Sweet Soft Smudge

A life lived in fear is a life half lived

2015-01-18T15:46:00.002+11:00

One of my favourite movies as a child was Strictly Ballroom. It came out when I was about six or seven, just when I was starting to become interested in dancing. My mum was a dancer when she was a kid, and into her teenage years, so it was soimething she was keen for me to do as well. The film made me fall absolutely in love with the idea of ballroom dancing - the glitz, the (faux) glamour, the whole deal. Unfortunately, ballroom classes for six-year-olds in the suburbs of Melbourne were pretty much non-existent. I had to settle for ballet, jazz, and tap dancing. Which were fine, I enjoyed them, but what I really wanted to do was dance with a partner.

So when I found out Strictly Ballroom was being reimagined as a full-blown musical, I was beside myself. I had to go, no matter what. So imagine my surprise when I was invited this past Thursday to a short preview of some of the numbers, as well as the oppurtunity to interview the cast and Baz Luhrmann himself! I jumped at the chance, and entered Her Majesty's Theatre that morning with my heart thumping. I couldn't believe it.

On entering the theatre itself and trying to figure out where to sit, I was a bit overexcited and ended up sitting in the second row - because really, when will I ever have the chance to be that close ever again? It paid off, as I got to see a lot more detail than I would have from the "cheap seats". The costumes and sets are both glorious - a real credit to four-time Oscar winner Catherine Martin, who has worked with Baz (her husband) on all of his films and shaped a lot of the style his films have become famous for. You really feel as though you're right there in the dance studio, the patio of Fran's house, the Pan Pacifics final...

My camera sucks, so I ended up using my phone to take photos.

I must admit that at one point my stream-of-conciousness notes devolved into "OMG BAZ LUHRMANN IS SITTING LIKE RIGHT THERE OMG I AM NOT WORTHY"... But I got better. The man himself seems to be a wonderful person to work with, and the banter between him and his cast shows the obvious bond they have. From Baz "vamping" while the techies got some things set up, to him joking with the cast that they'd have to perform a physically demanding number five more times for us (with "no holding back"), there was a lot of levity around. It was a wonderful atmosphere.

They're so cute and silly together.

The first previewed number went by so quickly, I didn't manage to take any photos or notes during it. So sadly I don't have much to report about that one specifically. It was very flashy, very camp, and everything I could have hoped for the beginning of the show. It was a wonderful way to sweep us up into the Ballroom world.

The second number we were shown was Time After Time, one of my favourite parts of the film. I was glad they ran it through twice, as during the first run-through I couldn't tear my eyes away from the leads. Thomas Lacey and Phoebe Panaretos are so perfect in their roles as Scott and Fran that I actually started tearing up. It was wonderful.

After some more banter and a short Q-and-A with Baz, we were again swept up and carried away into A Life Lived In Fear, the scene in which Fran's family show Scott how to take the passion of the dance and translate it into his life. I was once again almost unable to take my eyes away from the stage as I watched.

Typically when I'm watching people dance, my eyes tend to be drawn towards the women as I find them more visually interesting, This scene, for me, was all about the strength of the men. So much so that I didn't even notice most of the women on the stage were dancing as well until the second run-through. That's not to say they weren't interesting - they were amazing - but the raw power flowing through the men was captivating.

I didn't get any decent photos of this part, so here's a production photo from the official website. I think credit for this goes to Jeff Busby but I'm not sure. Most of the other production photos have been credited to him and this one is has "JB" in the filename...

On the whole, I can't wait to see the full show as soon as I can. I would highly recommend anyone in Melbourne while it's in town go see it - even if I end up in the "cheap seats" I'll be happy.

Because even the seats are gorgeous.

Strictly Ballroom opened on January 17th at Her Majesty's Theatre, Melbourne.

Faded.

2014-10-02T00:25:00.002+10:00

Most days, it fades into the background of my life. I have become desensitised to it. I can look at his photos and not feel the immediate pain of grief. It's like an old friend now, someone I used to know intimately but lost touch with slowly, in a way that gently set me down and on my way. He's always on my mind, I feel his presence there, but I don't mourn how I did then.

But then I'll watch a slideshow of his photos, I'll listen to "his" songs without distraction, I'll spend a quiet moment to poke at the hole inside me... And it blooms into colour again. I see everything I lost when he left, everything I would have, everything I wouldn't. It blinds me. It confuses me. His sisters - who wouldn't be here if he was - they wear his face, his eyes, his nose. They make these features their own, but don't know they were his first.

How do I not see these things everyday? Have I blocked it out? Did I do that intentionally? Baby boy, I promised never to forget you - but how do I separate the joy of you from the agony of your death? Will I someday be a better mother to you - to your memory - or will you fade away from me?

The year of giving

2014-06-01T09:30:00.000+10:00

Somehow I've managed to spend a great deal of the past month or two preparing for and completing various charity events. I walked for breast cancer research in the Mothers' Day Classic on May 11th, and on the 24th I did an hour on a treadmill as part of Team Heartfelt to raise money for Very Special Kids.

Coming up is a bigger, slightly more permanent "challenge". SIDS & Kids Australia are running a "Dare to Care" campaign for Red Nose Day this year, and I'm participating. While some Dares are a bit more... well, daring, mine will be staying with me for quite some time. I'm dyeing my hair the colours of the rainbow. Say goodbye to my lovely (ha!) blonde locks, from the 26th of June, I'll have the seven-colour spectrum in there!

As it stands right now, I'm not on the individual leaderboard yet; but due to a lack of teams so far I'm single-handedly coming third on the team leaderboard. I'd love to have three things happen:

Reach the individual leaderboard.
Have more people join me on Team Ianto.
Reach the top of either leaderboard.
Most importantly - Have a hell of a lot of money raised for SIDS & KIDS no matter who it's donated through.

How can you help?

You could take on a Dare yourself and join Team Ianto. It doesn't have to be the same Dare as me - it doesn't even have to be rainbow themed!
You can donate money here.
You can donate your time by helping me find a hairdresser willing to take on this challenge with me (I still haven't locked anyone in), by designing posters for me to pass around, or anything else you think might help physically. Got a newsletter you can put this information in? Feel free!
You can spread this link around like wildfire. The more people that see it, the more people will donate.

