Thursday 25 April 2013

Sorrow

9 weeks ago my husband gave me the wonderful and unexpected news that we were moving to Canada.

8 weeks ago I gave my husband the wonderful and unexpected news that we were having baby number 3. 

We had settled on being happy with our two beautiful daughters. We had talked casually about having a third but felt that perhaps being so close to 40, we should quit while we were ahead. So it was a surprise yet a delight to discover that we had had an oops and another little one was on its way.

It meant a few changes to our move to Canada - now was the consideration of baby furniture and clothing. Hospitals, doctors. Getting clearance to fly at 7 months. Organising for my Mum to fly over in November. That The Eldest would stay the eldest, but The Youngest would become The One In The Middle. The delicious thought of holding another new baby in my arms. What perfect timing - I was going to be a stay at home Mum for two years anyway, so having another baby would fit in perfectly with our family situation.

I have been incredibly sick with this baby - more sick than my other two. Compounded by the stress of work, life has been an exhausting challenge for the past three months. But inside me I have been growing a new human being.  A new life. Another baby. Wonder, excitement, delight.

I didn't have any complications with my previous two pregnancies. So when I started bleeding last Thursday, I was filled with alarm. Hubby took me to hospital where an ultrasound showed little oops's heartbeat was strong and all appeared well. We returned home, rattled, but more convinced than ever of just how much we wanted this baby. I talked to bub, telling it to hold on. Mumma was getting better, resting more. I promised to look after myself better, so that I could look after it.

We had a 12 week scan on Monday afternoon. Before the sonographer could say anything, I knew. I could see it, and my heart broke into a million pieces. There was no heartbeat.
My baby, my little 'oops', had died. 


What words are there to describe grief. Loss. Ache of heart, tears and thoughts almost too much to bear. 
I was unprepared, caught off guard. All life drained from me. I don't recall leaving the room. Or driving home. There is a certain amount of numbness packaged in with grief.

How does one go about saying goodbye when you haven't even had the chance to say hello?

We go through the physical motions, making arrangements, seeing doctors. Time in hospital. The numbness helps you cope, and you don't need to face the actual reality of what it all means. Physically, my body is recovering. Gone is the nausea, the cramping, the back ache. My appetite is returning, and I am hungry for the first time in weeks. The evidence of the trauma of the past few days is fading.

Emotionally though. Odd moments catch me unawares. Would I like another coffee hubby asks. Yes, I answer, because I can now. The block of brie in the fridge. A newborn baby sock randomly on the floor fallen off one of the girls dolls. Tears on my cheek, when I didn't realise I was crying.

I know how lucky I am, to have two beautiful daughters already. Luckier than many in similar situations. I don't have the questions of whether I will ever be able to have children.
But the hole in my heart feels cavernous and I ache for the promise that won't be realised.

Maybe we will try again. Maybe not. Whatever we decide to do, this little one will forever hold a place in my heart.

My little angel that was...








Saturday 20 April 2013

The Wonder of Little Things

Every night, before I go to bed, I check on each of my daughters.

The Eldest never has her blankets on. Wrapped around her, under her, on top of her, will be an assortment of objects, treasured for those few moments before sleep envelops her. Tonight it was a set of Dora playing cards, a shoe and my wedding handbag stuffed with her favourite shirt. Each night, I gently unwrap her limbs from the objects, easing them out from under her. Each night she stirs, slight jerky movements, before rolling over, sighing and returning to blissful slumber, whilst I restore her sheets and doona to their place of providing her warmth for the night ahead...

The Youngest, always has her sleeping bag unzipped, legs legs sprawled, with a foot or hand reaching through the bars of her cot. She never stirs as I re-zip her back into her sleeping bag, oblivious to my hands gently rolling her onto her side, returning 'pink bunny' to her arms to prevent a mid-night cry for 'mumma' followed by 'bunny'...

I used to spend a few moments, as I did this, reflecting back on their day just passed, but lately I have found myself too tired and spent. But tonight, I found myself returning to patterns of old. As I settled them in for the night, I thought back on today.

How they started the day, snuggled in bed with me, demanding story after story, heads on my shoulders, arms resting on my belly...

How they sat on the floor, The Eldest and The Youngest, surfing YouTube for Nursery Rhymes. How they found a new song, unfamiliar but instantly beloved, and the sounds of their two voices together, working out the lyrics and delighting in their ability to replay the song over and over again...

How the favourite game for ten minutes was to run from one side of the room to Mumma and shower her with energetic kisses and cuddles, shouting 'I love you' (The Eldest) 'Arvoo' (The Youngest)...

How my heart melted, watching The Youngest walk through a shopping centre willingly holding her Father's hand. The warmth of The Eldest's hand as she willingly held mine.

Moments defined because they are older and wiser than yesterday but younger and more innocent than tomorrow. My beautiful babies. 

For a few months now, I have been drowning in my own fatigue, work related stress, anxiety and depression. And for the past two weeks, as I set myself on a path towards healing, I have been overwhelmed by the support of my family and my many many beautiful friends. Your words of comfort, willingness to listen, arms of support have helped me on the road to recovery. 

Without you, I would still be wrapped up in fatigue, to tired to truly appreciate the moments I had today with my girls. For that I am grateful. For that I am blessed. 

