Zoe

Zoe, my baby girl. I miss you. I envy those who have the courage to sit and pen a poem to their lost angels. I can't do it. It hurts too much to think about you for the length of time it would require of me to do you justice.

Life with your baby brother is now so busy I feel I hardly have a moment to think of you. He brings me such joy, you know? He's the complete opposite of your big sister. She's so pensive; he's so full of joy. I wonder what you are like?

I was struck afresh this evening that my hunger for you will never vanish. What I wouldn't give to have you hug me, or smile at me, or laugh with me, or to have one conversation with you.... Of course, only one of any of those would never be enough - in fact, it might make my longing even worse, but I'd still gladly pay whatever price was demanded for it.

I miss you so much, baby girl. I can't explain it to anyone who hasn't lost a child. They just don't understand. I'm not even sure I do. I'm not sure how one continues to grieve for a person you never knew, but I do and I know that I always will.

Those 9 months were all too brief, and I know I didn't pay attention to you the way I should have, the way I did when I was pregnant with your sister, or with your brother. With her, she had my attention because the whole experience was so new. With your brother, he had my attention because I was so terrified I would lose him like I lost you. But you, sweet child... I lost out on you, and you lost out on my love as a result. I was so busy looking after your sister, working, and hurling my guts in the loo it never even occurred to me that anything might be wrong. I'm so sorry. I really am. I wish I could do it over and love you the way you deserved to be loved.

And now, even though I have your brother to hold and cuddle, tonight I still feel the empiness you left behind. And there are no words for that. I miss you. I ache for you. I love you - please never forget that.

I hope and pray that we will meet again, and that we will celebrate Christmas as one big happy family one day. Until then though, however happy and joyful our Christmases are, I know that part of my heart will always be sad, because you aren't with us and I wish you were. I wish you were.

I wish I could see your smile, hear you laugh, watch all your 'firsts' - rolling over, starting solids, pushing up on your arms, crawling, learning to hold your own bottle, taking your first step, saying your first word... I wish I could watch you sleeping, with your arms spread wide and your breathing even. I wish I could get scared because your infant breathing was so shallow it would seem you weren't breathing at all. I wish I could blow zerbits on your tummy, and feet, and in your neck. I wish I could how much pleasure you derived from the life around you. I wish I could watch you develop your skills - would you have been a painter, or a writer, or a musician, or a sportswoman, or a baker? I wish I could have held your hand as you stepped out into the road. I wish I could have taught you how to ride a bike and swim. Much, much further down the road, I wish I could have watched you graduate and get married.

I miss you, darling child. And I grieve for all the things that parents are usually privileged to experience with their kids. I grieve for not seeing your beautiful face, or smelling your sweet baby smell....

... and nothing can put that right or bring you back.

and yet the longing continues. It is easier now than it was in the beginning. I can usually talk about you now without even feeling a twinge of a tear. I can think about you without crying.

But still, it's the unexepcted grief that side-swipes me; the little things. Like tonight and watching that movie. Absorbed in another's story, I often don't realise how open my heart is, and how vulnerable, and then a line is delivered like that one, and because my heart isn't guarded, the pain rises again to the surface.

Crying helps, oddly. Even though it's hopeless crying, because I know that the pain remains after I have no more tears to cry, it still helps, somehow. It feels good to acknowledge once again just how precious you are, and how much I miss you, and how much I love you.

One day, my precious, we will be together again. I know that. But the waiting seems to go on for so long.

Yet I dare not speed it up, or hurry it along. Your brother and sister still need me. My heart would break afresh if they had to grow up without my love. I pray that God spares me until they are old with children of their own, so that I may love them fully and completely, the way children are supposed to be loved. But making that choice also means that I choose to prolong my private agony. I guess that's the sacrifice of being a parent to you. Every parent makes sacrifices for their children - sometimes the sacrifices are for all the kids, and sometimes they are for an individual child. This is my sacrifice for you - that right now I have to put the living before the dead.

And as if he knows - your brother is stirring. I love you, sweetheart. Always. Merry Christmas.

SHARK!!

While out looking at the lights in Adderley St, we stopped to feed Nathan and discovered a lovely little square at the front (back?) of the Capetonian Hotel that links across to Jetty St. The square is filled with interesting, life-size statues of people, including a child with his little black motorbike. Closer to Jetty St side, there are several rotating sculptures of sharks.

While my rational mind KNEW that these were just sculptures and that we were far away from the ocean where their real counterparts were, the fact that they were shark-shaped and that they were moving kept me in a state of anxiety the entire time I was there photographing them. It struck me that there really is something instinctual about the fear of large predators. They're well worth a visit though! Pretty amazing sculptures.

Do you trust the government?

I was pondering this as I drove home yesterday. I came to the conclusion that I don't. I don't trust any of the government departments I've had dealings with; I expect them to go about things, as my father would say, ass-about-face. I expect them to give me a hard time. I expect them to get it wrong. I expect the officials behind the counter to be unhelpful, obtuse, inefficient, and corrupt.

It's a sad indictment, I know, but it's the way I feel - based on my experiences and my fears.

