At 4:30am when my brain runeth over

He cries out "Daddy" with terror in his voice.

It's followed by the familiar thud as his feet his the ground and then the fast pad-pad-pad down the hallway.

I wonder if Les who came to bed last put the baby gate up or not and which I would rather happen- not up is easier, up is harder but more comfortable in the long run.
The door is thrown open and he clambers over my feet up the middle of the bed and under the covers. I lay still feigning sleep. If I get up and take him to his bed there will be more tears and noise and then it will take me minutes, perhaps hours to get back to sleep- not the seconds that it takes Les to reset to snoring after his head contacts pillow.

Les does the same- or perhaps he has managed to sleep through the 3 year old ruckus.

Time passes and I have to admit it, my bladder thinks it's full and my hips and side are screaming that they have been on this side too long. I concur get up go to the toilet, investigate the eerie glow and hum from the lounge where some error message has prevented the computer from shutting down and it's been sitting waiting for an 'ok' since Les retired some hours ago.

Back in bed.

I lay facing him, he's still awake we do a complicated dance of pillows and arms till he settles, on his front I jealously note, holding my hand he nods off.

My mind leads me inexplicably to 'sorry'.

When your child dies people say "I am so sorry you lost your baby".

In the midst of grief this is such a confusing statement.

When Saskia died I got 'told off' by a fellow squadron wife after her friend told her that my reply to her 'sorry' was; "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault".

I realise that people struggle with what to say. They feel uncomfortable facing the death of one so small, in our case hardly even started on her life's journey, yet to even take a breath. But Sorry just seems so weird it's an apology for something that need not be apologised for. It's sympathy when what you really need is empathy.

Empathy too is hard. Because unless you have been there don't even deign to imagine what it feels like. Don't dare believe because you lost your husband/mother/dog/wallet that you can know what a grieving parent feels like. IT IS NOT THE SAME. No two parents who have lost a child will ever have the same reaction either so I don't even dare suppose to know what another mother is feeling in her grief. In fact I can tell you that I know I felt worse in the weeks after my second miscarriage than I did in the weeks after Saskia's Stillbirth- but some mothers feel that their miscarriages were a walk in a park compared to their stillborn baby experience.

In the midst of all my thinking on this at 5am this morning I remembered one thing that is worth mentioning here. The best thing that anyone ever said to me was:
"I think I know how you feel a bit because I want a baby so badly, like you. I know you want a specific baby, the baby that you lost, and I just want a baby full stop. But I think I understand that longing for a child you can't seem to have." Thank-you Delwyn, you put into words something I didn't even know I was feeling.

The other squadron wife drove me to drink- literally. The guys were away at the time on a deployment, it was a Friday afternoon and she dropped by to tell me all the things I had done and was doing wrong. It was probably about 3 months after Saskia was born/died and at a point where those who have never truly grieved think you should be 'over it' or at least 'getting on with life'. She caught me off guard and berated me for my reactions and how I had selfishly made others feel uncomfortable. All my doubts and self esteem issues surfaced and from my point of weakness I spilled my guts on things that were none of her business and said way to much. She left after probably an hour  I saw her out the door and pretty much collapsed in a heap.
I drove by the bottle store on the way to get Kieran from pre-school but couldn't afford the 4 pack of RTD's that I wanted, which just added fuel to my already smouldering pile of shit. I don't believe it was a very good weekend. And afterwards I pretty much cut off all ties with the Squadron. Stopped attending the morning teas, and tupperware parties, stopped writing the newsletter and doing baby music at my house. Stuck to the few people I loved and the few more that I trusted. Thank-goodness for Delwyn, Deb and Fiona. And I drank, not much, just a little Kahlua and milk during the days that Kieran was at pre-school and I wasn't looking after Charlotte. Lucky for me I eventually got pregnant so drinking was off the menu because paranoia had set in.

Jeeze that woman was a bitch. I didn't deserve that shit. Why do some women act like that towards people- I have yet to meet a guy who acts like such a self-righteous arse?

Here's the other thing I want you to think about if you know someone who is grieving; don't ask them "How are you?" unless you are truly prepared to take the time to listen to their honest response and respond with care. Some days I barely had the emotional fortitude to breath and walk and so that very complicated third step of weighing an appropriate response to the "How's it going?" question was just too much. The brain goes like this (brain in italics);

"Crap what am I even doing out of bed? Oh yeah I need groceries... what was it I needed again?"
duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
"Oh hell there's 'so and so'- hide! No too late they've seen me"

"Hi Gypsy, how's it going"

Shit, it's going shit that's how it's going complete and utter shit! Hang on is this what they meant, do they want me to be honest? Hmmm lets weigh up the facts: female or male? Female= maybe Male = probably not. Close friend, friend or acquaintance? Oooooh I'm taking too long.
"Um yeah hi, yeah, getting there I guess"
Uncomfortable silence.
Shit I called it wrong they wanted the "Fine thanks, and you?"
Uncomfortable silence.

"Oh well then have a good day"

Yeah sure easy peasy, NOT!
"Oh yeah, sure you too!"
 Can I curl up and die now. Abandon trolley go home.


I'm not sure what's going to happen with this baby- we're at the business end. We're getting to the point where in the past the shit has hit the fan with the fan on HIGH speed. And I'm losing the attitude that I have managed so far. I'm not sure if it was pregnancy Zen or just denial. But I have managed to be 'The Fonz' cool  about this baby till just lately.

