Thursday 10 September 2009

Closed up like a rusty hinge.

I sat down and tried to dig out from my keyboard whatever splinter was making me angry and frustrated. I couldn't. I have been trying to write a post for days. There are snippets of sorrow, of pain, of mistrust, of fear, flashes of red and orange anger and frustration at the whole why-me-why-you-why-any-of-us-ness of it all dotted about my screen. I have just swept them up and thrown them away. What is the point in hanging on to monday's worries? Let. It. Go.

How are you? I'm ok. Thank you for asking. Not great, not smiling as much as I would like but breathing and realising that I have no control whatsoever over the universe. None. I can only ask it politely to be a little kinder. But maybe that's a bit like asking a tree to be a bit less like a tree. Whatever. I'm done shouting.

But if I did have control over the universe; If I could find and operate my very own wormhole; If I could twist and turn space and time to my own ends; This is where I would like to be right now, or maybe in a couple of hours when the sun starts to sink into the sea. I'd like to be back on Rhodes in late October 2007, at the very tail end of the holiday season with cafe's and shops closing down for the winter, the normally packed streets quieter except for the occasional disgorging of cruise ships. When it was still warm without being stifling. Sitting at this pavement cafe eating baked aubergines and drinking Lip.tons tea almost exactly one year before we lost George. Before I was pregnant and before I knew about real pain and sorrow and the feirce tug of longing. Ray and I had been together since July, we were engaged already and he took me to Rhodes. Our engagementmoon. Before.

And I haven't peed on or near one single stick so far this cycle*. Not one.

*Somewhere in the middle of my cycle in case you were wondering


  1. Sometimes I wish I could go back, before I knew the pain and longing but then I think I wouldn't have known Sam. Sending much love & hugs, Barbara.

  2. Oh Monique, I wouldn't miss one minute of the time I carried George... but just for a moment I'd like the innocence and the peace and the joy back.


  3. How funny. I posted about being in Greece today too. I was also remembering being in the Greek Islands and how different life was last September on our honeymoon, before I was pregnant and back when babies were only thoughts on the distant horizon. Oh how quickly things changed. And then changed again.

    I would like to be in Rhodes again too. At the deserted beach Tim and I found where we bathed nude. Or at that restaurant, I can't recall its name, where we were one of only two tables with guests, and we never opened the menu and the waiter brought us the most delicious dishes of fresh fish and tomato salad, and wine, so much wine, and he sat with us, and we spoke mostly with our hands and we all laughed, because he did not understand us anymore than he understood him, and we had a jolly good time.

    Oh how I wish I could go back. Maybe not in time so much(well because if I go back I want to go only to the moment she died and get a do over, so she lives), but I wish I could go back to Greece. I guess that's going forward. That's where I want to be today. In Rhodes, feeling a bit more healed, so I can still have Isla in my heart, and enjoy myself again.

    No I'm lying. What I really want is to be here, on my sofa, with a giant pregnant belly, too pregnant to travel, folding baby clothes and feeling her move. But if I can't do that, I want to go forward to some new happy time. I want to be anywhere but here, babyless and knowing this pain, and I know the only way I get to the happy again future is right through this, and this sucks!


  4. I think Greece would be a great destination for an International Babyloss Convention one day. A place where we can take all our new babies, to play in the sand together. And Rhodes, what a beautiful spot. "The old Sally & Simon" were there just 12 months before you guys were!
    Not giving up on you Barb. If it is mid cycle, those vibes are coming over hard and fast right now. Stand by.

  5. I've missed your voice, Barbara. Personally, I would like to be in Santorini in May of 2008, where we walked around all day laughing at how unbelievably beautiful it all was. Greece and this seem like polar opposites these days- but the me in my memory is sitting on our balcony in Santorini lifting a cup of tea to the you in your memory in Rhodes. Love you.

  6. Oh wow- it sounds amazing! So glad you have that memory to hold on to, even if you can't go back there now. Thinking of you . . .

  7. I for some reason long for my childhood. It was the one time when I di dnot have a single care in life. The stress of losing so many people in one life time gets unbearable.

  8. i have such amazing memories of greece as well. what is it about that place that makes one feel so carefree? it's weird to think that a place may never make me feel that way again. no time traveling allowed. :( many hugs to you. sorry it is so hard. xo

  9. The good memories stay so very vivid. Barbara - this has been such a long and difficult year for you. Glad I know you - however it is we had to meet.

  10. "I can only ask it politely to be a little kinder." Me too. Me too. I'm asking too for you and all of us whose children live on in our hearts.


  11. Sounds like a beautiful place to be, Barbara. We have all lost so much innocence.....

    Thinking of you.

  12. Lea hit the nail on the head... innocence lost...

    Sending you big hugs and hope, Barbara. Always hope.



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