Take my place

Losing one baby changed my world. I cannot imagine having to go through this pain and heartbreak multiple times and yet so many of my baby-loss friends have lived through just that. Multiple miscarriages, stillbirths and sadly their beautiful babies die shortly after birth due to complications or diseases that were not or could not be diagnosed until after they were born.

Lily Allen wrote this song after she lost her son when she was 6 months pregnant. That was after she had experienced a prior miscarriage. I think her words truly reflect the heartbreak and despair of baby loss. 

Right where I am 2012: 8 months 3 weeks and 3 days.

8 months, 3 weeks and 3 days ago our baby left my body in a missed miscarriage. That is the exact moment my life divided into a "before" and "after". BP - Before Pip and AP - after Pip. 

Before Pip, I was so incredibly excited to be an expectant mum. I was naive and so innocent about the miracle of life. I don't think I took it for granted, but not knowing the million and twelve things that could go wrong makes one drift through pregnancy on the hazy cloud of bliss. After Pip, every day is a miracle. A very scary miracle that I am well aware could be snatched away at any time. 

Before Pip, my life hadn't been without it's challenges. But After Pip, all of those experiences paled somewhat in comparison. Before Pip, I was secure in the knowledge that I was surrounded by family and friends who loved and supported me. After Pip, I am anchored in that love and support. Yes, there have been people who have drifted away, people who did not know how to act or what to say and so said stupid things and acted in a hurtful way, but for every person I lost, I feel that I have gained at least 2 new friends who humble me with their gentle compassion and quiet support. I am still meeting new friends everyday, other women, mothers, grandmothers, sisters, fathers and husbands who are trying to make sense of things the same way I did at the very start. The people I meet who are further along their journey give me hope and the assurance that yes life continues and no, your heart never forgets. Then there are those who have endured multiple losses. What you have survived and healed from seems nothing short of miraculous to me. One baby dying was horrible enough, I cannot imagine how heart breaking and horrible it would be to experience that loss again and again and again. Your strength and courage humble me. 

8 months, 3 weeks and 3 days ago I had no idea how I would survive this. The pain was so big. It felt so much bigger than me. It was oppressive, it was overwhelming and I couldn't look past it to see a future that could ever have happiness in it in the same way. And I was right. In a way happiness isn't the same. I don't think it will ever be the same again. But happiness is there and it does exist. Slowly, slowly the little things that used to make me happy are making me happy again. The laugh my husband loves has returned. There may be fewer tears and now I can think of my girl, say hello, I love you and I can say thank you for giving me the opportunity to have been your mummy for those short weeks. 

For reasons that we will never know, our Pip stopped growing in-utero at 6 weeks and 5 days. My doctor said that there was no reason. Sometimes these things just happen. There may be no reason, but I want a reason. I need a reason. Why did this happen? What did I do? Or what did I not do right? How can I make sure this never happens again if I don't know what to avoid or what to do? 

Right now it's especially frightening as we recently found out that we are expecting baby #2. Some people probably think I'm crazy for saying that, you know - as if we have a baby #1! Those people don't understand that I will always have a baby #1 and nothing can ever change that. No matter how many children we have or don't have from here, I will always be Pip's mummy and she will always be my first baby, just as this baby will always be my second. If they can't see that, then they are the ones who are not seeing clearly.

My cycles have always been irregular but are mostly around a 26 day cycle mark. That means that I could even be 7 weeks and 3 days along today. For a traditional 28 day cycle, it would mean that I would be 6 weeks and 3 days along today. We won't know for sure how far along we are until we have our first scan, so we're falling onto the 6 weeks and 3 days mark until we know better. 