Of course, I don't care if people don't want to donate through me. If you want to set up a page for yourself as an individual, go for it. If you'd prefer to just buy Red Nose Day merchandise in stores, wonderful! It's all about saving babies and children. SIDS & Kids were a wonderful help when Ianto died, and I just want to pass that on to all other bereaved parents.

Would I? Could I?

2014-05-07T04:12:00.001+10:00

I just read this post, which poses the question "if you could go back and tell your pregnant self about the loss you sustained, would you?" This was going to be a comment on it, but I felt it was long enough to warrant a blog post of my own.

I was going to say yes, so I could save him. But thinking again, no. Not in that instance. It's awful when put so baldly, but saving Ianto means losing my girls. If he'd lived, I wouldn't have been pregnant again four months later. I wouldn't have gone on to conceive Elisabeth either, because we'd have tried for another baby a year or so earlier. If I could magically insert him into the life we have now, I would, but I don't think I would go back and save him then. I know how to live without him now.

However. If telling past-me wouldn't change anything, or would save him only for a matter of a day, an hour, a minute... I would drive her to the hospital myself. I would hold her hand and tell her that it will get easier. That the next week will be one of the darkest of her life, but colour rushes back in. That she shouldn't be scared of what's to come. That she's about to meet one of the great loves of her life even though he'll never look into her eyes and say he loves her. I would be the one to cradle him when he is first born, and I would hold him at all the points past-me and past-scott put him down. I would smell that sweet scent again. I'd clean his hands and feet thoroughly so there was no ink on them in his photos, I would make sure the doctor got his name right on the discharge papers. I would... I would do so many things.

But I can't. I won't. It will always be the way it was, and I will live with that. Because that's something I CAN do.

I had a baby in my loungeroom!

2014-01-16T23:00:00.000+11:00

Trying to conceive

Around April of 2012, I started feeling the familiar stirrings of wanting a new baby. I still remember being on a tram, realizing, and looking at Scott in horror – I’d spent months convincing him when we were engaged that I wanted no less than three years between children, and now I was about to tell him “let’s scratch that and go for one and a half”! As he did when we first decided to conceive Amelia, he attempted to talk me out of it, telling me that we should wait a little longer. “How about we start at the beginning of next year?”

It didn’t work. Again, as with Amelia, I fought and eventually we decided that we’d try the “not trying, not preventing” method. Unfortunately, another roadblock came up in June when I was diagnosed officially with PCOS. A month later, I had my first imagined positive. Scott was more on board with TTC when he saw how devastated I was when the doctor told me I wasn’t pregnant.

On August 4^th, I posted this in a TTC thread on my favourite pregnancy/parenting forum:

“I'm kinda flitting between here and the Pre-TTC group because we're not sure if we're officially trying or not.
Anyway, I'm hoping the dream I had today (I had a nap, it was awesome!) was a sign of things to come. I dreamt I birthed a beautiful little girl at home, with my mum, DH, and DD as support. It was fantastic :D I dreamt every moment of it, from first contraction through transition, then pushing. I loved it!”

Eventually I joined the thread officially, and we were off. But nothing happened. My PCOS caused my cycles to be super-long, and at one point, I was sitting at around Cycle Day 80. I was getting depressed. As I watched fireworks go off over my suburb at midnight on New Year’s Day, I made one promise to myself: This time next year, I will be doing this with a baby in my arms.

Then, it happened. I got my act together completely, used every TTC trick and product I could get my hands on, and managed to pinpoint ovulation to the 28^th of March. And I waited.

Don't worry - this is just a closeup of my saliva, showing that I was near ovulation.

I waited a whole ten days before testing with a cheap test from eBay. Was that a line? I didn’t know. Scott was at work, I had left my wallet in the car so didn’t have my Myki card (for public transport to buy a better test), and I was forced to wait another day. On April 8^th, at 3:30pm, I tested in the parents’ room of my local shopping centre. My friend Lily was waiting expectantly as well, half a city away on the other end of a text message conversation. Then I sent her this:

“So… What’s it like, being due in December?”

Yes, I had my Big Fat Positive. I burst into tears as I thought about giving Ianto and Amelia another sibling. I messaged Scott (who was at work again) and asked if he could pick me up when he was finished. And I walked around the shopping centre in a haze of disbelief. I’m pregnant again.

When Scott arrived, I jumped into the car and grinned to myself in the back seat as I strapped Amelia in. I’d already worked out how to tell my geeky husband what was going on, long before we had even conceived.

“Scott? I think I’m turning into a Time Lord.” “Huh? What do you mean?” “Two hearts.”

It took him a few seconds, but he slowly made eye contact with me in the rear vision mirror. And he grinned.

These aren't even all of the tests...

Pregnancy

To be honest, I had the most boring pregnancy I think anyone’s ever had. Almost all drama was non-pregnancy related. I ended up in hospital a few times – some cramps that I thought might be a miscarriage; a suspected broken finger; chest pain that we never found a cause of (the reigning theories were a pulled muscle in my chest or a panic attack); and finally at 38 weeks, a very painful fall when I slipped at the very same shopping centre I had discovered my pregnancy at. I essentially did a full split, and was unable to walk easily for about a week. I still have the walking frame in case the pain came back after birth. Thankfully, it hasn’t.

I even managed to go to a concert at around 35 weeks. The securtity guys let me stand right next to the stage so they could keep an eye on me.

Throughout it all, I had the support of my midwives (from the MAMA clinic) and my doula (Lily, who was my doula with Amelia as well). I was planning the homebirth I had wanted with Amelia. Everything went smoothly. I had some hip and pelvic pain on and off, but it actually eased as my pregnancy progressed. For the most part, I wasn’t even worried about losing this baby – I instinctively felt everything would go well. Around 35 weeks, I did have a small amount of fear when during an appointment baby’s heartbeat took a few extra seconds to find; but there it was – strong as ever.

Things couldn't have been smoother.

