Magical Leap Year

I am at home watching the wind, but you are not.
where could you be, can you see me
Life's journey carries me along
washing the sharpness of loss from my bones.

You died, I don't understand, that I did not
Memory keeper, dreamer, writer.
My purpose, mother and nurture
A son whose birthing was brief and unsure.

Your anniversary is tommorrow, but next year it will not.
Magical leap year every fourth.
Breathing is future enough today,
remembering you in every small way.

Right Where I Am: Three years Two months and Twenty Seven days

still life with circles: Right Where I Am Project: Two Years, Five Months.

I am taking part in the Right Where I Am project that Angie is hosting. Click on the link above to see the stories that others have written.

This is right where I am.

In a moment I can tap into the feelings that bring a prickling sensation to the back of my eyes, and the knowledge that I am about to lose control. I am feeling the pain and helplessness and disconnectedness to my world because I can see myself standing beside an infant crib in the neonatal intensive care unit of a very large hospital for children. My child lies there.

In the second moment I am holding my breath, with tears welling in my eyes I am trying to blink away the confusion of how that happened.

I draw a breath and blow off the disconnectedness and confusion and I feel as though those months of his life were fleeting and so brief. I am disappointed that I didn't do something differently. And I cry tears that make my cheeks wet and my nose run. Who knew that 135 days can flash past so quickly. I approached each day fairly patiently believing that the day was just one of the days that it took for him to get better, so he could come home. I didn't know each day was a day that it took to get to the point where his illness took his life. I was holding onto hope. Why would anyone want to do anything different to that?

And then he died. I am resigned to that part of the experience. It's the one solid place I can stand. He did definitely die and it was definitely 1,183 days ago. He was ready and so were we.

A few minutes later I am focussed on my life today and where I am now. Grief feels like this to me. Sudden and strong with anxiety and then back to calm and rational seeing how far away I am from those moments.

At some stage of this grieving process I feel like I passed from being a girl or woman, to being a person, I feel like I left stuff behind and that makes me feel like there is a possibility that I can be simple and free. I just don't care for superficial small talk. I don't like to talk on the phone anymore. I am much more likely to say no now that I am three years + out. At the beginning I was so desperate to have contact with people who could make me feel better, or feel nothing, or feel something else, that I said yes to stuff that was clearly unhealthy for me. Doing stuff that made me feel stressed was a way of avoiding how I really felt.

My life today is a series of reinventions. After the crisis of Thomas' death I began a search and rescue mission, looking for the pieces I left behind beneath the rocks I hid them under. Now I have collected the pieces that were most resilient and I am working with them. some might say that I am starting with the hardest ones first but I am in am in recovery mode, so I am doing the most important ones.

I am reinventing my career, studying and working with kids with disabilities. Going really well, it has taken some real courage to be able to honestly tell people (who matter) why I am doing it.

I am reinventing my body, losing weight. Going really well, I am down 31kg. And its scaring the shit out of me, I have moments of wanting to be fat all the time and its a battle I sometimes lose.

I am reinventing my relationships and marriage. Well I haven't actually got very far with this one, but my marriage has survived at least.

I didn't even know that I could work in the disability sector, I felt drawn to study so I applied, the whole time I just couldn't imagine how I would behave when I met someone who had Down syndrome. And what if they were called Thomas. How would I do a job in the disability sector if I had to avoid all Thomas' with Down syndrome? And what if they were a child? How could I cope with that?

I am starting to think that its the unfulfilled parent in me that wants to work with kids with disabilities. I never ever had the desire to work with kids before. At first I thought that the unfulfilled parent reason is a bad and unhealthy reason to want to work in this field. But now I think it makes me passionate and committed. I just want to see that anything is possible when it comes to a kid with a disability and workers that will step up to a challenge. In a placement that I am doing at a kindergarten I work with one boy with Autism, the rest of his kinder friends are kids headed towards the mainstream system. It has been my test case scenario, somewhere that I can dip my toe in the water to see if I can do it. It seems I can.

Today I had some amazing feedback. We had a meeting, a Psychologist, Speech Pathologist, the kinder teacher, me the Aide and his Mum. We had an hour of going over all the things that could be done to help this young man move towards school readyness. They acknowledged the things I am doing with this young man and all said that he has progressed because of it, they said it over and over. It's a wonderful place to work, I am loving it. Kids are great people. It's not like being a mum when you work with them.

One of my weightloss goals was to be able to ride a motorbike. This picture shows me having a go. I have had two lessons so far and I haven't damaged any property or fallen off. I look like I am doing it right, don't you think. I don't know if I will go and get my motorbike licence but I am now in a space that I can do that if I choose to. And we have a spare motorbike (now that my husband has bought a bigger one), and I have the gear (so I can go places on the back of his motorbike), I just need the confidence (it is building).

