Thursday, February 16, 2012

Pretty City Trees

a colourful Mountain Ash
I pass each day

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Shamrocks :)

Shamrocks at Vanderwees

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Lake Superior

February 2012

Monday, February 6, 2012

on the Silver Islet dock....

I'm getting married in a few weeks. On Leap Year day (is that what it's called?) February 29th. Time chose to take away our choice - but, I have to say I really like this date. It makes my Mom laugh, and I would never dare do anything ordinary. We'll have special reason to celebrate every four years.

I'm trying not to think about everything that's happening all at once, if I did my head might explode. I'm so sad, but feel overwhelmingly loved - there's been so much loss, and planning for loss, and somehow in this I have to find it in me to plan the happiest day. This is very hard. I'm just taking it as it comes - all the emotions, confusion. I didn't enjoy the wine last night, which tells me I've had too much; but I did enjoy the day ...

A drive to Silver Islet seems to be our thing to do when we want to get away without going too far. We went there with cameras as part of our first date and have continued to make the trip so many times over the years, in every season. I love it there - always have.

It was gorgeous yesterday, the sun was so big, the Lake a great cold, choppy teal sea - unfrozen ... The wind chill on the dock was a little more than the -10C when R got down on bended knee. Yep, he did it - the whole proposal on the dock, knee, glistening diamond ring... It was beautiful.

We had a funny conversation last night, as R told me what he had planned on doing for the proposal - something about the Tree Farm and dangling the ring around one of the dog's collars..., ..then we imagined an emergency visit to Dr. S at Northwest ..and a proposal at the vet. Which would have been very "us."
I know it wasn't what R planned, none of this was, but I like the way it all worked out. This was also very "us" ..much better than at the vet..

We've casually talked about getting married forever, we've both felt like we are for what seems like forever. We blended so easily. I suppose if I was the wedding plannery type I might have prodded him a little more. I openly admit to feeling daunted by wedding planning - and after nearly 40 years of successful wedding planning avoidance I am now facing three. How did this happen?
We've discussed putting something together with both our parents in Australia, assuming my Mom would come with us some day. There's the perfect place tucked away in the Jamison Valley rainforest at Scenic World - we found it by accident last summer on our self guided tour between rides on the Scenic Railway - Hannah's most favourite ride of all time. She joked about us wearing bridal gear (gear?) while riding the railway...that would be (will be?) funny.
It was an easy conclusion that a local wedding will not be easy. There is no such thing as a small wedding that includes everyone. What suddenly makes this all a lot easier is that we will have already been married (maybe twice?) by the time we get around to planning anything local, that it should be a breeze.. right?...

For now though, I'm going to try so, so hard not to let the sadness of the situation get to me. This one's personal, emotional, and probably the most meaningful thing I've ever thought of. I'm feeling very exposed.
We posted this on Facebook, of course, 'cause that's what you do. Congratulations were pouring in - still are and it's so strange - lovely - I wonder what they'll all think when we suddenly switch to "married" in a few weeks.
I've tried to tell people privately why we're doing this now, why it's so private, why it's bitter-sweet. The responses make me feel understood. I have great friends.

Vanity is, as always, getting to me. When we first started talking about this - a couple weeks ago, I imagined myself with a little baby bump in a dress. I thought it was perfect... Now there's no bump, and the last thing I feel is pretty - and frankly, you need to feel pretty to try on wedding dresses. I'm hormonal, and my heart's been broken - it shows.
Luckily J, bless her heart, agreed to do some photos (which my mother and sister insist on - which at first I thought wasn't necessary..but realise that yes, they are...). J captures a lot of soul in her photos, and they're always so genuine. Plus our dogs love each other. :)

I do know I would like to carry tulips, which at this time of year should be a simple enough request. That's about the only thing I've ever known about me and a wedding: I like tulip bouquets. The greenhouses here are full of forced bulbs, and I think a little bit of spring is just what we all need right now.


Sunday, February 5, 2012

February sun

Friday, February 3, 2012

blue skies & cloudy days

Oliver Road
one day and the next

Thursday, February 2, 2012

and like that, you're gone

I'm sad for Hannah, that she has to know so much about pregnancy loss. She's only fourteen, and though she's mature enough to be aware and compassionate, she should not have to know all this.