Everything was perfect. We chose names, and I fully expected to be welcoming our second son into our home. I wasn’t adverse to another daughter, I simply thought the baby (nicknamed Pudding) was a boy. At one point during an appointment, one of my midwives asked me about my plans for the birth. Although I’d given a great deal of thought to it, it all came down to a few simple facts. “I’m going to go into labour, I’m going to climb into the birth pool, and I’m going to have a baby in my lounge room!”

My fairy lights and affirmations

I had decided not to tell many people my estimated due date. Partly because I wanted to avoid the possibility of reaching it and being hassled about if the baby had arrived yet, when would they induce me, etc., and partly because I simply wanted to. I felt better telling people my due month rather than an exact date. But I got stuck on a few dates I personally expected to have given birth by. But they came… and went. Oh dear. I did have small contraction-type feelings on and off, starting around the 9^th, but nothing that turned into real labour. Again, I got out all the old wives’ tales and made my way through them. Nothing seemed to work, although that may have been because I wasn’t putting too much effort in. I knew the baby would come when he or she was ready; I couldn’t be pregnant forever!

I couldn't wait to jump in!

On my EDD, we had our first 40-degree day of summer here in Melbourne, and we went out as a family for icecream. Again, I felt some small contractions, but I had learnt to ignore them. I was getting depressed again, this time about baby not wanting to come out. We continued on our day, and I went to sleep wondering if I’d ever give birth.

The next day, we went to the movies – and yet again, I was having small contractions. But these weren’t stopping like the others. Before the movie began I told Scott not to get too excited, but things might be starting soon. I started timing them, and they occasionally settled into somewhat of a pattern before stopping for a while and starting again. I thought I’d give in to a superstition or two, and tried to make certain things similar to my last two labours – I took off my wedding ring and hung it on my necklace, I removed my earrings... Silly things, really, but I felt like I had to do something!

I’d started messaging Lily around 4ish, telling her what was happening, but I started doubting that anything was really happening when the contractions wouldn’t settle. Around 10pm I called it a night and told her we should all just go to bed. We bid each other goodnight and hoped that perhaps tomorrow would be the Big Day.

Birth

Yep. I was wrong in telling Lily not to come. I couldn’t get to sleep anyway, so I stayed up and kept timing. Starting around 11:30, I had a series of contractions that were eleven, then ten, then eight, then six minutes apart. At that point, I decided to wait for one more contraction before calling anyone. And the next few expanded again – eight, eleven… Okay, maybe it really is nothing. Seven, seven, seven… Oh? Hmm. I woke Scott up and told him to call Kelly – my primary midwife - for me. But he fell asleep again after a small grunt, so I just kept timing. Seven, seven… Agh, I’ll call her myself! I called, explained, and she messaged me back a few contractions later telling me that we’ll wait until they’re closer to five minutes apart. Fair enough, that’d pretty much be standard, and they were manageable at that point. But I wanted company anyway, so I called my mum over and said things were happening but slowly.

During a contraction!

Mum arrived around 1am, and I told her that if she wanted to have a sleep that was okay, I just wanted company in case things ramped up. Which they suddenly did – I jumped in the shower a few minutes after she arrived and found myself starting to grunt through contractions that I wasn’t able to time. I got out, started a new “session” on my contraction-timing app, and quickly found that they had progressed to three minutes apart! Oh dear. I woke Scott up (somewhat angrily), told him to call Kelly, and then go pick up Lily. We couldn’t get through to her right away, but he left and managed to contact her during his drive. Amelia hadn’t been to sleep yet, so she joined us soon after Mum arrived and flitted between watching a DVD and spending time with us.

Things get a little fuzzy around here. I think Kelly walked into the lounge room after Scott left, but I also have some recollection of her being here at the same time as him. I really don’t know. I do know that Mum and I had started to fill the birthing pool up, and it was about a quarter of the way done. One of the first things Kelly said when she walked in was “Oh, wow…” in her lovely soft voice. In retrospect I’ve realized that she probably recognized the way I was holding myself and dealing with contractions – I was further into it that any of us expected.

I paced a little, but during contractions, I would generally plant my feet and groan/roar through each of them. I didn’t have any back pain, but it felt nice to put pressure on my own hips. At the same time, I wanted a cold wet washcloth over my face, so I had to choose. Washcloth. At one point towards the end of a contraction, I thrust it at Mum and said to her “cold this… Uh, I mean, can you put cold water on that again?” Eventually “cold this” and finally “cold” just became shorthand for when I needed it cold again.

I had the room decked out with fairy lights (and the Christmas tree), which felt absolutely magical – I would recommend every birthing woman have some. My affirmations were up on the wall, providing me with strength on the few occasions I managed to pay attention to them. My birthing necklace went on, but came off just as quickly – I didn’t tie it properly and Amelia decided to take off with it while I was mid-contraction. I still don’t know where it’s gone!

Finally, the pool was full. I’d been watching the water like a hawk, and the moment it hit the fill line, I was in! I had a moment’s pause – undies on or off? Off. – before launching myself in and getting into a comfortable position. I hung my arms over the side of the pool, planted my knees under me, and let the water ease into my body. Ahhh… Oh, crap, still have to deal with the contractions, don’t I? As they hit, I felt like I wasn’t dealing well with anything. When they subsided, I was very lucid, which furthered my belief that I was nowhere near done. Amelia had joined us exclusively, so I told Mum (rather nastily – sorry Mum!) to turn the DVD off so I could have some quiet. I kept working through each contraction, sometimes easily, sometimes not so much. I was very loud. Amelia started making some noise at one point as I was roaring, which my “monkey brain” took as a challenge to be louder. I scared her away, poor baby.

I want to take a moment to point out just how amazing Amelia was throughout my labour. She wasn’t scared of most of the noises I was making, she was more curious than anything else. She held my face at one point, looked into my eyes, and said “what’s up?” – her way of asking if I’m okay. But the most wonderful thing she was doing was helping pour water over my back, exactly where I needed it. She got it wrong only a handful of times – my shoulder got drenched, and one cupful ended up on the floor – but she was fantastic. I don’t think I’d have made it through as easily as I did without the support of my little future midwife. Who by the way wasn’t wearing any pants, or a nappy. So the few photos we do have of us together as I laboured also feature her incredibly cute bottom.

Starry starry butt...

