No, you are not entitled to my unborn child.

The background to this is so much mush. Part of it is from the latest round of family 'pregnancy reveals' and the subsequent requests/comments/etc. And the other part of it was when I read a forum about women not revealing their pregnancy till late, very late, and not at all - during the internal incubation … Continue reading No, you are not entitled to my unborn child.

My baby, and your baby’s funeral. 

My niece (cousin), my gorgeous, innocent, angelic, 9 year old niece, is taking her last​breaths. And it is that once in a life time thing that you wish you never experience. You hope you never understand this. Because this is paradigm shifting. In what world is it fair, or even just ok for a lively, … Continue reading My baby, and your baby’s funeral. 

Making space. Literally.

I just folded Baby's little jumpsuit. And I put the bibs in the draw underneath. I threw out the tissue paper I had wrapped them in, when I gave them to my husband. I kept the gift bag though.   I hadn't touched them since I had hidden them away. After probably a month of … Continue reading Making space. Literally.

Coffee Shop Catch Up

"So what's going on?" You innocently ask with an effortless smile. Pregnancies, and miscarriages, and periods, and two-week-wait-periods. This is what I really want to tell you about. This world that I didn't know existed. A world of secret hoping, secret wishing, secret tracking, and most tragically, secret grieving. I want to tell you about … Continue reading Coffee Shop Catch Up

Processing. Part 2. Pregnancies. Other. People’s. Pregnancies.

I asked someone how their baby-making was going; only to highlight how freaking annoying it's been for the past - however long- she's been messaging me, asking me constantly. I only asked her to inflict some form of pain awareness. I did not, I repeat, I DID NOT want to know that she was 20 weeks pregnant!

Attitude of Gratitude. Or something like that.

It wasn't a personal attack. It wasn't even personal. It certainly wasn't evidence that I am a shitty person or am inferior or any other projection / victim blaming bullshit. ... I grieved and raged. And no-one told me not to. No-one tried to suppress me or my fear, anxiety, rage, anger, and heartbreak. I was able to feel all of this.

I am not as good as I think I am

Aunty-ing. I have all the opinions in the world about family, and kids and raising kids and blah, blah, blah. Do you think that my nieces and nephews miss me or see me as a solid part of their lives?? Probably not. And the list goes on