I need to see the big picture not the small scary one that sneaks up to me and tells me that I will never be skinny for any amount of time, I will never be successful, or loved, or whole. I need to see the big picture that tells me that this is just a hump that I will defeat on my way to victory. I can be a healthy body weight and I can be active and I can be successful and I can defeat that sneak who whispers to me "you can't".

That is where I am now, getting more confident, taking charge in some areas of my life, moving toward a career that I have chosen because of Thomas. And grief is still there just as strong, but for shorter periods of time, and I now accept it's arrival because its a familiar feeling now, it is a part of me that I would never wish away. It's proof that I love.

RIP SM

I went to a funeral yesterday. This post is about my reflections on the funeral and about my friend SM.

For my job I work with people who have an Acquired Brain Injury. I do support work. I help people to  achieve as close to an ordinary life as possible after a devastating injury caused by a transport accident. I work with a number of adults each week. One of the people I work with is SM, and he died on the 8th April, last Friday, in the morning at 8.55 am. I painted this portrait of him in August 2009.

I write about SM in my other blog, I have reflected on his situation for the purposes of my homework and assessments for the course I am doing. I am not telling you his name on purpose, and on my other blog I don't use his correct name either. I have worked with him for 2 years, we went out mostly. We have been to the zoo, imax theatre, many beaches, a farm, wildlife sanctuary, the movies (lots of them), shopping, live theatre shows, the library, art galleries, appointments, and on the Friday before he died, we walked the recently completed labyrinth at a local gallery (has significant outdoor sculpture).

That's the background. He wasn't always the easiest person to work with. He didn't say much, didn't eat or drink (he was peg fed), he hated watching me eat or drink (because he loved food). He was often grumpy or downright angry, and even more often he was anxious. But he smiled every time I pointed the camera at him though, he loved having his picture taken. He liked having nice hair, I was planning to take him for a haircut last Friday but all shifts were cancelled because he was sick in hospital. Instead he took his long swept back fringe to the grave.

It was an open casket funeral, and because his family are from India, it was entirely different (culturally) to any funeral I have previously attended. They are christians, so Bible passages were read, songs sung. There was a song sung in Tamil (his first language) which tells of God's comfort being so complete that He is like a mother. The singing was unaccompanied, the singers simply singing, no trills or frills or even eye contact with the mourners. They were simply singing their heart to the Lord. SM lay in his casket in front of the lectern, uncovered, eyes closed and dressed in a very smart blue suit with a fresh white shirt and silk tie. His mother was crying that she wanted to see him like this on his wedding day, looking handsome. He was very handsome. All the mourners were touching him and crying over him and kissing him, his mother was whispering in his ear in a language I don't know, she was devastated, they had to lead her away from him so they could close his casket. She was sobbing, along with many of the men, loudly.

There were about four young children there. One little girl (his niece) who is about three kept asking why he was sleeping and why he was so cold, why didn't he talk. She kissed him and said goodbye. Then asked to say goodbye again. They expressed their grief so openly, unashamedly. It was so sad, and very beautiful too. The funeral was all about how he has run his race and he has gone to the Lord with all his requirements fulfilled, he can now rest peacefully. As he was the eldest son of the family, his parents were recognised for bearing the loss of their first fruit, the position of eldest son is very important in his culture.

I really wanted to take his picture lying in his casket, but I didn't have the courage to ask. He looked very peaceful and lovely, which is unlike his usual look. I don't want anyone to think I am strange, so I didn't ask. He was so still and straight, an unusual posture for me to see, but for the family he was handsome and smart.

I just keep looking at this photo because of his eye. It's almost the last picture I took of him. In life he was confronting to look at, usually dribbling, one side of his body relaxed and unresponsive and one side constantly in motion, tense and  experiencing tremors and rigors. He was often muttering strange things, or calling out "please help me" or "I am the King". In this picture (which I have seriously cropped for effect) he is drooling and his head is at an unnatural angle (exactly how he liked it), and the seatbelt was obscuring his face. I didn't even ask him to smile because I was taking the photo for documentation reasons (we had been having a discussion about the safety of the fittings in his car and wheelchair).

He was buried, after a few graveside words we were invited to sprinkle dirt over his casket. The casket was very deep in the ground. I am sure it must be a family plot where others can use the same resting place. Similar to the one we will share with Thomas. It's kind of strange to know your post life address. The family left the graveside and people just dispersed. There was no gathering afterward, people just left to continue their grief privately.

