Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Seven
Over the last week I’ve become more involved in the blogging world. I’ve begun to realise it is a venture that has quite a following and community behind it; and so after hearing about British Mummy Bloggers, I decided to join up. Networking; reading about others experiences and hoping that they read about mine.
Today I’ve been tagged in mumsarcade’s blog http://gigglingatitall.blogspot.com/ to reveal seven things about myself that my readers will not know. What a refreshing change! I cannot promise that some of my readers won’t already know some or all of these things but I hope at least some of them are mildly interesting!
ONE: My middle name is Elizabeth. As children it was not uncommon for my Dad to fondly refer to us by our middle names; Lizzy being his shortened version of choice for me. It sometimes made me wonder why it wasn’t my first name! He is still known to do it today.
TWO: Jon and I almost share a birthday. He celebrates his on the 6th March and me the 7th. He is 4 years and 1 day older than me.
THREE: Jon and I met on a website called faceparty which was popular before facebook. He sent me a random message one day just telling me we had gone to the same secondary school. This turned into a penpal type relationship and his persevering for a year before I agreed to meet him. We finally met for my 21st birthday and the rest, they say, is history.
FOUR: My favourite verse in the bible is Phillipians 4 v 13. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” It often pops into my thoughts, which is just as well because I always need reminding of it. Especially when I’m reaching breaking point; which is often these days.
FIVE: My TV crush is David Boreanaz. Also known by Booth in Bones and the famous Angel vampire! Just lovely!
SIX: I can play the piano. I used to be able to play very well but I am considerably out of practice these days. I used to play classics, but these days the most I play is a few hymns in school assembly and of course for Christmas concert; the highlight of the school calendar year! I wish I could play like I used to and would love my own piano at home!
SEVEN: My first doll was called Cherry. I’m still strangely attached to her and will keep her forever. I’m not sure I could even pass her on to my children; although she currently sits in Anabelle’s room amongst her things.
That was nice for a brief change of focus! Anyone visiting feel free to ask me something about myself that you still don’t know!
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Conned
Well today we were expecting to be sitting in the audience of the Britains Got Talent auditions in Cardiff. Jon had an email before Christmas asking him if he would like to apply for tickets; so we applied, appeared to be successful and were allocated what we thought were two tickets. Only it transpires today, when we arrived an hour early that this ticket allocation got us into a standby queue and we were not guaranteed seats at all. This had not been obviously stipulated beforehand in any of the emails we'd recieved. (Although I expect it will be in some teeny tiny small print somewhere...)
Neither of us were particularly feeling in the mood to be stood outside in the cold and damp weather; especially when it had just started to spit rain! Even more so that we could’ve spent a long while getting cold and damp and still not got in. From people on facebook I’ve discovered this is quite common practice with TV shows. We had no idea! Needless to say I don’t think we’ll be so trusting of TV ticket allocations again!
We feel quite conned, but then isn’t most things in life a con?
I know; I’ve become cynical. I’ve next to no trust left in the things that are apparently good and just.
What was just about my daughter dying? As a society we’re conned into believing achieving 12 weeks of pregnancy takes us out of the risky period. I’d stupidly believed this, trusted in my body to keep Anabelle alive, took it for granted in fact, only to be conned. Which leaves me where I am now; and I’m not even sure where that is.
Today I’m having yet another crisis of confidence, what is my purpose in life? Where am I and it supposed to be going? Supposed to be doing?
Professionally it seems all figured out. I love my job, I have purpose there. If I achieve nothing else each day, it feels successful if I have filled a profoundly disabled child’s day with happiness, given them a good day and above all else made them smile. Smiling, clapping and celebration of self is important in my classroom.
But in my personal life? That’s not so figured out.
Next week Jon and I will have been married for 18 months. Our whole marriage so far has revolved around having a family. We tried for a baby, we had a baby, our baby died, and now we’re grieving for our baby. Some days, like today when I’m in a dark place and the hurt feels fresh and new once more; I feel no closer to realising the dream of our family than I did 18 months ago.
I know fundamentally this is untrue. We are a family. We are parents. We have a daughter. It just wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Today I think “tormented” just about sums it up.
Monday, 24 January 2011
Fiz
We brought Fiz home on the 20th June 2007. Ironic really that Fiz became part of our family almost three years to the day Anabelle was born. 
We brought Fiz home on the 20th June 2007. Ironic really that Fiz became part of our family almost three years to the day Anabelle was born. We’d bought our house three months previously in the March and one day Jon came home and asked if I wanted to get a kitten; somebody at his work had a litter, the mother had died and they needed homes. I was a bit “meh” to begin with, I’d not grown up with pets and up until the day we got Fiz I really did not understand the pets being part of the family thing. But I said if you want to, and off we went to meet the kittens and choose one.
We decided we wanted one of the girls and went through a long list of pet type names until we settled on Fiz. Inspired by one of the Tweenies! Fiz suited her name from day one, she has always been a little bottle of fizzypop. But what I didn’t expect was how quickly I would fall in love with this little furball we’d bought home to be part of our family.
