I cannot think of a suitable way to tell people that I have had a miscarriage. Lost the baby. Was pregnant but am not anymore. I am not in denial, it is just that I have a problem with the words failing so miserably to convey the way I am feeling.
Firstly 'miscarriage'. It seems to imply that I was, initially, capable of carrying the most precious thing in the world, then I managed through ignorance, stupidity or naivety to mis-carry, let the little dot slip from my grasp. Surely medical terminology can come up with something kinder than that word? - then again, perhaps not, if the medical description of 'not viable', (a term surely coined by a middle aged man with a business degree) is anything to go by.
Then there is 'lost baby'. Like I put it down somewhere in my absentminded-ness and cripes! I just can't think where I jolly well left it!? Lost and gone forever.
But it isnt lost - it's still with me. And I will carry it in my memory, 7 weeks of joy are worth remembering and celebrating. In a similar way the term 'grieving' sits badly. Do I have the right to grieve for 7 weeks of joy? I know this is a light load to carry in comparison with the millstones of many on this planet.
The meaning of the words, and the words are, irrelevant. Its my personal feeling that I am entitled to feel. And if I need someone to know how I am feeling, I need only think of the women who also know this feeling. There are many of us, and somehow, knowing that is soothing.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Beware of the Dog
Little Brother is obsessed with them, and Big Brother has up until now been petrified of man's best furry friend.
I think it started for BB on his first docking expedition, where he experienced firsthand the pandemonium of sheep, dogs, noise, mud and motorbikes. Spot at the Farm books were just no preparation for the real thing. The farm dogs are a long way on the scari-ometer from any miniature rat like poochy he's seen in a handbag in town. And it probably didn't help his slightly older boy cousin is a natural farmer who draughts the pet lambs for fun and was in the docking pen tackling everything that baa'ed. My wee towny child had no idea what was going on, and refused to get off the motorbike. For hours.
But that was a year or so ago. He's made great improvement and will now reach out to pat a friendly pooch. On the tail.
But isn't if just ironic that the first time he decides to 'Feel the fear and do it anyway' he strides bravely up to the fence and reaches out his tender little hand to pat a friendly pit bull terrier!
He also seems drawn to dobermans. All that positive reinforcement of Dogs being Lovely seems to be coming back to bite me. I hope that I am the only one thats ever bitten!
I think it started for BB on his first docking expedition, where he experienced firsthand the pandemonium of sheep, dogs, noise, mud and motorbikes. Spot at the Farm books were just no preparation for the real thing. The farm dogs are a long way on the scari-ometer from any miniature rat like poochy he's seen in a handbag in town. And it probably didn't help his slightly older boy cousin is a natural farmer who draughts the pet lambs for fun and was in the docking pen tackling everything that baa'ed. My wee towny child had no idea what was going on, and refused to get off the motorbike. For hours.
But that was a year or so ago. He's made great improvement and will now reach out to pat a friendly pooch. On the tail.
But isn't if just ironic that the first time he decides to 'Feel the fear and do it anyway' he strides bravely up to the fence and reaches out his tender little hand to pat a friendly pit bull terrier!
He also seems drawn to dobermans. All that positive reinforcement of Dogs being Lovely seems to be coming back to bite me. I hope that I am the only one thats ever bitten!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Promise lost, this time
On Saturday morning I was feeling sorry for myself because I was pregnant. Nauseous, hung over feeling like I'd inhaled a bottle of rum (which I hasten to assure you I hadn't), tired, full bladder, and that was before I'd even got out of bed.
On Sunday morning I was devastated because I'm not pregnant any more. Just as we started yelling from the rooftops news of our wee no.3, our cherry on top, our possibly pink addition, our piece d'resistance, the last of the Mohican's, the end of the line, the littlest pea in the pod, (it even had started a catalogue of pet names e.g. brucetta, aka cheryl moana maree)...the story ended with a few stomach cramps, bleeding, and a rather broken heart.
Only 7 weeks into pregnancy I know the stats, the chances, the possibility of Mother Natures highly efficient selection process deciding this one was not 'viable'. But didn't she know I had already seen a life intimately intertwined with mine, a long life of possibilities and loving and mothering for my little mass of rapidly dividing cells?
