The calm before the storm

Another anniversary passed on Sunday, and it was noon before I even realised that it was indeed upon us again. For the 11th time since she silently entered this world way back in August.

Something tells me though, I wont be forgetting when the next 19th rolls around. For that will be the big one. 12 months spent somehow living without her.

With July quickly slipping by, and winter slowly showing signs of abating, it feels like I am in a downward spiral to August now, and I really don't know what to make of it all.

I don't know what to think. I don't know what to feel. I feel frozen. Stuck. I just want the storm of all of the sorrow the date will bring to blow over.

This past weekend marked 11 months since her death and birth days. Saturday I made a rare appearance at a social gathering where only a handful of people knew me and knew my shitty story. All but two of them I hadn't seen since I was 34 weeks pregnant with Hope. Most in the room were strangers, and this made it a bit easier for me. I kept my head down for the most part, avoided eye contact and hoped no one would mention the very obvious life blossoming inside of me now way out in front. This is very, very different from this time 12 months ago when I was happy to talk to anyone who would listen about the wee little babe I was carrying. But of course I could not get through the day without facing that question at least once.

"Do you have any other children?" (me, noticing that question has now taken on a new shape as I continue to change shape).

"One, but she passed away," I calmly answered.

Then.................. nothing. Not a word. Complete silence. She paused, mouth open, then turned to the person next to her, and continued on with another conversation, while I was left standing there wondering what the hell just happened feeling like more of a freak than I have in a long time.

This to me confirms that I have made the right decision to stay in a lot these past 11 months. To avoid social settings, where possible. As while I know I'm going to face those questions for the rest of my days, I don't feel strong enough to face them on a regular basis just yet.

The following day, 11 months from her birth, we spent the day at a market which I think you either needed to have a pram, babe in sling, happy family or pregnant belly to gain entry to.

Lucky, my newly forming belly obviously got us in. But it certainly didn't feel like we fit in. We feel so very different now. So changed. True, you don't know the stories of strangers but I think I can tell. Most on Sunday looked complete and happy. We look scared and broken. I'm sure people must be able to tell. I'm sure. Surely I don't look like one of those normal, happy, pregnant people? Surely they can see the sadness in my eyes. I know I can.

Admittedly, it wasn't until a few hours in to the day that I remembered exactly what the date was. It was right about the time we were watching dozens of cute kids with their oh-so-happy dads in the baby farm animal petting enclosure. The looks on their precious little faces as they chased in wonderment chickens, lambs and baby cows around. The smiles and the squeals of glee as they fed handfuls of hay to the cute baby goats. The proud looks on the faces of the dads as they scooped up their precious offspring if one of them took a tumble. The happy mummies on the sidelines snapping away with dozens digital cameras, with the photos no doubt ending up on Facebook pages all over the place just a few hours later. And Simon and I standing there thinking: "when the fuck is it our turn?"

All in all though, I am doing pretty well these days. Better than I expected I would be. No desperate calls to the hospital or my obstetrician. No late night visits to the emergency department. I have managed to put the Doppler away now that this little man thumps away inside me on a daily basis. And most of the time, I exude a calmness that has most people I associate with fairly surprised. Pleasantly surprised I would guess.

But then August looms. And it wont go away. I had thought some nice person out there somewhere who had learned of our desperate plight might have cancelled August this year. Told it: "nope, sorry - straight in to September and spring this year thanks very much". But no, it is coming like a freight train and I can't make it stop. There is no where to hide.

People are starting to make plans for August as the days draw closer to when I have to flip the calendar over. We are being invited to things. Asked to make a time and date to catch up. And each time an August date is suggested, I seize up. Some people, if brave enough, are also starting to ask us what we are doing for the anniversary, her birthday. We have booked a trip away, but I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to tell people where we're going, where we're staying and what we plan on doing (which we have no idea about yet anyway). I don't want to hear anyone say "oh, well that will be nice". Because no, no it wont. It is going to be positively shitty. But it is what it is, and from August 17 to 22, we'll be out of here. On a beach somewhere north and warm and a long way away from the place where the trauma and calamity took place the same time last year. A long way away from where the happy events of her birthday celebrations would and SHOULD be taking place if the world was a fair and ideal place.

So while for the most part I am now feeling calm and relatively happy, I feel so much of that will be short lived until we get this next big hump in the road behind us. The anticipation is getting to me, and maybe this will be worse than the day itself, but I do want it over. I do want it behind us.

Then we move in to the home straight with bringing this little man safely in to the world. Wishing for more calmness in those last few months as I grow his little body, but hoping that any calmness we are lucky enough to experience does not in fact precede a storm this time around.