two months in one post

I am a bad blogger for leaving two months between posts, but I'm going to try to make up for it with what may become a behemoth of a post... Apologies in advance :-)

Okay, let's start with something the BFG texted to me a few weeks ago.  "Your blog is rubbish when you're happy" he said.  And I have been very, VERY happy.

S and I did the usual couple-in-love type things for the first two weeks in October: had meals out, had long comfy evenings in, endless chats on the phone on the evenings we didn't see each other and were basically nauseating.

I had the last two weeks in October off work, so S took the same fortnight off and we had a week in London being tourists in our own city.  It was brilliant, we did things that we never really take the time to do: walks on Primrose Hill, the cinema in the afternoon, one day I went to S's place and he made massive margaritas and an equally huge lunch and insisted that I did nothing but partake of both.  The second week we went to Cornwall and stayed a couple of days with my friends and the rest of the week with his sister.  That was slightly less idylic as his sister is a bit of a challenge, but it was still lovely.

A couple of weeks after coming home from Cornwall I went to America for a work conference and in the five days I was away I got one text and zero other communication from S.  He's not a big fan of the digital world so I shrugged it off.  When I came home (on a Monday), he blew off our date (planned for the Tuesday) and suggested Friday, but I was busy the rest of that week with work events so we didn't see each until the weekend after I got home.  And things were strained, but S denied that there was anything wrong.

Things lurched along until Tuesday of this week when we had a rather odd conversation.  Firstly, S announced that he was bored, then told me how much he fancies a tv actress with small breasts because "I do like small breasts" (I'm somewhat generously endowed).  And finally he admitted that he hasn't felt passionate about anyone since his last long-term partner.

And this morning he told me that he no longer fancies me and that he isn't in love with me.  So we broke up.

And now I am once again crying into a vat of hot chocolate and watching "Gilmore Girls".  This hurts so much.

gulp

A very good friend of mine is pregnant.  While she is a good friend, she lives a very busy life out of London and we only see each other a few times a year, conducting our friendship mostly by email and phone.  So when I heard that she was pregnant, once I ran through the usual infertile woman's gamut of emotions, I was left with the overwhelming feeling of relief that the chances are I won't see her until after the baby was born.
She's coming to London on Wednesday for a meeting at the university and wants to have lunch afterwards.  I love my friend very much and I wish nothing but good things for her, her husband and her baby.  And of course I said "yes" to lunch with every appearance of delight.
But she is now 5 months pregnant.  And baby bumps still kick me in my stomach and push my insides up into my throat.

A

I miss him so much...

stuff

Monday - not a good day.  After crying for 3 hours solid I forgot I am a 42-year-old independent, professional woman and phoned my mummy.  She came over and spent most of the day with me, force-feeding me toast and tea and bananas.
Monday was also the day I spent over £200 without going further than the end of my road.  An alarming clacking noise when I had driven the car to the gym on Saturday meant that I had to pay the RAC an extra £69 to upgrade to "home start" and call someone out.  He told me that the brake pads were rusty and slow to respond and the cure for this is to drive the car more. Just to be clear - in order to make my brakes work properly, I have to drive around on rusty and poorly responsive brakes.  I know...
That done, I put in a load of laundry and water came streaming out of the bottom of the washing machine.  The plumber diagnosed not only a broken pipe in the machine, but two more leaks in the kitchen sink plumbing and a broken kitchen tap.  I didn't believe him about the tap until he detached it and showed me where the pipe had a huge hole in it.  I had to run to the plumbing supply shop and buy a new mixer tap (£65) and an hour later the washing machine, leaks and new tap were sorted (£110).

Tuesday was a worse day.  After even less sleep I woke up to find that the plumber had failed to turn on all the water pipes he had turned off the day before.  And instead of going to the airing cupboard and trying all the valves to see which pipes I needed to open, I collapsed into tears.  And rang my dad.
It was at this point I realised that Something Was Amiss, so I went to the GP who signed me off work for 2 weeks and prescribed some anti-depressants and some sleeping pills.  I took the first pill that morning, today was my third dose and I think I already feel a little better.  I have only cried 3 times today, which is huge progress.

