Tuesday 28 October 2014

An adventure

I sat in the hot tub, alone for the moment, leaned back and looked up at the starry sky (the only starry sky we saw whilst away) and I sang "Golden slumbers". First to George and then to Little Poppet.

Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles await you when you rise.
Little George,
Do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

Cares you know not,
Therefore sleep,
While over you a watch I'll keep.
Little Poppet,
Do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

And I cried for my babies because they are not asleep.

I have sung the same lullaby to Felix since he was born; he calls it "dordon sumbers". It felt good to sing it to my others.

We spent 4 days in a cabin surrounded by beautiful trees near Sherwood forest. It was peaceful, fun and exhausting. Felix collected "holiday leafs" and "holiday pinetones" and took them back to our "holiday house". I don't mention George to him as much as I would like to.

I don't want to visit a grave, George isn't there. I don't want to be in the house where they were made and died. I want to celebrate the love that made them. So we take that memory of love and go on an adventure in the name of George and Little P.

Who knows where we'll be next year.

Monday 20 October 2014

6 years

I can hardly believe it's been so long since I kissed my son goodbye.

We are going away for a few days to Sherwood forest.

An adventure in the woods in his memory.

I wish he was coming too.

I will always wish he was coming too.

I miss the boy George should have been.

And I always will.

Tuesday 19 August 2014

Day of Hope

August 19th Day of Hope

Remembering George and Little Poppet and all of the babies missing from their lives.

Sending love and light and peaceful thoughts to you all.

Thursday 17 July 2014

right where I am: 5 years, 8 months, 27 days And 4 years, 17 days.


My son is in bed, and when I go to bed I will pass by his cot and place my hand on his chest and wait for the rhythmic rise and fall to tell me that Everything Is Ok. I have required proof of life every night since he was born. Unless he is restless. I don't have to touch him if he's already moving or sighing in his sleep (I love the sound of his sleep-sigh).

It has not been easy; this seismic shift from grief and longing to joy and exhaustion.

Depression still lurks in the dark corners of tiredness. Grief stalks me these days in the form of anxiety: It pops up and rattles me awake in the middle of the night with thoughts of death. His, hers, mine, yours...

It's hard this letting go. For the 4 long years after George left and before Felix came to stay, all I thought about was George and making new babies.

At times I feel as if the future is behind me. I spent so long wishing and hoping and waiting that now I have my alive-baby I'm a little lost. There's nothing left to wish and hope and wait for. Or so it seems.

I'm trying to live in the moment, and the moments are truly glorious with this concentrated bundle of noise and life, but there is an absence. I've been trying to fill it with Felix and art and sewing but it lingers.

We won't be having any more children. I couldn't cope with another pregnancy, neither physically nor emotionally and, well, I'm 47 you know, my eggs are going off pretty rapidly!

I have one living child and two dead children. I am a mother of three and yet if you ask me I will probably hesitate or stutter or I won't look at you and then I will say one.

But there is George, whose beautiful tiny face and body are no longer in focus. He is like a child playing chase, dodging out of my reach with a giggle and I can't even touch a fingertip to his hair. He is just around the corner out of my sight. He is a flash of light. Electrons, neutrons and protons whizzing around space. He exists, of that I am sure, but elsewhere.

And there is Little Poppet, a brief moment of promise and hope and the only one of my two dead children I have dreamt of. I thought Little P was a boy but I dreamed of a little girl in a red winter coat, who turned to me with a big grin and wide almond eyes and told me her name was Elizabeth Rose. Elizabeth was not a name we chose or even thought about. Her miniature heart beat so so briefly.

Felix is pure energy and love and fun. He fills my days with delight and chases away my fears with his smile. And everyday I wish he had his two older siblings to play with.

Please visit beautiful Angie's blog to read (oh you must read, her words are so beautiful) and participate in the "right where I am" project.

Felix at two.

This blog must appear abandoned but it isn't. I don't think it is anyway. I have started several posts and abandoned them. But the blog remains. I will be back at some point. I think.


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