I started something I couldn't finish

As Morrissey would say, 'Typical me, typical me . . .'
Except it wasn't really typical. Not of me. But I guess that 'typical me' of the song is tinged with self-loathing. In which case, I hear you Mr. Moz.

I am one of those boring folks who get sorted into the 'completer-finisher' category of all those little psychological tests they give you at work. The donkeys of the human race. We are not particularly creative, inspiring, original or exciting. But, in our defence, the rest of the human race would be pretty screwed without us. We are the plodders who will get the job done, take a project through to the bitter end. When everyone else has given it up as a lost cause, there we'll be. Braying.

I have completed many things that I actually hated doing. Mathematics A-level. Most of my university courses. Dodgy relationships that weren't allowed to die until I had given everything I had to try and keep them stumbling forward. Jobs that I've hated but just couldn't give up on. Check-out operator. Receptionist. Analyst. Driving lessons. Friendships that would have been better off left to fade away but I know that I will grimly maintain them until I'm a doddering little old lady. I don't know why I insist on sticking at things I hate. Who am I trying to impress? Perhaps it is because I had a strong sense of duty drummed into me from an early age.

I don't think I will be a completer finisher in the future. I failed to complete and finish the most important job I ever had. The one really important thing I had to do and I messed it up good. I was so certain that I was going to be able to do it. I'm not a delicate, petite little woman, I thought that this was one occasion my more amazonian stature would stand me in good stead. I could carry two babies, I could nuture two babies. I honestly thought that I could, I felt so strong. On the basis of precisely nothing.

I've been thinking about what Mirne said, to 'write down all your memories, then even if they somehow fade in your memory, you'll have it all written down.' It was good advice. I remember how much I loved reading about Kees in his eulogy, there were so many beautiful details of his life and of his character, remembered by his parents. I only wish that I had been reading about Kees on a different type of blog.

I thought that I would start with that bit that I couldn't finish. Typical me.

Pregnancy.

My husband and I got married in July 2007. We have known one another since we were 18, we met at college. I went to university, he worked crazy hours. That is what our 20s were all about. We had a house (well whatever % we actually own versus the % owned by the bank), jobs (not quite careers but jobs), a garden, cars, plants, goldfish, savings. We thought we were pretty much set. Little did we know.

Once we had decided to ttc, I fell pregnant pretty much immediately. I felt so very lucky, as though it was a sign of good fortune. Humph. I felt quite ill through most of my early pregnancy but I was so very excited. Nausea and anticipation bubbled together in my stomach. Expectant. In every sense. Something that I had been looking forward to so very much, finally becoming flesh. I became a woman possessed, obsessed. I loved this feeling of being doubled, two humans in one. I was convinced that I was carrying a boy and I sang to him and told him stories and chatted to him in the car on the way to work. I dreamt of my blue eyed, brown haired baby boy. My mother's intuition is obviously completely rubbish.

Then I went to my 12 week scan and my world was turned upside down. If I'd only known how many times my world would get turned upside down over the course of 2008, I might not have been so shaken up the first time it happened.

Two babies. Two hearts flickering. Two sets of limbs flailing. Twins.

And because I am feeling nostalgic and I've had a glass of wine. More care free times. Here we are. My dearest is cutting our wedding cake. I'm so happy in this photograph. I'm glad I didn't know what was waiting for me round the corner.

I would get my heart's desire. A child. But it would not be easy. In just over a years time I would have a child. In just over a years time I would lose a child.

My dear, dear daughter would be lost to me. My first child.

My dear, dear daughter would be resting in my arms. My darling girl.

My Ouma used to say to me "be careful of the thing you want, you'll get it."