Reflections on almost two years without her

We're on the slippery slope now. Less than a week to go until the death and birth days are upon us again and I'm of course left wondering: how on earth have I survived this long without her?

Yes, in some ways this year has been much easier than last year though. The edges of my grief have softened and I don't have the extreme stress and worry of trying to get Angus here safely. He made it. And time has moved along and done the thing it is supposed to do - dragged me forward with it.

There is still an uneasiness there though, in the pit of my stomach. An uncertainty, yet again, of exactly what to do or how to make any meaning of the day. I'm not really in to rituals, cakes, butterflies, balloons or tears shed at her grave. I just don't know what the hell I am supposed to do with myself and how I am supposed to keep surviving these days. We're only two years in and there is most likely an awful long way to go. Many more August 19ths ahead of me. And it is such a daunting prospect.


One thing that has been bothering me a bit of late is that I don't like looking at her birthday as an anniversary and I don't like hearing people use that word. If we want to get specific, the anniversary is in fact on the 18th, the day she died inside my body. I prefer to just think of her birthday, as if I focus on the anniversary of her death, the day my life completely fell to pieces, I may not ever get out of bed again. To call her birthday an anniversary, as many do, I find it just focuses on the fact she is dead. Not the fact she was also born. I know when death comes before birth things get fuzzy, and when someone is not here to celebrate a birthday, and never has been, it can be pretty empty and meaningless, but to me I want to call the day her birthday. And remember it as just that. She was born dead, yes, but she was still born. I gave birth to her, I should know.


For most of next week, we will be away again, just like we were last year. Bit of a road trip this time as opposed to the flying north to escape the chilly Melbourne winter because that's all the budget allows for this year. And on some warped level, I am really looking forward to it, even though I know this is not the sort of holiday most families would like to take. Any family, for that matter. When I think about the second birthday party for a little blonde haired girl that could be, it makes me weak at the knees. A trip to the beach instead of that is really a pretty sucky consolation prize, which ever way you look at it.


So the time away can't come quick enough, really. It will be the first time in nine months we have been away as a family. Simon hasn't had any time off since Christmas and with Angus not being the easiest baby going around, while it has been joyful, it has also been a long nine months. I feel like I have been awake for almost all of those months. I am tired beyond measure and I hope that despite the heaviness of the days we'll be away for, I will be able to relax and recharge on some level.


We don't have any specific plans for the day(s) itself. And we'll be too far from home to visit her grave. I'd like to think that she wont be alone on the day though, as I am hoping some family a friends will visit her. I sent a brief email, letting people know we'd be touched if they could visit her or make a donation to the Stillbirth Foundation in her name, as this is what is important to us, but it was much shorter and sent to far fewer people this year. Last year I practically sent an essay to everyone in my address book and still regret that to this day, as it just set me up for disappointment. I really do get the impression that in some corners of my life, people are really just sick of hearing about it, so I kept it short and sweet this year and have drastically lowered my expectations of who will remember and how they will remember her - if at all.


I re-joined the social networking mecca that is FB again earlier this year. It took me a long time to find my feet there again. By deleting my profile the day Hope died, I kept myself and my grief hidden away from most I know. And I did so for the best part of 18 months. When I rejoined, I wasn't able to post about Hope or Angus or anything in my life for quite a while, but I am getting my FB groove on again, so to speak.


But with that, comes the sense that most are probably sick to death of what I post about Hope or anything babyloss related for that matter. Two years is a long time ago to everyone else, and of course everyone has their own shit in life to wade through, but this is it - this is my life. Babyloss rounds, shapes and colours everything I do. I look at my life through the lens of loss.


Each time I post something about Hope or loss I vow to myself - that's it, no more. I am just boring people and making them uneasy - I'm quite sure many have probably hidden my feed already. Then I think about quitting FB again all together. So then I try and post something normal and happy about Angus and his teeth or shitty nappies, then I get an ache that I can never post those sort of things for Hope and I'm right back at wanting to quit it again. It is just stupid FB for crying out loud, but all of those little things in life are much harder without her.


Oh how I miss my old life. Oh how I miss the old me.