Yesterday I went into town to see Lovely Therapist.  I had already sent her a text on Monday morning to cancel our appointment and to tell her that A had left and she suggested I go to see her on my own anyway.  It was a difficult journey in, I had a panic attack half-way there because I realised I was "far" from home / sanctuary.  I had to finish the journey in a cab, but when I got there Lovely Therapist was even more lovely and the session really helped me to start to think about this as a loss (just as you equally lovely people had already told me).  I'm not pathetic or weak or cowardly; I'm grieving.

This morning I put a load of washing into my newly-mended machine and water started pouring out from the bottom.  If this had happened yesterday I think I would have seriously lost it, but instead I just called the plumber back, who told me that clearly the pipe couldn't be fixed and my washing machine was, in technical jargon, kaput.  So today I managed to spend £240 without leaving home and late next week I should have a new washing machine.
And this afternoon, I walked in to the bedroom to find that my darling little cat had been sick.  I've cleaned up and given her a cuddle but she is very subdued, off her food and just doesn't seem quite right.

So, Universe - what next?

lost

The blessed numbness that comes with shock has worn off and I don't know how to cope with this.

I thought I was stronger than this but I have been up since 4.30am (having fallen asleep at 2), just sobbing.  I know it's not the end of the world, it is not like A died, he just left.

But - oh hell this hurts.  It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

re-setting the Matrix

Almost exactly a year ago, A said he was leaving and only a lot of heartfelt words on my part made him stay.

Then, in August he left, thinking he would rather do that than take anti-depressants.

A week later he was back and we said that that was it - we made our best effort to make our relationship work without children.

This time last week, he told me he was going to start taking his anti-depressants again and  that since August, he had "often thought" of leaving.

Last night he told me that he stopped taking the tablets after 3 days because he wanted to live life without them.

This afternoon, he packed his bags with as much stuff as he could carry and left again.  And this time he's not coming back to me.

This hurts so much I don't know if I can stand it.

wrong

I thought things were changing, getting better, albeit slowly.

I was wrong.

At first I didn't realise.  A came back from his trip, we were pleased to see each other (I thought).  We went to see the Lovely Therapist last week and during that session A said that he would like the two of us to start thinking about looking in to international adoption.  My heart soared.

Then on Saturday night, A said that he was actually very depressed again and was going to start back on his anti-depressants the following day.  

Sunday afternoon it all came out: since getting back together in August, he has "often thought" of leaving.  He doesn't - or hasn't so far - because he feels that he is never going to be happy so he may as well stay with me.

He says he loves me still, though.  But I don't think I can believe him.

How could I have been so wrong, so blind?  So fracking stupid that I didn't see this coming?

a day like any other

Every day I think about my babies.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Every day I miss my babies.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Every day I wonder what Starchild and Bean and Little Stars would look like now.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Every day the hole in my heart is almost tangible.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Every day there is something missing.
Tomorrow will be the same.
Every day something, some thought, some sight, will make me catch my breath at the pain of loss.
Tomorrow will be the same.

Tomorrow is just another day like any other; I will mourn my babies no more or less than today.  But tomorrow is 6th February and two years to the day that we lost our precious daughter Bean and it hurts so much that I feel like I am going to shatter into shards.

the sound of silence

It is very quiet chez Illanare.  Recently it has been almost totally silent.
We come home.
I prepare supper and we eat it, usually in front of BB.C New.s 24.
A then retires to the bedroom with his laptop and / or Kindl£.
I do the washing up, plus or minus some laundry then spend some time on the interwebs.
Then I go to bed and A relocates to the living room until he comes to bed, usually a couple of hours later.

Seems like he can't stand to be in the same room as me.  And I don't know what I did wrong or how to fix it.

because I can't say this out loud

Dear IRL friend,

I live in your world.  

I rejoiced for you when you met your wife and found yourself stepping in to a ready-made family.  I celebrated with you when your wife got pregnant with your biological child.  I read and replied your emails during your wait for fatherhood, I admired photos of your baby in utero and from across the miles I held your hand as you worried about whether you were really ready to be a parent.