I went home and had a crappy day. Nothing could cheer me up, I tried chocolate, shopping, movies, walks, a workout, shower, comfortable clothes. I was just sad and p'd off with the world. I feel better today, I have processed. I suppose I had to write this, have my own little send off for you Mr Marini.

RIP SM

I took the plunge today

Today when I was asked the ages of my children, I took the plunge.

I took a breath and said "well", then I said "I have two that are older" (it makes them sound geriatric). "They are 27 and 24 years old". "Oh" said the asker. "Then" said I, "I have a teenager who is 15. And I have another child who unfortunately died"

I messed that up didn't I! He unfortunately died.

The asker didn't say anything about me looking too young to have children in their mid twenties. That is usually the next thing that is said. Instead she went for the I'm sorry response. Her unexpected response blew me off my train of thought because it's not what people normally say. Unless they are a bereaved parent too. I looked at her sideways and said "thank you".

I told her that his death was fairly recent so then she wanted to know how old he was and when he died, so I explained his story, adding the details of the extra chromosome, and about his birth defects, and his struggle to live, and the complications of an extended stay in a germ laden environment, and how that complicated things further. She seemed sympathetic, and commented that it sounded like he really fought to stay.  She also said that it must have been so very hard on our whole family.

I took another plunge and asked her if she had also lost a child and she said "yes". She told me about her son who was diagnosed with a fatal condition at 20 weeks, she said that she delivered him at 22 weeks, and that he was stillborn. I asked more about him and asked his name, because I now know that everyone has a name for their child. People who haven't been there will probably ask "did you name him?" It made me want to cry when she said his name, who knows how often she would get to say his name. I told her Thomas' name too.

I told her about the support that I get from all over the world in blogland. She told me that her mother in law was the person she talked to most (her mil had experienced significant grief and knew the value of an open chat)

Sometimes when you take the plunge it pays off, in that you don't go crashing straight the bottom. Even when you fill your pockets with rocks of statements like "Unfortunately he died"

Goodnight Thomas, if you see Ryan anywhere up there, tell him that I met his mum, and we talked about you both.

Hope

What a beautiful day it was on Saturday. You can't help but have hope when the water is as sparkly as this. There was nowhere else I would have rather been at that moment.


The water was so clear and blue, the seagulls were just checking me out as I walked. The tiny fish were just centimetre's from my toes at the edge of the water. I got a little bit sunburnt, but I had my hat on. It was the perfect temperature, warm but not hot. There was hardly any wind on the sand, just a little balmy breeze, when at home (which is only 4km from the beach) it was really windy.

I have had some not so good news with my health. I lost quite a lot of weight last year, using C.K the website. But then I was away for about 8 months and I have put some weight back on (about 7kg's). On Friday my BP was 159 on 52, its a weird reading. Because I have Diabetes and because a blood test shows some small signs that my kidneys are not happy, this BP reading means that I am a candidate for Hypertension medication. Which I naturally want to try and avoid. 


The possibility of having to take Hypertension medication when you are still in your 40's is enough to make me think about my life, my whole life. Do I want to be sick until I die, or do I want to be healthy and active and happy. What sort of quality of life do I want? Of course I want a future with lots of experiences and love, happiness and relationships, and freedom from health issues seems to be the key. 


I know that BP medication does not signal that I am about to become infirm and climb into a wheelchair. It does make me think about my expectations for my future, and I expect to be here for quite a lot longer. How much longer I wonder? It's not something that I have ever thought about or even attempted to visualise what I would look like in old age. I am not quite at the point where I can see myself as an old woman. I joke about being old when I get out of a comfortable chair and my joints are all stiff and sore. And I blame old age when I limp in the mornings before my feet get warmed up, and I try not to look Granny like now my eyes are losing the ability to easily focus and I have to get my glasses to thread a needle.


The Doctor said to me, "I'll give you 3 months to lose some weight and get your blood pressure under control. If it's still high, I will put you on some medication."


So now I am back to weight loss mode and loving it. I love C.K, it's so into details, and I know it's the details that count when I lose weight. Details like minutes and grams. I love it when my calories consumed and exercise calories burned, add up to the right number at the end of the day. I have been back for 2 days and I feel good, I feel like I have been un-puffed. My puffy fingers and face are looking and feeling more normal. I am on the toilet a million times a day. Flushing all that fluid away.

I have lugged this weight around for the last 30 years. It's time to get it out of my life.

It's also time to have some hope for the future. I am going to embrace the idea that I will get old and probably be a granny, but I have hope that I will be as active and healthy as possible.