Here we are in a new country, trying to make a new life in a foreign land. I didn't dream that we would fall pregnant again this quickly. I am overjoyed and I am terrified at he same time. I was lucky enough to find a good ob/gyn who was recommended by a friend. But still the trauma and horror of loosing one baby has never truly gone away. When my new doctor asked about Pip, I cried. Which is silly because I knew she would have to know and that she would ask. I was prepared enough to bring a copy of my medical notes from my GP. In the pile is a note sent by my previous ob/gyn to my GP back home stating that I had a "non viable intra uterine pregnancy. She (i.e me) prefers to wait for spontaneous resolution and has chosen not to have a D&C". I cried when I talked about my baby because to me she wasn't a non viable intra uterine pregnancy. She was my baby. She was a little person with organs, tiny hands and feet and a little heart. I cried and they were not gentle, graceful, delicate tears. It was the ugly cry that makes it impossible to speak past the sobs, the ugly cry that makes you sound like you're suffocating and the ugly cry that you never ever want to cry in front of another person. It was not one of my best moments. But my doctor listened, passed the tissues and told me that she can relate, as she herself had experienced two miscarriages. I was in the company of a kindred spirit. Thank you universe for bringing us together. 

I am mostly okay now, but I have never forgotten. I am blessed to see my baby everywhere. Some people call their babies angels, I do sometimes and sometimes I don't. I can see how she might be an angel now, but I can also see that maybe she's just who she always has been. I don't need a concrete definition to love and hold my baby in my heart. Whenever I see things that have an apple design, especially apples with little pips in them my heart smiles. Whenever I see anything about angel babies, I remember and I send a prayer of peace upwards. The other day I was in an accessories shop, just one of those generic shops that sell necklaces, earrings and other bits and bobs. I found a little leather bracelet with silver charms hanging of it. Each silver charm said either "Peace" or "Dream". My mind immediately thought of my little Pip. I hope she is at peace and I can now dream of a future. I bought the bracelet because it made me smile. Right there in that shop I said hello to my little girl, thank you and I hope you're at peace now. I love you and I blew her a little kiss. 

6 weeks and 3 days is a terrifying time right now because our first baby died at 6 weeks and 5 days. I haven't stopped hoping and praying that this little one will beat the odds and keep growing past the 6 weeks and 5 day mark. Please keep growing way past that mark. 

My heart is in two places. I have definitely come to terms with our loss and mostly I feel peace and hope now where there was pain and hopelessness before. But I also feel like I'm just a step away from hearing those dreadful words again. "I'm sorry there's no heartbeat". Where most people happily announce their pregnancies to the world at 12 weeks, I know that we probably won't until at least 20 weeks, if we even do at all. After the NT scan and after we know that signs are pointing towards a healthy and growing baby, maybe. Even then, knowing so many families whose beautiful babies have died at 22 weeks, 26 weeks, 34 weeks, 38 weeks and even at 40 weeks, I know that there won't be any real guarantee until my baby is in my arms. Happy, healthy and alive. And even then, is that even a guarantee that you're past the "danger" mark? 

For now we're going back to the basics and breaking it down to small pieces. For now all we're focusing on at our scan is a baby who is alive. Please God let our baby be alive. 

This is life at 8 months, 3 weeks and 3 days. My words don't sound very happy and cheery for that I'm sorry, perhaps I haven't spoken of the good moments enough but there are other posts on this blog which do that. What have I learned? I have learned that hope does exist. Tomorrow can and may be a brighter day, but it may also be a horribly shitty day. I have learned that there are no guarantees in life. I have learned to live in every moment and to have hope for the future, but to also make allowances for when everything goes to hell. Life can and will get better, but I have learned right where I am that peace and hope are possible. For today, that is enough. 

Angie at still life with circles started this blogging project called "Right where I am". She wrote a post last year and this year at the same time, she reflects on what is different and where she is now. Last year at this time I had no idea what I was in for and I didn't know that this baby loss community even existed. This year, I'm glad to be a part of the project. I am so grateful every single day for this community and for the love and support I have found in your words, your stories and your generous hearts. 

4 months have passed

Hello sweetness,


It's been 4 months today since we said goodbye. Slowly it's getting easier to breathe. I smile more often. Cry tears less often, but they are still there. The main difference is I can talk about you more often in face to face conversations and smile, whereas before I could barely choke out the words through tears.