Transition came and went before I knew it. In the back of my mind, as I was whimpering “I don’t want to do this anymore… Can’t I have a break?... Pleeeeease…”, I was thinking perhaps I really was close to the end. But surely that couldn’t be – Scott hadn’t even made it back yet! I’d only been in real, active labour for an hour or two, surely?! Oh, is that a pushy feeling I’m starting to get? Oh… No, can’t be, Kelly hasn’t even said that I should start pushing yet, surely she’d let me know when she thinks I can? I held back and tried not to push, but the noises I was making told even me that the baby was close.

Kelly was talking to me, repeating some of my affirmations for me since I couldn’t see my birthing flags. “Inhale peace, exhale tension… Relax, breathe, surrender…” The words floated past my head, catching in my ears now and then. “Tenielle… Your baby is almost here… You know this… You can do this…” I still didn’t believe her. I thought she was trying to make me feel better so I would keep going. But I didn’t want to! This was the one and only time the word “hospital” was mentioned – I asked if I could go have a quick sleep there before coming back home to have the baby!

My secondary midwife, Jan, arrived during transition. I heard Mum and Kelly greeting her, but had no idea who had walked in. Somehow I knew it wasn’t Scott, probably because I didn’t hear his voice and he wasn’t holding my hand, but there was a new presence in the room. I opened my eyes by about a millimetre, decided it must be Jan, and waved tiredly. “Hello…” I whimpered, before another hard contraction rolled over me. Again, I heard an “Oh!” of surprise.

Finally I gave in to my curiosity about being able to push, and gave a small one with a loud grunt. I felt Kelly spring up and heard her tell someone (Mum) to call Scott and see how far away he was. Mum came back to us with an estimated arrival time 40 minutes away, and Kelly was back at my side. “Tenielle… Scott’s not going to make it… He’s 40 minutes away…” It finally sunk in that yes, the baby is almost here. You are allowed to push. And push I did. Although disappointment seeped in that Scott and Lily weren’t going to be here – and as Lily was also acting as photographer, I wasn’t going to have any decent birth photos – I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold back for another 40 minutes. I was having this baby. Since I would be without a doula, I decided I’d have to be my own and started chanting phrases I planned to use for my own clients – “soft face, soft cervix, open mouth, open cervix... Relaaaaaax...”

And I pushed. Oh, how I pushed! I reached into the water to support my lower belly, and actually felt the baby moving down past my hands on the inside. I felt a very poo-like feeling, and hoped against hope that it wasn’t actually poo. I felt myself stretch, and put my hands over my vagina hoping to feel a head. Nothing yet, hands back to my belly. I felt a great stinging sensation, a gush, and knew the amniotic sac had finally burst. I felt both Kelly and Jan reach down to try to find the baby’s heartbeat one more time (the only time I was even vaguely annoyed by them, although retrospect is again my friend and I know they were only doing their job). And finally, finally, I felt a small head starting to emerge. I felt bone slide over bone as our bodies worked together. I felt a slight urge to clench but the still-logical part of my brain told me that was a bad idea. I felt like I should change positions soon, because leaning forward made it feel as though I was splitting towards my front. I felt… a head pop out of me.

“Head’s out!” I grunted, leaning back a little as I gave a weak push. And then the rest of the body was out. My eyes popped open as I reached down and pulled a small body up and away from me. Kelly made me pause slightly as she looped the umbilical cord off the baby’s neck, and I brought this small wet thing out of the water and onto my body. I admittedly can’t remember exactly what I said, but I recall it being something like “Oh there you are!”

I had my hand on a tiny bottom and realized that there was no sign of a penis before I’d even looked at the baby’s face. “Feels like a girl…” I muttered as I tried to catch a glimpse between the baby’s legs and reposition us both. “Looks like a girl! Another girl!” I don’t think anyone heard me until about the fifth time I said it. By then I’d already given her her name – “Hello Elisabeth… Hello, my little Lissy…” I quickly introduced her to her big sister before I had to get out of the pool.

We made our way over to the couch, still attached to each other, and I lay down for the first time in hours. I retreated into a world that contained only my baby and me. I couldn’t tell you what anybody else was saying, although I know I was talking to them as well. I fell in love completely with this tiny little girl on my chest. At one point Jan told me what time I had given birth, and I was floored – 3:38am. I hadn’t even thought I was really in labour at all until well after midnight, and it was all over shortly before FOUR?! I was astonished.

Mum called Scott again at my request. When he answered, I said weakly “You have another daughter!” He asked me to repeat myself, trying not to show his disappointment. I practically shouted, “You have another DAUGHTER!” and heard him relay the news to Lily. I could tell both were upset to have missed everything, but I was in such bliss that it didn’t register until they arrived around twenty minutes later. Scott rushed directly to me, and together we drank in the sight of our new daughter.

My earlier statement came back to me. I had gone into labour. I had climbed into the birth pool. I had had a baby in my lounge room. And I was a birthing WARRIOR.

Elisabeth Billie Reid

Birth date: 21^stDecember 2013

Weight: 3.745kg

Length: 52cm

Mother Blessing

2013-11-19T22:41:00.000+11:00

Well, readers, long time no write! (Why do I feel like I write something similar every. single. time?)

As you may well remember from my last post - way back on my birthday in June - I announced my pregnancy. Well, I'm still very much pregnant! I'm not sharing my exact due date with many people, but next month is my due month.

Last Saturday, the 16th, I hosted my Mother Blessing - also known as a blessingway. It was wonderful. You might remember that I was miserable during my baby shower when pregnant with Amelia, but this time (almost) everything went according to plan. The cake I made was awesome, although I accidentally made the icing a little too thick in my attempts to make it look good.

Get it? It's supposed to be me, in the birth pool. I didn't get to see the initial destruction of it though, because I was getting henna applied to my bump at the time and wasn't allowed to move. Almost everyone had some kind of henna on them, once the artist arrived. She was an hour and a half late. Yeah, not going to be recommending her to anyone anytime soon. But she did do some lovely work!

I had everyone decorate birth flags for me as well, so I can hang them up in my birth space and look at them during labour. Everyone has a different style, and I love each of them in different ways.

