The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Friday, 28 May 2010

On taxidermy, thearpy, Reeses Cups and family trees

Dear Wee One

You would have been 3 months old this week. We probably would have had a party, you, me and the dog. I'd have made you both wear paper hats - the kind with elastic.

I may still make the dog wear a paper hat. It does so amuse me to dress her up.

Your grandparents left on Monday. We spent a gorgeous weekend being lazy, wandering around the various markets, playing scrabble and just generally enjoying one another's company.

When they arrived, your Grandy brought me two bags of mini Reese's Cups. Needless to say there are no more left. Not even the hint of dark brown paper nests or gold tin foil.

I still feel slightly nauseous, but in a good way.

I wish I could say that everything was grand. That whenever I think of you, it is completely without any sadness or devastation. For the most part, little one, it is with a kind of resigned happiness but some days. . . some moments. . . whoa. The pain is so intense, it just comes at me like a freight train, all grinding noise and smoke. And that I haven't been researching taxidermy and preservation methods like a demented person based on a series of recurring dreams in which you and I wander around town with you in a baby bjorn. Because THAT would not be at all weird.

You're coming home tomorrow, finally ready for collection from the Funeral director's. The kicker is that I had one thing I wanted to achieve before going back to work - the one silly, over-emotional thing that I really needed to have done, I don't know that I'll be able to. I wanted to find a little nest for my baby bird to play in. And I haven't been able to do that yet. Cue eating ice cream on the sofa in my pajamas and crying because I feel like a failure as a mama. Even though, rationally, I know I'm not a failure and the very nice therapist is helping me work through these types of feelings to become the better version of myself.

In other news, the upside of doing a genealogy project for your Dad's family is that I found some amazing photos to send to Wales and to Suffolk. And I will be able to provide the geneticist with a frighteningly thorough family tree. One side goes back to the early 11th Century.

And now you know why we tend to not do any genealogy here.

Friday, 14 May 2010

Everything is relative. . . except relatives

Dear Fang

Your grandparents arrived in London last Thursday. On Friday, we got ready for the party we were having on Saturday. On Saturday, we had a party. Mama may have drunk a bit too much, but no harm, no foul, as they say. Your grandmother may or may not have hit a couple of cars on her way back to ours. It was a good party.

They've gone off to France, your grandparents. I got up with them Wednesday morning, made your Grumpa coffee, hugged them goodbye and contemplated briefly whether I was making a mistake not going with them. I looked at your father as he got ready to drive them to the station and knew that now just isn't the time for me to be away.

The last few months, I've been a bit of a slacker. I'm not exercising like I should (I should be at the gym, working on getting back my womanly figure), I'm not keeping house like I should, I'm not really keeping up with commitments the way I should. In another place, in another time, I would be giving myself a hard time but now, I'm just along for the ride.

Things are changing fast. I am going to have to prepare myself for the fact that my office won't be the same: two people that I was close to are leaving (or have left) and there is a new person starting. Add to that the people traveling from the US and well, yeah. . . The world is just going to be different. But different can be good, right?

Your dad came home with news: his boss is leaving for another job and his boss's boss (I know, right? Hang in there) has been made redundant. I love that phrase 'made redundant.' It is so much more obnoxious and passive-aggressive than 'You're fired.' And it made me a bit nervous because I had made a decision that goes like this:

If the Bureaucracy doesn't get moving on notifying us about appointments, then dude, I'm going to jump ranks and get pregnant, results be damned. You need a sibling, I am ready to be a mama and actually HAVE a baby in the house (no offense, kitten. Have I mentioned that I had read a book about taxidermy-ing people? Well, embalming people for display, but still. . . I know, I know. Grief makes people a bit bonkers) and really, all of this milk has to be good for something, right? And Josie really needs someone small to pull her tail and tug on her ears.

But that could also just be me getting a bit apprehensive about how slow things now seem to move. When we were a unit, there was a finite period of time before we'd know how the chapter ended. You were - whether either of us were ready for it - going to come out eventually. But now, now things can just move idly along and get sidetracked. And I don't like being sidetracked.

You know?

Thursday, 6 May 2010

Dear Little One

Okay, so I think it is more than fair to say that Friday, well, Friday sucked crusty gym socks. Truly. It was the hardest day thus far and I know there will be more of them but sometimes they really do my head in.

After a little ambush by the obstetrician (I mean, really, do we need to walk through the autopsy report again?!), I seemed to on automatic pilot, albeit a very hostile automatic pilot. But I came out the other side of that Friday feeling remarkably okay. Went on to through your Auntie P's hen night with only a minimum of damage (in the guise of a gorgeous little Dries Van Noten espadrille that is no more) and a rather nasty blister.

Such is life and footwear.

Your grandparents arrived yesterday, bringing with them some of the sweetest things, including a 3 Little Bears quilt you Grandm B made; it is the perfect accompaniment to the lovely cross-stitch panel of bears in dreamland that your Auntie T made for you and your future siblings. Lucky little cuss. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced your grandparents but am trying not to work up an anxiety attack.

We'll see how that one goes.

As ever,
Your mama