Fiz was tiny and only just over 6 weeks old. Because her mother had died she had only known human contact and quickly assumed I was her mother. She seemed to only want to sleep if she was snuggled against me and was always very close to our sides. Now at 3 and a half, she isn’t really that different, she still likes to snuggle up close to me to sleep; I quite often wake up with her cwtched right into my tummy, or into the crook of my arm. Fiz still thinks I’m her mother and she is most definitely my baby.
Fiz has a delightful personality. She is a little bit crazy, affectionate, playful, cheeky, answers back when she’s told off. She is an important member of this household.
When I look at Fiz now, I still see the little kitten in her that we brought home; I think she’ll always be a kitten to me. Is that what parenting is like? Do our parents look at us and still see the tiny newborns and small children that we once were even though we’re grown now? I’m fairly sure that once your baby, always your baby, no matter how old they get.
Anabelle will always be my baby, quite literally because she was never given her chance to grow.
We had worried how Fiz was going to react to a new baby. I’ll admit she’s been a hugely spoilt cat! We spent weeks getting her used to not sleeping in our room anymore, put down scratch pads to protect the carpets, felt guilty as she cried about not being allowed in.
And then Anabelle died. There would be no baby for Fiz to get used to.
The not being allowed to sleep in our room anymore instantly went to pot again. Fiz is back into the habit of sleeping close to me. You see; Fiz has been a huge comfort these last seven months. There is something about a purring Fiz that is so soothing, warm, relaxing. Fiz enjoys her cuddles with me, and I enjoy my cuddles with her. Fiz makes me feel needed. Although I am under no illusion that to her I am her servant and she is very much the queen of this castle!
And so, I understand why pets are such a huge part of people’s families. There is no such thing as “just a cat” or “just a dog”. Fiz has shared in our grief, she may not understand what has happened, and that the baby she felt move in my tummy never came home. But she has been aware something has been terribly wrong, her behaviour changed. She has become a lap cat even more and seems to understand that we want her close.
I’m so glad we have Fiz. She has made our home and lives seem less empty. She’s let me mother her and smother her, she comforted us and been a welcome distraction. I hope one day we can bring a playmate home for her, another little human for her to get used too.
But for now, I’m going to go and have a cuddle, give her some fuss, and be comforted by her purr.
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| I'm a big girl now! http://imageryinspired.blogspot.com/2011/01/sleepy-creamy-cat.html |
Friday, 21 January 2011
Another 21st
Another 21st; another month without our Belle. 7 months without our little girl.
In all honesty, it has crept up quietly on us this month. Calm I suppose, accepting that whatever I do the 21st will always arrive. Does that mean things are changing? Am I getting better? Whatever better is going to be. It’s difficult to say, just because I feel calm today doesn’t mean I’ll feel that way on the 21st February. There is no consistent pattern to grief.
I’ve also been poorly this week so my focus hasn’t been on the impending date today. I’ve been sofa bound most of the week feeling sorry for myself; suffering with a particularly bad bout of tonsillitis. I think my body made me take a break and realise how run down I am.
So it’s the 21st January and we’re almost a month into the new year now. I guess I’m feeling more together about it than I was three weeks ago. I’ve spent time thinking about what we would like to achieve this year, some things to focus on, some plans made to know what to expect from the year ahead.
February, March and the first weekend in April are particularly busy months. We have two pre-wedding parties, a family wedding, a friend’s wedding, Jon’s 30th Birthday. I’m going to work hard to genuinely enjoy these occasions, because they are happy and they’ll never happen again. I cannot let them pass me by while I struggle with version 2 of myself, especially my brother’s wedding. I cannot let my misery tarnish his day. So that is my first goal; to enjoy a happy occasion without feeling guilty or heavy about it.
Anabelle’s birthday is going to be positive. I refuse to be hurting so much that her day passes by without celebration of her short life as well as the sadness. Her fundraising angel day is coming together, a venue will be booked as of tomorrow and generous raffle prizes are starting to come in. People are getting on board. Already we’ve raised £183 of our £1000 target for Sands! A wonderful 1st birthday for my daughter is my second goal.
And then there are the small things I’d like from the year for example our bedroom to be re-carpeted and decorated.
I think being able to think ahead like this is a massive positive step even if it doesn’t stay this way, today I’m looking forward more than I have before. I’m feeling bothered enough to be bothered by the bedroom and want it to look better.
And then there is our hope for 2011. Our hope that sometime this year we’ll be expecting another little bundle of joy and adding to our family; making Anabelle a big angel sister. Our hope that next time we’ll get to bring our baby home. I can’t call this a goal – it is merely a hope and a massive leap of faith. A dream that next time things will be different for us.
2011 is still as huge as it ever was.
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Those Words
“We’re sorry, but we can’t find your baby’s heartbeat.”
Words that will live with me forever. What happened next is a bit of a blur; I remember Jon taking me in his arms and my uncontrollable sobs and screams being buried in his chest. We must’ve both sounded like wounded animals – I guess we were.