We got started on a birthing necklace for me to wear, but it's not quite finished yet. I need to add spacer beads and a few that had been forgotten at guests' homes. If I don't come back to share the finished product, you should be able to see it once I get my birth photos up.

One of the most symbolic things we did was tying a red cord around everyone's wrists to bind us together until the baby is born. When everyone gets the news, they cut the cord. Nice, simple, but a lovely sentiment. I felt very connected to each of the women who came to honour my upcoming passage into being a mother of three, and I'll never forget how loved I feel right now.

Happy Birthday To Me, Indeed...

2013-06-10T08:00:00.000+10:00

I've been sitting on this for two months now. I decided right away that I was going to wait until my birthday to let everyone know, so I didn't feel too bad about turning 27, and the day has finally arrived. Phew!
Baby's nickname is Pudding. All is going well so far, and I'm utterly in love with my care providers.

Pictures in my mind

2013-05-29T19:39:00.000+10:00

A little while ago, I was listening to a song played at Ianto's funeral, and started thinking about that day. There are some parts I just can't get across in words. I wish I could tell you all about how Scott and I spent an hour in silence before heading to the wake, how that was the only time we had alone together that day. How we cried together, embraced each other, and just sunk into that grief. We had to put our "brave" faces back on soon after, but I don't think we would have survived the past three and a half years without those moments alone just being us.

This was a lot longer in my head, but I'm getting a headache. I'll leave you with this little tidbit: Amelia latched on to her brother's name last night and was running around yelling "ANTO! ANTO!" - I cried a little, I admit. She's been a bit speech-delayed, so I'm happy she's finally starting to get more words. Though the hysterical "No! No giss!" when I asked for a kiss tonight may have been a bit much...

Today's news.

2012-12-15T09:50:00.002+11:00

Since Amelia woke up this morning around 6ish, I'd been annoyed at her. I didn't want to get up, I didn't want her bouncing around and hurting me. Finally, she woke me up enough that I knew I wouldn't be going back to sleep. So, bleary-eyed, I checked Facebook. Now I don't care about the sleep I so dearly wished for.

At least 20 parents are going to wake up every morning for the rest of their lives with a piece of themselves missing. Someday, they may get back to normality and annoyance at not being able to sleep in. Then they will hear of another tragedy in the news or their personal lives, and it will all rush back to them.

I hope the families of those who died at the hands of this person can someday find peace. I hope the children and teachers who had to witness it happening can someday come to terms with what they saw and heard.

May the children and adults who lost their lives rest in peace.

Trying!

2012-12-10T16:54:00.001+11:00

Just a quick note to let you all that I've been trying to post for the past week or so, but my iPad doesn't want to upload the photos for me. As soon as I work it out, I'll get the post up.

Thanks for being patient!

Tenielle

Capture Your Grief, Day 7: What to say.

2012-10-07T11:30:00.000+11:00

Today's subject is a lot lighter than yesterday's. Today is about the things you should say to grieving parents. As with yesterday, this is not a one-size-fits-all thing.

"I'm sorry for your loss" - Always, always say this. Use it to lead into other things, reword it to suit you, but always tell a grieving parent that you are saddened by what happened to them and their child.
"What was his name?" and other questions you would normally ask a new parent - Any parent wants to talk about their child. It's no different if the child has died.
"Congratulations on the birth of your baby" - There was a baby born. The baby may have died, but s/he was born nonetheless. My favourite card we received had a heartfelt congratulations alongside their sympathies.
"..." - I said yesterday that saying nothing was a bad thing. I'll now admit that's not always true. Just use your silence wisely. Sit quietly as they talk about their baby. Hold them in silence as they cry. Cry with them if you must, but do not overpower their own grief.
"Happy Birthday!" - Obviously you don't say this to the newly grieving parents. Someone remembering Ianto's birthday is one of the few things I found that picks me up on those awful days at the end of February. Someone remembered it wrong this year (they said it on the anniversary of his death, two days early) but it still made me happy! Including him on cards to other people is something we almost always do as well.
"Ianto", "him", "the baby", etc. - The opposite of yesterday's last point. Always use personal nouns when speaking of someone's child. Just because he died doesn't mean he's any less of a person.

Again, these are what I would recommend for someone like me. Always use your own judgement when talking to grieving parents.

Capture your Grief day 6: What NOT to say.

2012-10-06T11:30:00.000+10:00

There are many things a grieving parent doesn't want to hear. This is just a small sample, not a definitive list. Some of the things I found offensive may be comforting to others, and vice-versa.

"It was god's will" - Starting off with the big guns here. I found it rather offensive for people to say this to us, especially as we are non-religious. What kind of deity kills someone's baby? Definitely not comforting. You go on believing in your big man in the sky (or whichever deity you believe took my baby away from me) and I'll continue mourning my son.
Related to the above "I'll pray for you" - No thank you. I don't believe in prayer, so you're not praying for me at all. You're praying for yourself, which is perfectly fine, but don't you dare say it's for my benefit. I got angry that the funeral cards had "thank you for your prayers" on them, for goodness' sake!
"There was obviously something wrong, so it's just as well he died before birth" - That may be so, he might have had something "wrong" that would have killed him anyway. I have had these thoughts myself, but that doesn't give you the right to voice them. Not comforting.
"..." Yep, saying nothing says a lot. Breaking off friendships because you don't know what to say to me hurts. Even saying something like "I don't know what to say" before changing the subject is a million times better!
"You must have done something wrong" - Say this to me and I will do something wrong. I will break you. I'm the only one allowed to have those thoughts, and I have tried for two and a half years now to come to terms with them.
"At least you can have more children" - Even after proving that I can have more children, this hurts like hell. I love Amelia to bits, but even so I still want Ianto. I don't want to replace him with anyone, I want to have him and the rest of my kids. Similar to this, there's "just focus on the children you do have". Do you have any idea how offensive that is?!
"It's not like he was a planned baby anyway" - Wow. Just wow. So surprise babies are somehow less valued than those who were planned for? That's not only offensive to grieving parents, that's offensive to anyone who has either had or been a surprise baby.
"It", "the foetus", etc. - He has a name. If you don't know it, call him "he". If you don't know yet that he was a boy, call him "your baby" or "the baby". He was a person.