I'm not questioning that there is order in your chaos, Ma Nate, I just find it hard to let go of all the promise contained in that beautiful + on the preggy test.
I am so grateful for what I have - my beautiful sons and their wonderful father, my health and my family and friends who rise up so seamlessly to catch you at time like this when you are free falling without even knowing it.
Quotes from W. George, 3 years old man wise:
Overheard from the toilet as he did his independent business..
'That stinks GOOD'
Talking about numbers and ages, he said ' I'm three'
I dumbly asked ' And how old am I?'
Grin. ' You're sixty-two'.
'WHAT?'
Laugh. 'No, you're forty six'.
Hysterical laugh.
Fancy helping to improve third world conditions while sitting on your couch reading a good book?
For this type of VSA (Volunteer Services on your Arse) check out www.goodbooksnz.co.nz - great books great prices and all the profits go to Oxfam. Yah for consumering with a conscience.
On Sunday morning I was devastated because I'm not pregnant any more. Just as we started yelling from the rooftops news of our wee no.3, our cherry on top, our possibly pink addition, our piece d'resistance, the last of the Mohican's, the end of the line, the littlest pea in the pod, (it even had started a catalogue of pet names e.g. brucetta, aka cheryl moana maree)...the story ended with a few stomach cramps, bleeding, and a rather broken heart.
Only 7 weeks into pregnancy I know the stats, the chances, the possibility of Mother Natures highly efficient selection process deciding this one was not 'viable'. But didn't she know I had already seen a life intimately intertwined with mine, a long life of possibilities and loving and mothering for my little mass of rapidly dividing cells?
I'm not questioning that there is order in your chaos, Ma Nate, I just find it hard to let go of all the promise contained in that beautiful + on the preggy test.
I am so grateful for what I have - my beautiful sons and their wonderful father, my health and my family and friends who rise up so seamlessly to catch you at time like this when you are free falling without even knowing it.
Quotes from W. George, 3 years old man wise:
Overheard from the toilet as he did his independent business..
'That stinks GOOD'
Talking about numbers and ages, he said ' I'm three'
I dumbly asked ' And how old am I?'
Grin. ' You're sixty-two'.
'WHAT?'
Laugh. 'No, you're forty six'.
Hysterical laugh.
Fancy helping to improve third world conditions while sitting on your couch reading a good book?
For this type of VSA (Volunteer Services on your Arse) check out www.goodbooksnz.co.nz - great books great prices and all the profits go to Oxfam. Yah for consumering with a conscience.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thumb sucking skiier
It is incongruous seeing a child so little he is sucking his thumb, while sliding down the learners slope on ski's.
We had our first family day on the snow last week - it was a glorious spring day, frazzling bright sunshine and soft white snow.
We decked out big brother in his thermals, ski suit, hat, goggles, mittens and eventually persuaded him to put on the ski boots. He was right into stomping the snow with his boots so, Dad and son went off to launch his skiing career. Meanwhile, I parked the car and caught the bus back up with Little brother and lunch in tow. Unfortunately because of the 20 mins it took me I did miss most of Big Brother first skiing experience - he was sucking his thumb by the time I arrived, 'I want to go home, now' he said.
But he showed me his new skills - or rather, demonstrated how easy it is to intuitively pick up a skill when you're 3. He enjoyed falling over and wallowing about, sliding down the snow towards Dad, and stringing together turns like it was second nature to have two big planks strapped to his feet.
Definitely lunch time by then - so after a play in the cafe, Dad headed off to get his powder fix, and the boys and I tackled snowman construction. Little Brother was not sure about the whole thing - did not want to keep his goggles on, hated the mittens, then got quite a fright to find the snow was cold. He cheered up after our next activity - eating iceblocks - and we had a great sledding session back down to the carpark.
The ultimate highlight of the day followed - a ride on the free bus that troops up and back to the car parks. The boys got used to their goggles, and enjoyed the novelty of all the white fluffy stuff. Totally exhausted we all headed home. I can start to imagine great family holidays of the future - with 2 snow crazy boys (make that 3) leaving their mother way behind in their tracks, the feeling of exhaustion that comes from a perfect day on the snow, envigorated by that uncomparable mountain air!
