Miscarriage---Coping and Moving On
Without Prejudice
She came toddling in last night, dressing gown of Aqua over her swollen belly. She's bigger this time, pregnant with a baby girl after seven boys. Huge, swollen, puffed up with a grin on her face that threatens to split her face. Never have I seen her so content, so happy, so strong.
Yesterday she was exhausted, end of the school term which means no early morning runs for the boys to school. But she is in nesting mode big time and the start of Spring has exacerbated her feelings. Mine too. Everything has to be perfect in Spring. All at once and we know that's impossible, but still we try.
Today, me with one wrist and her as big as a house, finally were able to wake the males in the house, or disengage them from GTA V long enough to make some sort of sense and pointed them in various directions. It's hard rubbish day, on Monday and although anal retentive me would like to tip the house in its entirety into the street, I know I can't.
Cleaning for my daughter takes patience, time and helps if she is out of the house. Yesterday I had no more than a handful of stuff to throw out. But we are getting there. The baby girl she is carrying is moving her forward. But she loves her seven boys and they help out today, servicing cars, throwing out soggy old mattresses that were once saved for someone else. No longer storing stuff for others.
But first and foremost we have a little ceremony to perform. It's a sad thing to do and we both try to keep the moment light. And special. She lost a baby earlier this year, a little boy. Miscarried at eleven weeks. She had named him already, Knox.
She had a lot of stress then, the baby was fine and then a big upset caused her to miscarry. Within hours of the upset she was in Hospital, gushing blood and Knox lost to the world. Four blood transfusions and an operation later. Too young a baby for a funeral, just a miscarriage, they said, but not to her, never to her.
So last night she bought in his baby clothes and wanted me to help her with a box for him. A special beautiful box, just for Knox. It had to be lined, she said. So we found baby boy wrapping paper, brand new and a Birthday card. It took her half an hour just to get the paper in the bottom of the box. She smoothed and folded and made it perfect.
We placed the little items in the box, his blue bootees, his tiny clothes she had just started to buy. The dreams she had begun to have of her eighth boy. She would have loved him just as much as she has loved her seven boys and will love her new baby girl. She' s 24 weeks now, baby girl due in January. I'll be back from O/S by then.
I don't want her to go early. She's been as much as five weeks early, before, or two weeks early with two and we want her to go term this time, so fingers crossed. We say a little prayer as we make up the box. For him, for her, for new baby as yet un named.
We didn't cry, we are both strong like that. We just have to get on with life, but Knox would have been due last week. The 9th of the 9th 2013. And she wants to mark the occasion. Not forget the one she lost. We tie the box up with a purple ribbon, and she has to untie it three times as I keep finding other things to put in there.
She wanted something, a hard copy of a life that never came into being. A box that at times, alone, she can come in to my unit and empty it out. Look at the tiny garments and remember, cry, laugh, smile, be sad. She knew I kept a pouch of special things for her sister, Lauren. It's a simple jewellery wrap, and contains the essence of Lauren, aged 12. Her bible, her earrings that say "Watch Me ", plastic and garish with clocks on, just small things, mementoes. To me it is sacrosanct.
If ever comes a fire, heaven forbid, I will grab it first and the photo albums, Knoxes box. The dogs, the fat grumpy cat and get out. Bugger everything else, they are all replaceable.
She is content now and we sit and relax, talk of him and what he means to her. She is not upset, more just wanting to ensure that no one forgets her little man. She has bought her second collectables and I am so proud of her purchase. An entire set of perfect condition Early Reading Books and flash cards in mint condition. We look it up on Ebay, worth $300 probably and she bought them for $30.
Bought them for the two younger boys she has to her new partner, Peter. Wants her boys to be brainy, she says. The younger two, Acer and Cruz, 4 and 3. Cruz has it already in spades, showing the signs of being really bright. Acer is more an artistic type. Cruz the younger can outsmart him in all the matching games we think up. She seems rapt to have a few academic boys, all good at maths, Kyan, Brock, Jai, ( he said he and an Asian kid are neck and neck for top of the Maths class, but he will have him beaten by the end of the Year )
Zach, 18 and working, just having paid for his car, cash, no loan. She should be proud of all of them.
Brock has worked for the Family business since he was 12, Jai now on work experience there. Kyan a little academic, head of his class at 9 and a stunner. She has lovely boys, Yvette, they don't physically fight with each other, they are all gentlemen and fear her. Then me.
We always wanted to know what it was like to raise Men out of boys, we two women who had no idea what we were doing. But they worked out O.K. She loves them, spoils them and will kick their arse if they step out of line. They have never called her a name, wanted to leave her or argued back at her, me yes, her, no. I used to yell, I can tell you now, it doesn't work.
So we place the box under the bed, and we toddle off to bed at 3 am. A long day, but a Good one.
Earlier Acer and Cruz had tried to have one more play with Nana, I heard them on the stairs as I was writing,
"I'm asleep" I called out.
Silence
" Nanny is asleep"
Silence
" ok, night, night, Nanny" came from Cruz's retreating voice.
