Monday 19 July 2010

Sheepish

Reading back the last section of my previous post has me feeling a little  . . . sheepish. Baa.

Despite the rather negative tone of much of this blog, I am (at heart) an irrepressible optimist.

I still hope that one day I will pull a positive pregnancy test out out of my hat (and heavens knows it has never been done in that way before, sans urine) and 'abracadabra' give birth to a baby, at term no less, who is born healthy, pink and screaming. I also expect this to help. I'm not sure if it will or not but I am . . optimistic.

I still seem to expect that, one day, the grief I feel over Georgina's death will simply evaporate.
That the impulse that drives me to write this blog will wither, keel over and expire.
That the sadness and loneliness that fuels this strange place will disappear.
That, one day, my three dreary posts will be replaced by post after post about bunny rabbits and unicorns and how wonderful and frabjous my life is.
How Georgina's death suddenly all makes perfect sense and I am at peace with it (actually, momentarily, this is indeed sometimes the case).
That I no longer cry.
That my career has magically got back to where it was.
That my marriage and my friendships have bounced back to their pre-ill-baby-dead-baby fiasco days.
That I will post one final post and sing 'So long, farewell, Auf Weidersehen, goodnight', marking my graduation from this part of my life. The dead baby blogging phase? Didn't see that one coming I have to say. But then I didn't even see the dead baby part looming on the horizon.

This (mad) expectation isn't going to be fulfilled. And I know it really, in my heart of hearts.
I am not going to get the person that I was back.
But I have got somebody back. Just not the person who I was expecting.

At the moment I feel like a sponge, over-saturated with grief and misery and bitterness. Just one little poke. Even the slightest touch. And I leak. Which sounds horrible.

It IS horrible actually. Not pretty to see. Not pretty to be. My new incarnation as a big, fat, leaky grief sponge.
And I blog about it too. Lucky old world.

Jessica, sadly, is going to have this more miserable, more unkempt, less financially well equipped, more disorganised, shyer and generally more rubbish version of me as a mother.
But I don't think that necessarily makes me a worse mother.
Strangely it might even make me a better one.

I think my insecurity about my writing stems from my own perceived lack of progress. That I seem to get to 'devastated' and never move along, never pass go, I never collect my £200.

I worry that the fact that I am still here, when others who lost their children at the same time as me have left this place, means that I am less competent, weaker.
Or that others who have been here longer seem to have a more interesting variety of stuff to say for themselves. To whit, more than my three posts.

But it isn't a race. There's no shame in still being here if I want to be. I am not forcing anyone to read my stupid, cyclical three posts.

Which are, for the record (and because Emma's Daddy claimed he couldn't identify them, kind isn't he?)
(i) my daughter died and I am sad (I would add an expletive in time honoured tradition but, having grown up with a father who turned the air blue, and having nearly got myself chucked out of pre-school for saying the F word when I dropped my milk, I tend not to swear a great deal)
(ii) my daughter died and I am sad but today I can remember how beautiful she was
(iii) I am cross because I can't seem to have another baby

Oh and a minor variant that pops up every so often

(iv) why have I been writing this darn blog for so long?
Have I been writing it for too long?
What if all the comments I write aren't the right words for the job?
What if I'm annoying the people that I would like to support?

So I am going to put this minor variant to bed, once and for all. Hopefully. Don't hold your breath though.
I have enough insecurities for three adults at least. Possibly four.

I, Catherine W, am going to write this blog and keep on plugging away with variants of my three posts for as long (or as short) as I damn well please.
If it makes me feel better, there is no shame in it.
And just because I've been writing it for so long that I've realised that my age on my profile is wrong and I'm not thirty, I'm thirty one now and I must change that description of myself because it is a lie, doesn't mean it's been too long.
Nobody has to read it.
Although it is nice if they do because I think we all like to be heard. I think we all like to be supported. As I said, no shame in that.

I don't have to finish this by a certain time. None of us do.
There isn't a deadline by which I have to tidy everything up and put it away.
If my husband thinks it is unhealthy that is his opinion. I don't have to agree with him. Heavens know, I don't see eye to eye with him on a bunch of stuff anyhow.

One day, I am going to have to tell my little girl that she had a twin sister and that her twin sister is dead. And I would like to have some people 'around' me who understand what I'm talking about when I have to do that. I don't think that topic is going to be a great conversation starter at mothers and toddlers somehow.

