This lovely life

Lying in bed a few mornings ago with my wee baby girl curled up to me and helping herself to an early morning feed and my snuggly toddler nestled in to the grooves of my back, playing with my hair as he does, it really hit home just how fortunate I have been since Hope left us.

When I stumbled in to this community just over three years ago, battle weary and wounds still fresh, wondering how on earth I would survive another hour, I never thought I would experience joy like this. I truly believed it was beyond me. I would read blogs like The Happy Sad Mama and wonder if that sort of future was possible for me. At the time, the writer Carol had gone on to have one boy and one girl after the loss of her full term, first baby girl. That to me, sounded like the very best outcome you could ever hope for after your once happy life had disintegrated and all your hopes and dreams of a boring little future in the suburbs had gone up in smoke.

Now, here I am. Having somehow produced two living, healthy, beautiful children since enduring the worst possible way for a pregnancy to end. It makes me wonder if there is anyone new to their loss, reading my words now and wondering if this sort of life is possible for them. I want to say to those people - hang in there. Sometimes, dreams do come true. Takes a fair amount of patience and a hefty dose of luck, but it can happen.

It probably seems a bit smug of me to finally update my blog today and gloat about my happiness, especially when it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. But of course when talking about my happiness, there is always the undercurrent of sadness, and that will never go away. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. I sit with the happiness and I sit with the sadness and I can accept they both have a place in my life now.

I seem to have found some sort of balance, and that had previously been missing. Even though I had Angus, I think the sadness still had the better of me. I wasn't depressed I wasn't wallowing, I was still just trying to process the enormity of her death. But the happiness does outweigh the sadness now and I function so much better than I ever did. And the other thing? I don't feel guilty for this happiness. I have earned this and worked damn hard to get here. I may as well enjoy it while I have it because who on earth knows how long it might hang around.

I guess if I am being perfectly honest, some of it also comes down to having this lovely baby girl in my life. Of course I felt totally blessed beyond measure when Angus arrived alive and well and he is the light of my life. Though he will probably never fully understand, that boy quite literally saved my life. But I knew something else was missing, and that was the opportunity to parent a daughter. While I don't think I could possibly say I'm done with growing our family just yet, things do feel pretty good right now and common sense and practicalities (not to mention an pathological fear of another gestation) tell us we're done. We have this perfectly little imperfect family and I feel so god damn lucky, even though it was luck that completely eluded us back in that dreary August of 2008. Not to mention, parenting the second time around has just been a whole bunch easier so I'm calmer, more confident and have given up sweating the small stuff. She'll sleep eventually and so will we! At least that is what I tell my sleep-deprived self.

It is 8.03pm here now in Melbourne. The wave of light for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, in this part of the world at least, is over. But I'm not about to jump up and blow out the candles. Not yet. While Angus sleeps peacefully in his cot, tucked up with his toy monkey and in his helicopter pajamas and his little sister "Juju" (the nickname he coined, not us) is snuggled up on her daddy's chest, I'm going to sit with my words here, basked in the candlelight and remember my first born little girl. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be leading the lovely little life that I am now. So to her, I say thank you. But god damn it I still miss you and just wish we could have you back. You'd fit right in, I promise.

Sending love to everyone who reads here and remembering all of the babies gone too soon.