I bought and sent gifts when your daughter was born, for her christening, for her first birthday.  I admired more photos, I asked the right questions, I responded to your letters which were all about your daughter and your step children in kind. 

I forgave you when you didn't write after I lost my precious Starchild, my darling Bean, my tiny Little Stars.

I live in your world.

I am struggling to adapt to a childless life.  I see pregnant women, parents, children, grandparents everywhere.  I concede summer and Christmas holidays to my colleagues who have children.  I cover for them when they need to take time off for plays and concerts and sports days and measles and tummy upsets.  My taxes help to pay for maternity leave and child support and free school meals.

I live in your world.  

I listen when people tell me I should just adopt or just relax or that some people just aren't meant to have children.  I laugh like it's funny when people tell me I can "have my kids for a day if you want, that'll change your mind", I agree I am so lucky I have more disposable income and that I can lie in bed on Sunday mornings and I can drink wine every night.  That I should get over it and move on.



I live in your world.

I remember your birthday, your wife's birthday, your stepchildren's birthdays, your daughter's birthday, your wedding anniversary.  I don't expect you to remember my exact loss dates or know my unfulfilled due dates, why should you?  They are just random days to you and I understand that.


But I wish that just this once, just this time, you had remembered that I lost my babies on Christmas Eve and you didn't send me a festive card made up of photos of your children. 

a year ago

A year ago today I was pregnant.

A year ago tomorrow I learnt my HcG levels were dropping.

A year ago on Friday I started to miscarry our Little Stars.

A year ago I still thought that this Christmas would see us as parents.

It was only a year ago.

But it was also a lifetime ago.

punched

This afternoon A was doing a back-up of all our photos and videos, clicking on the odd one now and then as he went.  Before I could stop him, he clicked open an untitled video he took of me in early April 2008 at the top of the Sk.y T0wer in Auckl@nd.  It's quite an ordinary video, I'm just walking on the glass floor and staring down.  But it's the commentary.  A is talking to Starchild-in-the-future, saying "there's mummy, isn't she pretty?"

It punched us both in the stomach.

in which I fail to find my big-girl pants

I am having a bit of a mini meltdown.  It's not pretty, feel free to click away and come back when I have grown a pair.

1.  We have damp.  I was making up the spare bed this evening, for my mother to spend the night in tomorrow and found small spots of damp in one corner of the mattress.  There are also spots of damp on A's and my bedroom ceiling.  I am going to have to Get A Man In and, even though it may all turn out fine, at the moment I am being very Eyeore and trying to figure out how the frack I am going to pay for a damp course.  Two years ago I had to have a new boiler installed, 18 months ago I had to have double glazing put in and then my half of the cost of the fertility treatments wiped out what was left of my savings.

2. My dad is having surgery on his retina tomorrow.  Again, I am sure he will be fine, it's a routine operation and he should, all being well, only have to stay in hospital until Tuesday.  But he is 70 years old and not in the best of health, and will be having a general.

3. Work is awful at the moment, so much so that for the past month I have found my footsteps slowing the closer I get to the hospital.  A couple of days ago I had to shut myself in my office on arrival because I was in tears at the thought of facing another day there.

4. I am really, really tired.  Tired of worrying about things, tired of wondering how to afford to pay to fix the next problem. Tired of the huge, gaping void in my life and heart that hurts with almost each breath I take. Tired of pretending that everything is fine, tired of pretending that I am fine.

5. I am not fine.

day 16: a song that makes me cry

I have three songs that make me cry. They are all associated with different times or events, and I couldn't decide on one in particular. So here they all are:

"She G0es On" by Cr0wded H0use.
This belongs to my BFF Kay. She was in her final illness and her husband (Marathon Man) and I were at her bedside. Kay suddenly asked Marathon Man to sing this song to her, which he did. She said that it would always remind her of an afternoon only a couple of months previously when the three of us were sunning ourselves in their back garden, Marathon Man absorbed in the sports section of the Saturday Gu@rdian while Kay and I were working on the short story we were writing together. When Kay died, this song was the one Marathon Man chose to play at the start of her funeral. It was years before I could listen to it again.

