Time continues moving

So I haven't been here for a while.

First life was a bit busy and the constant stream of ideas to write continued to swirl in my head but never made it to the keyboard.  Then there was an amazing holiday (and being upstaged by a nearly 8 year old blogger).  Now the last 4 weeks have gone past quickly.

I've also been struggling on what is the next thing to write.  I have so many stories of travel and fine food and life that I want to share.  But I need to be honest and honesty means sharing what fills my head for so much of any day, honesty means Miss T.

The past couple of weeks there has been a convergence of things that have tipped my equilibrium out of balance, leading me to again reassess priorities and realise that there are things I can't avoid if I want to keep things on something anything like an even keel: things like exercise and writing.

So, I'm back.

I work so hard to make sure that me and Pete and the boys are protected against the things that can crack through the suit of armour we've developed.  But sometimes there's just too many things at once.

Spending Saturday doing our bit to try and ensure that Australia might have not had to endure an Abbott government meant a day of tension.  As I stood handing out the how to vote cards, lapping up the thrill of election day (even when facing a certain defeat) I was on high alert.  Dreading the moment I see someone I haven't seen for a while who asks about Thommy, or seeing someone who doesn't know she died or even a stranger commenting about children.  The constant parade of young families turning out to vote received not only a how to vote card,  but also in my mind an comparison of the baby to Thommy at that age or a comparison to what Thommy would have been like at that age.

Deciding that the equilibrium needs balancing also means reading more than just twiitter and blogs - but trying desperately to finding books that have no mention of babies, death or anything else that could make me less relaxed - or more bitter and twisted.

Facebook has ben a saving grace for me, allowing me to maintain contact with people when sometimes face to face is just too hard, but even it has been hard this week.  A story of a sick child making its way into my feed brings on so many thoughts, throws out my day.  Then this really odd thing where facebook keeps suggesting I like a page about potty training.  Is this some facebook logirithim that remembers I posted baby photos and would have an 18 month now?  Well, your logirithms aren't smart enough Mr Z.

Attending a funeral, where people are worried how you will cope at a funeral, when instead I just sit there and think nothing else could ever make me sad again.

Then there is work.  How every day I just have to keep bouncing up from the punches as my world is so full of reminders of Miss T.

Opening a file and finding a letter that was dictated on the 12th October last year.  A bloody letter I did with Thommy sitting beside me 9 hours before she died.

Starting your day opening an email where there is a comment about a work colleague knowing her child was ill and "mother's intuition", your day then ruined with thoughts did you not have enough of that intuition.

How do you write a letter to seeking a report in a matter from the paedtrician who was your and Thommy's great ally, when you know a letter from you will probably upset not only him but also his staff's day (because of course you used to write him updates on Thommy prior to any appointment on letterhead!)

How you just have to keep ploughing through the day, when it feels like you have an Acquired Brain Injury with so much of your brain having to be switched off - the part with the guilt, the part with the pain, the part with the memories.

How you just wish people would think about what they say, ask how you are travelling.

That photo is from this day last year.  A very exciting day with Miss T.  That's her all frocked up in her new Ralph Lauren dress looking very Hamptons-esque in the waiting room of her cardiologists office.  It was the first visit after her second surgery.  A visit she passed with flying colours.  We didn't have to see him for 3 months.  We organised the next visit for a Saturday in early December.  We booked the accommodation, we were going to have a great pre-Christmas weekend in Melbourne.

We saw Lance at his Box HIll rooms that day.  We went to Doncaster after that.  Had lunch in the foodcourt and a bit of a browse around (Pete was there, shopping was limited).  That's the last time there was a trip to Melbourne without pain and sadness.

I really thought after that visit we were in the clear.  I thought we would be out of the woods until her next surgery - which might have been a year or 2 away.  I started dreaming about a little girl who actually grew older.  Did I get too cocky? Maybe I let the guard down.

I promise I'm back and will share some stories of happy things and travel and the like.  But this is where it is at today.