I have eaten bakery Chicken sandwiches, Sushi, and various other things that are on the 'no go' list. I have taken panadol, Maxalon, and even had some morphine after that whole passing out in the loo incident back in November. I have had a drink or two of kahlua and milk with little to no guilt (until I read an article on Fetal Alcohol Syndrome). I haven't bothered to find out what the babies heart rate has been at midwife appointments. I haven't checked out many numbers at all in fact. I was all good for stopping at three scans after my 20 week anatomy scan. I have been the complete opposite of Hyper-vigilant- I have been as cool as a cucumber.

Till now.

I am waiting for my midwife to call. I was due an appointment last week and she never texted. The logical of you out there (including Les) are just saying text her. But here's thing. I always thought of pregnancy much like a ticking time bomb strapped to my body and growing all the more unstable by the day. You assemble the bomb squad to defuse and hope you have an appropriate team of experts you can rely on. With Merenia I had 3 awesome midwives, 1 crappy old OB, various radiologists and nurses who did the fortnightly scans and 3rd daily CTG's I literally saw someone at least every three days for the last 10 weeks of my pregnancy.
With Will I had a crappy hospital Midwife who I dumped in favour of the OB who was really quite good, my SUPER amazing radiologist and I had a couple of  CTG's when I was totally freaking out and scored one great and one average midwife. Will wasn't quite as closely monitored as Merenia- but still not so bad.

This baby has a midwife. She's a cool midwife and I like her a lot. She'll be great at the birth- but right now with me trying to be all Zen and not all hyper-vigilant- I need to feel like my one bomb squad member is on the ball... not on a break.  I need her to remember me, and call me, and be attentive to me.

When I was pregnant with Saskia I always thought she would be born with a disability I believed she would be born early and have Down Syndrome. I had a plan in place for handling this because I knew when we told Les' family they would loose sight of our beautiful daughter and only recall her 'problem'. I imagined Les' mum telling people in hushed and overly dramatic tones; "Leslie and Gypsy have had the baby, but it's not right in the head. WE haven't had that on OUR side of the family before." And the people would walk off wondering what was going on, if I was to blame in some way, and only later in the day realise they didn't know what we had and what we'd named her. I planned not to tell them- we still had a couple of years left in Australia and wouldn't be bold enough to ask if the pictures we sent showed her condition- so they'd get to know our baby girl- not some imagined horror.

The point is I KNEW. I knew it wasn't going to go to plan and I was still able to trust my instincts. I didn't know she'd die- but I don't think anyone ever really believes that is a possibility. Even when I was pregnant with Merenia and Will- I planned their funerals and figured out what I'd do better than when Saskia died- but I didn't actually believe that it would happen again- not in my heart of hearts.

This time all I have is questions and fear- my ability to work intstinctually  in pregnancy is out the window.

Even on the silly stuff like the sex of the baby;  Here's my brain again:

I think it's a girl.
But I thought Kieran was a girl for 38 weeks only to change my mind at the last minute (thank-goodness I did).
What if it's a girl? What if we end up with the same relationship struggles that M and I have at the moment. What if we don't and that makes M feel mad/bad/sad.
What if it's a boy? What will we call it? Will I be disappointed? 
Is it moving less than yesterday? Has the change been gradual or sudden? When did I last feel movement? Was it hiccups?
Oh no I'm sleeping on my back/right side! How long have I been like this?
Are these contractions regular?
What is that pain in my back? Is it back or could it be kidneys? 
Is that infection back?
Should I really try for a VBAC?
What if they say I can't have one?
Is it possible that we could just leave it a little too late to go to hospital?
What are we going to do with Will? How will he cope?
What if labour happens: at night? at dinner time? while kindy is on? while kindy is not on? While Hockey is on?
The baby is huge! 
Do I really need another scan?
I'm going to be early. What if I'm too early? What if I'm seriously late? What if I wait until the last possible day and still have a C-section when I could have had one 5 weeks earlier?
What if I didn't have much pain after Will because the Doctor severed a nerve and that leads me to not be able to feel my uterus rupture?
What if the reason I have ended up being led to and reading all these blogs lately of mothers of children who have a disability is the universe trying to prepare me in some way.
What if I just get to be normal and go into labour and go to the hospital. Then I'll need a hospital bag. What if I haven't packed it and Les has to do it? I'll need to actually tell my midwife what we want at the birth rather than have it dictated like in a C-section. Why haven't I done that already?
We already have family members with birthdays every month from June through December what if this baby comes in May because it wants it's own birthday month too? 
What if it comes on Saskia's birthday?
What if it's born on Les' dad's death day?
What if I go into labour and am so fat and unfit that I just can't physically do it?
What if it dies? I'm not sure I can do pregnancy again, but we're supposed to be having a baby in our lives one final time so I'm not sure I can just stop and end on that bum note.
Seriously I never thought I'd be having my fourth living child at age 37 13.5 years after the first one what the hell?

Hmmmmmm, Gypsy I do believe you are a little crazy at the moment.

Eventually I must have gone to sleep. Because I woke up with a face full of red hair and a small elbow digging uncomfortably into my breast.

By the way, while I was writing that last bit in the italics- my midwife called.

♥