A horrible reality check, and a bit of this and that...

Our precious ones are borrowed.

Last night Toby and I returned home after a weekend away at my parents.  There's no internet or mobile phone service there (and it's even less remote than I am here!) so I've been out of contact.

I logged in for a catch up on my internet world friends and might as well have been hit by a train. 

On Friday night one of ladies in my DIG (Due in April 11) put her precious 16 month old girl to bed.  And Saturday morning she was gone.  The angels had taken her.

At the moment it's being put down to SIDS (or SUDIC).

I was and still am in shock.  Floored.  Horrified.  Devastated. 

I have cried and cried and cried.  I have visited that dark place that I've been in before.  I cannot imagine the pain my friend is feeling, or her family.  Yet, I've walked in shoes a similar color.

But we know that none of our shoes are the same.  And this little girl wasn't a baby any more.

So much of my upset is selfish.  The "what if".  It's a normal reaction, I know, but it doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it.

But oh my God.  She was the same age as my Toby is.  They shared their birth month.  We are not out of the woods.  We don't know how long we have our precious ones.  There is not one little bit of fair about it.  I feel so angry again.  It's there, eating away on the inside.  I think it's one of the strongest emotions I have left from my loss of Ciaran.  It's a feeling of hate, though I'm not entirely sure what I hate.  It's just anger energy.

Even though we have walked the paths we have, we still sit in a certain innocence I think.  I don't know as I have the words to put my feeling on this down adequately.  I have relaxed "a little" with Toby, but I'm still so grateful for every moment.  I'm still his clingon.  He's still in cotton wool.  He still sleeps in my room, in his cot, beside me.  He still has his monitor pad under him.  I still take it for the portacot when we are away.  I don't think he's been without it one night yet.  And I've been told so many times that I can relax now.  That the danger "ends" when they turn 1.  I have had to correct people over and over.

Today I was looking at photos of this precious girl.  And all of a sudden once more it hit me.  She.Is.Dead.  D.E.A.D.  I couldn't ever say that out loud to so many because it's harsh.  But we in here know that our we have dead babies.  It's the shock factor that puts the edge back on our loss.  Anyway, I think I blanched.  I could have vomited with the wave of nausea that swept over me.  I cannot stand it. 

Rest dear Sage, and look after your mummy and your family, as I know they are missing you terribly.

:::

It's that time of year when things start to snowball. 

Four years.  How can it be.  How many people who aren't us can tell you exactly where they were in these months four years ago.

I was pregnant.  I was on stress leave.  My idiot chauvinistic boss had tried to sack me citing the reason that I couldn't do my job because I was pregnant.

I said the words "if anything happens to my baby, I will blame him", or similar.  Who would have thought that something would happen to my baby.  The book was already written.

The Olympics came and went.  A leap year cycled past.

And the angels that I never got to meet, who would mean something to me through their mothers' memberships to a club none of us ever imagined would be ours, started to arrive.  The dead babies of 2008.

Some have already turned four.

But the August - September ones are just beginning.  And they are the ones that really lead me in to our own time.  Ciaran's. 

:::

The reason I was visiting with my parents was for my niece, Molly's fourth birthday.  It was Toby's second celebration.  His big brother should have been there, excited to be almost four himself. 

I think then of Hope, who's fourth birthday is coming up fast.

Of Keiki.  Of Joseph.  Of Zoe Beth.  Of Liam.  Of too many to name.

:::

Toby is a little boy now.  My baby is grown up.  He's a confident toddler.  He loves his mama.  I struggle to keep up with his business at times, as he's into everything that he shouldn't be.  Toys fail to hold his interest for long.  By the time I've "saved" something on this side of the room he's already into something else. 

He's starting to talk.  The kind of ineligible words that a mama understands first.  Sometimes he messes the letters up but I get it.  Like "up"... he says "pa" or something similar.  But there's the hello.  Ta for everything (say "please"... "taaaaaa".  It'll do :)).  This, there and that.  The dogs and cats are all called "Ba" (our dog is called Simba which I think he learned the Ba from very early).  And sadly, one of his first words is "phone".  He is techno savvy and knows how to swipe the ipad and "play" a few games.  He's a little bit naughty and a big bit cheeky.

He's my world.