The only department I feel is anywhere near efficient is SARS. They've got their act together. They respond to emails. They actually get the job done - and quickly - and not just when you owe them. Nope, they get it done within 48hrs. Other than them, every department I've dealt with I've faced incompetencies, people who aren't prepared to look beyond the end of their noses, and just general laziness.

The latest scandal is, granted, not one I've personally experienced, but one that was blogged about by a cyber-friend. He was stopped, while out driving, at a road-block by the Metro police. Because he'd left his driver's licence at home, they decided to arrest him... get this... unless he paid them R4000 in cash. He told them he didn't have it, so they offered to drive him to an ATM so he could get it. Faced with either a weekend in jail, or paying R4000, he chose the latter. Thus, the cops drove him to an ATM where he withdrew the money and they let him go.

This sort of corruption is rife in SA. It's good that the president has set up a hotline to deal with any issues citizens want to report, but I'm not sure that any practical good will come of it because the number is not widely known. I'm sure I could find it if I searched for it, but if it's going to work, then the number ought to be posted all over the place, or why doesn't SARS email it to everyone on their database??

So, I don't trust the ANC, and I don't trust the government. But, I do trust in God - the same God who rescued this nation from the brink of civil war in the first democratic elections. I do trust that He has a plan, a good one, for this nation. I do trust that His will shall be done and His purposes accomplished. How? Quite simply, I think there are a lot of devout, faithful Christians in this country who are listening to Him and praying for us. I can't quite count myself in that lot, because I'm not really listening and I'm not really praying all that much - for anyone, let alone for the whole nation, but I know there are others who are.

Thanks to those brave souls, who help to keep this nation moving in the right direction, often in spite of the obstacles. Thanks that you have faith enough for all of us to be the change we long to see in this nation.

Nathan laughs

Just recently Nathan has really started to laugh when we play games with him. He has learnt to anticipate tickles and starts laughing even before you start tickling. His favourite game is 'peekaboo'. We put the cloth on his face, then he pulls it off - and you should see his face! He's so proud of himself for pulling the cloth off his face so Mommy/ Daddy/ Nellie can exclaim 'Peekaboo!' (I really ought to get that on video too...) Anyway, here's a quick clip of him laughing. It's not as cute as that video of the quads lying on the bed with their mother laughing, but it's still infectious.

Can she get any cuter?

My daughter has become more cute than I thought possible. She's turned into this sweet little child who is loving and kind and helpful, and loves cuddling with me.

Could it be that the extra time with me now that I'm not working and making a real effort to spend quality time with her every day has made a difference? Do you think?

(Of course, she can still whine and cry, of course, but we'll just ignore that for a bit, shall we?)

Cute boy!

More endings and beginnings

So Manto is dead. She of relative infamy has passed. I can't say I'm sorry. Between the stories of her cleptomania and using her power to get moved up the list for a liver transplant (twice) while still being an alcoholic, and the fact that on her watch she condemned so many Saffas to develop AIDS because of her ridiculous Beetroot treatment for HIV, I can't say I feel much sorrow at her demise.

And yet.... She was a mother, with children. She was loved by friends and family, and death due to liver failure is not a nice way to go. As a woman, I feel sorry for her that she died in that manner. I feel sorry for her family who lost a woman they loved.

I wonder where she is now.... When she met her Maker, I wonder what their conversation was like? I wonder what truths lie behind all the news headlines that only she and He know. Was she just covering for Mbeki? Did she really believe all that junk? Did she, in fact, abuse her powers? And when their conversation was complete, where did she go? Is she now in eternal suffering, or is she in heaven?

Despite everything she did, and said, I don't hope she's paying for it now in hell. Sin is sin, and that sin separates us from God, yes. I believe that her actions require punishment. However, I have to hope God was merciful to her - because if God were to demand payment for every sin, then I would be in a lot of trouble. I guess that's the message of Jesus - that his death is the payment, in full, for every sin. But how does it work in practice? Once your sins are forgiven, what happens then? When we stand before God in the moment of our death, and pronouncement is made over our lives, and we're forgiven, what then? What distinction is made between those who lived more godly lives than others? Is there a hierarchy in heaven?

Anyway, on a different tack, another ending: my garden. We finally moved the fence back, so part of the lovely garden I planted a few months back had to be dug up. Then, in the horrible storm we had last week, my incredible lavender bush was blown over. I could sob! So this afternoon I finally made a start at replanting and arranging the garden. I'm hoping to finish phase 1 tomorrow. Phase 2 will have to wait until after Christmas when we (ha ha ha ha) have more money. Either that or I will have to beg some plants off friends. I'm really miserable about my garden having to be dug up, but I'm also hopeful about how lovely it will look again at some point in the not too distant future.

There was another beautiful beginning this week - my colleague gave birth to her beautiful daughter! A few weeks early, but safely here, thank God.

And another beginning... I'm on holiday, FINALLY! After weeks of marking (first at school, then for the matrics) I am finally free... or as free as one can be when one has little kids. If I'm going to get into the garden early tomorrow morning, then I need to get into bed now. Night, night all.