Some things still get to me

Pregnancy and time haven't cured me, you know. Not by a long shot.

There are some things that still and possibly will always sting. Like babies, happy, complete families and new pregnancies.

Whilst I've got a bit better and things have become somewhat easier, some things still really kick me in the guts.

I think many have assumed, through no fault of their own, that I've toughened up a bit and can take the good news of others more easily. But I can't. Not always. I've got pretty good at faking any small level of excitement though, especially when said news is delivered either face to face or over the phone. Emails and text messages are easier to snarl at. Laptops can be slammed shut. Mobile phones can be throw a walls. And yes, I have thrown my phone at a wall. That was last October though, so I think I can be forgiven.

I'm noticing more and more people opening up to tell me things like: so and so had a baby last week or so and so is pregnant and wow, its TWINS or little baby X is turning one next week. Big smiles all round. For them that is, not me.

I know people are trying to do the right thing though, and for that I don't fault them. I mean some of these things I suppose I need to know, to save myself the embarrassment or awkwardness when/if I ever see these people again, complete with adorable cherub like infant/s in arms/sling/pram. And some of them I know wont be able to avoid. But most of the time, I still feel like I really don't want to know. I want to cover my eyes and ears and just sing la, la, la, la, la. Very loudly.

Pregnancy announcements are always hard. Especially first pregnancies. But then now, so are second pregnancies. A few people I know are now having second babies and some of them were even pregnant the same time as I was with Hope. Hard to believe how for some, life just kept on keeping on while our world completely crashed and burned. Some of them I've learnt are even due just after me! I mean I know I'm doing it quick, but these girls sure didn't waste any time. Wow, wont they have their hands full with two under two. Lucky bitches.

And birth announcements always give me those deep pangs of jealousy. Especially baby girls. But then now, little boys as well. Just makes me keep wondering if I'm going to take that statistical bullet again, with each sweet-smelling infant that escapes the womb alive. If I had kept count, I'm sure there would have been 140 births I've known of since Hope died and was born. Am I going to be that 1 in 140 again? Stupid way to think I know, but I do sometimes torture myself with these thoughts.

I'm getting better with babies, though. I have even been so brave as to hold two different babies in recent months. Both girls. Both born after my Hope. And you know, it wasn't so bad. Pretty good even. These little people are their own people. Not my baby. Not the one I'm longing for. And I think their adorable baby sweetness is good for me. You just can't help but feel good about holding a baby. And these are the children of dears friends. Friends who have been patient and who haven't forced the issue. For me it felt like one small way I could give back. Lucky for the mums in question, I gave their kids back when I was done holding them. Not run off in to the sunset with them like the crazy woman gone mad with her grief.

But with some, it is still hard. Take today for example. I walked out to the letterbox and about 10 doors up saw a woman I used to work with. A relative of hers lives at that particular house and I've seen her there before. She was due with her first baby just a few months after Hope. I remember precisely the last time I saw her and that was Sunday 17 August, 2008. I'd just been told to "take a walk" by the midwives on the phone to try and get my labour going. I walked out my driveway and she saw me, so she came down to say hello. She asked how I was, knowing baby was due any day, and I told her I was in fact three days overdue and in early labour, trying to get things moving. I could just imagine she would have run back to the office the next day, the proud bearer of the juiciest bit of gossip, to tell everyone she'd seen me and that I was in labour and that there would be an announcement VERY soon. Just so happens that was the same day I made an announcement of a very different kind. That the baby had in fact died in utero and labour would be induced. The following day, we did indeed send out that birth announcement. The one that parents only send out in their worst nightmares, yet for us it was all horribly real.

I read this woman's baby was born alive and well in the birth notices section of the paper months later, and thankfully I haven't seen her or the baby since. But there she was today, waving and looking as if she was coming my way! CRAP!

So what did I do? Practically ran (waddled quickly) up my driveway (which was not a pretty sight), came inside and pulled the blinds down. I peered out between a small crack and after about five minutes, realised she probably wasn't coming. But if she did, I was all ready to go and hide outside with the dog. Hah, yeah, I'm healed! I mean I wasn't close to the woman, she's just someone I used to work with. But I couldn't do it. Not today and probably not ever. With some people it will just always be too hard.

I know others find it hard seeing pregnancy and baby story lines played out on TV and in film and I still do, too. And sometimes these things crop up in the least likely of places. Like god damn Ready Steady Cook in the middle of the day. A female contestant yesterday announced to the Australian public that she was PREGNANT! Which then started a conversation between contestant and host about the joys of pregnancy and birth and what a wondrous thing it was. The host then going on to say how incredible birth was, to you know, "bring new life in to this world". Yeah, not so incredible when you bring death in to this world. I'm sure my story wouldn't have made great day time TV fodder. Stillbirth is and always will be a great conversation killer.

But I digress. And bear with me here.

Another thing that has been eating away at me of late, and it probably either shouldn't be said, or perhaps said in a brand new post of its own, is the people in my real life who read here and think they are getting the full picture. The complete story. I assume they think by reading here, they are checking in with me so there is no need to pick up the phone or send an email. Because you know, the read the blog so they think they know what's going on. No they don't. I was never that comfortable with friends and family reading here and most of the time, I'm still not. On other days though, I feel like sending out an email about the blog en masse to everyone I know and have ever met, so they can read and understand a bit better. But I wont as I'm happy to spare people so they can carry on with their lives with their blinkers on to my pain. The thing is though, I never really told anyone about the blog, but eventually it just got out there. And now that it is, it doesn't always sit comfortably with me. While I'm glad some read, I wish some who did would be braver and actually talk to me, and not rely on my drivel here to keep them updated. This blog is for me and fellow sufferers. Its intention is not and never will be to keep family and friends abreast of how I'm feeling or what I'm up to. As always though, this will probably be taken way out of context by all the wrong people. It really doesn't apply to many so chances are if you do know me and you are reading this, I'm not talking about you. So relax.

With that said and done, I should still say that yes, pregnancy and time have really helped to heal me. And for that I am grateful. Time has done its thing and kept on moving forwards while new life inside has renewed my purpose in life and given me reason to go on. But things are still tough. Things still hurt. I am still sad. Yes, even 13 months on. And I will live with that sadness forever. And I wont ever jump for joy the way I once did when I get good news from others.

That's just the way it is though. Forever more, this will now be a happy-sad and bittersweet sort of life. And slowly, I'm getting used to that.