And that's the thing, sometimes I worry that I don't actually think about or miss Hope herself quite enough. I am traumatised by what happened to me and all that I had to endure but that's precisely it, it is ME I am thinking about. ME I am sad for. Not Hope, my daughter, who suffered in a swamp of my meconium stained amniotic fluid, before all her vital organs shut down, which eventually took her life while I was plodding along through the end of my pregnancy blissfully unaware. I miss that old life, that innocent self. A life where I didn't know this sort of calamity existed. I just wish I knew how to miss her properly. I really wish I had some idea of who I was missing. I certainly miss the idea of her.


That's what happens with a stillbirth though. Her life was cut so brutally short. Before I'd even had the chance to get used to having her around. Or was able to learn even one thing about her. I'm not saying I don't miss her, I really do, but it is such an abstract concept to miss a baby you never knew. A baby who would not in fact be a baby any more. A fully fledged toddler running around my feet, speaking in full sentences and generally making life chaotic and fun. I just want another chance. I just want her back.


With Angus here though, I guess I now have more of an idea about what I missed out on, in a practical sense. He makes that very apparent each and every day. But as we all know, and as I have said countless times - he is not her.


I look at him and I marvel at every inch of his body, his every move and each new discovery he makes about this new world he calls home. But still, he is not her.

A few friends have had babies of late, and thankfully, most of those babies have been boys. Two have been born in the last week or so, and both of those babies had due dates the week of her birthday (and speaking of due dates, Hope's due date is tomorrow). I think most I know would assum these sort of things don't bother me as much now, but they do. I am finding babies in general a bit easier to handle, but babies born in August are always going to hit a raw nerve, I think. Like I said, I'm just grateful that the two newest ones in my life are boys, as baby girls, even if born to the greatest of friends, still leave me weepy.


I have been trying to figure out what to do in this space on Hope's birthday. In a way, I have been trying to find the time for her. And it is hard - Angus and a little bit of work here and there eat up much of my spare time, but in another life, she might have been here in the flesh, and I know I would have had the time for her then, so I should have the time for her now. Realistically though, I would have never had Hope and Angus here together, because if she lived it is highly unlikely he would have come to us, but a mother can still wish. I still want both my babies.


So I have been working on a little something for her. Nothing earth-shatteringly amazing. Just a photo montage, and there are only eight gazillion of those made by other babyloss mothers around the globe. But I wanted to try and say it with pictures, as I feel I have almost run out of words to convey how sad I am that she died.


Hopefully I get the video together on time - it would be pretty pathetic if I didn't. Hopefully it does her, and my grief justice. And hopefully we can find something to do together as a family on her birthday that isn't meaningless and as empty as I have been feeling of late.


.........................................................................


And so.

This post has been sitting open on my laptop alld ay.


This is the time where I am supposed to hit publish.


The post is finished. Brain dump over. I think.

But to me it all just sounds like blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.


It is another rambling, nonsensical mess that I'm sure doesn't make sense to anyone. I don't even think it makes sense to me.


And who is that anyone these days, I wonder? I get the feeling more in my real life might have found this place, but haven't yet said anything. Maybe they will, maybe the wont. Whatever. I'm just not sure I have it in me to care anymore.


So I wonder, what is the point? The point of coming here, to this space, and spewing out all of this brain mess when none of it will ever make a difference. She's not coming back. Ever. That I get.


What's the point of trying to make sense of it all? Two years out, it still doesn't make any more sense than the day she left us. There is still no healing, peace, closure, meaning or enlightenment to come out of the event of her stillbirth. I'm just going around and around, trying to make the best of the life that I've got left and I know it can still be a good life. With Angus here, that is certainly bucket loads easier than when he wasn't.


But really, what is the point of any of it?


Now I will really try and end this ramble. And I will end it on this: one of the reasons I do keep coming back here, to this place, to this community, is because of people like this. Doing things like this. And that's when I realise, some good has come out of the colossal mess that was her death. There is some small meaning to her short, yet beautiful life.


So if I can say anything that makes sense or is meaningful today, I will say this: Carly, once again, thank you. A thousand times, thank you.

Hitting publish now.