Monday, 31 January 2011

Order of Service

Here is something that I have been reflecting on today.  

The irony as the funeral draws closer.  Today I wrote the Order of Service, not as tremendous as you would imagine as I have always been one of those people who functions well as long as I have something important to do.  

So there I was diligently researching, choosing, writing the order of service.  Songs, the right song....very difficult.  No hymns, there aren't enough of us to warrant a plethora of out of tune voices so I opted for three songs.  Let's face it, others have done it so much better.

So there I was through the tears (crying because my test of a good song was if it pulled at my heart strings) transferring my choices over to the 'Order of Service', thank you Microsoft (never thought I would say that) for the very nice template.  I stopped and laughed, honestly though, how many parents have the unfortunate pleasure of putting together their children's funeral?  I could almost hear my boys laughing at me at my choice of Celine Dion, they would never be a fan, I am sure, but I am sure they can forgive me for this momentary lapse as it is in their name......I sincerely wonder what kind of music they would have preferred......

Saturday, 29 January 2011

Empty, Aching Arms....

What to do with empty arms that were so ready to nurture?  


I have been trying many things yet still I can't find the answer, 
Not a teddy cuddly, 
Nor pillow's soft fluff, 
None of these things, nothing is enough, 
No 'thing' will fill the space made only for your gentle touch.


I ask, "How can my arms miss something so very much?" 
"So much yearning for something they never even knew?"


My heart replies I already know the answer; 
As for the same reason it aches, 
My arms do too.  

By Me - who would have thought it? I wrote words that rhyme, my first ever poem.  Thank you boys :)

Friday, 28 January 2011

A million ways to lose babies, only one way to keep them

The more I speak to people the more I realise that this whole thing was down to a roll of a million-sided dice.  Only one side of that million-sided die means that your baby is for keeps.  The remaining 999,999 sides end in an angel, or in my case two.

Reminds me of those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books I read as a child.  I loved them because you had to make a decision at the end of each page that determined the outcome of the book this meant that you could read the story many times and have different endings depending on which choices you made at the end of each page.  But for me it didn't matter whether I chose page 13 or 25 in my 'adventure' because my fate dice was rolled my babies were going to die.

Not at all about being fair, just a game of probabilities.......

A Sure Thing - Twice Made, Twice Broken

That is what is was supposed to be before I knew about this whole other world of 'never were'.  The feeling that we were ready, that now was the time.  Simple, stop the Pill and see how it goes.

The joy that I was told we were having twins, I remember the feeling the day.  Not only had I been able to get pregnant but I was so lucky, I was having twins.  Two babies, an instant family.  What was the worst that could happen?  Then I panicked - I panicked because I realised that I would need a double pushchair, double cot, did my have enough room at home?   Which reusable nappy system was easiest to use with twins (actually I still have the whole set sitting upstairs in the cupboard we don't mention/open/look at)? 
What about the names for them?  After all Little Sprout and Wallaby couldn't really be seen on their Birth Certificates.  Italian names, Welsh names, English names, kitch names that I loved that my Husband ruled as simply old fashioned.

Looking back it makes me want to laugh at all the silliness, all the wasted time, energy, arguments.  For nothing we should have just focussed on hoping we had healthy babies.

Little did I know that I would never be one of those loud Mothers pushing a pushchair proudly down the high street, so it really didn't matter because all I needed to practise was how to hide the pain, how to duck my head, turn away from those lucky Mothers, the ones that made it.


That my body had done what it was supposed to do, what it had been made for at the one and only moment in my whole life when it really mattered.  But it didn't, so every other success is now cancelled out, nullified, undone by the simple fact that I didn't do the one thing that women are made to do.  The one function that defines a woman from a man, aside from ironing perhaps, it failed.  I failed.  Not once but twice, I was given two chances and couldn't even save one of them.

My 'Sure Thing' made everything unsure, undone, unmade.........you are three weeks old today my angels and my arms are empty......

Thursday, 27 January 2011

An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination

It arrived and I have started to read, there is a passage that describes my hopes right now.  Not a miracle. "I wouldn't have used that word miracle even before fate and biology kicked us in the teeth, back when I believed in luck, when I was a wisher on stars and white horses and pennies dropped in fountains. Those were the past times of my first pregnancy" Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination - Elizabeth McCracken

LIBERA - Always with you HQ + Lyrics

Phantom crying


Down day today.  I have been waking almost every morning to the sound of my neighbour's newborn crying which I can hear through the walls.  The first time I heard it I thought "that's it, I've finally lost it, I've gone mad" they don't speak to us you see so I didn't know and I had no idea that she had given birth at some point while all the madness was happening for us.

Shhhh.....I'm a Mum

I am.  I am a Mum, but we don't talk about it.  Don't look me in the eye.  But I am.  I am.  I am here.  I am on maternity leave but my days are empty.  It did happen but my house is silent.  Baby things hidden away.  Shhh......don't talk about it.  People look at me, turn away and mutter behind their hands. 

My days evolve around boxes, memory boxes and coffins.  Making memories.......remembering my perfect boys.