forged a card with Hope's name. I'm sure there would have been tea and pancakes in bed. I'm sure there would have been a nice lunch or dinner with the rest of the family, in particular my Mum, so she could celebrate her first Mothers Day as a grandmother. Now it is all so utterly wrong and I'm just so heartbroken over it all.

So I am bunkering down and waiting for the storm to blow over. Just hoping these two big events looming on the calendar don't bite too hard. Who am I kidding though? I know they will, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

God I wish things could be different. God I want her back.