I Have Nothing

I have Nothing

Nothing new to feel

Grief mows me down

I dodge it sometimes 

Today I didn't try

The Anniversary day

Nothing new to say or blog
It has been said, written
Fading now to forgotteness
Greeting card genuine
Trauma obscured

Nothing new to show
Photographs, movies
No birthday cakes
First steps, smiles, teeth
Baby onesies never outgrown

Nothing new to hear
No laughter no cries,
Nor the sound of his name
His running feet
All quiet in his grave

Valentines Day ATC

Its Valentines day soon, it is next week actually, and I thought I would participate in the art trading card (ATC) swap that Angie is hosting over at still life 365.

I posted it Monday morning which is a bit late I think to get it all the way to the US, but I was just too slow to send it on Friday afternoon. It probably wouldn't have travelled very far over the weekend anyway. I hope it gets to Angie on time for this year or I suppose I will be early for next years swap.

Here is my card. It's the first one I have ever made.

It is really surprisingly very small. I made it with paper, sewing thread and a needle and glass seed beads. It is 3 layers, blue card on the back with a message written in pen, heavy sketch paper, and a fancy paper. The back of the sewing is hidden by the layers.

I enjoyed doing it, I took too long, I was learning as I went which is how I like to do stuff.

Did you receive a valentine card this year, or have you ever done an ATC swap?

A Thousand Things

Christa Wells  A Thousand Things



Wow, I found the words on Genevieve's amazing post "The wound that blinds" over at Turquoise Gates. She has tagged her post with words like "soul audit" and "God's deeps", she is an amazing writer.


I am blown away at how she has described the wound, without condemnation, just describing as normal and "just is" it's all OK. This wound is not some new dysfunction that I have dreamed up to prove to the world that I am in need of attention.


It. just. is. fact.


These words come from the song

You're gonna cry yourself to sleep.

'Cause for the moment all that you can see is what is lost, lost

Why me?

But in the midst of the most exquisite pain

You're drawn into a peace that you cannot explain.

And the praises you sing of a sovereign God

reach the girl whose last hope is gone

She never thought there was purpose in anything here.

Now the seed has been planted and it's taking root

You didn't know.

You're gonna cry yourself to sleep.

A thousand miracles you'll have to wait to see.

Exit; A Decade, Tonight

So much stuff happened in this decade, for me. A lot of it was bad stuff. The sort of stuff that makes me want to say, I don't want to remember why I decided,(or didn't) did, chose, refused, hated or loved it kind of stuff.


Hindsight
is
a wonderful
thing


Especially if you like to beat yourself up and second guess your life decisions.


And sometimes I do, and, I would like to categorically state that I do not like that about myself.


The Y2K bug, it had nothing to do with me but hindsight tells me it was probably the biggest hoax the world has seen. 


I celebrated a few New Years Eves, too many alone, I had some birthdays including a "40", bought cars (only 2) and changed jobs heaps of times. I got married, my eldest sons had their 18th and 21st birthdays and moved out of home. And one came back twice. My 3rd son lives with us at home still (because he is a teenager), he has grown so much in this decade and has had so many life experiences which are all his stories to tell, not mine. He knows too much about death.


I  had many many house guests, some for one or two nights and others for weeks and months. I discovered Jesus and developed my faith. I spent a lot of money on cigarettes and clothes, my weight went up and down so consequently I don't fit into very many items in my current wardrobe.  


I was pregnant and gave birth to Thomas, my 4th son at the age of 43 and buried him at the age of 44. I used to think that 44 was my lucky number, now I think its one of pain. I have grieved heavily, I have battled sickness and depression, I spent quite a bit of time in court for family law. 


My income fluctuated from around 12 thousand one year to over 40 for another one, and I think they were back to back.


It's been a crazy roller coaster kind of year, decade, life.


I don't know whether to love it or hate it, but I am glad it's over and I can have a fresh start.


The highest point was getting married in 2006, the lowest point was Thomas' death in 2008 or it was a point somewhere in mourning his loss. Actually I think it was the morning after he died, the minute I woke up and remembered he was dead, I just felt so lost at that point, so wracked with grief, it was the lowest point.


So now, a new year comes and the chance for a fresh start. I am going to choose to learn about me this year. I am going to study me and find out why I do stupid things. Well that's the plan.


First I am going on a research assignment, and write down my timeline, look at the places and spaces I have occupied and see if I can find patterns and things. Then I am going to think about the things that have motivated me to behave in certain ways. I am going to see if there is a trigger that I can neutralise and a grown up behavior that I can substitute for behaving badly. I will try and understand what motivates me to manipulate others and learn about my capacity, and in doing that I believe I can recognise the signs that I am overwhelmed and ask for help.


