Love...the friendship kind

There are so many things I have wanted to blog about lately: Hope, feeling lost, self-medicating, moving on, the grief journey and decisions but I haven't been able to. I have been in a bit of a dark patch actually, drinking too much, smoking too much and just generally feeling like crap. BUT a moment I had on the weekend reminded me that I have the truest, dearest and most wonderful set of girlfriends in the world. So that today, electronic world, will be my focus!

My closest girlfriends, three lovely ladies and me. Each in their own way struggling with heartbreak. Three of us are moving into our second decade of friendship. We enjoyed each others' company at the best times of our lives and we have seen each other at the lowest of the low: forging a bond that invisibly connects us through everything. We all four are mothers, the other three have their children here on Earth and two of us share the unfortunate bond of being a Babyloss Mum.

I realized on the weekend that these women have an amazing (uncanny, unbelievable, wonderful, heart warming and soul comforting) ability to know just when I need them. One of them was speaking of her experience during her 20 wk scan for her daughter now 3. It was a conversation filler, she wasn't particularly invested in the story and nor were the other two. But to me it was different. I was instantly and painfully transported back to that room on that day. Hearing those words for the very first time again: we suspect spina bifida, the fluid on the brain is extensive. I was standing at a pub, drinking a beer, with my close girlfriends but feeling the pain, vulnerability and heartache of that moment my life changed. It hurt. I sipped my beer as J told her story, desperatly wishing that my 20 wk scan story had a different ending. One like hers, that ended with a healthy, happy baby. But it doesn't. I listened to the story. I held it together, but they knew, my girlfriends KNEW my heart was breaking all over again right there in the cobblestoned courtyard.

A hug, a kiss and a few I love you's were the bandaids they applied to temporarily piece my heart together again. And in that instant I felt so very lucky that I had found three amazing women to share my journey with. Each of them so very different but each of them willing, in their own time of grief, to assist me with mine. I will forever love them. I will forever be grateful for that moment and for every moment I spend with them. True friendship isn't strengthened through a shared passion for designer shoes or a mutual love of mojito's (although that helps) it's the look that says 'I know you are in pain and I am right there with you'.

I hope you have such friends.

Connection

I was asked recently if I felt Marin’s presence. That question really stumped me. I honestly couldn’t. I couldn’t feel my daughter’s presence but my god I could feel her absence. How is the blood still pumping around my body? That’s how big the hole feels. It’s constant. Missing her bookmarks everything I do, I say, I feel. It doesn’t, in these early days seem to get better or worse. It is just constant.

So with her absence an ever constant in my life, and no partner and my housemate R away at the moment I have been feeling very lonely. Lonely enough to watch four Harry Potter movies in one day(!). Although even when I do spend time with friends I still feel lonely, because she isn’t here with me. I have wanted to feel her but I can’t. I think of her but I can’t FEEL her with me.

I drove to Canberra on Friday afternoon. I was feeling particularly sad after driving past a hearse, wishing I was grieving at least my adult child instead of my baby. I stopped at the red light. An old man began to cross the road and I looked at him. POW the universe struck me so suddenly with a feeling of warmth, comfort and presence. This man looked remarkably like my Poppa, who died in 1998. I instantly felt the presence of my family. All those who had passed away were with me. Suddenly my car, that had seemed so empty not two minutes before, was filled to capacity. My Nanna, Poppa, Grandma (Mamma), Auntie, Sister and my dear darling Daughter were with me.

I have never felt so alone and yet so comforted at the same time. What a tragedy that I have so many dear ones passed. But how lovely that they are all ‘up there’ together, looking after Marin. Please visit me more often. I miss you and love you all, x.

Joy

A moment of joy. I was on holidays in Western Australia and enjoying the moon rise at a National Park. I was just about to meet M the fisherman, Marin's Daddy. This was the beginning. I look at that girl in the photo and I think, she looks so carefree and happy. She wasn't really, but she sure looks that way. If only she knew. If only she knew what her future held. If I could go back and tell her what the next six months entails, would I? Would I take the opportunity to avoid the heartache?

I will experience moments of joy again, and they will be more joyful than this one. More so because I will be sharing them with my daughter. Every single one. And that makes the pain just bearable right now.

Before and After

That’s what my life is now: the before and after.

Before her conception

After the pregnancy test

Before I told her father

After I told my parents

Before the diagnosis

After the decision

Before her birth

After her death and all thereafter

That’s where I am now. In the thereafter. Join me.

I have read some amazing stories and seen some inspiring projects by other Babyloss Mum’s and I don’t have any plans (yet) for international campaigns or global movements. So whilst I am unsure about the long term purpose of this blog (not so great considering this is the first post!) I am sure of one thing. If I can light one beacon on this lonely road for a fellow Babyloss Mum then it is all worthwhile.

'Vulnere Viresco'
through my wound I grow strong