"Lean 0n Me" by Beth Ort0n.
After Kay died Marathon Man and I became very close friends. We would talk to or email each other every couple of days and would spend weekends together several times a year. The weekends were invariably fuelled by wine and music and each night lasted into the small hours of the following morning. One of those Saturday-night-Sunday-mornings was played to a close by Marathon Man picking "Lean on Me". As he lined up the track he said that the song always brought me to his mind because he had leant on me since Kay died, and that he "genuinely believed" that I saved his life in those early dark and despairing months.

"Fix Y0u" by C0ldplay.
I played this over and over and over again in the days after losing Starchild, just for the lines "and the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace".
It is made worse because I can't stand this band or the constipated-piglet vocal stylings of the lead singer and I hate that they are the ones responsible for this song!

30 day blog journal: day 8

I'm at home sick today, coughing up bits of lung (re-vol-ting) and I can't watch tv because A is working from home in the living room (tube strike avoidance) and I'm bored.

So, after a month's hiatus, I thought I would resume the 30-day blog journal meme which I paused abruptly after day 7.
Day 8 - a photo that makes me sad. Well, it had to be really. Ironically it is a photo taken on the happiest day of A's and my lives - the morning we found out I was pregnant with Starchild.

processing

It has been a long old week. I'm exhausted but haven't been able to sleep more than 3 hours a night since Sunday.

A (the artist formerly known as Significant Other) has been staying in an hotel nearby and tomorrow morning we are meeting to "talk some things over". I guess that we have a few practical things to sort out - finances, when he will pick up the rest of his stuff, how to divide up the things we have bought together. It's very surreal to be thinking along these lines...

On Sunday A said that it was either leaving or taking anti-depressants. And so he left. He rang me at work this afternoon to say that he had been to see the GP and is now on antidepressants.

I'm very confused.

Anyway.

Tomorrow evening is a big family get-together at my aunt's house. I get to meet my cousin's new month-old baby and another cousin's new man. And on Sunday I'm going to lunch at my parents' house and will tell them the news about A and me.

Heigh-ho.

meh, meh, meh

You are all lovely. Thank you for your comments on my last post, asking whether Significant Other / we are getting help. We are still going to see the Lovely Therapist at Rel@ate on a weekly basis, and the sessions are helpful, in the main. But I think that even Lovely Therapist last week was getting a bit frustrated at our lack of progress; she even asked us why we are still together if we are making each other so miserable.

Neither one of us could answer.

Significant Other is now seeing a therapist by himself, and whether we carry on going to see Lovely Therapist is up for discussion. He is also seriously considering taking some medication but can't quite bring himself to do that yet.

And me? I'm just taking everything one day at a time.

peaks and troughs

I knew that dealing with Significant Other's depression would be a case of peaks and troughs. I just didn't realise that I would be looking back at what I called a trough 2 months ago and find that it was in fact a peak.

whimpering

I know that I am on holiday in a lovely part of the world and I should really get over myself but...I'm blue. Very blue.

Significant Other is barely speaking to me and spends most of his waking time lying on the bed in our room, leaving me to pretend that everything is fine to his parents.

My tummy hurts and I have constant nausea.

I'm back in the same state as where we lost Starchild 2 years ago. And even though we are an hour away from where it all happened (Brisb@ne), every time I turn my head I seem to be back in 2008.

I know that this is pathetic but - I'm thousands of miles from home and I could really do with a hug, dear Interwebs.

just

We've all heard that word, haven't we?
"Why don't you just adopt?"
"You just need to relax"
"Just give it time"

Mine came from a friend on Thursday (pause here while I give due credit to her very good intentions and acknowledge that she spoke with love):
"I think it's time you just accepted this."

Yes, I have to accept I am never going to be a mother or grandmother or mother-in-law.
That Significant Other is never going to be a father to our child.
That my parents will never be grandparents.
That the books and toys I have saved from my own childhood to pass down will go to other people's children.
That I will never get a Mother's Day card.
That whatever is in Significant Other's future, I have made his present almost unbearable.

Yes, I know I have to accept all of this. But it is hard and sad and unfair.

And it is never going to be just.