One of the two special ornaments I had made especially for you arrived in the post today. It is actually an ornament meant for school teachers I think. The person who makes them usually puts teachers names on them, but when I sent a message explaining what and why I wanted it just so, the artist was more than happy to oblige. I feel so blessed to have found an artist who understood how special this is to my heart. 


I'd spent many hours in December looking for the perfect apple ornament for my special apple pip baby. So much time trolling through websites, not really sure what I was looking for exactly but trusting that I'd know it was the perfect one the moment I saw it. And so it was. 


A sweet little handmade apple, perfectly detailed and lovingly hand painted. With two little hearts as apple pips (this time you are the whole apple itself and daddy and I are the little apple pip hearts on it who love you). And all in a beautiful hand painted red apple. It arrived two days before your 4th anniversary. Perfect timing.


The love and care that went into the ornament is obvious. I'm so glad that I had it custom made for you. It will hang on our tree and follow me around the house as I hang it on various things throughout the year, just to have a piece of you near me. 

(It actually has our family name under "Pip" but I took it away here for privacy reasons)

I lit your candle tonight and said a prayer for you my little love. I hope you are happy and at peace. Daddy and I miss you and love you so much.

Love always,
Mummy and Daddy xxx

Back up

It's been far too long without any progress on the quilt front. For the past two months I've put aside Pip's quilt to focus on another quilt for my brother. 


It seemed like a good idea at the time to start this big (queen sized) quilt in October, to be ready for Christmas!  It was a simple pattern and I thought I'd get it done - which I did, funnily enough - but not without it's own fair share of panic and anxiety. It looked pretty good in the end and gave me a chance to dust the cobwebs off my piecing and quilting skills. 


But now I'm longing to get back to Pip's quilt. I haven't started yet because we will soon be moving abroad to our new home and I'm worried about misplacing or loosing bits of it in the move. Not to mention the madness that is cleaning, decluttering and packing for the move in itself, which leaves me with little time on a good day.


So that's where things were at when I happened to pop into Spotlight (a local fabric and craft supply store) at lunchtime one day while I was at work. It's funny how things find you when you're not looking. Have you ever had that happen? It usually happens to me with books. I find the right book I need to read at that time, or it finds me rather, just when I'm not looking.


Ok so maybe *I* didn't find it. My lovely Jeanette found it and called me over straight away. And there it was. Nothing outstandingly amazing. It probably wouldn't win any competitions, but nonetheless it was perfect for me and perfect for Pip's quilt. I bought what was left over on the roll. 

It also almost has all of Pip's colours in it too. I love the words because I will never forget how tiny she was. So tiny that my Obstetrician had to zoom in many, many  times on the screen before we could see her. Laying there so still. So sweet and so loved because she is. I just know it. 


The only words missing are "so sad". But perhaps the flood of tears that have already gone into the other pieces of this quilt have covered that sentiment better than printed words ever will be able to. 

A blessed year

As the end of 2011 approached, I truly could not wait for the year to end. Good riddance to a very bad year. I am so ready for 2012, bring it on! A fresh start. Goodbye old hurts. Hello new blessings. 

That was until I read my beautiful friend, Nat's thoughts on this time of year. You have to know what Nat's been through to understand why her words inspired me. When I read her reflections on 2011, I realised that I had been looking at the year solely through a lens of regret and sorrow. 

Yes, my baby is dead. 

No, I will never get to meet her (not on earth at least). 

No, I still haven't figured out how you grieve for someone you love with all your heart but haven't met.  

Slowly and surely as I sat here reading Nat's words and hearing her perspective, I felt like a veil had lifted and for a moment my heart and my spirit felt lighter. 

Yes all of those horrible, awful and painful things are still true. Nothing can and will ever be able to erase that part of this experience. Even so, no matter how godawful losing my baby was, I still had her. 