Saving the planet today ...one recycled tyre stack aka potato grower at a time! Hurrah for new spuds at Christmas, drooling already.
Hurrah for Get growing with NZ Gardener Email Club - sign up for this weekly inspiring email at getgrowing@nzgardener.co.nz !!!!
We had our first family day on the snow last week - it was a glorious spring day, frazzling bright sunshine and soft white snow.
We decked out big brother in his thermals, ski suit, hat, goggles, mittens and eventually persuaded him to put on the ski boots. He was right into stomping the snow with his boots so, Dad and son went off to launch his skiing career. Meanwhile, I parked the car and caught the bus back up with Little brother and lunch in tow. Unfortunately because of the 20 mins it took me I did miss most of Big Brother first skiing experience - he was sucking his thumb by the time I arrived, 'I want to go home, now' he said.
But he showed me his new skills - or rather, demonstrated how easy it is to intuitively pick up a skill when you're 3. He enjoyed falling over and wallowing about, sliding down the snow towards Dad, and stringing together turns like it was second nature to have two big planks strapped to his feet.
Definitely lunch time by then - so after a play in the cafe, Dad headed off to get his powder fix, and the boys and I tackled snowman construction. Little Brother was not sure about the whole thing - did not want to keep his goggles on, hated the mittens, then got quite a fright to find the snow was cold. He cheered up after our next activity - eating iceblocks - and we had a great sledding session back down to the carpark.
The ultimate highlight of the day followed - a ride on the free bus that troops up and back to the car parks. The boys got used to their goggles, and enjoyed the novelty of all the white fluffy stuff. Totally exhausted we all headed home. I can start to imagine great family holidays of the future - with 2 snow crazy boys (make that 3) leaving their mother way behind in their tracks, the feeling of exhaustion that comes from a perfect day on the snow, envigorated by that uncomparable mountain air!
Saving the planet today ...one recycled tyre stack aka potato grower at a time! Hurrah for new spuds at Christmas, drooling already.
Hurrah for Get growing with NZ Gardener Email Club - sign up for this weekly inspiring email at getgrowing@nzgardener.co.nz !!!!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Rise of the HWAD
Sorry it seems I've lost track of the last 3 weeks - it's been a blur. Someone asked me what we were doing for Christmas the other day. I assume the blank vacant look of reply I gave them convinced them I was in no state to face up to the realities of stampeding time. The conversation fizzled. ( I have barely removed the decorations from last year.)
The pink arm has gone - free at last! - replaced by a puny white weakling with lots of black ingrown hairs. That hurts when I move it. The glass half full view is that it IS improving every day, soon it'll be back to it's rambo-esque physique.
Sadly today is the last day of my ACC provided home help. My house is cleaner and tidier than it has ever been, and I know this because everyone comments. It will relapse shortly I am sure.
Meanwhile the boys are growing up beautiful and happy. Snotty and perversely independent too. I have rechristened Little Brother the Human Weetbix Absorption Device. He has 3-4 in his own plate every day, then tends to polish off Big Brothers remnants of 4. He's also up for a few mouthfuls of porridge from Mum or Dad, and never turns down a piece of toast. By that time he may be ready for morning tea. I am ploughing up the lawn and sowing a few rows of wheat.
The pink arm has gone - free at last! - replaced by a puny white weakling with lots of black ingrown hairs. That hurts when I move it. The glass half full view is that it IS improving every day, soon it'll be back to it's rambo-esque physique.
Sadly today is the last day of my ACC provided home help. My house is cleaner and tidier than it has ever been, and I know this because everyone comments. It will relapse shortly I am sure.
Meanwhile the boys are growing up beautiful and happy. Snotty and perversely independent too. I have rechristened Little Brother the Human Weetbix Absorption Device. He has 3-4 in his own plate every day, then tends to polish off Big Brothers remnants of 4. He's also up for a few mouthfuls of porridge from Mum or Dad, and never turns down a piece of toast. By that time he may be ready for morning tea. I am ploughing up the lawn and sowing a few rows of wheat.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
O O O what did we do before...
the Olympics? Was there life before? Will there be life after? If I feel this exhausted how are the athletes going to survive?
