Home

So I'm home. Have been for a few days now, just can't find the words to explain how the trip was or how I'm feeling. And I'm not sure if I'm really going to achieve what I set out to by the time I'm finished this post. Angie summed up so many of these difficult emotions about trying to find beauty on holiday that involves so much pain much better than I ever could, even though our circumstances are very different and our trips were taken at different stages on our paths of grief.

It is good to have those dates past me, yes. But do I feel better? No. Today, I think I feel worse. I've slipped back in to the pit. And I'm crying the tears today I did not manage to squeeze out last week, while I existed in a very numb state as we waited for the storm of her death and birth dates to pass us by. Even if the dates were spent in a tropical wonderland visiting ancient rain forrests and admiring the natural wonders of our world-renowned Great Barrier Reef.

The build up was bad. The dates themselves were ok. But the let down of it all feels so much worse. I was waiting for something to happen. Something to click in to place. But it hasn't. And in a way, it is so disappointing.

She's still gone. She's still dead. She's still never coming back. Nothing will ever change that. I feel glad that date no longer looms on the calendar ahead of me, but in its place are dozens, in fact thousands of other dates, that still all have to be spent without her. And then of course, there is the great unknown of the impending birth, sometime within the next season. That now of course looms very large on our calendar. It scares the living crap out of us. This is all so real now. He really will be born. We really might get to keep him.

I know others speak of finding peace, acceptance or an ability to move forward with renewed vigour after they pass the year mark, but that hasn't happened for me. Not yet, anyway. Part of this I know is because I'm still so angry. I can't let it go. I still want to scream and shout and shake my fists at those who let this happen to us, as this really shouldn't have happened. Those midwives, those damn midwives......

Our trip was nice. Just...... weird. I don't know what else to say about it. It was.......... something, I don't know. I'm glad we got away and I'm glad we had nothing planned for Hope's big day, but it was just all so stupidly wrong. I could have almost laughed at how ridiculous it all was - spending so much time and money doing nothing but treating ourselves when all we wanted to be doing was pouring all our love and energy in to a baby who is not here. Sipping cool drinks in a pub for lunch. Walks along the beach. Swimming at the hotel pool. A very expensive meal for dinner. Text messages that read "thinking of you" when I wanted them to read "give your baby a big birthday kiss from us!"

And I also know this new baby boy took a lot of the focus off Hope. And for that, I'm so glad. I don't like to think about having to go through the day without him. For those who have just been through an anniversary without a (much wanted) new pregnancy or are about to go through one in the not too distant future, my heart really does break for you. Especially if there are no other little ones to steal your focus either - as yes, this is another instance where it really does suck to lose a firstborn, then to have the added slap in the face of secondary infertility, which I was so lucky to avoid. I never lose sight of that and I ache for my new friends now going through it. But this new boy did also make it hard. And I can now very much see how it is hard to grieve one baby while you're caring for another - only difference is for me, he's just not born yet.

I was so worried about him the whole time. I felt sure at some points during the trip, history was going to repeat and I was going to lose ANOTHER baby on August 18 or 19. Waking up on August 20 still pregnant with a very alive baby in my belly did feel surreal. I am in unchartered pregnancy territory now it feels - heading in to a spring and still carrying new life within. And I felt an awful long way away from decent medical help, should it have been required. Part of me now realises we were totally nuts to go away somewhere like that, so far from home. And to do some of the day trips we did where we would have been totally screwed if something did go wrong. Our days were all so full and busy, much busier than my couch life back home, so he was often very quiet - lulled to sleep by our exploring and constant traipsing of the warm, tropical streets. But then he was very active at night. So of course my mind wanders - is he too active? Is he in distress? Is this how active Hope was right before she died? It meant sleep was hard to come by, and it was hard enough being in the heat we were not used to, coming from the dead of our southern Australian winter. It also meant my Doppler got a fair flogging. So this all made it hard for me to just be with Hope. Think of Hope. Grieve Hope. My fears and worries about his well-being kept me so busy and preoccupied. This was both a blessing and a curse, I suppose. All part of the bitter and the sweet that is now my life.

And the great bump that has now formed out in front of me, also made the holiday exhausting for another reason - every (harmless) idiot on the street wanting to talk to us. I just wish I had the courage to speak up more than I did, and to say the things I really wanted to say.

"Oooh, next time you're on holidays there'll be three of you!"
Yeah, hopefully if this kid doesn't up and die on me, too. That's the general idea here, to get him out alive. There should be four of us though, of course, you nosy moron.

"So pregnant huh? You're first? Well obviously!"
Don't be so sure. Don't ever assume shit about a pregnant lady, her bump and what might have come before it.

"You have no idea how much your life is about to change!"
You have no idea how much our life has already changed. And not for the reasons you think.

"Make the most of this holiday, as once they are here they never leave!"
Yeah, well one already did. And she left before she even got here! GO FIGURE!

"Oh, but when they do eventually leave, you do miss them."
No shit, idiot. You have no idea quite how much. I hope you never have to learn this. Now fuck off and leave me alone.

So we're home. Part of me feels like we were gone for months, the rest of me feels like we were gone for a mere second. I guess it is like when I think back over this past year. Sometimes it feels like time has painfully dragged along, other times I wonder what happened to all those months, how on earth I got here and what the fuck just happened. How could so much pain fit in 12 short months? How could such pure joy turn in to such sheer devastation in a matter of seconds? What happened to my life? Where did all that happy go?

One thing is for sure though, we were so very warmed by all the love that came our way on the day. And I can report, most of that love came from people I have never met. Faces I have never laid eyes on, voices I have never heard. I am the luckiest unlucky girl I know.

We had cards, notes and gifts (and chocolate - thanks Angie!) from all corners of the globe - lovingly put together in a gorgeous package by Carly for us. That girl is a treasure, and I hope she knows it.

We also had many texts from many friends, and a small handful of cards waiting for us when we got home. It is hard not to focus on the people we didn't hear from though. The texts we didn't get. The cards we didn't get. The emails that weren't in our inbox. The people who didn't bother to make a donation or buy a teddy bear from the Stillbirth Foundation, as per our request in lieu of birthday gifts, in her name. I'm sure many of them would have found it easy to buy a shit plastic toy for her birthday if she was here, and watch her squeal like crazy as she recklessly tore off the wrapping paper. But dead babies are just too much to handle for some I suppose - slowly, slowly I am starting to learn this. So we are trying to focus on the good ones. Be thankful for those who were there. Be grateful for those who did show us they care. Appreciate the wonderful people in our lives. Just so hard when there were so many there at the start, and now so many of those have dropped right away. Our support circle is not what it once looked like, and not at all what I ever would have imagined if you'd told me 13 months ago this was going to happen to us. Elizabeth McCracken said it best I suppose - "grief lasts longer than sympathy" and sympathy has generally well and truly expired when your 12 months is up. Even if it is a baby you are mourning. I know though - people don't get it, and I suppose unless they are living this hell, I can't really blame them for that. Again, this I am all slowly learning.

So we're home. Thinking about the next thing to do, but not really knowing what that is. Really though, all it involves at this stage, as it has all along, is putting one foot in front of the other. As that's all we can do. And to continue to have hope.