Stagnant

If my blog were a body of water, it would be stagnant. There would be a stench for miles and dead ducks floating on top amongst a thick green sludge. If you got too close, you'd probably get some sort of nasty bacterial infection. It would be best just to back away slowly.

It has been nearly two months since I have posted. I'm not sure if this has been my longest blogging break, but it seems somewhat pointless to keep doing this - that is, take a huge blogging hiatus then come back to write about how long I've been gone for and how nothing and everything has changed.

Of course in reality, nothing about my real life has been stagnant. The two living beauties before me are moving, growing, changing, thriving, and surging forwards in to a future full of promise. At least I hope so. I still don't like to second guess what might be around the next corner, because life has taught me better than that.

Summer has been a blur of weekends away camping, lazing by rivers, late balmy nights, visits with family and getting our skin kissed by the sun. We are finding our feet as a broken family of four and having plenty of fun on limited sleep along the way.

Angus and Juliet are now as much of a driving force in my life as Hope is. They give me purpose and make my clothes stained and face weary. Hope gives me grounding and perspective and makes me appreciate the things in life that so many take for granted. It is not the sort of motherhood I ever thought I'd end up with, but it does feel well rounded, despite the jagged edges of it's beginnings.

I have poured out thousands of heartfelt words for Hope since she died, trying to keep a track of my unconventional parenthood to her and marking her milestones, and my milestones without her, along the way. And I wonder if I should be doing the same for Angus and Juliet, whether that be here or elsewhere. I often think I am doing them a disservice, by not talking about them as much and sharing them as much as I do, or at least have done, with Hope. They are incredible little beings and I'm as proud as any mum could possibly be of her offspring. It is exhilarating and mundane, exciting and ordinary. This part of my parenthood is harder than I could have imagined, yet everything I ever wanted as well. A happy little life with happy little children, just like I had dared to dream and assumed would be the case this time four years ago.

But the words are all I really have for Hope. There is not much else you can do for a baby who never was. As Juliet grows and changes especially, being the girl baby I never thought I'd have, I think I do wonder a little bit more. Would they have been similar? Nothing alike? Would she be like her little cousin, now almost two? Or the newest little girl cousin, arriving just four days ago? None of us will ever know. Wondering and wishing is all we can do, while trying not to drown in the epic tragedy of it all.

My heart feels more healed than it did yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Every day is a step towards.... continued healing. Yet there is still that hum. That undercurrent of sadness. There are monumental changes that took place within me on that August day of 2008 and they all still ring true today. I am not the same person, I will never be the same person but I've had to go on and create a life for myself.

And it is a happy life, but she's still gone. It is a busy life, but there will always be that stillness. My heartbeats for my living children but there is a stagnant chamber of my heart, hollowed out by the brute force of her loss.