Recently I've read a couple of articles in some of the more salubrious red tops (I'll get my apologies in quickly and tell you I have to read them for work!) about women who don't realise or find out that they're pregnant until the very latter stages of their pregnancies - or even in some cases until they give birth.
I find this quite incredible - and I am almost envious of their experiences. Since the Boy and I started trying for a family - and through my shortened-pregnancy - I've been so aware of my body and how I feel; when I'm hot, when I'm tired, when I'm nauseous... I imagine finding out very late in the pregnancy must be a great shock, but it must also alleviate some of the anxiety and concern that I have experienced, and am beginning to experience again.
Now that we've started all over again and I'm in that post-ovulation and pre-lady period, I find myself checking in with my body on a daily basis. What symptoms do I have? And what do they mean? Could I be pregnant? Could the Boy and I be lucky again? Will it be this month? Will it take longer? Will it be healthy... These little questions pipe up in the back of my head throughout the day, and I'm becoming quite deft at batting them away - but they are often there.
Right now I'm wondering if it might be this month that we get some good news. I feel a little disappointed that I don't have any of the symptoms I had last time, and I don't think I am because even though I know every pregnancy is unique I don't feel any different really - I'm tired and a bit more emotional than normal, but I associate that with the bouts of insomnia and nightmares that have been alternating in my sleep pattern in recent weeks. Last time something was different - I couldn't quite put my finger on it but I had my strong suspicions.
So I'm wishing away the next week or so until I think my lady is due (it's all been a bit knocked out of sync with the miscarriage) as the not knowing is so hard... I say that - sometimes - ignorance is bliss!
I feel like I've been through every emotion under the sun in the last few weeks. It's been quite a difficult time and there have definitely been more steps backwards than forwards. But it's starting to feel again like I've ridden out the storm, with the help of the Boy and a few good friends who've lent me their ears in recent days. Once again it feels like I'm stepping back into the sunlight.
Thus far my experience of grief is that it can grasp you when you least expect it - I felt like I had been making steady progress forwards but perhaps I had become complacent that recovery was in hand, and the grief came back to take hold of me again and remind me this process is far from over. I suppose this is how it will continue to be - I will be fine for a time, but the waves of sadness can come back and wash over me at any time, and I won't know to expect them. I feel a bit fed up today as baby Beans would have been 24 weeks today, and it's hard not to wonder what might have been. We head to Suffolk for a family holiday on Friday, and as excited as I am I always thought I would be pregnant when we went... so it'll be a different experience, although hopefully still as enjoyable and positive.
All I can do is take each day as it comes, and be thankful for each good day and do what I can to endure the bad days. I must keep putting myself first. I've had to pull out of a few social events recently and I am aware some friends have felt irritated by this. But I can't feel guilty - my whole life I've put other people before myself and to work through this grief, I must come first. Fortunately better friends understand this, and will be waiting for me when I am fit and ready to see them.
The Boy has had a difficult time lately too. A few of his colleagues have recently fallen pregnant and are beginning to share their news. He is pleased for them, but admits that it has to be a reminder of what we lost, and with such news the questions begin again. Why us, why them, why now. There are no answers - the only answers we find are in comforting each other. I lose count of the amount of cuddles I've had in the last few weeks. We're so lucky we've been able to turn to each other, and the love and support we have for each other remains unfaltering.
And so here we are. We've started trying once more for the family we so desperately want. And I'm reminded what that was like - obviously lots of fun in terms of intimacy and couple time! But then the waiting and wishing and hoping and wondering begins... will this be the month there is good news, or will it take longer. I'd forgotten how this felt in the couple of months we tried last time. Then, everything happened so quickly we were both taken by surprise how easily I fell pregnant. I can't help but wonder if that will be the same again? But I know every pregnancy is different, and it could take a while longer this time - I'm not even sure if my body is completely back to normal. Having only had one cycle in the two and a half months since the miscarriage I'm not sure where everything is up to.
So we've come full circle. We start again. I suppose the guessing game has begun once more... This week's horoscope says: "Trust is incredibly important this week and you should have faith that everything will sort itself out." Well - here's hoping!
Have you read the book or seen the movie? Last weekend I was flipping channels and noticed that the movie was showing again and every time I see it playing I feel sadness inside. If you've ever read the book you know Pat and her family lived in Georgia and it just so happened that I knew some of the family well. In fact, I used to go visit and have coffee with Marguerite, Pat's mom, on Saturday mornings. About now it goes without saying that I've always been a bit naive in certain situations. If you haven't read the book by Ann Rule, it is the true crime story about Patricia Allanson, a woman convicted of attempted murder.
