That stings

I am feeling a lot more pepped up since my last woe-is-me visit to the laptop. I saw my GP last week and she gasped when she saw me, the sort of way a person gasps when they look at at someone who has lost a lot of weight, and that someone is now me.

She made me realise what a great job I have been doing, and how far I have come in the past few years. I know I had let my weight spiral out of control with my grief. I know I used eating as an excuse for anything and everything. I had a side of cake with every situation in life, and it got too much. It had to stop.

Everyone wants to know what my secret is and really, it is just all hard work and being sensible. No fads, no cutting things out, breaking myself at the gym. Just good old common sense with a good dose of discipline and self control. And it has so far paid off, in the form of  15kg, with only 6 or so to go until my goal weight.

I had a similar conversation with a shop attendant the other day, when I went to treat myself to a few new clothes, given mine are now all hanging off me. (A lovely but expensive problem to have).

We were talking all things weight loss and health, as she said she had embarked on a similar campaign to rebuild her post baby body. Then I got all cocky and told her how it had been super hard for me, because, you know, I'd had two kids in less than two years. And she very quickly came back with "I had three in three years!" Shot down.

The one time I don't mention my dead daughter, I get bitten. I too had three babies in three years! I did that, I really did. Three long pregnancies, three births. It is just that the head count at home doesn't match up with those numbers. I wanted to stop, to backtrack, and add in the missing chapter of my story, but I didn't. I smiled and exited the change room. I bought the top and I left the store.

Tomorrow night we're off to a kinder information night for Angus. He's starting three year old kinder next year and it took me at least a week to realise that I should have a little girl in three year old kinder this year already. And that next year, she'd be starting four year old kinder in preparation for school the year after. I should have already done all of this before. Honestly this sort of thing doesn't happen to me much. I miss Hope as a baby and I've always had a hard time missing her as the one, two, three and four year old she should have been. She is Angus' and Juliet's big baby sister, I can't possibly fathom her being bigger and older than my living two. I forget that every time Angy and Juju reach a milestone, I should have already lived through it with her. I forget that when I get frustrated with a certain phase one of the kids is going through, I should have more tools in my parenting bag of tricks to know how to deal with it, because she was supposed to be here paving the way.

I function very well and I get through most of my days, and my grief, with so much more grace and ease than I ever have before. But there are always triggers. And reminders that your child is dead are lurking on every corner, so watch out for the damn sharp edges.