I hope I am successful, because it sounds like a good plan. A step by step plan, which will not go step by step I am sure.


Goodbye 2010 and the 200th decade


Hello 2011, we are at the start of decade number 201 and I hope its going to be an improvement on the last one.


Are you planning an overhaul for our 201st decade?

Happy Birthday Thomas

It's Thomas' 3rd Birthday today

I would like to have a little boy at home, who just turned three right now. It is an age that I enjoy, three year old's are chatty and they have excitement for the world, they love to be busy and they have independent moments. I love that their imaginations are are on overdrive, even if that causes them to be just a little bit naughty.

I know that Thomas wouldn't have been the usual 3 year old. He had challenges, I know that. He may have just mastered the art of sitting up by now, he would have had significant developmental delay.

We may have spent most of his short 3 years in the hospital. We would have spent many thousands of dollars on medications, equipment and aids.

We would have held our breath whenever he de-saturated because of a hypertensive event and was dangerously close to death, we would have sighed with relief every time he pulled through. And we would have thanked God that he lived every single day, thanked God for one of the best Children's Hospitals in the world being almost on our doorstep, and prayed that He would get us out of there as fast as he could.

But that didn't happen. It doesn't matter how much we wanted him to live. His little body stopped working and that's just what happened. Nothing changes that.

So, we went to the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne to "do" something on his birthday. It's a place that we went to quite often during the season of Thomas' life. There are lots of memories there. It was handy (sort of) to the hospital, we only had to get on one tram and it went from out the front of Ronald McDonald house to the west side of the market. The food stalls and delicatessens are all on the east side so it was still a bit of a walk from the tram, an easy walk if you didn't have anything to carry or if it wasn't a very hot day.

Today, on Thomas' third birthday this is what we did at the Market, we found hard rock lollies that had Happy Birthday written inside them. I managed to save 2 little pieces so I could take a photo of them.

And at 2 small cafes side by side we bought Pizza slices, Chicken Burrito and Omelet for lunch.

We bought the Omelet because it was called Omellet a Lo Thomas, and because we like omelet.

We had cake from the cake shop. We bought some Turkish delight too. Lucky we are all big people or we might have had a sugar rush tantrum brewing up by now.

We bought some little wooden toys from the stall that Thomas' other wooden toys came from, and we bought a bone carving from a Tongan man. There were buskers and even an art installation (made from vegetable boxes and chalk writing on the footpath) made by some university students to highlight sustainability. Then we came home.

It was a good day. It was good to do something different, to use Thomas' birthday as a reason to go and do something together and to speak his name.

Angie at stilllife365 posted my poem today in memory of Thomas. Thanks Angie. It would be great if you went over there and read it.

Thanks to everyone for your messages today.

Treasures from a Golden Box

There is a sparkly golden box in the corner of my bedroom. It carries inside a few small keepsakes. Never to be used again and still almost brand new, these little wooden toys with happy faces, and brightly colored rattles that make a hushed sound have a very important job. To keep my memories in place, so they don't get lost.

I like the randomness and foggyness of how this picture turned out. I made it with the scanner. These are finger puppets that we bought to amuse Thomas on his good days. There is the King and Queen and Prince and Princess and Jester. There is also some of the ladybirds and bees from a little mobile that he loved looking at. A couple of springy bungee critters and a castinet that we hushed with a piece of sticking plaster, a christmas bear that turned up on his cot one night and some quiet rattles are in my collection.

The other treasures include a copy of the poem that Dean wrote and photo that we gave to the people who came to Thomas' funeral. Also one of the nurses (Laura Taylor) took an ink footprint without us knowing and she made it into a beautiful keepsake so she could give us a secret Christmas present from Thomas.

Nurses don't get enough recognition so I will say thank-you for thinking of us Laura. It's one of my treasures now.

Wedding Anniversary

It's our wedding anniversary tomorrow

We have been married 4 years

Our first wedding anniversary was 10 days before Thomas was born. We went to a friends place for a meal but we weren't really up for celebrating. The Doctors had already found worrying signs of Thomas' condition. The scans had shown up a high S/D ratio (blood pressure) in the umbilical cord of 5, it was supposed to be around 2 or 3. Also I had a very large amount of amniotic fluid, its a condition called Polyhydramnios, we were being monitored with the fetal heart monitor every couple of days and they were trying to get Thomas to 38 weeks before delivering. We got him to 37 weeks and 5 days. I wondered (after) if the high S/D ratio was an indicator of his extreme pulmonary hypertension, but I am told that it probably wasn't. The over abundance of amniotic fluid is an indicator of his unconventional digestive arrangement, but it can indicate other things too. No one informed me about this, I did a very long internet research shift to find some information that gave me a whisper of things to come. Then I was too scared to ask.

