Still here

It was about the same stage after I had Hope, that I stopped counting the weeks since she'd been gone. Angus is 14 weeks old. Almost 15. But I have to stop and think about it now if someone asks me how old he is, as time is getting fuzzy, so I just count the months. The same thing happened with Hope. I am starting to learn that much of my parenting experiences with both my babies are strangely similar, yet one is here, and one never will be. I have begun to emerge out of that fog of the first three months of parenting, just as I did with the fog of my early grief. I started to breathe again, ever so slightly, when Hope had been gone three months, and now, with Angus reaching the same milestone, only here in my arms, I am feeling slightly more human again. Only slightly!

On the passing of time, it was also 18 months since Hope entered and exited our lives last week. Felt like a bit of a big milestone, and that familiar melancholy settled in to my being on that particular day. We didn't do anything special though. It slipped by like a day like any other. In fact when Angus went to bed, I went out to see a movie with a friend who had twins just five weeks after me, and she has a toddler! A rare treat for us both! I never thought I'd want or need any time away from Angus, given I have to spend all of my time away from Hope, but those two hours of time to myself were nice and I hadn't realised, much needed. He has slipped in to a nice little "routine" of sleeping from about 7pm to midnight-1am each night before he stirs for a feed, so I knew I could safely do it without him waking looking for his mama. And if he did, there was some mama milk in the freezer that daddy wouldn't have had any problem giving him. Thankfully, he slept soundly so I didn't feel too guilty when I burst back through the door to make sure all was ok and that I hadn't missed anything exciting. Amazing how much guilt we can feel over the smallest, simplest things - like seeing a movie with a friend.

It has been so long since I put my fingers to this keyboard to get my feelings out, but much of that has to do with the fact I was sans laptop for a week or so there. At first it was just a slight inconvenience, but as the days dragged on, I realised how much I missed it. Some may find it strange, but much of my support these days, apart from what I get from Simon, my family and close friends comes from the people I know only through the words on this here laptop screen. People I have never met and may likely never meet, but people who know and understand my pain. We each do what we have to do to survive. I felt so cut off without that support and was so relieved to finally get it back.

I also know when it is time to blog again when words and potential posts keep me up at night. And let me tell you, I don't need to be kept up at night - I have one tiny person in my life who does a good job of that! I see more hours in the day than I'd like to at this stage, so when I go to bed, I want to sleep - not be kept awake by those swirling, confusing thoughts about who I am and how I got here and what it means to parent one child here with me and one who got away.

Thing is, I am still struggling to know what to say, or how to say it - nothing new there. Sheer exhaustion doesn't help either. Some days I feel like I could keel over at any given moment and I marvel at those women who manage to get out so often with their offspring. But I may as well try and share some of what has been going on with me and my boys in recent times.

Angus continues to charm and amaze me every day. But man, I do wish he would sleep just a little bit more! Especially during the day, so I can try and rest when he does, like everyone keeps telling me I need to do. I suppose at some stage, every mother has been through this though. I know my problems are far from unique.

His latest fascination is with his hands and making fists. He could stare at them all day. He's also now starting to grab and swipe at things. It is beautiful to watch him grow and learn so much every day, taking in everything around him. Being his mum is the best job in the world.

I've also joined the local mother's group (well you just get put in it to start with, so I thought I may as well go along) so I'm now mixing with "normal" mums parenting their firstborns which to them means parenting for the first time. I told Hope's story on week one. I had to. She is a huge part of who I am and I couldn't tell Angus' birth story without telling hers. I made it quite clear I was ok to talk about her and field any questions, but so far no one has really been that brave, even with a brand new locket that hangs around my neck that features his photo and hers. Two girls have sort of engaged with me about her after I brought her up in conversation, and I have since found out one of them suffered a miscarriage at three months and the other went through IVF for a couple of years to get her daughter, so they certainly understand the "much longed for baby" thing. I hope others can be so brave in the weeks ahead. It certainly makes me feel better if I don't have to keep her as my dirty little secret. I hope someone asks for a closer look at my locket soon.

Feeding has become an absolute breeze and joy - something I actually look forward to rather than dread - but the focus of my days now seems to have shifted from breastfeeding woes to sleep, or lack thereof - for all of us. Angus would just rather be awake, looking at things, engaging with me. As someone told me, he has "missophobia" - he doesn't like to miss a thing. He also just likes being held by Mama. So when I try and put him down for a nap (because as much as I'd like to hold him all day, it does get hard and he is getting heavy) he generally screams. A lot. I never leave him to scream but he does take a lot of rocking, patting and shushing to get off to sleep. Again, I'm sure this is fairly normal and anyone out there with kids already will be nodding along to this. Just nice to finally experience some of these reasonably mundane motherhood tasks when they were all so brutally snatched from me some 18 months ago.

Just to finish though, I'm sure a lot of people in my life think I am brave/strong/amazing - whatever - for having survived what I have and for continuing to get up and face each day. Thing is though, as I read through the posts of so many in this little community (and I've done a lot of reading in the last few days to be brought up to speed with everyone after going without the internet for a week), I realise time and time again, I am truly one of the lucky ones. So many of the women I "met" when I first lost Hope who lost babies around the same time as me, many of them their firstborn as well, are still struggling to welcome a new baby in to their lives. Some have even gone on to endure more loss. Loss on loss. The sadness never seems to end. So I wanted to finish this catchy-uppy, rambling type post to say to those mamas, and they know who they are, that they are the brave ones. They are the amazing ones. I know how lucky I am each day when I get this electrifying smile flashed back at me, numerous times a day. A smile that makes me tingle. Makes my hairs stand up on end. That makes my battered heart practically jump on out of my chest. A smile that is cliched to say, but lights up a room, and puts a smile on the faces of everyone else around.

A smile that I know I am so lucky to have. While so many of my relationships with various people over the past 18 months have been disappointing, in the relationship I have with my son, no one is being short-changed. I give him all the cuddles, milk, warmth, nappy changes and love I can. And he keeps giving me this. Time and time again.

I am so lucky, and I hope more of my friends on my trusty laptop screen can be this lucky again soon.