Bittersweet...

(The following is a post written 7 June that I couldn't post as I had no internet connection...)

Bittersweet.

There's a lot of bittersweet in having a rainbow.  Everything is bittersweet really.  Much of the time I'm caught up in the sweet of it, just as you imagine you will be.  Admittedly.  I don't spend my days, my every waking moment, pining for what could have been.

But to say that life is sweet, now that I have my Toby, would be way off the mark.

But of course, my life is no longer bitter. That would be selfish of me on so many levels. And a lie. However, there are still so many bitter moments. I appreciate everything that I have now. I wish that I hadn

So... bittersweet, hey?  What does it mean?  Quite simply, I'd say it is so much more than "bitter" but will never actually cut the mustard as "sweet".

:::

Last night I had to call in to the supermarket. Toilet paper. Milk. Essential items, right? Oh, and while I'm at it with the bittersweet I thought I'd grab another packet of nappies as I've already been caught out once this week with needing to make the 50km trek to get some.

I browsed the aisle, trying to decide which brand might be worth a try or whether to just go for the expensive ones and "know" that we're happy with them.  Toby was asleep in his pram but let out a little cry in his sleep.

A young Asian man was browsing the other side of the aisle, and when Toby squeaked he turned and looked at him with what I thought at the time was surprise, and made appropriate "ooh aah" noises.  I smiled politely at him and continued browsing.

A few moments later he approached me with "excuse me", and in very broken English he asked me to help him.  He had in his hands a baby bottle, and it took me a few moments to understand what he needed, which was help on which bottle and teats to purchase for his new baby that was to be born in July.

I was a bit "awww how sweet of this young daddy", and browsed the shelves with him, showing him which I thought were good ones, and how to work out which sizes to buy and that sort of thing.

But again, there is that bittersweet. Because really, on the inside, there was a bit of an emotional tornado going on.

Toby is nine weeks old. How have I become the person who gives advice on which bottles to buy? Or anything baby? I am not qualified in this. Not in the least. Sure, I guess I'm feeling a bit more at home with being a mum (would you believe I just spelt that as "mom"??  I think I hang out with my American friends online too much... Nah, never :)) but I am still way more qualified to be mum to an angel boy.  I have that one all but sorted.  So, how?  And how did it feel?  I guess a bit surreal, but also as if I was simply shaking my head... no.  I don't know how to do this.  You'll need to ask someone else.

Nine weeks ago I had no clue. Apparently now I have a new qualification, but it's a skin that doesn't quite fit.  I really can't imagine that it ever will.  And that's not fair.

I couldn't get away from this young fellow, who really was quite sweet.  He asked me how old Toby was.  He told me that his baby is a boy.  He noticed Toby's dummy and gasped.  Oh, he also needed those (well, with the hand actions to show me what he wanted so we searched the brands for those.

But I wanted to tell him that babies die. I didn't of course.  It's just that it made me kind of nervous to be seemingly innocently advising him to spend all of this money, when he is "just" a student especially, when we all know that babies die.  I mean we bought bottles and a breast pump and a few other bits and pieces on the way home from hospital.  No point stocking the cupboards till youknow you're getting a live one this time, right?  Hmmm?  No, of course I didn't tell him that babies die.  For most people they don't.

Turns out that his wife is still in Vietnam. He is here studying. He won't be there to see his baby being born in July because of his studies.  He is sending the bottles and dummies and whatever else back to Vietnam with a friend for his baby boy.  He won't see him until December.

I hope with all my heart that he sees his live baby boy. It's played on my mind since.