I honestly thought that this month would be fine. That I would continue on as I have been, with every week since I last saw you a little better than the one that came before.
This is not the case.
This is the month that I was due to birth you, to meet you, to bring you home. Sadly all of these things have already taken place. My body failed you, I failed you and your little heart stopped beating.
I feel that I’m right back where I was when we said goodbye.
Again, I’m waking each morning and before conscious thought kicks in I’m hearing the silence as the midwife searched for your heartbeat. I’m surrounded by the agonising noise that poured from my lips when I saw your still, lifeless body on the ultrasound screen. I can feel the pain of lying in the hospital bed waiting for your birth to be induced, knowing the physical and emotional torture that lay ahead but not being able to understand it.
Your birth plays in my mind. I see your beautiful, delicate body and again I silently scream for you. I beg to have you back. I tell you how sorry I am and that I wish I could turn back time.
I want this all to be a bad dream. I want to wake up with my great big belly and put my hand on your kicks. I want to pack my hospital bag and set up your room. I want to buy you a dress to wear on Christmas Day. I want to hold you as my two adorable children open the gifts that Santa has left. I want all that I had dreamt of, all that will never be mine.
So I wipe my eyes, I get out of bed and I keep busy. I focus on the positives and I remain grateful.
But at 5am none of that matters.
I count the long list of issues affecting my fertility and I wonder how you even came to be. My little miracle baby. I curse the world for making my journey to motherhood, to all that I care about, so hard. Then I feel poorly for doing so, knowing that I have indeed been blessed and that many are carrying a much heavier load.
I’ll freely admit that there isn’t much that I am good at. I’ve always been the one who is a little bit hopeless, the one with the never ending list of mistakes and poor choices. But I am good at being a Mum, or at least I’m not bad at it, and I long to have that chance again. The chance to carry, to birth and to nurture another baby of my own.
It saddens me to say that on your due date I’m not able to be at home, surrounded by my little ones as I would like to be. Instead I will be among people who do not know me and who do not know you. It feels so wrong and I quiver each time I think of it. I do not want to spend that day smiling and pretending that other things matter, because they will not. On that day only you will matter. My precious baby girl, forever loved and forever missed.
Caramel Butter Bars
- 2 cups desiccated coconut
- 3 tablespoons almond butter*
- 1 heaped tablespoon honey**
- 5 medjool dates, seeds removed
- 1/2 teaspoon concentrated natural vanilla extract
- pinch of salt
- Place the ingredients into your food processor in the order listed above.
- Blend at high speed until smooth, well combined and sticking together.
- Press the mixture in a loaf tin lined with baking paper. Mine measures 19.5cm x 9.5cm.
- Place in the fridge to set.
- Slice into bars. Eat and enjoy.
*almond spread is readily available in the health section of the supermarkets or from health food stores and co-op’s. You can also make your own, here is our recipe. To make these nut free I would sub the almond butter with hulled tahini and increase the amount of honey used.
**You can sub with rice malt syrup if you prefer