I know she feels like she lost a sibling when Baby M left, and I can only imagine how confused this loss has made her now. She's very stoic, but is willing to talk - at the right times..., which if you know anything about teenagers you know this is quite normal. I'm still learning how to navigate the eye rolls. I know she was scared.
Like anyone, she needs time to absorb all of this and sort out her questions and thoughts. After another weekend of mother drama, early morning ambulances, all of us in tears... I worry that she'll never be able to experience pregnancy like I did with her - blissfully. Every woman deserves at least one of those. I don't want her to be fearful for herself, because this doesn't mean that this will happen to her, god I hope this never happens to her. 
I think, I hope her awareness will give her power as a woman. It's never good to be naive or ignorant, but I think she's already struggling with fears and worry..., I have to turn that around.

I started bleeding early this morning, and after a few hours of intense contraction-like cramps it ended brutally and suddenly. I hurt. I hurt in so many ways, R hurts, Hannah's hurting, and my poor Mom at her end having to worry about me. Me unable to be there for her. 
It's just all so unfair. Did we not deserve to have one thing go our way? Why now? ugh
I'm glad Hannah's going off on a hockey tournament this weekend, I hope she forgets about all this for a while and just lives like a teenager away for a weekend, with all her girls, screaming teenage girls on a bus with blackberries..., she belongs there.
I belong here, alone with "guard dogs" (term used very loosely in this house) and my lousy mood.
blood draws
watching you go away

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

waiting to miscarry...

I’m miscarrying again. I barely had time to know this pregnancy, spent most of it worrying, barely believing. I wonder: had I believed in it more, would it have stayed?

It’s just so unfair. I found out I was pregnant the same day Helen died, just days after arranging my own mother’s palliative care. With all this loss, I thought sure the universe wouldn’t take our September Baby too. ...but it did.

I get caught up on dates. (Find me a woman trying to conceive (after a loss especially) who isn’t and I’ll show you my flying pig.) My LMP was December 25th – merry Christmas to me. Little did I know it was the first of the good “sighns” (inside joke). I’ve been feeling good, for the first time in a long time I felt a little hope, and caught myself daydreaming about the what ifs. Ever since the loss of Baby M I avoid thinking of the what ifs, because they hurt too much when they disappear. I shamefully looked up my potential due date, September favourite day.

I love September 30th. Every year it’s a beautiful day – rain or shine it doesn’t matter, it’s all about the foliage and the lushness of the end of season. The harvest moon, turning leaves still hanging on to trees. It’s my favourite time of year. I would have loved to have a September baby.

That ugly dark cloud of miscarriage hangs over my head now. I’ll never be naively blissful about pregnancy again. I realised that this time around, I cried almost every night. I kept rationalising that the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to have me lose Helen and my Mom AND another baby. Then I wondered if it was the universe’s twisted way to have me lose two loves in order to have one more. Every twinge scared me, every cramp, every feeling. I was running to the bathroom every ten minutes to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.

How unfair I was to this little baby, not believing – having no faith. I don’t know how to escape the cloud. Inside me though, was enough hope to write to Erinn about the midwives, and call Dr. Siren. With all that coming together so smoothly, all the care, I thought surely this was all good. I hoped enough to download two pregnancy apps on my phone, which I deleted immediate upon leaving the hospital Monday morning.

I was so unaware of what can go wrong when I was pregnant with Hannah that I had no worries or fears..., I just watched my belly grow without any question – she was coming, and she did. 
I felt a similar feeling when Baby M first appeared: there was no doubt in my mind that we would have a live baby in a few months time. That old cliché: “miscarriages happen to other people, not me”... naiveté. I thought I was safe at twelve weeks, only to have my world blown apart.

Waiting to miscarry again, knowing that somewhere in me is new life dying – is brutal. I wish I could understand why this had to happen – again, why we couldn’t have had this – now, when we need it most. 

It’s hard to accept that I’m still pregnant, but soon I won’t be. I’m scared.

I could have shared some of this beautiful thing with my Mom before she goes. Why couldn’t we have had just that?

Damn you, universe.