One week, 7 days and 7 nights. It seems like this last week has gone past in a blur, and yet at the same time, it seems I have been in this non-pregnant-no-baby limbo for ever. It is difficult to remember not to rub my empty tummy, especially when I am having morning sickness.
The sickness must be on the wain though, because I am having coffee for breakfast this morning. I don't even like coffee really, but I expect to a hardened coffee drinker, my 3/4 (soya) milk hazelnut infused scant spoonful of instant 'coffee' does not really count as coffee at all.
I woke at 6.45am today, which perhaps is giving the wrong impression that I had slept all night, which I didn't. I could hear Duncan moving around downstairs, I could smell his (real) coffee brewing, and I heard the door closing gently as he left for work. He leaves for work at 7am so he can get out of the office at 4pm. Its for my benefit, so I don't need to do dinner and bath and grumpy time alone with Oscar.
Oscar was in bed with me, like he normally is. His head was squashed in to my arm and I could hear his snuffly breathing. I like it. I like that I can smell his hair and kiss his head without him running away. We got to the 'stop kissing me Mama', stage so fast. When he is tired these days he rolls around with his, frankly, disgusting sookie blanket, making whimpering puppy noises (he told me himself it was puppy noises). But I dare-nt kiss him, he scrambles away. A kiss goodnight and a kiss goodbye and a kiss when he is hurt is about my limit. Are girls more affectionate? Had my little baby lived, would she have tolerated being over-kissed at 3 years old, or 4 years old or 14 years old? I think my older daughter liked to be kissed more than my boys, but its funny how much you forget.
A strange thought occurred to me before Ellie was . . . . . and that's another thing. What is the end of that sentence? Was she born? To call her miscarried seems cruel, but she wasn't a stillbirth either. The days of a nurse running off with a bedpan before the parents look in it (and never to speak of it) are long gone . The hospital cremate all the little babies, so doesn't it seem wrong to say, 'yeah we cremated our miscarriage' I think we need another word. A word that respects what was once life, even for a few small weeks. A word that lies someplace in between miscarried and stillborn. What could that word be? I am not trying to say my baby was born at an age where she had any chance of survival outside her Mama, but also, she was born.
Anyway, the thought before Ellie, was 'delivered'. If she came at home, which we were warned she might (after the first set of drugs). This might be my only chance at having a home birth, because my previous history made it unsafe for me to have a healthy baby at home, but it was ok to deliver a tiny dead one. I am not quite sure what to think of that.
So, we are 1 week on, 7 days and 7 nights. If something huge and catastrophic happens to a person, they often wonder how on earth they can still be standing afterwards. I feel like that. I think that I will fall down at any moment, but for now at least I am standing. I cant speak for tomorrow or the day after.
I cry in the shower so I don't scare anyone, its the British way, to hide it don't you know. Its a terrible way to be. Except for maybe my little son, he does'nt deserve to be scared of his mama.
Written on Friday 04th May 2012 (I need to give myself some time in between writing and posting these days, I don't want to regret anything afterwards).
Valerie
xxx
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