Is this what they call the new normal?

It is hard to go on a family holiday when you don't feel like a family. For the past four days, this is exactly what Simon, myself and the dog have been doing. We made the most of the long weekend, and escaped the city to a beautiful spot on the coast for a while (despite the chilly weather) and had a "family" holiday. Me, Simon, the dog and this little bump I am now carting around. Just like we did several times last year. The family we almost were, the family we were patiently waiting to become. Now, we are still waiting to become that family. Albeit, a very broken family. A family that will never, ever be complete. A family that will always have a very special someone, missing. This sadly, is our new normal.

Now that I am starting to show this time around (see below - and sheesh people are right when they say it happens quicker the second time, especially when there is only seven months in between) I am starting to get those looks again. Those looks you get from other parents, who already have their validated membership cards to "The Club", the same Club I was so unceremoniously booted from last August, the same club I was so desperate to be a part of. I used to love these looks. I'd get one of those looks back when I carried my Hope, and I'd always smile back. Where possible, I would relish in the opportunity to start conversation with these look-givers. I would always be more than happy to talk about the bump, the due date, the joys of pregnancy and the excitement that was bubbling within. Not just bubbling I might add, boiling over.

When I got a look on the weekend, it was head down and look the other way. Or if I was feeling particularly snarly, I would give them a bit of an evil look back. Especially when those looks came from people with a little one in a pram. A little one who looked to be about the same size as my little one should be. I am still so desperately bitter and twisted and jealous. But hey, can you blame me? I know Simon doesn't understand it - he rightly says it is not their fault - but I'm still a huge green-eyed monster most of the time. I will never understand why me, why us, and why not those strangers with their cute baby bundled to their chest walking along the beach? How did that one escape alive? How did mine not? And more worrying, how do I know this one will? Those thoughts threaten to unravel me most days. There is just no way of knowing how all this will end, despite the odds being very much in my favour. Again.

And the looks from people with two kids. People just like me. I have two kids. Yet they both remain invisible (well one is now sort of visible). We just look like that boring young couple we did this time last year. Childless, with one on the way and a dog on the lead. How very cute.

I'm also becoming wary that before long, I will become public property again, as all pregnant women seem to be. People are not just going to give a look, they are going to ask. People are going to want to stop and talk. "Ooooh, is this your first." I got asked that so many times last time. Everyone does. I thought nothing of it then. I never knew just how complicated the answer to that seemingly innocent question could get. If people do ask, I will tell though. The looks I can dodge, but the questions I will face head on.

Because I want to spread Hope's story. I want the chance to tell just one more person about her. I want people to know that yes, this still happens. Hey, if they are really game. I will even show them a photo. The bonus prize for those who don't immediately run for the hills. If they can't squish her chubby cheeks in the pram, they can see a photo of her peaceful, resting body.

For the most part though, we did have a nice time when we were away. It is just that everything now is so damn bittersweet. And quite frankly, it is exhausting. Simon asked me on the way home if I was happy. I didn't know how to answer. I mean I did feel happy in that moment. I was happy, but not totally happy. And I know with some certainty, I will never feel completely happy again. Not the way I did last August. That sort of happiness will forever elude me now. It is one of the many other things I lost, when I lost her. Loss on top of loss. It just never stops. Just like the friends, or at least people I thought we friends, who no longer bother to check in with me. Because I'm the crazy girl who let her grief get too ugly for society. But hey, that's another post for another day.........

But it was nice to be on the coast, with fresh ocean air. It was nice Simon had four whole days in a row off work. It was nice to be able to enjoy beautiful fresh seafood every day. It was nice to take our eight year old dog to the beach for the first time and watch him go NUTS. It was nice to get out and celebrate this new growing baby, so he or she could hear the sounds of the ocean through my belly, just as Hope got to do on quite a few occasions. What was not nice, was that this baby's big sister was missing. That she will always be missing. That our family holidays in the future will never be complete. That she will never get to see the dog run on the beach, or run on the beach herself. That she will never meet her siblings. That she will always be missing.

But that is my normal. Our new normal. The new normal we will be forever trying to get used to. The new normal that I don't think I will ever get used to. The new normal that I despise, but can't do anything about. This is my life, and it is the only one I get.

Bump as at 14 weeks 4 days. With Miles the dog, desperate to chase another wave and eat more foam.