The second year I don't even remember, except, I know we were trying to coordinate a bathroom renovation that dragged on for 12 weeks. I have thought about it and I don't have any recollection of any kind of event to mark the day. We were so sad. And the house was such a huge disaster. Everyone kept on saying to us, "you must be so happy/pleased to finally get it done", "is the bathroom great/are you enjoying picking out the fittings?", "it will be great when it's done". I felt like screaming at them, " I would rather have my son living here with me, a renovated bathroom does not fix my grief, no I don't love my new bathroom, its a big pain in the ass to not shower in your own home for 12 weeks, I hate everyone who wants to force the good side or bright side of any situation out of me" I didn't understand why people couldn't allow me to grieve, I think that they made it worse by trying to be bright and not allowing me to talk about things. My family has a history of not talking about things.

Last year was a different kind of sad with a fair bit of angry mixed in, we survived last year by prayer and a fairly big measure of stubbornness. A wedding anniversary was more of a joke than a celebration. I was very angry last year.

This year is year 4, it has been our best year yet and we are actually going to celebrate. My Husband has bought Theatre tickets, so we are going out. He has taken a day off work. And he has sourced the tickets from the internet, we are going to see Milkwood. We have the Melbourne Fringe Festival on at the moment, Milkwood is part of that festival. I better find something nice to wear, and put on some makeup.

This is a nice picture of us taken last week when we visited Marysville Vic to see how the town has recovered after the devastating Black Saturday fires. This is what 4 years of weathering devastation looks like on our faces, older with a little bit of hope for the future.

Ten Questions on the theme of trees - still life 365

still life 365 is a unique art project for, about and by mothers, fathers, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles and friends who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. still life 365 posts a piece of art every day by a poet, artist, photographer, crafter, musician, collagist, paper artist, filmmaker, painter, sculptor, fabric artist and ordinary person exploring grief through creativity. each piece is an expression of grief, survival, sadness, love and hope. still life 365 is intended to be a safe space for creative expression. still life 365 is open to anyone affected by pregnancy loss not simply parents.