J x 

Friday 12 April 2013

The Chaos of my State of Mind

This week I dropped all of the balls that I have been juggling.
I dropped them at precisely 3:30pm on Tuesday. Apparently they were made of glass. They shattered and I have yet to glue them back together. I haven't swept them under the carpet, but I have left them in a pile of recrimination at my feet....

Mostly, it's because of my paid job. For a number of weeks now, I feel like twenty years of experience has been constantly questioned, evaluated, judged and found wanting.

I feel shattered.

See, I question my ability as a mother constantly. After all, I have only been doing that job for near on four years. I constantly make mistakes, and know that I have a lot of on the job learning ahead of me. Every day has new challenges. But I have felt confident in my paid-job for a while now. I have had a lot of validation of my worth as a teacher, felt confident about who I am in the classroom and what I do. I felt confident about returning to work full time - was prepared for the sacrifices it entailed. But not for the complaints, the judgement. Not to be feeling incompetent, not good enough. My paid job, was the one area of my life that I drew a lot of confidence from. 

And then 3:30pm Tuesday rolled through and I have been on leave since then...

For three days I have revelled in being at home doing housework. This is a sure sign I am mentally unhinged. After all, there is truly little joy to be found in scrubbing the insides of two putrid bins, but that little joy - hell I found it. My washing machine has had a thorough work out, those clothes have been folded AND put away. I have 8 boxes of teaching resources labelled and ready for storage. I have cooked for my family. I have swept up all of the cork tiles my husband has painstakingly removed from put kitchen and family room. 

I have slept. A lot. 

And tonight, I pulled out a book of quotes that I use at times like these, when I need something to guide me. This is the page I opened on: 

"Here's a two-step formula for handling stress. 
Step 1: Don't sweat the small stuff. 
Step 2: Remember, it's all small stuff." Anthony Robbins

And so, next week I'll start to piece some of those balls I need to juggle back together. 
Until then, I am going to revel in having my beautiful in-laws visiting from Queensland, admire the progress of the new timber flooring my hubby is installing, enjoy the company of good friends, snuggles with my children.

Sleep. 

And breathe.

Have a good weekend, 

Jen x

Friday 5 April 2013

Wondering about breakfast...

I have many moments now where my mind is occupied with thoughts, plans, to-do lists surrounding the impending move. None seems to be taking up quite so much head space though as the thought 'What am I going to feed my kids for breakfast in Canada?'
Yes, I know that they have food there, supermarkets etc. I know I could buy bread, eggs, bacon. The issue lies in the fact that my kids are exactly what the ads say Aussie kids are.
They are WEETBIX KIDS.
More to the point we are a weetbix family (or rather 3 out of 4 of us are). I have grown up on weetbix. It is my breakfast cereal of choice. I have raised my children on it. It is a staple in my pantry, and an empty box is enough to prompt me to rush out and do an unscheduled grocery shop. So much is weetbix an integral par of the family diet, that I can only buy one size of box. Regardless of the better value of the larger bulk box, it has to be the size that fits inside the commemorative weetbix tins - of which we have two. One cricket. One soccer.
Not only do my children have it for breakfast, but I am proud to admit, on days that they come from child care too cranky to eat, I feed them weetbix for dinner too. Yep. Me and my girls, we live on weetbix.
I guess I could feed them toast - but if I do, do I then forego the sandwiches at lunch? I seem to have this aversion to using bread for 2 main meals. And sandwiches for lunch now, will surely help the progression into sandwiches being the acceptable school lunch option?
I do feed them, yoghurt, fruit and cheese as supplementals to their cereal, but I just can't see myself making porridge - I have this inability to cook anything that I won't eat myself...
And although eggs and bacon could be an option, I am watching The Biggest Loser and am conscience  of setting a good dietary example - or at least appearing to be (if you ignore the mountain of Easter chocolate sitting on the bench, or the iceblocks readily available in the freezer, or my stash of chips for when I need a salt fix...)
Maybe you think I am mad. I mean, it's only Canada we are moving to. But I can't help remembering one particular North American breakfast experience, shared with my sister many years ago.
We were visiting her student exchange family in the states. We told them of our hotel in LA where all they served for breakfast was a buffet table of doughnuts. Perplexed by our bafflement at the situation they responded with 'but when else would you eat them?' To them doughnuts = breakfast food versus us seeing it as junk. A few days later, we were the early bird shoppers at the Mall of America in Minnieapolis, and while waiting for the shops to open, we spotted a vendor advertising 'healthy breakfasts'. Keen for something healthy to start out day, we headed over, where to our amusement the 'healthy option' was the equivalent of fruit loops glued on to a stick...
I am sure that Canadians are far more enlightened than this - after all they serve pancakes with maple syrup (can I live on that for breakfast for two years??)  but still, I am going to mull over this quandary for four months, as I plan out my weetbix care packages from Oz (accompanied by slabs of Vegemite, Milo and Timtams.....)

On a final note, many thanks to my beautiful friends who have offered such amazing words of encouragement and support as I start my little piece of internet journalling. I love that you visited and enjoyed the chat. If you are crazy enough to revisit, please subscribe or follow - then you'll never miss me and my ramblings...

J x