There are so many more things I could put on this list. Just step lightly when speaking to grieving parents about their dead children. Take your cues from them. Sometimes silence is the best option. Some parents may want to hear it was god's will. If in doubt, just say "I'm sorry" and let them talk.

Capturing my grief

2012-10-02T20:00:00.000+10:00

I'm going to be participating in the Capture Your Grief photo project this month. The aim is to take a photo everyday with a different theme, all based around the loss of a baby or child.

I'll be posting all my photos through Pinterest, and each Sunday I'll blog all the photos from that week. Some of the subjects will be blogged about in between if I feel they would be better done with words than with photos.

Here are the appropriate links

Themes and explanation of the project: http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/2012/09/capture-your-grief-this-october-2012-for-pregnancy-infant-loss-awareness-month.html

My Pinterest board: http://pinterest.com/tenibear/capture-your-grief-photo-project-2012/

I look forward to sharing this with you. Please feel free to participate. Even those who haven't lost a child can do a few of the challenges, if you think about someone else's child!

Part of the family

2012-08-20T10:12:00.000+10:00

Ianto is very much a part of our family. If someone asks me how many children I have, I never hesitate to answer "two", though the rest of my answer differs from person to person. Sometimes I'll add that Amelia is the only one who gets to live with us, or that her brother died before birth. Other times I'll leave it unless someone asks why I've only got one hanging around me. He's included on a lot of birthday cards we send, and the few times we've had to put notices in the newspaper he's been there with "(dec.)" after his name.

He influences a lot of what I do. From his and Amelia's birthdays being part of my phone unlocking passcode, to having a lot of rainbow items around the house, he's there. Some days Amelia and I wave good morning or goodnight to his photos. She's been starting to point at his cabinet lately, though that may be that she wants to play with the teddy bears and other toys.

I've mentioned that I don't believe in a higher power, that I'm not sure there's an afterlife at all, but the memory of him is always around. He is represented in family photos by his teddy bear, his name embroidered on the front. Rainbows surround us, the symbol we've chosen for him. We love him just as much as Amelia.

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Long time no blog!

2012-08-18T23:55:00.001+10:00

Hello there readers/stalkers! Sorry I haven't written in a while. Life keeps getting in the way, even the boring parts are sometimes too action filled to give me time to write!

We're coming up to two and a half years without Ianto. In fact, today (the 19th) is three years since I got that very first positive pregnancy test and we began this slippery slope.

I'm writing this on my phone with 6% battery, so I best leave this and go to bed. Just wanted to check in and let you all know things are going okay. Not excellent - we're all sick and have had a death in the family last week - but we're surviving.

Love from Ianto and Amelia's mummy Teni.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

That Photo

2012-05-25T12:00:00.000+10:00

On my computer, there's a photo of Scott and I bathing Ianto. I haven't shared it online, because it's not the kind of photo I would want the world to see. I'm haggard and obviously still in shock from grief and labour, and Ianto is flopped between my arm and the side of the bath like a ragdoll. Neither of us were supporting his head, so a gloved hand is propping it up. He has my blood on his face, I have some meconium staining my shirt, there's blood on the bed behind us. It's incredibly upsetting and undignified for us. It's equally my most hated and most treasured photo of him.

It's the only one you can see his arms, legs, and body uncovered in. All of the other photos, there's clothes or sheets covering him. I stare at those long, horribly skinny limbs and think how they should be fat and chubby, around my neck or draped on my stomach as I cuddle him to sleep. I look at his knees and elbows, hardly even visible, and think he should be throwing tantrums in supermarkets. His stomach, his chest... The blood had already begun to pool in his little body. They were starting to turn dark when this photo was taken. His chest was so flat, it's like the lack of a heartbeat deflated him.

I wish I'd taken more photos of his little body before we wrapped him up. Before we said goodbye to it forever.

Photoshoot for the Australian Breastfeeding Association

2012-05-22T23:13:00.001+10:00

I'd have loved to have someone who thinks breastfeeding at any stage is "only for the mother's pleasure" at my photoshoot today.

There is NO forcing a child to breastfeed. I tried every trick in my book to get Amelia to feed on camera, but she wouldn't have a bar of me and kept jumping off my lap! I made it for a time she's normally very interested in "booby" but nope, she didn't want anything until we had left and were back in the car.

So you're probably wondering why I was trying to breastfeed on camera today. I saw a call out last week for "models" to be considered for the Australian Breastfeeding Association's 2013 calendar and jumped at the chance! I meant to send a photo in last year, but never got around to it, so when I heard there would be an actual photographer I got all excited and had to say yes.

Even if the photos aren't used in the calendar, they've been released to the ABA for whatever use they want, so they might show up online or in their magazine. I hope they get used somewhere, Amelia was extra-cute today.

On another bit of news now - we've moved house! We're on the other side of the same suburb, but in a slightly bigger house with a maaaassiiiiive kitchen! I love my new kitchen so much, I may have to divorce Scott and marry it.

I've also got a new website for my doula business - www.irisbirth.com - and I'm now about halfway through my course. I've taken to doing quizzes/exams at 3am, and getting fairly good scores, so I know I can take the physical exhaustion part of it.Right, that's all from me right now. Hope to have some more news for you soon!

The Party

2012-03-24T11:30:00.000+11:00

Part One was published yesterday. This is a photo-heavy post, so beware!

I rose the morning of Amelia's party with my mind racing. I had so much to do before 11, when we planned to leave. Luckily for my sanity, Amelia woke in a good mood and I got some cuddles in before doing anything else.

Scott had gone to get ice to put all the drinks in, but I was impatient and helped Amelia open all her presents from us as soon as she was awake enough to appreciate them. I we had bought her a rocking moose and a few other things from Ikea, and I gave her a couple of books I had meant to give her at Xmas but forgot about.

Then came the boring but important stuff. More food!

I made the cake pops, swirled them in chocolate, and left them to set. I didn't have enough time to make the vegemite swirl, but I didn't think it would be missed. I got Amelia dressed in her special birthday dress, showered myself, and we set off. A hundred things happened before all that, but I can't remember any of it... I just hoped against hope there weren't too many other people at the park.