This is our last experience of a scan; the day our lives fell apart. Minutes before we’d been sat outside the scan room joking with the midwife that she wasn’t even born yet and was already causing us no end of worry; and then I was on that bed and I just knew what the sonographer was about to say. Something wasn’t right and I just knew – mother’s intuition I guess. All the hopes that had been raised as the doctors and midwives examined us smashed to pieces in one look on the sonographers face. It hadn’t been Anabelle’s heartbeat they had found on their machines; they’d found mine. Anabelle had gone quiet because she had grown her wings.
I don’t know how long they left us clinging to eachother in that room, but I know the crying didn’t stop; not for hours, and then only for brief pauses. When we were too exhausted to cry anymore, until the next hysterical sobs took over.
Then we were moved to another room, the room where Anabelle would be born 5 days later, furthest end of the labour ward, a room with an en-suite, a sofa bed, fridge, coffee and tea making factilities and a door with outside area if you wanted some air. The room I guess designed for families about to go through what we had to; self- contained, as comfortable as possible. The Sands room for babies about to be born sleeping.
Here in this room, the Doctor visited and explained what would happen next. I’d be started on potent drugs to induce labour. He couldn’t say how long it would take but on average it might take 2 or 3 days. So I took that first tablet and we went home. Waiting.
Went back for a second tablet the next day. Still waiting. Day 4 I was admitted and kept in hospital, they started pessaries along with the tablets, my morphine drip was attached. More waiting and lots of sickness. Day 5, more of the same. I knew I couldn’t have many more of these tablets, they’re potent and too many would start damaging my other organs. They weren’t getting me into active labour and I thought we were heading for a section.
Until at 7.00pm the midwife decided to attempt to manually break my waters to see if it would make a difference. Within minutes I was in active labour and the contractions were excruciating – even with the morphine. It took only 5 hours and 8 minutes for Anabelle to be born when labour started. 8 minutes into the sixth day; our girl took her time coming to meet us.
In all honesty I don’t know how I survived those 5 days. Being still pregnant but knowing my baby had died inside me. I felt at my most vulnerable. Mirrors had to be covered around my Mum and Dads house because I couldn’t look at myself, I couldn’t see anyone that wasn’t in my immediate family. Hoping upon hope that the scan was going to be a mistake and she’d be born and be fine. Somewhere between denial and reality.
But the scan wasn’t a mistake. Anabelle arrived, beautiful but silent.
Anabelle said hello in her scans, but she also said goodbye. From here on in, any future pregnancy scans will be full of fear, terrified of hearing those words again. Lying on that bed will never be a magical experience again, instead flashbacks of the day my life shattered. I’m not sure how I will cope with it. I guess that is something we’ll find out when the time comes.
To try again makes us braver in so many ways than most will ever know.
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
On this day...
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| Anabelle: 11+2 weeks grown. |
On the 18th January last year we saw our little baby for the first time – the day when Baby Morgan became even more of a reality. As well as the morning (all day!) sickness to prove it, we now had beautiful pictures of our baby too. Of course we didn't know she was Anabelle yet, but we could see her little heart beating and was amazed that we could already see arms, legs, body, head and even got a picture of her face.
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| Anabelle: face, body and little hand on the right. |
We particularly love the picture of her face. Anabelle looked like a chimpanzee! The detail we could see in those first pictures, for a tiny little thing that was only 5cm long at the time, we were in awe. Of course Jon got the brunt of the chimpanzee jokes from friends and that obviously the baby was looking like him!
Turns out, Anabelle by 32 weeks looked nothing like a chimpanzee but did look everything like her Daddy.
Turns out, Anabelle by 32 weeks looked nothing like a chimpanzee but did look everything like her Daddy.
We left the scan over the moon, dated at 11+2 weeks and given a due date of 7th August 2010; a week after our first wedding anniversary. Perfect.
We framed her scan pictures and put her up in our living room. Our baby! Those precious first pictures are still on display today, a year ago today those pictures were taken.
We framed her scan pictures and put her up in our living room. Our baby! Those precious first pictures are still on display today, a year ago today those pictures were taken.
Today, all we have is pictures and a box of memories.
Saturday, 15 January 2011
Two Versions
I don’t fully understand who I am anymore. The person I used to know very well has gone and has been replaced with two versions of myself.
Version 1: The version that the world sees; my out and about self, my sociable self, my professional self. This version is able to hold conversations, show some interest in other people, attempts to share in others happiness. This person is able to laugh in the right places, still finds things amusing, briefly enjoys activities, copes with work pressures and is capable of looking after severely disabled children all day. This me is socially acceptable because it behaves in an expected way.
Version 2: The barely functioning mess; my mentalist self, my broken self, my behind closed doors self. This version is bitter, nasty and resentful, struggles to relate to other peoples happiness because I don’t particularly care. This person struggles to get enthusiastic about anything, doesn’t want to join in with happy, spends much of the time on the verge of tears and suffers with huge anxieties. This me isn’t seen by anyone except those who are closest to me, this me I try and hide.
So which one of these people is really me?
I think in reality I probably swing between the two versions of myself, landing somewhere in the middle of the two. But today, the majority of me feels stuck in version 2.
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- Caz
- After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
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