Lazy Sundays

Weekends are hard. Lazy Sundays should have been so different this year. They are particularly hard when Simon is at work all day and I sit at home waiting for the beep of my email and the ring of my phone. And when they don't come, the quietness of my empty house and my thoughts can really bring me down. And I know yesterday there was an unshakable melancholy sitting deep within me, knowing another set of loving parents were going through a first birthday without their baby.

I'm sad, lonely, missing her and have too much time to think about what everyone else in my life is doing with their lazy Sundays. They are spending them with their families, naturally. Enjoying time with their beautiful children, as they should. I wouldn't want it any other way, as you have to put your family first - and if Hope was here, that's precisely what I'd be doing. The tasks and activities they're undertaking might be boring and mundane, but I miss the fact I never got boring or mundane with Hope. I didn't get any of it. And I never will. Ahh stillbirth, that great destroyer of dreams.

One too many Sex and the City episodes later from my trusty and well-worn box set, and then my new friend fear sets in.

When did you last move little one?

The Doppler gives me nothing for 30 seconds or so. Then........ thump. And whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Ahh, peace. I can relax again. But for how long? Just that very moment? A minute? An hour? A day? This is all really so hard. And damn my back hurts, I'm sorry to whinge.

I also stare at the brand new basinette. Out of the box and fully assembled sitting in the middle of our lounge room. Purchased only on Saturday as a huge leap of faith; the last thing left we needed to buy. We want to keep this baby close, have him sleep in our room. Where I can reach out from my bed and touch him, feel him living.

Will you ever make it out of here alive, little one? Will I bring you home so you can sleep in that basinette? Will I see your chest rise and fall as you rest your precious little body beside me each night come late November? Will you be ok? Will we be ok?

Questions I simply wish someone could answer for me.

Weekdays however bring about a renewed focus. Appointments need to be met. Tasks need to be checked off. I have goals and things to get done. Tuesdays mean I click over another week. The third trimester rapidly approaches. Spring will also be here this week. The new season that will soon bring me a birthday and us birth and new life (hopefully). I just know by Saturday when the house is empty and the emails and calls stop coming in it will all feel hard again.

The cycle of my grief, the story of my life right now. Grieving one, growing another. I think I need another nap.