When we arrived, my fears were realised. There was another party going on! I sent Scott to ask how long they were going to be there, and if a lady sitting alone at a different table was able to move to make room for us. She rather rudely said no, so we had to change the plan a little. There was a cafe not far from where I wanted to be, so we set up there and hoped we wouldn't be kicked out. As it turned out, this was one of the best moves we could have made.

Amelia had fallen asleep in the car on the way, so I stayed with her until she woke, again in a good mood. People had started to arrive, so we made our big entrance.

I'd bought Amelia's dress from Amazon, but had neglected to check the arrival date until I'd already paid. Of course, it was long after the party would be over. Someone somewhere (Ianto?) must have wanted me to get that dress, though, because it arrived far ahead of time! Everyone told me what a pretty dress it was, and I have to agree. Amelia was the most beautiful one-year-old girl to grace this planet.

The party was a roaring success, aside from the fact that most of my food didn't get eaten. So much money down the drain, all because I catered more to the kids than the adults. Not having much table space didn't help.

But what about the cake? I hear you ask. Well, see for yourself...

Isn't it gorgeous? I was so proud of myself, pulling it off so well. It's obviously not perfect, the icing not as smooth as I would have liked, but for my first real attempt at a themed and shaped cake, I'd say I did a bloody fantastic job!

After a while, the party wound down. People started saying goodbye, and Amelia was getting tired. She fell and smacked her face into the concrete at one point, which drew a little blood and a lot of tears. Luckily, some Mummy hugs and a bit of booby made it all better.

My friend Lily (who saw Amelia born) and I headed to the change room to get new nappies on our girls, and chatted about how everything had gone. When we came out, we were shocked. Everyone was suddenly gone! We'd only been away for a few minutes, but in that small window the remaining guests had left. It was eerie.

We stayed maybe fifteen minutes longer, chatting away and laughing about the suddenness of everyone scattering. Scott started packing up the car, drove Lily to the entrance of the parklands, and I was alone with the birthday girl once more. We were both sore and tired from the day, but there were birds to chase! She chased them, I chased her, and we fell about laughing before heading home. All in all, there's not much I would have changed aside from the food situation and the blood on her nose.

I hope you've enjoyed having me back. Here's hoping I don't go away for too long again...

One and Two year(s) old!

2012-03-23T10:30:00.000+11:00

I really need to start writing posts as soon as I think of them, rather than think about it. Sorry you all haven't heard from me in well over a month. I've been fairly well, no big changes in our lives. Except... I have a one-year-old! And a two-year-old!

I'm still trying to adjust to the fact that Amelia's birthday has been and gone. It felt strange being able to cuddle her for her birthday, as opposed to visiting a grave. Then again, I was so busy on Ianto's first birthday (remember, "Cookie" had flipped breech?) that we didn't even get to him. Having an actual child to sing happy birthday to is a hundred times better, too.

For Ianto's birthday this year, I decided to make up for last year and held a very small party by his graveside.


Yes, it says "Happy 2nd Ianto"... I couldn't fit the word "birthday" on, okay?

When we got there, I threw some glittery things around that said "Happy Birthday" while Scott put down a picnic rug. We sang the birthday song, and had a cake I'd baked and decorated. Amelia was rather fond of it, which gave me hope for her own party since I was making hers as well. After that, we just packed up and left, leaving a piece of cake for the birthday boy. At least graveside parties are easy and not too stressful!

Amelia scoffing some cake

I had to do a rainbow cake, didn't I? You'd be disappointed if I didn't.

And so, to Amelia's birthday. I had stressed for weeks - nay, months - over the details. I took over six hundred photos to get the invitations perfect. I bought two different editions of the Womens Day Kids Birthday Cake Book. I purchased a lot of different tools to put the cake together, and I pored over recipe sites for food ideas.I had to get it perfect.

The day approached fast, faster than I'd wished it. I spent most of the preceding two weeks collecting ingredients and supplies. I looked up how long things would last in the fridge, and pre-made a few things. I worried that I had too many sweets and not enough savouries. But my main concern was The Cake.

I had originally decided on the merry-go-round cake - challenging, but pretty - but soon changed my mind to something simpler. The One Shaped Cake. It looked easy, and the photo they had in the book was adorable. But it didn't suit. I scrabbled to decide on a theme for this cake, until the Ponies arrived in my life. Yes, somewhere in the interim, I became a fan of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. After a few weeks of watching these adorable creatures, I decided to theme Amelia's cake on my our favourite character - Fluttershy.

The day before the party, I started baking. Cake one didn't rise properly. It was risen on one side but not the other. I started panicking a little. Cake two was substantially better, almost perfect. Cake three... Cake three didn't play nice to begin with, not baking all the way through, but I popped it back in and kept a close eye on the oven. Perfection. I let them chill a while, and cut them into the correct pieces later that night before doing a "crumb layer" of icing.

Then the time came to ice it completely. I'd spent weeks practising, and this was my only shot at it. I started icing...

Midnight came, and it was Amelia's birthday. I tiptoed into our bedroom, climbed onto the bed, and gently kissed my beautiful one-year-old on the forehead. She stirred a little, but didn't wake, and I went back to what I was doing in the kitchen, going to bed myself an hour or two later.

End of Part One. Part Two (The Party) coming tomorrow!

Do you doula? I do doula, I do!

2012-01-25T11:30:00.000+11:00

I'm so slack on this blog (and yes, I know I keep saying it). I forget to come and update when things happen. For example, I had a fantastic post planned for after Xmas, because we had a great week, but I never got around to writing and posting it. In fact, my last post? Scheduled that back in August and forgot about it.

Now, I'm sure you've noticed the title of this post, and you're wondering what it's about. Those who are a little closer to me will know. I'm a student doula now. Wondering what a doula is? A doula is essentially someone who is there for a mother in labour, helping her to focus and try to get the birth she wants. If you re-read Amelia's birth story, you'll remember I had a friend as my doula. She's a student as well.

I actually started studying in November, but after a brief "new student" blast of motivation, I didn't look at anything through December. Until this week. I've finished my first (draft) assignment, refined my website, and started on my second module. I even got a call out of the blue from a prospective client, but panicked and lost confidence in myself. Still mad at myself for that one.