1. When you saw the theme of trees for the month of September, what immediately came to your mind?
Barren, dead trees, we are coming out of winter here and the deciduous trees didn't have leaves yet. They looked barren and everything was so cold. Now only 4 weeks later, my Elm trees have flowered, we can see the new life. I know that barren doesn't mean dead. It is just such a long time since they seemed alive.
2. What kinds of words do you associate with trees?
Dark, strong, heavy, shade, wind, shelter, growing, silent, shadows, support, cradling,
3. Of these words, do you associate any with yourself?
Strong, heavy and supporting are word that I associate with myself. I am quite physically strong, I am not a delicate build, hence I relate the word heavy. I have always been overweight. Recently I have lost over 25kg but I still have an obese BMI. Supporting, I will help anyone who needs help, I am better at actions than words. Silent as I grow older I am better at holding my thoughts close. Shadows, there are shadows of pain left inside me that most people would not know exist.
4. Have you been an outdoorsy person throughout your life?
Yes, one of my favourite places to be out doors is located just 2 hours drive away. It is Wilsons Promontory National Park. Our family would camp there when we were kids for the whole summer holiday, there was no power (except for the amenities blocks). We ran wild, walked all over, swan and surfed went fishing and ate fish for 6 weeks. Our family has always had pets and for a while we kept farm animals and horses on a small property we had. I particularly love horses and dogs. I don't have any horses now but I walk my dogs most days in any weather, we have 3 dogs, 2 are Irish Terriers, and we have 1 very small Tenterfield terrier mix. The video shows Doug and Bella, it was before Erin came to live with us.
5. How has your relationship with nature changed since your loss(es)?
Walks at the beach became a favourite thing to do with my Husband after Thomas died. Its so peaceful there, everything is so big, the sky the water, it makes me feel small and my problems feel small. Photographing sunsets and the water is something I have never really done before he died, now I have many many sunset photos. I suppose I am trying to capture the moment. I am not a good enough photographer to really capture the beauty of my amazing environment on the Mornington Peninsula but that doesn't stop me trying.
6. Did you plant a tree or bush in honor of your child?
No I haven't. I have actually left my garden to die. We have been in the grip of a terrible 10 year long drought. There has been strict restrictions for watering gardens, people were having to resort to saving the water from their showers and washing machines to put on their gardens. Some managed to keep their gardens alive, most have simply pulled theirs up and replanted drought tolerant species. There has been too much death in my garden lately to plant a rememberance tree.
7. If you have planted a tree for your child, in what ways do you incorporate the tree into your life? If you haven't, what natural images do you associate with your loss? (Do you tend to it? Do you meditate or reflect under it? Do you places flowers by it?)
I prefer to reflect in the water and air (that sounds too airy-fairy) but we always think of Thomas as having flown away (like the hymn I'll Fly away). So birds cause us to reflect sometimes, not always, airplanes with double wings always make me think of him. On Thomas' second birthday when I was picking up his portrait from a local portrait artist, a magnificent Heron came to rest on the edge of the creek at the bottom of the garden. He waited a while and I took his picture before he flew away. The lady artist, Meredith said that it was an extremely rare sighting, and she had lived there for more than 40 years. We are having Thomas' memorial plaque made with Australian Native birds on it.
8. Trees have also been used to represent families. Talk a bit about your own family tree.
I have researched my family free. Its pretty straight forward, our family originates from Worksop, Nottinghamshire UK. Then "our branch" travelled to New Zealand, and then generations later, to Australia. When the family tree gets to me, the branches get into a big tangled mess. There is a break (divorce) unwed parents, and death, and that just relates to myself and my 4 children.
9. What are your feelings now about family trees and exploring your own lineage?
I found out a few things about my predecessors when researching my family tree. There were a couple of births to women in their 40's and in 1880 or thereabouts giving birth in your 40's would have been very hard. Giving birth would have been a highly risky event during those times. There were some children whose births were recorded by the church but they did not appear on the census, I believe that means that they would have died. One family had a marriage recorded, with a birth just 6 months later, then the death of the mother a couple of days after the birth and a couple of weeks later the death of the baby. I was researching this information while I was pregnant with Thomas and it knocked me around a bit, I now know a little of the pain that they would have felt. I am thankful that it wasn't me living in those times, I am also thankful that I come from from people who were strong and healthy. My predecessors were Bricklayers and Bakers. I wonder if thats why I love bread, I don't love laying bricks though.
10. The rings of trees fascinate me. I remember learning that in hard years, the rings were smaller, or darker than in years of good water. Describe the rings of your tree.
I think that the rings of my tree are mostly all small and dark, I have been weathering a storm of some kind most of my life. This storm has been the hardest. I am coming up for my 4 year anniversary of my marriage. The first year I was pregnant, the second was the year Thomas was born and died, and from then there has been grief. They have all been really tough years. Every year I have felt like bailing out at some point. Every year I have hung on through my fight or flight times. I have chosen to fight to stay married. It has been one of the hardest things I have chosen to do.


Carrying and delivering Thomas and watching him struggle for life and then losing him has been the most defining experience, I am forever altered by it. It was such an expectant time, full of grief and hope. Grief for the things that were wrong and hope for the promise of the future. I find I am humbled, saddened, shattered, exhausted, shocked, angry, thankful, scared, in awe, dazed, and determined that Thomas' life will not become an event that I will find a way to harden up and get over. His life and death will be something that I will hold dear to me, keeping him alive in my heart. I want to remain vulnerable to my grief, to others grief for this reason.

Memorial Plaque

We went and placed our order for Thomas' memorial plaque today.

We decided on the Native Birds design. The Cherry Blossom stone and a grey finish to the plaque. We made a 20% payment and we will pay it off over the next 4 months. We just need to decide on the inscription.

I took some pictures at the cemetery while we were there. It is a very peaceful and pretty place.

Computer Grief

I was just reading this amazing poem on Still Life 365 and grief hits me.

I try and make a comment that does some justice to the effort of the writer, the depth of my feelings and the unfairness of writing a poem about a baby who died. And I cry.

My computer ends up being the witness to my grief most times. It is when I connect with blogs on my reading list that I allow my feelings to surface. Face to face with my computer its safe to grieve. My Hubby and son are used to it and they don't comment when I am crying and reading or if I sit here all night long, they have stopped asking why.

Most of the blogs I read are written by women. Most of their readers are women gauging by the comments. Most of the authors and I have the death of their baby or significant loss in common. We mostly have grief in common. Everybody expresses their grief differently and we are often in different places based on our family's needs and our own needs. But I find that there are these fundamental places that grief takes all of us. Heartbroken and inconsolable the feelings of loneliness and forever altered, permanent differentness is stamped on each of us. We all struggle to jump back into the human race, and we do so as it is required, with varying levels of success but we are all changed by grief. The blogging community is a lifeline for many of us. I wouldn't say its a lifeline for me, I have met one lovely babylost mum (Hi, how are you going today?) but I haven't got any face to face, email or phone friendships from this community. I feel quite lonely.

