I was alone in a hospital bed. I’m alone right now, sort of. My two oldest children are here with me in this new house we just moved into last week sleeping upstairs. My husband left for a business trip just earlier, and I already miss him of course So, it’s a little ironic to me now I guess. Last year I was 16 weeks pregnant with a little girl and was going to make the announcement as soon as we found out the gender in an appointment that was scheduled for one week later. I had always wanted a little girl. This is my second miscarriage, my first occurred September 7, 2010 when I was just shy of 10 weeks.
I gave birth to her in the morning and had lost so much blood they almost gave me a transfusion; I was just barely at the okay threshold and luckily ended up not needing it. Won’t go into much more detail I guess, it’s kind of graphic stuff. It all affected me deeply though. I think holding her is what made it feel more sad to me since losing my baby in 2010. The number of weeks along I am doesn’t matter to me really.
I know that we hadn’t told very many people at all that it happened. Weren’t really ready, I wasn’t. I’m doing much better now in dealing with it, just need to keep going forward. So this has pretty much been on my mind for the past year… I picture what their faces would like almost everyday. I think about them, how I never really got to meet and learn to know them and be their mother in raising them and taking care of them. Tell them I love them, give them hugs and kisses, tell them to knock it off when they got in trouble, and so on..The one thing I did learn though is that you never really get over it, you just learn to live with it. Go day by day and remember reasons why it’s okay to smile and be happy in a moment, if at least a little.
I’m still unpacking and doing a lot in our new place and I’m so happy about it. There’s so much more space, it’s a good change I think. I’m slowly bringing everything together and making it our new home. The boys have their own room they share, the master room is twice as big and no longer has my art and sewing stuff in it. It’s just a bed right now and I don’t know what to do with the rest of the space! My art space had been shared with in our room for the past 5 years and it’s all going into its own room now, no more waking up and seeing work lying around first thing in the morning. There’s even a little island in the kitchen downstairs and I can put my cake stands above the cabinets on display. I already planted some herbs in small pots to go by the window. Jude picked out purple flowers to plant, Jacob didn’t care as long as it was some kind of a plant.
I haven’t painted in a long while and my easel has been taken apart for far too long. I took to sewing this last year since it was a meticulous distraction that wasn’t as emotionally drawing as art is for me, but it still made me very content. It’s soothing, you know? Hand sewing especially. I’m also joyed at the thought of seeing my easel standing again with a new blank canvas ready for me and my drawing table out again.
What I like the most is the light. It feels nice to have a naturally bright home. It’s not the house of our dreams or anything (a forest near the ocean I would like), but it’s a big step up to me, for us, and I think this move will be good for all of us.