Seasons, changes

Life has been busy. Someone asked how old my baby was yesterday and I said she just turned one, before I realising that actually, she is 13 months old. Today! Somehow I lost a whole month, but that's the way of it when you have small children and you're not really sure which way is up. The contrasts of my life now and my life four years could not be more pronounced.

Spring has sprung and the official grief season is over (at least the more intense phase, because of course it never goes away) and I'm finding I have more of a spring in my step, pun intended. I'm eating well, exercising with renewed vigour and some of the excess baggage around my baby carrying mid-section are finally disappearing, and that can only be a good thing!

Never before have I lived myself so entwined with the seasons. After I lost Hope, everything became about the seasons. And it still is. In my former life, there were simply days, most of which I worked. Some were warmer, some were cooler, some were longer, some were shorter. I enjoyed some times of the year more than others, but none of it really mattered as the days were mostly good and there was no grief monster holding me back. I wish I could have appreciated then just how lucky I was. I was totally oblivious.

My sadness is firmly entrenched in the winter. The dark, cold, miserable days of Melbourne's winter. Then spring arrives, which has always been my favourite time of year and the grief eases, just a little, so I can function again. Summer comes and we move outdoors to enjoy the longer days - eating and holidaying with family and friends. But in our summer, I also think of winter on the other side of the world, and how some of my dearest friends in this community are going through their own winter grief season. And in our summer, I also think of the friends I have who lost babies during the northern hemisphere summer, and there were many of them. August and September seem to be littered with anniversaries and birthdays for babies gone too soon.

Once our summer is over and the cooler days of autumn arrive, it always feels like the countdown is on until the season of my loss. Again. I'm just so glad that for 2012 at least, all of that is now behind me. Roll on warmth, sunshine and lighter days.

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It is not just my feelings about the seasons that have changed since Hope died. There have been other, more remarkable changes. Most of my friends have kids now. Some have just the one, many have gone back for a second and a few of the brave are now having their third. And I'd be lying if I said that seeing friends welcome baby number three in to the world wasn't a bit hard for me. I can see that the jump from two two three is tricky. It looks busy, overwhelming and incredibly fast-paced. Many of my friends with three do seem to be struggling just a teeny bit. And it completely baffles me that in another universe, that could be my life. It should be my life. But if there is one difference with the Sally now and the Sally of four years ago, it is the ability to deal with brand new babies, no matter what the birth order. Even if they are a firstborn. Even if it is a girl. Even if it is a third born. I can handle it.

This time four years ago, if there was one thing I was fairly certain of, it was that I never wanted to lay eyes on another baby. Unless it was my own baby. And I was pretty sure I'd never have another one anyway, the pessimistic and doom and gloom side of me far outshining every other personality trait.

But it is somehow ok now. I can, for the most part, hear birth stories and not really wince. I can rejoice, ask questions, see photos, generally be interested and share in joy. I can hold babies. I can enjoy holding babies. I can marvel at them and feel glad and happy for my friends, rather than bitter, twisted and jealous. Some parts of my soul will never mend, but partial healing in other areas is certainly possible. I never thought I'd get to this stage. Seemed totally insurmountable in the spring of 2008. I suppose that is one benefit of four years. Despite being that much further away from Hope, there are things that sting a little less.

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I have a favour to ask of my readers. I would love it, if you felt at all inspired, to share or promote my project Fairy Tales for Hope. The response to the project has been completely overwhelming and our Facebook page is growing daily. We have sold more than 1200 prints in just a couple of weeks but we have plenty more left to sell. We want to sell every last one of them (we had 100 of each of the 31 illustrations printed initially and we're hoping to do a second print run). Any help or promotion you could give our cause would be greatly appreciated, especially a blog post or plug on Facebook. Every single cent from this project will go directly to the Stillbirth Foundation, and that is obviously a cause dear to my heart. If the money raised could prevent ONE stillbirth then I will certainly feel as if this has been a job well done. Thank you!