And nightie night to you, sweet boys and nightie night to Knox Deksnis, sweet angel, now in Heaven xoxo
She came toddling in last night, dressing gown of Aqua over her swollen belly. She's bigger this time, pregnant with a baby girl after seven boys. Huge, swollen, puffed up with a grin on her face that threatens to split her face. Never have I seen her so content, so happy, so strong.
Yesterday she was exhausted, end of the school term which means no early morning runs for the boys to school. But she is in nesting mode big time and the start of Spring has exacerbated her feelings. Mine too. Everything has to be perfect in Spring. All at once and we know that's impossible, but still we try.
Today, me with one wrist and her as big as a house, finally were able to wake the males in the house, or disengage them from GTA V long enough to make some sort of sense and pointed them in various directions. It's hard rubbish day, on Monday and although anal retentive me would like to tip the house in its entirety into the street, I know I can't.
Cleaning for my daughter takes patience, time and helps if she is out of the house. Yesterday I had no more than a handful of stuff to throw out. But we are getting there. The baby girl she is carrying is moving her forward. But she loves her seven boys and they help out today, servicing cars, throwing out soggy old mattresses that were once saved for someone else. No longer storing stuff for others.
But first and foremost we have a little ceremony to perform. It's a sad thing to do and we both try to keep the moment light. And special. She lost a baby earlier this year, a little boy. Miscarried at eleven weeks. She had named him already, Knox.
She had a lot of stress then, the baby was fine and then a big upset caused her to miscarry. Within hours of the upset she was in Hospital, gushing blood and Knox lost to the world. Four blood transfusions and an operation later. Too young a baby for a funeral, just a miscarriage, they said, but not to her, never to her.
So last night she bought in his baby clothes and wanted me to help her with a box for him. A special beautiful box, just for Knox. It had to be lined, she said. So we found baby boy wrapping paper, brand new and a Birthday card. It took her half an hour just to get the paper in the bottom of the box. She smoothed and folded and made it perfect.
We placed the little items in the box, his blue bootees, his tiny clothes she had just started to buy. The dreams she had begun to have of her eighth boy. She would have loved him just as much as she has loved her seven boys and will love her new baby girl. She' s 24 weeks now, baby girl due in January. I'll be back from O/S by then.
I don't want her to go early. She's been as much as five weeks early, before, or two weeks early with two and we want her to go term this time, so fingers crossed. We say a little prayer as we make up the box. For him, for her, for new baby as yet un named.
We didn't cry, we are both strong like that. We just have to get on with life, but Knox would have been due last week. The 9th of the 9th 2013. And she wants to mark the occasion. Not forget the one she lost. We tie the box up with a purple ribbon, and she has to untie it three times as I keep finding other things to put in there.
She wanted something, a hard copy of a life that never came into being. A box that at times, alone, she can come in to my unit and empty it out. Look at the tiny garments and remember, cry, laugh, smile, be sad. She knew I kept a pouch of special things for her sister, Lauren. It's a simple jewellery wrap, and contains the essence of Lauren, aged 12. Her bible, her earrings that say "Watch Me ", plastic and garish with clocks on, just small things, mementoes. To me it is sacrosanct.
If ever comes a fire, heaven forbid, I will grab it first and the photo albums, Knoxes box. The dogs, the fat grumpy cat and get out. Bugger everything else, they are all replaceable.
She is content now and we sit and relax, talk of him and what he means to her. She is not upset, more just wanting to ensure that no one forgets her little man. She has bought her second collectables and I am so proud of her purchase. An entire set of perfect condition Early Reading Books and flash cards in mint condition. We look it up on Ebay, worth $300 probably and she bought them for $30.
Bought them for the two younger boys she has to her new partner, Peter. Wants her boys to be brainy, she says. The younger two, Acer and Cruz, 4 and 3. Cruz has it already in spades, showing the signs of being really bright. Acer is more an artistic type. Cruz the younger can outsmart him in all the matching games we think up. She seems rapt to have a few academic boys, all good at maths, Kyan, Brock, Jai, ( he said he and an Asian kid are neck and neck for top of the Maths class, but he will have him beaten by the end of the Year )
Zach, 18 and working, just having paid for his car, cash, no loan. She should be proud of all of them.
Brock has worked for the Family business since he was 12, Jai now on work experience there. Kyan a little academic, head of his class at 9 and a stunner. She has lovely boys, Yvette, they don't physically fight with each other, they are all gentlemen and fear her. Then me.
We always wanted to know what it was like to raise Men out of boys, we two women who had no idea what we were doing. But they worked out O.K. She loves them, spoils them and will kick their arse if they step out of line. They have never called her a name, wanted to leave her or argued back at her, me yes, her, no. I used to yell, I can tell you now, it doesn't work.
So we place the box under the bed, and we toddle off to bed at 3 am. A long day, but a Good one.
Earlier Acer and Cruz had tried to have one more play with Nana, I heard them on the stairs as I was writing,
"I'm asleep" I called out.
Silence
" Nanny is asleep"
Silence
" ok, night, night, Nanny" came from Cruz's retreating voice.
And nightie night to you, sweet boys and nightie night to Knox Deksnis, sweet angel, now in Heaven xoxo
