i carry your heart

As I mentioned, my Olive necklace needs to be redone as the name on the back is wrong. So no photo yet. But I’ll give to a little inside info on what it says, as i’ve been carrying the words around with me for a few days. The funeral that the link from my last post came from also featured a quote from a poem. Which, it turned out, was from the same poem that is on the necklace i’m waiting for.
It’s generally a romantic love poem, but who defines love, really? So i went with it.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

I hope sooner than later that’s the purest truth. At this point i’m still also carting around the grief and the disappointment and the reality and the sadness and the loneliness of losing something that shared your physical space and well, i could go on.

Good days and bad days. good and bad.

but one day i hope – not too long from now, it will just be the heart – the pure love, the joy that came with the hope of things yet to pass that stays with me.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

just a link today

Here in Canada we said goodbye to a great leader today. I found it extremely sad. The state funeral was televised and was quite moving. This was the most memorable part for me.
Such a lovely rendition of this song.

some days suck more than others…

and today was one of them.
It was just…off. My work self was off. I had people coming at me all day at the office asking how I’m ‘hanging in’ – some know the whole story, others thought I was off sick. I went to a baby shower – thankfully for a male colleague so it could have been worse. I went to my physio clinic for a massage and my physiotherapist who I haven’t seen for a while is super pregs. Which I should have been fully and not half-hearted happy about, but having just come from a baby shower I was all out of grace. Then my Olive necklace finally arrived – sporting the name Oliver. Sheesh. Back it goes.
Too much for one day. too much.
I think I’ll have a little cry and hope for brighter skies tomorrow.

not long now…

my special necklace in remembrance of Olive has cleared customs and is on it’s way.
a little happiness.

I don’t know what to say…

Your well wishes, kind words and reassurances have buoyed my spirits today. Thank you Sprogblogger for your generous mention and continued support.
People in life tend to move on from others misfortune quite quickly. It’s a real downer to sit with someone as they sift through grief.
And really, how can they be expected to understand the complex feelings associated with losing someone who, to them, never was?

Dearest internets, you visit. You stay for a little while. You say the right things. Or just come for a quiet moment. You listen to stories about little Olive. And Olive is real, because your being here and reading and sharing makes it real. Now Olive exists for you too. And maybe, just maybe sweet Olive will be remembered by more than my tears.
And for that I am eternally grateful.
I’m trying to catch up on all your stories. Your experiences give me a sense of belonging. And hopefully by stopping by, I make you feel a little better too.

12 weeks day after tomorrow

…or it would have been.
12 weeks.
I feel like I have less right than others to feel this heart break. I mean, I have one right? And every one keeps telling me that. Is that the case? Or does it just mean that I know the real value of what I lost.
That I know that I lost.
Lost.
I know I lost the feeling of sharing the news. And sharing myself with someone else and feeling them grow and change and become some one. A person. My person.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the last day of notverywellconcealed secrets. Now it will be just another day that takes me further from. Further and further from.
Sigh. Another mark in the time line of my life. The days before. The days after.
Instead of 12 weeks day after tomorrow, I have two weeks since the first day after. And the count of all the days after began.

would it hurt worse?

Wise words today from my friend at work. I said I wasn’t sure we’d try again. That I wasn’t sure I could go through losing another. So many people go through this again and again. And I don’t know how. The heartbreak. The raw, private, public, simple, complex, overwheming heartbreak. She said…but would it hurt worse not to try again?
Would it?
I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps that’s how people make it through.
She said ‘maybe you’re stronger than you think’.
I thought ‘maybe you’re wiser than you think’, but said nothing. I didn’t want my voice to betray the tears I was trying so hard to keep from falling.
Is there worse?

ice cream

All I craved when I was pregnant was dairy – and as a lactose intolerant person, that meant coming up with all sorts of work-arounds to get my fix.
I was prepared to give my kingdom for ice cream but there were no options that taste like the real thing.
4 days before I learned that i wasn’t really pregnant any more despite feeling ever last symptom including the desire to steal ice cream cones right out of kids hands, i bought an ice cream maker.
The first attempt (using my mom’s machine) failed miserably. Then i came home, learned the baby was not going to happen and decided i’d return the stupid ice cream maker.
Well, i didn’t. And today i went all foodie and made lactose free mint chocolate ice cream. It took all day. i infused the lactose free milk and cream with fresh mint. i created the custard. i turned it in the machine. i used chocolate drizzle to make the little bits.
And it was really friggin’ delicious. and i ate it and i thought of olive and how glad i was that i was inspired by that baby to make something so yummy and i didn’t cry or anything. i was grateful. i was sad. i was eating the most delicious ice cream i’d ever experienced. i carried on.
one foot in front of the other. one lick at a time.
We would have reached the 12 week mark this week. we might have made ice cream to celebrate. we would have told the world.
Instead i grieve – mostly alone. i put one foot in front of the other. i look for little things to bring me joy. joy with a small j. i carry on.

no words

It’s 10:17 pm here. It’s taken me all day to try and find the words to post today.
My Dad died 11 years ago today. He really wanted to have grandkids but it just didn’t happen before we lost him.He never met my boy. And i often find myself reflecting on how my heart aches over that.

But here’s the one hope I have today.

I hope that where ever he is now, he has Olive with him. That he finally has a grand baby to adore, and Olive gets to feel as loved as I did every day he spent on this earth.

That would make me feel a little better.

in or out…

Plodding along, post Olive, we can’t help but wonder what next? If we were “let’s hook it up and see what happens?” people we probably wouldn’t even be having these thoughts yet. Maybe we would. I guess I don’t know. But we are who we are. And we got here how we got here. And now we can’t help but think about if we have it in us to try again.
Yes – we should take some time and not think about it. But that is far easier said than done. When you’re already a cog in the wheel of the business of baby making you can’t just decide that you’re ready to try again.
You need to make appointments and fit into schedules. You have to be on the right path financially to make it happen (ie: figure out where you’re going to find/borrow/make an extra $13,000 before you come to the conclusion that you’re ready). You need to be ready to take time off work – the minimal time for appointments and procedures and the extra time you need because you know you’re going to freak-the-fuck-out if you do decide to give it another go.
You also have to come to terms with each passing day bringing your chances of having another miscarriage up and your chances of having a successful IVF and healthy pregnancy down.
Then you need to weigh all these things against the grief that has you treading water in your life and figure out the sweet spot when you can make a decision based on the things and feelings that are true. Without influence of the grief and the lingering hormones and the ways you think you’re supposed to feel, and the fear. And the money. Because dammit – decisions like these shouldn’t be about the money. And making a baby shouldn’t be about fear. And wanting a child shouldn’t be born from grief.
And I wish I didn’t feel the need to prepare for an ‘in’ decision 3 months before I feel like should be deciding if we’re in or out.