What an incredible blessing! I feel like such an idiot because for so long, I'd allowed myself to forget what a huge honour and privilege it was to be Pip's mummy. Being pregnant with her was truly one of the happiest times of my life. I felt like I was floating on a cloud. With every moment that passed, I loved her more and more. My words cannot do justice to just how happy, special and blessed I felt to be carrying her. 

If someone were to wave a magic wand and give me the opportunity to well and truly erase my pregnancy with Pip out of my life, I wouldn't do it. I would never, ever give those 11 weeks back. Even though she only really lived for 6.5 weeks which is little more than half of that time. The rest of the time I was willing her to live, praying for a miracle and hoping against hope that this was all a horrible nightmare. Still, I would do it all again in a heartbeat even if I were to know in advance that she wouldn't make it.

In my hurt, I was only looking forward to new blessings. I'd turned my back on all the other good things that had happened in 2011. Family, travel, love, joy and peace. None of that mattered after Pip was gone. The hurt is so big sometimes that I can't look past it. And in that hurt, I'd lost sight of the the single biggest blessing of 2011. My beautiful baby girl.

I don't know what 2012 will bring. I know that my experience is nothing compared to the scope of what so many other people go through and have to live with every single day. Yes, this hurt feels so big right now. So big that some days I wonder if I will ever not feel broken anymore. 

Yes, 2012 could be worse, without a doubt. But I'm hoping that it won't be. I'm hoping for another wonderful year. Another year of amazing miracles, blessings, joy, laughter and most of all hope. 

I don't want to lose sight of the beauty of my dreams. I don't want to ever be so caught up in my hurt that I forget what a beautiful blessing my little Pip was. We wanted her so desperately. Then we found out she was here. She grew rapidly in the short time she was here, then she stopped. I didn't want to give her back. I fought, I willed her to live, I raged, I cried and I pleaded. I held on to her for as long as my body allowed me to. Then she was ripped out of me. The emptiness came and I never thought I'd get past that darkness. Most days I'm still empty and it is still pretty dark. But now I know in my heart that she is transformed and I know she lives on. Somewhere, somehow, I know she is okay.

And maybe feeling that in my heart is giving me the permission I need to continue living my life, one broken day at a time. At this moment, there is only the now. My life right now is a collection of moments. One moment after another, one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. Maybe someday those baby steps will grow into bigger steps. Who knows, one day when I'm not looking, it might even mean feeling as okay again as possible. 

I don't know when, how or what that day will be like. But there is a small part of me that is hoping that maybe that day will come in 2012.

Here's to the new year, may it bring us all peace, love and joy.

The storm during the calm

After a lovely, big and chaotic family Christmas, we're home again. I am so grateful that our first Christmas without Pip wasn't as devastatingly horrible as I thought it would be. 

While it was still very difficult and while I still felt that hole in my heart, the day itself passed quickly. I think the busyness of the day helped to ease the hurt a little.

It's boxing day, the day after Christmas and somehow I just can't bear to look at these bright and happy ornaments any longer. So down they come and back into the box they go for another year. 

I used to be that girl who had my tree up in November and would maybe start thinking about taking it down in January when everyone around me grumbled about how long we've already had it up for. I loved Christmas. It hasn't even been 24 hours and now Christmas is already neatly packed away. Out of sight, waiting in the darkness for next year to roll around.

Maybe what this is, is a delayed reaction to Christmas. Now that I am in a quiet moment, by myself and in a place where I can think about my girl uninterupted, I realise that the storm hasn't truly passed. It's still there.

It's easy to get caught up in thoughts like Will it ever pass? It's a lot harder to try to stay positive for another day and to continue hoping for a better tomorrow. But sometimes hope is all there is. 

This too shall pass. Hang on to hope for a better tomorrow.

Dear December, no offense, but you suck. Can we please fast forward to February next year.

Yours Sincerely,

San.