Back in 1984 my son was going to a Montessori school which is where I met and became good friends with Marguerite. Pat’s beautiful granddaughter was in my son's class and Marguerite would bring the little girl to and from school each day. During the Montessori years we spent lots of time together planning classroom events, parties or meeting for coffee. I soon discovered that Marguerite and her family moved to McDonough, our hometown at the time, and I was thrilled. I've always enjoyed having Saturday morning outings and having coffee with Marguerite and Cliff (Marguerite's husband). We had so many lovely visits and occasionally Pat would join us for coffee. Pat was living a carriage house that was attached to the Radcliffe's cottage. Pat took great pride in showing off her beautiful doll house. When my daughter was born Pat crochet sweaters, bonnets and a blanket for her. As my kids grew older my Saturday mornings turned into basketball practice, piano lessons, etc., so there was less for visits with Carl and Marguerite though I would still see them around town.
Around 1995 a friend at work stopped me to me where I lived. When I said, "McDonough," she quickly asked me if I knew Pat and Marguerite. "Of course," I said. Her eyes grew big and she responded with, "I just finished reading Ann Rule's book and you need to read it." I did and I was stunned. Honestly stunned. My first thought was the little girl who was in my son's Montessori class. She was just a child and was named in the book. At the time she had been going to school in the same small town and it broke my heart that she was possibly being labeled by something her grandmother had done.
Marguerite was diagnosed with cancer and passed away but for the longest I would stop by and drop off a pie or treat for Carl on holidays. We moved from the town years ago so I lost track of everyone since. I’m not sure where the beautiful young lady I knew from the Montessori school lives but I do hope that wherever she is that she is very happy.
The rain is streaming down from the grey sky and banging on the window pane as I write this. It's been a while since I was last on here. If truth be told, it's been something of a bleak, dark week, and I've been floundering and have found it difficult to settle myself down. I had thought I'd been coping pretty well with everything that's happened in recent times, but I got incredibly upset on Sunday and it all came out and I had a bit of a meltdown in front of the Boy.
I cried the hardest I've done in weeks and the pain throbbed in my chest like it did in those early days. I felt raw, fragile, vulnerable and out of control. I hadn't realised how much I had been holding in - I certainly hadn't wanted to keep anything inside, but I didn't even realise this level and range of emotion was in there. The tears and the words came tumbling out as the Boy held me - how sad I am at the loss of our baby, how devastated I am my friend saw no way forward apart from taking his own life, and how scared I am that I might lose someone else. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and I have been having nightmares about the Boy leaving me or dying, or about my father suddenly becoming ill and passing away.
I know in my head that this is a really normal reaction to what's happened - after so much loss I'm bound to be unsettled, and this is how I process this. But in my heart I feel anxious and scared. I can't help but be reminded of my own, and the Boy's, mortality - and I am really frightened about being without him. He is everything to me and my life would be so different without him. He reassured me he feels the same, he has no intention of leaving me, and we hopefully have long and happy lives to long forward to. He teasingly reminded me of a pact we made some years ago to live out our old age with matching purple rinses and mobility scooters, and race them up and down Eastbourne pier together and that helped the load feel lighter, and still the storm inside me. I think it's really important that all of this came out. As I say, I didn't know it was there but there was so much emotion it was vital it was let out. I feel like I can breathe a little more easily now, although while I am a bit calmer I have remained out of sorts this week.
There's also some feelings coming up for both of us now that we're trying again. It's lovely and exciting, but I think starting a new chapter really does mean leaving the old one behind and I find that very sad. We saw a friend's baby at the weekend who was just beautiful, and it left me wondering again what our baby would have looked like and what little quirky mannerisms or behaviours it might have had. I suppose again this is all to be expected and it will fade in time. I can't hope or expect to be over this already, that's not realistic or natural. I have to move through the grieving process and that will take time. At some point I will have to learn to be patient, and perhaps that might come through this experience.
And while the overriding feeling as we start out again is excitement, underpinned by hope, there is still some fear there, as the Boy and I know it won't be an easy road ahead. Once again we seem to be surrounded by material solely relevant to us and our experience - not one but two new pieces of research on the BBC website about miscarriages this week. I half want to ignore them as I don't want to be worrying or stressing about trying again... but I also half want to gobble up everything I can read on the subject in case anything is relevant or stops me miscarrying again. But I have to keep reminding myself that this is a process I can't organise or take control of - what will be will be, and I have to trust in the unknown and go with it.
I think going forwards I've got to put myself first more. It's been easy to slip back into life's normal routine, and for me to begin to have a full diary again, and say that I'm fine when people ask me. But I'm not fine, and I need to be honest with myself and make sure I have enough time and space to be as ok with everything that has happened as I can be. If I have to pull back a bit again then so be it. I know real friends will appreciate that, and will be ready and waiting for me with open arms when I do feel more like connecting with the world again. And hopefully that time will come soon enough.
It was wonderful to have a holiday weekend. I started the weekend with a ladies luncheon at JCT.
It's a great southern style bistro and a perfect place to meet up with good friends.
One of my girlfriends retired early and she is having the time of her life!