I am used to being lonely, I haven't written that so that people will behave differently either. I have always felt lonely or alone, my first memory of feeling lonely is in the middle of Primary School. I was probably 10 or 11. Grief is a different kind of lonely. People don't understand why I am still so deep in grief when they have already moved on to the next thing in their lives. So I hide it. I separate myself. I don't know any other way to behave like I am normal. Their kind of normal. Hiding it doesn't work though, because nobody wants to bring it up in case it upsets me (as if I have forgotten all about it, like loosing $20 at the beach last summer), I end up grieving all alone, except for the blogging community. I am validated by them, I feel what they feel, therefore I am not mad, and the normal that I have to pretend to be is the real madness, and the blogging community validates that too (thank you everyone). I don't really have to make personal relationships to get that validation.

My family have all done so many things since my little Thomas came along. There have been overseas holidays, deaths of significant pets, children maturing and leaving home, first jobs, new jobs, qualifications earned, holiday celebrations, major health issues, family businesses sold, relationships ended, divorce, home renovations, new governments, relationships started, babies born, family breakdown, absent fathers, changing churches, money trouble, to name a few. People move on to these new places, but I don't. I don't move on, I cant move on, I am tethered to the place and time of Thomas' birth and death. I can experience those other things and reluctantly I have been present for many of them but I will always affected by the dates 17th October 2007 and 29th February 2008 and the days in between. I will never drive past one of the major hospitals in Melbourne with any other thought in my mind. I understand now that there are people who will never ever get this. I am very happy for them because they will never know this pain, they are spared.

I sit at my computer and catch up on Blog posts and comments in the mornings usually and also some evenings. Some bloggers take professional photos and post heaps of them, so I as the reader get a visual experience along with a story. The art blogs are inspiring and the artists make it look so simple, I am inspired to spend some cash on art materials, then I get stuck. Some write from their vast storehouse of experience of grief plus their infertility, or their parenting journey, disability and homeschooling, home makeovers, craft and food, weight loss, the list goes on. I want to know about people and I really enjoy reading. Blogs affect me, I like it that way. Each blog is like a never ending interactive book, until it ends or goes private. I wonder if there are any blogs in my reader that will still be there in the years in the future. I hope so. I wonder if mine will still be there.

I am not obsessed. Well, not as much as I used to be. I spend a minimum of 4 to 5 hours a week reading blogs, usually more, hence I rarely post on my own blog. Time is not the only reason I don't post very often. I find it very difficult to be actually honest about myself in a way that tells my story and shows my personality in a positive light. Also I think I have something to say then I second guess myself and I stay silent because I don't think anyone will want to read what I have posted. Blogging is such a one sided conversation, and when it's about stuff that is in the vulnerable places of my spirit and my soul I want it to appear as acceptable so I don't have to carry more pain. I am so tired of pain, it is a well worn feeling that has shaped my core. I don't want people to feel sorry for me and to be put into the too hard basket, I want people to know who I am without having to add more pain. I want to be liked.

I sometimes wonder if I just let all my stuff out onto my blog if anyone would even notice or care. I don't think I have any non-following family members who reads. But I can't write a personal grievance here, just in case I upset someone.

There are some amazing writers out there and their stories lead us into cultures that I will never get to experience first hand. I am very happy to experience them second hand via a story. I really love stories. I believe grief is important work and I want to be part of the validation process too. For my own sake as well as yours (the reader). I write this post because it means that I have to feel bold to feel OK about writing my opinion and feelings. Even though my writing is nothing special and I don't make many typos, and my photography is average, (because I usually haven't charged the camera and use my mobile phone instead) I continue to post bits and pieces. Sometimes I feel like my voice is not adding anything to the mix. Today I am putting my opinion forward and trying to honestly reveal some of me.

Maybe its because I read Rachel Simon's Angry Day and I related to it, and I cried.

Its a small world

.......even when you are interred

When I was at the cemetary today I had a good walk around looking at the plaques nearby our little Thomas.

I was surprised when I saw that a young man that I have known for most of my life is resting just up the street from Thomas and on the other side.

Also,

My neighbor from over the road (from my actual house), her grandson lies only 1 space away from Thomas and behind him (facing the other way).

Its been a long time since I have been to visit the cemetary.

I am ready to have a memorial plaque placed for Thomas, he lies in a lawn cemetary so there are only flat plaques in his area.

It costs about $2,200 and it takes about 10-12 weeks.

I have to get my husbands permission because he owns the plot. I hope he is ready too.

What do you think of these possibilities?