Equally, if I find that I no longer want to write anything, I can delete this blog. Sometimes I feel I would be ridding myself of a desperate embarrassment by hitting that delete key.
But deleting my blog or, not having anything left to say, or not wanting to write any longer, doesn't mean that I am forgetting Georgina or somehow 'moving on.'
I'm not giving up being sad for her, or grieving her, or loving her.
I simply would not be writing a blog about it any more.
I seem to have got those two issues a little confused in my pea size brain. This blog isn't Georgina. Or Georgina's memory or memorial. It's just a blog.

If I comment on other people's blogs and I sometimes say the wrong thing, it is an honest mistake. Nobody says exactly the right thing all the time surely? So it would be quite surprising if I did. Who do I think I am? Tact Woman - the superhero who will come up with the correct words, typed with no spelling mistakes or grammatical errors.

To say the wrong thing from time to time is only human. If I say 'loss' when people would prefer me to have said 'died', it doesn't matter. I'm trying my best. Hopefully they see that. If they don't, well, that isn't my fault. And words are only words. Most of my comments boil down to 'I'm sorry. I hear you.' anyways.

And if I have inadvertently made you incandescent with rage, just let me know.

So, having now shut down my minor variant post, please feel free to come back for your next helping of either (i), (ii) or (iii) when normal service is resumed.

Baaaa.

23 comments:

  1. I hear you. xx

    I love your idea of Tact Woman, called on by millions to extract feet from mouths, always given the bad news and having to write condolence cards. What a life! Thank god you are you and not poor old Tact Woman. (And honestly, you are far more interesting and human than her anyway)

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  2. I just want to say I like you. A lot. And there is no shame in doing whatever you need to do for as long as you need to. I too get myself all tangled up in thoughts of what I should be doing. Untangle yourself. You're doing fine.

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  3. don't feel sheepish. you are expressing yourself, and thank god! because you obviously have some things to work through. (takes one to know one...)

    and when i said before about being here in many years, i was hoping that eventually this would be not only a place to remember our lost, but to celebrate our found. i never meant to insinuate that we would be a mess so many years from now. that just wouldn't be right.

    thinking of you, i'd love to see a picture of your girls one day.

    xoxo
    lis

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  4. I can't see how anything you have ever said either as a comment on my blog or as a blog post can ever being described as causing rage. I don't think you've ever even made my eyebrows raise in question. Me on the other hand, I am pretty sure I have said some stupid shit. :(

    xx

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  5. I dunno if people move on from the blogs. It's time. It's summer. It's the live baby that keeps one toooo busy.

    But I missed it so wandered back. And my blog will change. I don't want it to be stuck, to say the Serenity is so stuck. I carry her with me - her life informs so much of what I do now - how I treat her sister. I want to carry her with me thru life and on the current blog space.

    So, keep writing...

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  6. i have started to think about how to tell the story, too.
    the story of the ham's big sister and brother. how they lived, for a time, and then died.
    what should i say? when should i say it?
    i want them to be a part of her life. not to take it over but be a part. i think that is the right thing, but i don't know how.
    i think it will become clear, but i do mull over it.

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  7. Oh Catherine, you sweet girl. Is it ok if I laughed at this?
    You of ALL the bloggers I read, and there are a great many, are the one least likely to say anything that would cause anything that even remotely looks like rage! You are probably the kindest one out there, and perhaps you are in fact Tact Woman, with nice comment superpowers!
    I will keep coming back to read here whether you have just one post or 800 of them.
    I hope you also keep coming to mine.
    xo

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  8. I can only imagine how hard it must be to tell your baby that she has a twin. I have thought a million times about how I tell this child I am carrying that he/she has a twin brother and sister and that he/she was also a twin and we lost his/her twin at 7 weeks. All I know, is that they will always be a part of their life.

    I have often wondered how long I will blog for. Maybe a couple years, maybe forever? I do know that I will blog for as long as I need to.

    PS I enjoy reading your comments :)

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  9. (((hugs))) beautiful words from a beautiful women---spoken from her heart.

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  10. I meant to comment on your last post but time, and a rather unsleepful Tobias, meant I didn't and now this one is up so I'll comment here instead.

    You. are. lovely. And I find your writing amazing, powerful, real and gorgeous - a real gift to Georgina, I think. I'm glad you are still writing and commenting. I always find your comments heart warming and I'm always thrilled to see your name in my comments box.