Its been a telly-fest. The boys have loved it.
During the gymnastics Big Brother started launching himself off the back of the couch, twisting his body into spins and flips and landing on his head in the cushions. Not quite a 10 out of 10 routine but his training schedule has been rather neglected.
Then came the swimming and the Ph-(elps)-ish (disguised as a man). I examined the boys feet to see if they were paddle-like or sported any webbing that at any other time would mean a trip to the plastic surgeon, but this week would inspire me to phone a swimming coach. I measured their arms span in relation to their height (Phelps is taller sideways). Bit too cold to throw them in the pool this week.
Then came the Lightning Bolt. We ran and thumped our chests and tried to look like we weren't even puffed.
And the rowing and the shotput (had to send them outside to throw oranges).
After watching the swimming one night I said to BB - 'Do you want to be an Olympic swimmer?'
'No', he said.
'What would you like to do?' I asked
'I need to run' he said, and paused (I visualised the odds of winning gold in the 100m sprint with the genetic disadvantage of me as his mother) but then he continued, ' with a rugby ball'.
Of course there is life after the Olympics...its called rugby.
Its been a telly-fest. The boys have loved it.
During the gymnastics Big Brother started launching himself off the back of the couch, twisting his body into spins and flips and landing on his head in the cushions. Not quite a 10 out of 10 routine but his training schedule has been rather neglected.
Then came the swimming and the Ph-(elps)-ish (disguised as a man). I examined the boys feet to see if they were paddle-like or sported any webbing that at any other time would mean a trip to the plastic surgeon, but this week would inspire me to phone a swimming coach. I measured their arms span in relation to their height (Phelps is taller sideways). Bit too cold to throw them in the pool this week.
Then came the Lightning Bolt. We ran and thumped our chests and tried to look like we weren't even puffed.
And the rowing and the shotput (had to send them outside to throw oranges).
After watching the swimming one night I said to BB - 'Do you want to be an Olympic swimmer?'
'No', he said.
'What would you like to do?' I asked
'I need to run' he said, and paused (I visualised the odds of winning gold in the 100m sprint with the genetic disadvantage of me as his mother) but then he continued, ' with a rugby ball'.
Of course there is life after the Olympics...its called rugby.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Where did he get that from?
For sooo long I've been waiting to get a glimpse of what is going on in Big Brothers head. Now at last his language skills are getting closer to being in sync with his wee whizzing mind.
(I imagine its like a scene in star wars where the little space ship finally docks onto the side of the massive space ship, and suddenly gets thrown into it's over whelming information/gravity field). (Made more sense in my head than on paper, guess that's why i need more practise at this writing lark)
But since he's docked he is coming out with some simply great observations and conversations:
Today: 'I'm not feeling very well'
Concerned Mother: 'What's wrong, dear'
Reply in grave tone: 'I'm a bit big'.
Actually I wasn't that concerned. Ever since he was unwell last week he has used the 'I'm not feeling very well' call as a lead into 'I need to watch a d-v-d-va'. Or 'I need some Pamol'.
A few weeks ago as we hopped into the car : 'I smell horse poo'.
And another example from the where-did-he-get-that-from-basket, I took a crayon out of his mouth and said 'Don't put that in your mouth, dear'.
'But', he yelled ' I'm smoking'.
?????!
(I imagine its like a scene in star wars where the little space ship finally docks onto the side of the massive space ship, and suddenly gets thrown into it's over whelming information/gravity field). (Made more sense in my head than on paper, guess that's why i need more practise at this writing lark)
But since he's docked he is coming out with some simply great observations and conversations:
Today: 'I'm not feeling very well'
Concerned Mother: 'What's wrong, dear'
Reply in grave tone: 'I'm a bit big'.
Actually I wasn't that concerned. Ever since he was unwell last week he has used the 'I'm not feeling very well' call as a lead into 'I need to watch a d-v-d-va'. Or 'I need some Pamol'.
A few weeks ago as we hopped into the car : 'I smell horse poo'.
And another example from the where-did-he-get-that-from-basket, I took a crayon out of his mouth and said 'Don't put that in your mouth, dear'.
'But', he yelled ' I'm smoking'.
?????!
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