With Brave Wings She Flies

The longer I am on this road, the more I realise I don't know. Every single day I discover another thing I thought I knew, which really, I didn't really know until that moment. It's a bit hard to explain, but some of these things are smack-you-in-the-face obvious, some are a bit ridiculous and others are just plain strange. 

This week, I discovered that one of those things I didn't really know is how much I worry about my Pip and how she may be, even though she is no longer. Now this may sound strange for a woman who is grieving the baby who started to grow then died suddenly inside her. I guess that doesn’t really make sense, but perhaps the closest way to put it is I need to know that my child is alright, wherever she may be right now. Be that heaven, a parallel universe or just dead. I know that sounds awkward but it's just so hard to explain this feeling without sounding stupid. So I will leave it to be what it is.

I have been dreading this week just as I have been dreading the approach of Christmas. I'm that person you probably know who loves Christmas, Birthdays, Anniversaries...you name it, I probably love it! 

Until now. 

For the first time in forever, I'm not excited about Christmas. I'm not even really looking forward to it. Part of me is sad that I seem to have become the Grinch that doesn't really like Christmas or maybe I'm morphing into that Bah Humbug person. But the other part of me understands that it will never be the same again. And that is okay too.

I've been finding a lot of comfort in my fellow babyloss mamas blogs. There are so many amazing ideas out there on how to honour our babies. I read them all and file mental notes on what I can probably pick up on soon or in the future. So when I came across Fran’s 12 days of Christmas posts, I loved hearing from all her different guests on how they honoured their children. 

Which is how I stumbled upon her blog giveaway for day 8 (part 2). 

The moment I saw this necklace that was donated by Beth Quinn, I was in love. It wasn't in a coveting sort of "must have that" love, it was just that feeling that made my heart sing in a way I thought impossible in a time when everything hurts so much. 

If you read Fran's post, she explains Beth's concept behind the necklace: 

"...her piece “with brave wings she flies”  was created from knowing that everyone she has there own story .. life isn’t always easy … every she is going through or has been through a life experience that has challenged them in some way  .. and sometimes we just need a little reminder that we are brave and we can fly .. making it through our journey of life .."

I remember reading this at the time and the more I looked at the picture, the more I thought that if by some miracle I won this with my very ordinary entry post, I would take it as a sign from the universe that Pip is okay. And so I entered my name along with the 129 other hopefuls to have a chance at winning this beautiful piece of art.

I was so convinced I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of winning that I actually didn't even really pay attention to the time when the winners of her giveaways would be announced. I just vaguely remembered that it was sometime during that weekend. 

On the Monday morning, I logged on to see who the lucky person was and almost fell of my chair when I read this. I literally had to read it about five times to make sure that it wasn't a joke!

And even then, I still couldn't believe it. I emailed Fran in a blurry haze of tears and asked for confirmation and told her what winning this necklace, with those words, at this time of my life meant to me. Then cried some more.

It really seemed too good to be true. I was entering a giveaway for the first time on her blog and to be honest, I'm not really the kind of person who wins things!

Over the next few days, both Fran and Beth were in touch and I only said thank you about a hundred times to them both, I must have sounded like a broken record. But how else do you express a sense of gratitude like this?

I know there may be some out there who probably think I'm reading too much into this coincidence, but I still love the thought that perhaps this is my girl telling me that she is indeed okay and will wear it when it arrives to remind me that she is somewhere better now, pain free. Maybe someday when this heartache isn't quite so severe (will that time really come, I wonder?) I may be able to wear it for myself as a symbol of this experience and a reminder that I too, have flown before and maybe, just maybe, can fly again. Broken wings or not.

Thank you so much Fran and Beth Quinn, from the bottom of my heart.

Angry yet grateful

Today I am a mixed bag of emotions. I've spent most of today quietly working on a quilt which is to be someone's Christmas present and I am trying to decide what the hell I'm feeling. 

