Happysadhappysad

I mean, oh great... no... I mean, how wonderful, can't wait to congratulate them.

Ray's two sisters both have children but none of his three younger brothers do... did. He was going to be the first of the "male side of the family" to have children. Now it will be the next youngest brother. 4 months. They didn't tell us, they were worried about telling us. I'm worrying about seeing them on Boxing day at his Mum's.

Why can't it be us.

Sometimes I think I might explode.

Blur

I haven't had time. I've been worrying. I've been caring. I've been visiting. I've been neglecting. I've been avoiding thinking too far into the future.

My Mum was in hospital for 5 days with nasty asthma, home for a couple of weeks and then whooping up a coughing storm for the last week and a half.

She is my Dad's carer and so my Dad has been in a respite care home being pampered by the lovely care staff/nurses.

She tearfully misses him holding her hand. For 50 odd years they have only been apart for babies, fibroids and gallstones.

I miss things the way they were before Altzheimers elbowed it's way in.

My brother arrived yesterday and so I stopped worrying about my Mum being on her own and feeling guilty for not wanting to sleep on her floor.

My brother took my Dad for a pint of beer yesterday and is taking him to watch a football match in a pub tonight. My Dad is doing quite well out of this. And as Ray has noticed, being in an unfamiliar place has forced him to use his brain without having my Mum to fill in the gaps.

My Mum is beginning to recover. I am beginning to breath a little easier.

I used to be blonde

Guess who got a new scanner? (after thinking about it for years and finally taking my old printer to the recycling centre) Be prepared to be bombarded with photos of my early years.

This photo brings such raw feelings to the surface.
In that other reality I'm breast feeding my own baby.

My Dad's Mom. Nanny Boucher.

Three generations. Mum, my Nanny Rose in the middle-ground and me in the background. My Nan looked ill here and she died young just a few years later at 67.

Damn I was cute!

Ladies, I am fine after yesterday's meeting. I'm slowly letting go of my anger at the way I have been treated at my workplace because it's the only way I can go. To hang on to it won't help my healing or my mood or Ray and it would slowly eat away at my life. It sparks every so often but I'm learning to release it.

In the end it really doesn't matter.

I think it's called acceptance.

Mothers day

I feel ok on this mothers day. I know you know what I mean by ok. I'm functioning well in this reality. I'm cheery because that's my natural state. I'm not plunging into the depths of despair and there were no tears this morning. Well, maybe a couple when I read your comments on yesterday's blog, but more smiles than tears! (Thank you once again for your understanding) I'm plodding on because there are people who need me to plod on but hey, plodding is fine for now, I don't want to curl up in a ball, I want to plod.


About 10 minutes drive from our home is a beautiful view. Behind us here is a large grassy area that in the summer is filled with deckchairs and beyond that is a road filled with hotels and pub/restaurants and cafes. Tourist town.

We went to see Ray's Mum last night and spent a lovely evening with Mum, the best Step-Dad in the world and hero worshipping younger brother.

My Mum was going out for lunch with my Dad today, she had assumed that we wouldn't want to celebrate mothers day but there was ABSOLUTELY NO WAY she was cooking her OWN lunch on mothers day! So we told her we wanted to pop in and give her a card and some flowers. When we got there we surprised her by saying we would take them out to lunch. We had a lovely lunch in a cliff cafe looking at that lovely view. Not the special double-the-price mothers day meals in most over-crowded places, just a sandwich, salad and french fries. But it was lovely.

Mum was happy, Dad was happy.
Our work here is done.

My Mum is as happy as me when having her photo taken
and I have many many photos of her much the same as this.

Social engagement

Ray's sister invited us for dinner. We haven't seen her much since George died because she's been dealing with her own grief over the death of her sometimes estranged husband who was the same age as me. She's doing ok.

She is the first person to ask for the intimate details of George's death and birth. She wanted to know if he took a breath, when I stopped feeling him move, and what the birth was like. No one, not one other person has asked us these questions before and I quite surprised myself by not crying as I answered. I think I love her. Her 5 year old daughter calls us auntie Brarb and auntie Ray, likes singing Abba songs and has no volume control (she told me when I asked). I quite like being an auntie.

It's been a day for talking about babies today. I saw my Mum this afternoon and a family friend who talked about her daughter who lost three babies after her two boys and before her daughter. I heard of the people who told her she shouldn't grieve because she had two living children. That it was her fault because she wasn't satisfied with two boys and tried for a daughter. The insensitivity and downright meanness of people never ceases to amaze me.

My Mum told me once again to be patient. Today she and my Dad saw "the most beautiful rocking crib" ... ahem, who needs to be patient?



I'm so enjoying stamping names into jewellery and I think about each of our sweet babies as I do it. I'm just waiting for my little boxes to arrive and then I can start posting!

I think I'm going to need some more silver... and some more hours in the day to keep up with your blogs!

Generations

I found these photos today and I thought I'd share them.

This is my Dad as a boy on holiday with his father and grandfather and hidden sister in a rather wonderful perambulator. My Dad's father died at 60. Ray's Dad died at 38. Ray will be 38 in June and is apprehensive of how he will feel as he becomes an older man than his father. My Dad had similar feelings.



My Dad playing his fathers piano in the house where I grew up. Very spacey looking heater to the bottom left of the photo and is that an ashtray on a stand to the right?! My Mum cured him of that habit! My Dad's memory is not so good these days and he repeats himself quite a lot and often tells me the story of how he trained our dog to play that piano and also of how he used to terrify my brother and I by reading fairy tales. I remember Dad, I won't forget. The piano went to my cousin when they moved into a smaller place and he plays a keyboard now and does it beautifully.



My Mum looking beautiful and so happy and I believe, pregnant with my older brother.



My brother and I on holiday somewhere. Apparently I was quite ill on this holiday. I remember playing on that tractor. Neither of us grew up with blond hair.



Ray and me before we got pregnant, before we found sad and before we became even closer but right about the time when we realised that we two were already a family.



Our sweet George made with love and lost with sadness. I wonder if his hair would have started out blond and become brown. I look at that perfect little nose and I cry. I wish I had more and/or better photos. I wish I wish I wish.



Today I'm reminiscing with love.

Do you know

Each time I have mentioned our lost babies I have neglected to mention my own brother or sister who was lost to my mother before my brother and I were born. In fact if that baby hadn't been lost I might not be here. That's a strange feeling that our next child will also have to deal with one day.





So today I'm thinking of Baby Boucher who was lost and of our Mum who remembers.