Phantom pregnancies

Grief strikes at all hours, including at 4am! I woke up this morning just before 4am in need of the loo, got back into bed and promptly found myself in tears again. It's not surprising really, given that I have spent more time talking and thinking about Zoe in the past 2 weeks than probably the past month.

At school, the Old Boys' Union put on a function for the staff, to thank us for all the hard work we do. It was a lovely function, but as one of the new members of staff, I found myself answering questions about my past - the 'what's London like/ why did you leave SA/ why did you come back to SA' type of questions. And hence found myself telling people about Zoe. Once again, I was struck by how many people have either lost children themselves, or have a family member who has lost a child.

I was struck by my reaction to different people - with some I was in a rush to smooth things over and pretend I was no longer grieving; with others I was determined to dwell on the subject. It also struck me how easily I seemed to be able to say 'I lost a child', and 'after Zoe died', without feeling the need to burst into tears. But, of course, all this talk has stirred things for me.

One interesting conversation I had was with a guy who is a friend of my uncle's - knows him from their gym class (of all the connections to have!) and my uncle's work (before he retired). Having lost a child himself a few years back, he was interested to know the reasons we lost Zoe, so we got chatting about pregnancy in general and the reasons for our losses in particular. Of course, this conversation only started as I was trying to leave, so instead of leaving at 7pm, I only left at 8pm - having spent the entire hour talking to him. Still, it was a really good conversation.

People talk about phantom pregnancies as if there is a psychological problem with the mother. I don't consider myself to have serious delusional problems, or serious psychological problems (although I guess some might disagree!), yet since that evening I have had at least 3 moments where I've experienced a phantom pregnancy - all 3 times I've caught myself thinking - no, 'knowing' would be more accurate - I'm pregnant, and all 3 times I've felt a baby kick within me. And before you say anything, it didn't feel like gas. I know what that feels like, and this was not that. This was definitely a baby kicking.

In fact, this was not just any baby kicking. It was Zoe kicking - kicking me in exactly the same spots she used to. And the worst part about all of this is that all 3 times have happened when I was busy with other things and completely unprepared to deal with the grief that followed - that moment when you realise what you're thinking and feeling, and then the reality of the loss hits you. While I treasure these moments in one respect because they let me feel, for just one moment, that Zoe is still here, that I still have a connection with her, that I can still appreciate and love her while she's alive, at the same time it's been the most difficult moments to process.

The other thing that has happened recently is that I have found myself thinking a lot about being a parent of a daughter (because of another incident that took place which I can't discuss here as it relates to a Minor's privacy) - what that is going to entail; how I am going to protect Janel from falling pregnant out of wedlock; the sort of relationship we might have when she is a hormonal teenager and lashes out at Graeme and I for just being alive; etc - and thinking about what I've lost with Zoe.

And then I watched 'Finding Nemo' again the other afternoon with Nellie (one of her new current favourite TV watching things), followed by 'Blood Diamond' with the folks & Graeme on Friday evening. I really ought to know better by now. No more watching of ANY movies that involves something happening to children. They are now VERBODEN. Too much heartache that I really just don't need. (At least both stories had a happy ending, or sort of.)

And of course, this morning - well, yesterday morning now actually I suppose - I was packing up all our stuff for our move, and decided not to pack Zoe's ashes until the final moment as I don't want her sitting in a bag or a box somewhere. Just looking at her photo and her little ashes pot... sometimes I envy Nellie her Leo. Sometimes I wish I had a large cuddly toy I could carry with me to cuddle with when things are miserable and I'm in need of a bit of love and security, when I need a mommy to tell me everything's going to be ok. This being an adult thing really sucks sometimes.

So I guess it's hardly surprising that grief surfaced. The surprise, for me, I guess, was the time. At least I can honestly say I no longer have bad weeks or days - just bad moments. Whether that's a good thing or not, I can't say. I know there are no formulas for grief, but my healing does seem rather fast in comparison to a lot of others I've read about... Maybe that is more of God's grace in action, or maybe I'm just burying it deeper than I realise. I hope it's the former, because I really don't want to suddenly wake up one morning in a few months'/ years' time with depression!

Anyway, I think it's time to go back to sleep now - I will need my strength for moving and unpacking more boxes today. I just needed to get this all down on 'paper' - otherwise I knew that sleep would be completely elusive, plus I didn't want my crying to wake Graeme. Poor guy has been rather unwell of late and now seems to have developed another pleural effusion ... (I'm hoping and praying it's just a pulled muscle in his back!) ... so he really needs his sleep.