Wednesday, 6 January 2010

Day 443

George would have been bundled up in his cosy snowsuit and probably tottering between us, Mummy and Daddy with a hand each. We would have let him touch and taste the snow, lie down in it if he wanted. We would have made him a snowman to trample. He would have been rosy cheeked and happy. Definitely happy. It's my fantasy after all, we are always happy.
As it is we made a snowman for ourselves. You can see Ray to the right of this photo and the tracks are his rolling tracks.


He rolled his snowball around and around watched and emulated by several children. I rolled my snowball around a bit less and made the head. We laughed. We gave him a punk hairdo and a winking eye just to be "funky". And left him with the hope that we will see him again at the weekend when we take Ray's sister and niece to play.


After the snowman challenge we warmed ourselves in the car with hot tea and watched a young couple pull up in their car and unload their two young daughters, one just walking. They were all woefully under-dressed for snow. Mum had on her leggings and a "fashion" coat, and Dad's jeans barely covered his bum. I had on four top layers under my coat and two pairs of jeans and I was still chilly (yea I know, wimp). They spent less than 10 minutes in the snow before bundling their girls back into the car and driving off. I hadn't even begun my tea. We chuckled at their un-preparedness and tears quietly pricked my eyes. We could do better. Why not us? It's not bloody fair.

Reading blogs this morning I was struck by a few sentences in Leila's mommy's blog.
"sure, from their standpoint i am free now. i can do all the things that i would have had to give up had Leila not died."
There's no freedom in being parent to a dead baby. Whatever we do he is there, just out of sight, just out of reach. When we are adventuring I sometimes forget to stop myself before I mentally list the things we would need and the things we would do with our boy. Even now after 443 days without him. Maybe it's just the ex-nanny in me but it is exhausting at times and I would dearly like to. let. it. go. I'm trying.

I have spent this last year doing many things with the ghost of my son in my head and the back seat of our car.

I am frightened by the thought that we might not be able to have another child, that I am too old, and that I will only ever get to parent George's ghost. That can't be right.

I try to keep all of those thoughts at bay and live in the moment but I don't always succeed.

I am trying.

Always trying.





14 comments:

  1. Oh, dear, dear, Barbara. You will never forget. We will never forget. George.

    I pray that you will have the opportunity to parent a child here, on earth.

    Love the snowman, by the way.

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  2. I just wish there was something to make this better, I really wish. I want this universe to start listening and to cut you a break. F&*k, I just wish for you and Ray.

    xxx

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  3. I LOVE the snowman :) ... and everything you said rang so true. I sometimes try quite deliberately not to notice milestones but the ghost of who they should be, it is always there.

    I so want you and Ray to have the chance to parent a living child too - you would be so awesome at it.

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  4. What a beautiful post. So much of what you said is how I feel too. Doing things everyday with a little ghost child never far away...

    I love the snow man!

    ((((((hugs))))))

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  5. There is no freedom. None...

    I love your snowman, especially his mohawk.

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  6. 443 days. Remembering George with you.

    Of course he would have been happy! And appropriately dressed for playing in the snow.

    Yeah, there is no freedom gained from a deadbaby; all that "free" time is spent wondering how you are supposed to live the rest of your life out without them. Caring for a deadbaby takes up much more time then other people could ever believe is possible.

    Your snowman is wonderful :)

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  7. oh hon... so much of this resonated with me deeply. so much... the baby missing in the backseat, the fear that all I will ever know is mothering a dead child, the inability to live in the moment. I wish I had words to comfort you, but I know that even trying is useless. Just know that halfway across the world is a friend who hears you, cares about you, and is "trying, always trying" right along side you.

    Peacexx

    Kristin

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  8. Oh Barb, I hope and pray you'll get a second chance. It does seem so unfair that some people seem able to parent children that they are woefully unprepared for while others who are ready and full of love have to wait. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you.

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  9. No. That can't be right. I'm hoping 2010 is the year of Ray & Barb. And of course the little one soon to join you both.
    Lovely yet heartbreaking post.
    xo

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  10. I hear ye Barb...I worry about the exact same things - am I too old to have another baby? Will I just be mom to Akul and never have him in my arms? Even if I have another baby using IVF, will that baby survive? Will that baby be normal? Many many hugsssss to George and you. I look at my Akul pendant which caresses my skin each day, and I think of you and I thank you for this very precious gift.

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  11. No. It just can't be right Barb.

    Just as Akul's mama wrote. I too hold my tiny pendants each day. And I think of you each time I hold them.

    You are so beautiful Barb, and yes if you are ever in the area, you must stop by for that cup of tea.

    I love you x

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  12. As Carly and Sally have said, it simply can't be right.

    And as AnnaMarie says above, George would have had such a lovely time and he would have been dressed up cosily for the snow. I'm sure he would have chuckled to see the snowman that you made.

    I wear my pendant all the time. I think of my girl. I think of your boy. Hoping and wishing for you and Ray xo

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  13. I know so well that wondering, that "Is this as close as I get?" feeling. And I hate that you're having to feel it now. I will never stop hoping and believing for you and Ray.

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  14. "Whatever we do he is there, just out of sight, just out of reach" - aaahhhhh. Aching for you and hoping for 2010 for you and Ray. xo

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