Later in the afternoon we ran over to the Georgia Farmers' Market and I was so happy to meet up with some Georgia farmers with fresh peas, speckled limas, crook-necked squash and fresh tomatoes!
I got home and made squash cassarole, a strawberry cake, blackberry cobbler, chicken salad, pimento cheese and of course cooked the limas, peas and sliced up some tomatoes.
Saturday night we attended a graduation party but I headed home early to watch a movie.
On the 4th we decided to pack a picnic and head down to the new state park, Chattahoochee Bend. It's near Newnan so we took a coffee break there on the way to the park.
There were so many beautiful homes in the downtown area. We also decided to stop in to visit Historic Banning Mills. I'm not into zip line tours but the scenery was beautiful. While there I also discovered that a friend from high school lives just 5 minutes from there. Hopefully we are going to meet up next month.
We ended the evening with friends on our neighbors front porch watching the fireworks. It was a wonderful holiday weekend.
After a ridiculously busy month of June, July is finally here and I'm hoping that things are going to be getting back to normal. Yesterday we started our 4th of July celebration at work and I wanted to share pictures from the event.
Our Recognition Committee set up a fun "campfire" with s'mores and floats. I was in charge of the campfire.
What do you think?
One of our employees is a chef (seriously, culinary school graduate, 7 years working in a restaurant in the south of France). On a side note, he is going to show a few of us how to make these. The roses in the "bouquet" are beautiful.
Back to the campfire. The chef was in charge of the torch so he did all the roasting.
Or we could have a root beer float or orange crush float. When is the last time you enjoyed one of these?
Yum!
After work I decided to go for a pedicure and thought it was really cute to see my manicurist's toes.
Hubby and I are going on a hike and picnic for the holiday. Hope you all have a safe and happy celebration. Happy 4th!
Today is a day for pause and reflection, as today my friend Alex who committed suicide will be laid to rest. There is a big funeral in Islington that I am sure will be attended by many, many people. My friend had a way of touching the lives of everyone he met, and bringing warmth, light and love with him wherever he went. The world is certainly a less interesting place without his presence, and the Boy and I hope he has found the peace he couldn't find in this life now.
Another funeral - which would be our fourth in six months - feels too much for us, especially as this one will be such a big occasion and coming so swiftly on the back of us burying Baby Beans. So later this morning the Boy and I will go to our local church to say a private goodbye to a very special person. The last time we were there was to hear our wedding banns being read, in February last year, so today will be somewhat different.
As I prepare to say goodbye to my friend, memories of my time with him swim to the front of my mind. He was such a funny, lovely person. We spent a crazy weekend in Berlin together, just before I met the Boy, and many, many lost nights in Shoreditch. He loved the Golden Heart pub on Commercial Street and I shared many a pint with him in the Poet - the local pub to our work - on Folgate Street.
I remember one time a colleague had bought a scotch egg to have before we went out to the pub after work. Alex and I stole it from his desk when he went to the toilet and left him a ransom note for it, demanding he come to the pub immediately - where we had persuaded the bar staff to put the scotch egg in their fridge behind the bar. Alex had a way of enticing people to do anything for him.
I remember nights in with him watching the Scream and Scary Movie trilogies back to back in his flat in Tooting, while gorging ourselves on olives and houmous from his local Sainsburys and knocking back the wine.
I remember a day we both called in sick to work (hey, we were young!) and we lay in my bed all day watching Mean Girls over and over again, reciting the lines to each other. Alex had a memory like no other, and it always used to astound me as he would recount every detail from a conversation or a night out we'd had months and months later.
I remember us laughing so much I thought I would burst at a poster that had been put up for a lost cat in my street. It was entitled 'Have you seen my little girl?' and underneath was a picture of the most horrible cat you have ever seen, one of those hairless ones that looks like a plucked chicken. How we laughed, and ever since then I would get texts at random times from him that just read 'Have you seen my little girl?' and it would always bring a smile to my face.
I remember him driving the van full of all my gear when I moved into Empire Towers and it being about half an hour before we had to get the van back and it was still full of all my bits and bobs. We were literally flinging everything out into the communal hallway, laughing in that hysterical way that you do when you're under pressure, and we got the van back to the hire place in Vauxhall a matter of minutes before the deadline.
So many good times that jostle to the front of my mind, I also remember the bad times, when he first became ill and we first realised he had mental health problems. The first time he went missing and none of us could find him. He turned up months later after having lived under a hedge in Victoria Park, thinking he was married to Will Young... I wish we'd been able to reach him and that he'd managed to get the help he so badly needed and deserved, then I wouldn't be writing down my memories of him, we'd be creating new ones together...
But if there's one thing I've learned this year about life, it is what it is. Everyone's time here is limited and some don't get very far on their journeys. For the time A was with us and he was my friend, he made my journey that bit more colourful, my load that bit lighter and my soul that bit happier. And that is how I will remember him, today - and always. Goodbye my friend Alex. You will be missed.