I feel a bit guilty that I've put Pip's quilt aside this time of year to work on other Christmas presents. I've finished making most of the stuff I've wanted to make for the crafty secret santa exchange. But then I was suddenly inspired to start making this (double bed sized) quilt in October and now I'm on a race against time to finish it before Christmas! Am I crazy? Yes I probably am. 

I have been feeling a bit out of sorts, so when I feel a bit out of sorts, I withdraw, find some personal space and see where I end up. Usually I find myself in the company of my other baby loss mama's at their blogs. I read their words and cry with them. It's not fair that a child should die so soon.

Then I get angry when I read about these beautiful mothers struggling through milestones like thanksgivings, christmas' and birthdays. I am really not looking forward to the 23rd of March 2012, the day I should have been anticipating with great delight and anticipation because it was Pip's estimated due date. Would she have been an early baby or would she have been late like her mummy? 

My heart aches when I hear about other pregnant couples we are friends with preparing for the arrival of their little ones. Nurseries being decorated, shopping for baby things, pregnancy cravings, aches and pains and the most difficult of all to cope with - pictures of scans with happy healthy babies. I have happy sad moments when I see those scans. So happy and grateful that this little person is growing healthy and strong, but so very sad that my little person did not reach that milestone.

I get angry when I see these beautiful cakes, works of art that my beautiful grieving mothers have made in the memory of their children. There should be parties, off-key Happy-birthday- to-you's and presents. Instead there is only emptiness, tears and heartbreak. I don't think I'd be strong enough to bake Pip a cake on the 23rd of March. I'd probably end up throwing it at a wall if I didn't ruin it by crying a river into it first during the baking process. 

I love seeing how my angel mummy friends remember their children everyday and especially at Christmas. I love the photos of all the intricate and beautiful ornaments they have chosen so carefully, special colours, special inscriptions, special designs, some especially ordered and handcrafted to hang on the tree. Friends from near and far reaching out to each other offering special words of comfort, letters, cards and extra shoulders to lean on. 

Then I am so angry that I used to love going Christmas shopping. Now I walk into store after store drawn to the ornaments like an obsessed woman and instead of finding one for my baby with excitement, I'm looking for one with great sadness. An angel to sit on my tree. An angel for my baby who should be here with me. 

I have my angry at the world moments, of course. I see beautiful families and adorable children wanting their parents' attention. For God's sake, pick your child up and give them a cuddle, tell them they are precious, beautiful and loved. Instead I see tired parents yell at their equally tired children for wasting their time. One mother I saw swooped down on her son and smacked him like I've never seen a parent smack a child before. 

Ah christmas...a time for joy and cheer.

I sit at my desk and make things for my friends to show them that their children are never forgotten, always in the hearts of those who remember. And there are tears, always more tears. But also great joy at having found another heart out there that understands, other mothers, women and friends who have been where I am and somehow have found the strength to continue on. 

And then I am flooded with gratitude for the amazing friends the child I never met has brought me in touch with. My wish is that no one, no mother, no father, no family should ever, ever have to live with the pain of their baby dying. Whether this be by pregnancy loss, stillbirth, miscarriage, or whatever other heartbreaking option there is available out there. I really wish it didn't exist at all. But while that may happen someday, in my world today there are too many people who have felt this pain. And so there are the baby loss groups, secret groups on facebook and the internet with those who have walked this path before. 

Then the pain becomes a little easier to bear and my heart is filled with gratitude. It would have been wonderful to have been friends with each and every one of these people in another "normal" way. But I am grateful to be going through this journey alongside them.

Today is a happy-sad day. It's an angry at the world, yet grateful for what I have day. A very mixed up day indeed.

An angel for my angel

This week must be my lucky week! I feel so blessed to be surrounded by wonderful people who show me in very special ways that they are thinking of me all the time. Jeanette surprised me today with a little angel figurine. 

I was never really much of a figurine person before all of this. To be honest, I also didn't really "get" angels. I mean I thought it was a nice concept to have a celestial being watching over you, but post-Pip angels have a whole other meaning. Do babies who die become angels? I don't know, but it's a comforting thought that even if they don't, they live on in heaven and are being cared for by angels. 