I'm hoping that once I get trained up a bit more and attend a few births, I'll be confident enough to give my name to some hospitals and midwives. And then I want to support women going through stillbirths/late miscarriages (or early, but not many women hire a doula before the second trimester). I obviously have the experience on this end, but I'm going to try to get some extra bereavement training. Although things went rather well with Ianto's birth, it might have been nice to have a specialised doula there too.

Also? Pelvises suck. Too many complicated bits and pieces to remember.

My site:

Just some videos

2011-12-04T02:04:00.001+11:00

I know how everyone just loves blog posts with no actual content... So here's some videos of Amelia doing stuff!

I really hope I'll have something worthwhile to actually blog about soon... I wanted to do a post about the Carols by Candlelight we went to last night at the cemetery, but we didn't really participate. I wanted to - any chance to sing! - but Scott's stepmum has a hard time walking and we'd set up at Ianto's grave. I didn't feel right leaving them there while we went to sing.

The second longest five seconds of my life.

2011-10-23T11:52:00.000+11:00

NOTE: Yet again, photos have been flipped sideways. Still no idea why.

Amelia's been crawling for a few weeks now, and being the energetic little girl she is, wants to be in everything. Or on everything. Or OFF everything. Like the bed. She likes crawling towards the side of the bed and grabbing things off the bedside table. Usually I'll grab her, either by the clothes or the leg, them haul her back over to me.

Last night, I wasn't as on the ball as usual. I grabbed for her as I saw her approach the side, but she was further away than I thought and tumbled off as I reached. And there was silence. That silence held a lot for me.

Broken neck.

Another funeral.

Guilt.

Jail time for negligence.

Another funeral.

Everyone hating me for the rest of my life for killing my daughter, not protecting her.

Needless to say, she's fine. She was silent from shock, but made up for it very quickly by screaming and promptly losing her breath. I scooped her up before I even knew she was okay, held her close as she screamed and screamed. By the looks of it now, it was more shock and fear that caused the crying. She has a lovely bump on her head (on top of one she got earlier by headbutting a chair!) and a small scratch from something she must've hit on the way down, but she stopped crying rather quickly and started shooting me big grins instead. Though when I tried to take photos she shot me foul "YOU DID THIS TO ME!" looks...

..then fell asleep because she'd had a long day and should've been sleeping anyway instead of flinging herself off the bed.

Who does the blame lie with?

2011-09-20T19:02:00.001+10:00

I'm sure by now many of you will have heard about the death of a two-day-old boy in Adelaide while he was being carried in a baby sling (though the media hasn't said what kind of carrier it really was and tend to lump them all together, so it could have been any kind...)

A lot of you also know I'm an avid babywearer. When news broke of the little boy's death, my first reaction was the same as a lot of my fellow babywearers - "why the hell was she wearing him under a shirt and jumper?!" and "stupid media, why don't they get anything right?!"

While the second point still stands, I've revised my thoughts on the first. We don't know all the details. Some carriers can be worn under clothing - or jackets at least - and there are tonnes of DIY sites out there telling you how to modify clothes so you can babywear under them. Plus, what if the shirt/jumper (if this point is true) weren't even the cause? What if it was SIDS - remember, it doesnt always hit in bed! - or a medical condition no-one knew he had? What if this little boy was going to die anyway, and he was lucky enough to die while snuggled close to his mummy? And how terrible would she be feeling, even if she knows it's not her fault, hearing all these people blaming her for her baby's death?

I suppose my point is, don't blame the sling. Don't blame the mother. Educate yourself on how to safely use carriers if you plan to use one. This was the first known death linked to a sling in Australia. The majority of the 16 in the US were because of a certain type of sling that was found to be unsafe. More babies have died in prams and cots.

In coming days: Why I love babywearing.

Today, I am. But not always.

2011-09-15T15:15:00.001+10:00

Today is R U OK? Day. If you don't know what that is, it's a day when we're meant to ask people if they're okay, and be honest when we are asked ourselves. It's to help people with depression, or who may be contemplating suicide (the two don't always go hand in hand!)

So, what about me? Well, today I think I am okay. I'm pretty good at knowing when in going to have a bad day, and I try to reach out, though it's not always successful. The other day was a bad one. I felt so alone, so rejected by the people around me. It was the worst I'd felt in quite a while. Lately, a smile from Amelia is all it takes to pull me out, but this time she couldn't help. This time, I just wanted her to be able to talk to me, let me know she was listening... I needed a friend.

So, while it is important to ask the question today, don't think that means you don't have to ask it all the time. Today, I'm okay. Tomorrow I might not be.

Breaking the rules

2011-08-18T10:40:00.000+10:00

Before Ianto was born, and then while I was pregnant with Amelia, I made a set of Internal rules.

I was going to have a completely natural, epidural-free birth, preferably in a position that allowed gravity to do a lot of the work.

I was going to do baby-led weaning with my children, no pureed food would touch their lips!

And heaven forbid I start before six months!

I would never EVER be so mean as to take a photo of them crying rather than rushing straight to them and making sure they were okay!

I'd never make fun of them by putting them in silly hats or anything else that fit on their heads!

I'd never get someone to take a photo of me making fun of them!

And no way would I get a baby bath when just a normal tub or sink would do the job just as well.

You know what? While I do feel a slight sense of letting myself down, I am damn proud I've stuck to the things that really matter the most to me.

Not one drop of formula has touched these lips.

She is a complete "booby monster".

I have learned most of her cues - hungry, tired, grumpy... Though I do admit to sometimes not having a clue.

I have a happy little girl...

...who is so clever...

...and growing up so quickly.

She knows she is loved. And not just by her reflection in the mirror.

She will know about her brother from the moment she can understand.

I'm not perfect, not even by my own standards. But I am the very best mother I can be to Amelia and Ianto, and never will I apologise for that. That's all anyone should aspire to.

Disclaimer: no, I'm not saying formula feeders or those who don't know their baby's cues are bad parents - they're just two things that I hold important in my own parenting. The love part, on the other hand, should be universal.

This is a Flog Yo Blog post.