    I don't want to stop writing, I still feel like I have stuff to blether about. I'm just pulled in lots of directions but I'm still very much here in spirit and glad that others who are on a similar time line are still here too.

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  11. Baaaaa.....from one sheep to another. ((HUG))

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  12. (Sarah!! i was going to say that!!:-P)

    baaaaabaaabaaaa

    I love you, caterine.

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  13. Hanen - if I were ever to be endowed with a super power it would be something like tact or politeness or niceness! Something slighty namby pamby!

    Lis - You're right, I do have some things to work through. I don't think you insinuated that we'd both still be a mess many years from now! I loved your comment actually. I think we'll both still love our daughters, however many we may have.

    Sophie - you've certainly never 'said' anything stupid in my hearing. I love your blog(s).

    Ya Chun - it is nice to see you back. I've often wondered how you were getting on.

    Reba - mulling with you. I'm incredibly glad to be in such good company although indescribably sad that you and the Ham will have to have a conversation along similar lines one of these days.

    Hope's Mama - I know that you know where I'm coming from with my sheepish posts! It is more than ok to laugh. I have to laugh at myself when I get all uber serious about myself like this!

    Jill - I had no idea. I'm going to e-mail you just now. I'm so sorry.

    Thank you Katy. You are very sweet.

    Oh Jill. I hear you. I meant to sit down at the computer but a certain young lady (who is two and should know better) did not fancy sleeping either. I think that the weather has been too warm. I'm glad you are still here although I know you must have many, many other demands on your time.

    Sara & Ines - baaaaa! Love to you both, my fellow sheepy ladies. xo

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  14. Your comments always make me feel better. I often feel inadequate commenting on your posts because I feel like my words don't express what I mean, but yours are always perfect. Thank you for helping me on this horrible journey.

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  15. Love reading your posts :) I wonder too what I will do with my blog when i am done. No matter what I wrote, it is memories for me, memories of my baby girl and even if I never read it again, I don't think I could get rid of it since it is such a large part of my life, something which defines my personality. You keep on writing what you want, when you want...you go girl!! :)

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  16. Oh my gosh, I am so glad you are not abandoning your blog right now. I love your writing and your comments.

    Post on and on about i, ii, and iii - in fact I think it is important to keep saying it over and over because that is how so many of us feel. I don't think I said that right, I mean we think over and over for years about how much we miss our babies. So you are writing the truth. You are capturing how long you are mourning for Georgina and I think more people in the world need to know how long it hurts after a baby dies.

    Since the acutest portion of my grief is over I have wondered what to do with my blog since it was created to be a grief blog. But grief morphs and does allow room for other things after a while. So I continue to write, every so often, about things beyond grief, typically very boring things but after babyloss boring is good!

    Well Tact Woman, this response was written under the influence of a long day, please forgive any dumb things that I said ;)

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  17. "I keep on plugging away with variants of my three posts for as long (or as short) as I damn well please. If it makes me feel better, there is no shame in it."

    Hallelujah, girl! Besides that I can only underline everything Sally said.

    In a hurry, but sending big loves! xoxo

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  18. Chiming in late just to say I'm just glad you aren't done here.

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  19. Oh those three posts. When you put it like this I wonder how I ever missed them!

    Well, er... you can bet I'll be keeping my eye out for those posts in the future. Yes indeedy.

    Completely alert from now on. That's me. The new me. Oh yes, nothing's getting past these beady eyes. And I'm also going to be quite astute from now too. And insightful.

    *In short: Keep writing, please :)

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  20. parts of this post made me laugh too.

    just wanted to say i understand
    x

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  21. I would love to have Tact Woman come in and swoop over my blog and leave it free of errors and misstatements. I could also use her to come up with an appropriate and polite response to some of the things people say.

    I also like the sponge analogy. I leak easily as well.

    Keep writing.

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  22. I just recently started reading your blog as you may know. Having not experienced what you have, I cannot comprehend your grief, but I just want to say that your blog moves me. You write so eloquently of your deep love for your daughters and of your pain from losing Georgina. I am moved with every entry.

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  23. I, too, would like to move from "the sun has gone to bed and so must I..." to "I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne..."
    Maybe we both will move to being happier, more of who we thought we'd be gals. But whoever you are, you are A WONDERFUL MOTHER.
    If you figure out that magic trick, let me know the secret, will you :)
    I say post if you want to post, write what you want to write, and let the blog world be damned if they dont like it. But I know they do.

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