Every year we have a tradition of adding a special ornament to our christmas collection. Having been lucky enough to have lived in some interesting places, we have managed to collect some pretty special things over the years. And so this year, like every other year I'm on the lookout for lovely ornaments to add to the collection, but this year unlike every other year, I'm searching for a very special ornament to symbolise a very special person. 

This year I've been on the lookout for an angel to add to the collection. It's been so hard to keep walking into shop after shop and looking at ornament after ornament that should symbolise a happy beautiful event, but in my heart symbolises the beautiful girl who couldn't stay. So many shops and yet not one ornament seems "right" as yet. 

The search for the 2011 Christmas angel ornament continues. But in the meantime, I am grateful for beautiful people in my life who think of me when they see something special. I do love the upturned wings and the wavy hair on this little cherub, thank you Jeanette.

Our first Post-Pip Christmas

Every story has a beginning and an ending. Most stories usually have one significant event that changes the course of the lives of all affected by it, or many little events that make up the story itself. Whatever the story, I think that most stories also have a "pre" and a "post" and so it is that our story of Pip has a pre and a post to it also.

I've always loved Christmas. There really is no two ways about that, Christmas has always been an event in our household ever since we were married. It's a time when our family comes together, or while we were living overseas, it was a time we spent with close friends usually alongside a Christmas feast which takes almost ten times as long to cook and prepare as it takes to eat it all. We love our presents, not for what is contained in the gifts themselves, but mainly for the fun of going out and picking or making something that will give the other person joy, a laugh or two and something they may even treasure for a while.

All of the above is of course Pre-Pip.

I remember hoping last year when we'd first started trying for a baby that I would have some lovely news to share at Christmas time. What could be a better gift than knowing that a beautiful little person is growing inside you and will soon join your family? December 2010 came and went without that news I was hoping for, but despite the disappointment we had a great time together as a family and I took it in stride. 

So when I found out that we were pregnant in July this year, I was so excited about what this Christmas would be like with our little one this time. If everything has gone well, I'd be around about 5 months pregnant at Christmas time. It would also have been around the time when our baby would have started to move, dance and kick in the womb. I couldn't wait to feel that for myself and I know my family would have fawned over every little thing with this baby. 

In a Post-Pip world, Christmas will come and go as usual. There will be the usual Christmas feast with the usual suspects. But there will be one little person missing from the picture. I don't think Christmas will ever be the same again for me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not looking forward to Christmas. At all. Where before there was a feeling of excitement and anticipation, now there only seems to be an empty bleakness.

Loosing Pip was like being hit by the grief and loss freight train. Most days I'm surprised that I have barely survived. At first there is nothing but numbness. Then comes the incredible pain which is all consuming. Then slowly by slowly I've started to learn how to take that pain and live with it. Now I feel like I'm getting ready to start doing all the things I've done normally before, only knowing that life will never be the same again. This is my new normal.

And so as Christmas rolls around this year, somehow quite by accident I've just realised that I'm part of 4 different Secret Santa's. One for work, one with a bunch of my special girlfriends and the other two are for two separate baby loss networks I'm a part of. The handmade holiday gift exchange with the girls at Grieve out Loud (GOL) and the other is a baby loss mama's group on facebook.

The handmade holiday gift exchange appeals to me because it's handmade. These past few months have had the recurring theme of handmade. Pre-Pip I'd lost my connection with handmade, but Post-Pip I've slowly started to rediscover that connection and how much I truly love making things with my hands. 

Now I'm both excited and scared about what I will be making to exchange which I joined at the last minute by the grace of my lovely penpal at GOL. But therein lies the miracle. Where before I wasn't looking forward to any part of Christmas, now there is a little glimmer of hope and something different. Maybe Christmas will never be the same again, but maybe like my new normal, it may just take a little bit of getting used to.