Goodbye 2010

As the new year rolls in, as do resolutions and self-promises. Drinks go down, there are New Years kisses... Others staring to the skies wondering when they'll get theirs...

This time a year ago I was in bed asleep, roughly 1 month pregnant (little did I know) and my phone was on silent. I was alone.

This year I am sharing my bed with my girl, my stomach is full of banana smoothie and a handful of cold marshmellows. My eyes are heavy, it's hot outside. I'm not drunk nor am I wanting to be.. That was 2 years ago. That was when it was exciting to be drunk. When I wasn't content with who I was.

While my loved ones are off getting kisses at 12; I will be listening to Addi sniffles and I will kiss her, I will tell her I love her and that this year coming will be the beginning of the rest of our lives.

So goodbye to pain, expectations and sitting in the back. Goodbye to texting and waiting, asking and being let down.

Hello to being in control, being missy's #1 and making the most of it. Hello to solids and crawling and longer hair, walking and talking... shoes with soles, jeans with zippers and hair ties. Hello to conversations and hugs and kisses...

A new year, a new attitude; and it wasn't forced nor was it expected but here I am, not drunk and extremely content and proud of my tiny wee Addi- oh and myself :)

Changes

My mind has shrunk..

As has my bladder.

My stomach has grown and can fit quite a lot in it... My boobs aren't as welcoming, my cellulite is here to stay. My patience is more, my hair is falling. My memory is just that, as are sleep ins. My words don't string together all that easily any more and I need to write lists, to write lists.

But my house is a home; my arms hold a smiling almost-four-month old. My legs carry us both. My showers may be shorter but there is always singing and talking in the bathroom as I watch my Noo through the glass door, holding her feet (thanks for the Christmas presents everyone but these override them all!!) and rocking in her bouncer waiting patiently for me.

There are Addi giggles and 3 sneezes now (not just 2!), a fairy princess tent and musical toys here and there. Books and touching of things with hands and toes... Things being picked up and thrown, "mum"s, spews and 'oh Addi!'s, 'you okaaaay?'s after coughs... Bibs, dribbles.. Dresses and long summer naps...

"Doing it alone" is out-right BS. I'm not alone; we are here for eachother and I am so grateful to have a best friend in my baby- because she is. She makes me laugh, smile, cry... She lets me talk to her, and I listen to her. I look after her and I'm sure she'll look after me one day soon.

My beautiful Noo, it's all for you xx

Happy Birthday, Nana

This post is relative to Addi; but it's not about her.

My beautiful Nana, you would be one year older if you were still walking with us.

You would have given me a breath-taking hug (they literally were the biggest hugs I have ever had; back cracking) if I came over. I would have walked through your gate; been tickled by your giant pink roses-which you were so proud of... I would of smelt your perfume; Anais Anais, from a mile away. I would have almost walked on the grass that I learnt to skip on but would have stuck to the concrete pavers. I would have eyed up the huge bronze bell with a rope hanging out of it, by the door. You would have said "Ahoo" as you saw me. You would have slowly walked to the door and given me that hug.

You would see my girl; named after you. You would look at her the way you looked at me; the way I still see you looking at me. You would have spoken to me ever so softly and you would be listening to Yanni on the wee stereo (that I have too). There would be your knitting bag on the floor and your blue carpet would still feel the same under my feet, as it did 7 years ago when I last walked on it. I would see the "Ballerina" flowers out your window, the same as the ones tattooed on my neck. The overwhelming smell of Anais Anais and cigarettes would take me back into your arms. Your piano would be behind me, going un-played for never too long. Your artwork floods the house, the paintings on the wall smile at me and I smile back. The naked ladies aren't so funny anymore.

I walk around your house, padding the carpet, admiring the naked ladies, seeing the photo of you at an age where the only wrinkles were in your clothes; blue eyes as cold as the sea staring back but a smile as warm as an open fire, is balancing out your face. I walk into the bathroom; there is a yellow light throughout the room from the sun falling through the yellow windows. The carpet changes to lino. The bath is empty apart from a loofah, and the mirror reflects a woman who has birthed your great granddaughter, and no longer a young teen. The soap on the bench smells purely of soap, and the shower is hidden behind the open door behind me. I remember your toilet roll holder; if you pulled the paper too fast then the entire toilet roll emptied onto the floor- at age 4 it was the most amusing thing for me, although not for you or mum. The toilet roll holder made music- honestly it did. The most beautiful, haunting song I have ever heard- oh what I would give to hear that now.

I leave the bathroom, I look back into the lounge and you are watching Addi; not staring or talking to her, but watching her, be her. The way you watched me crawl, walk, skip... I wander into your bedroom and hello, more naked ladies on the wall. I have seen that painting so many times in the past 7 years and every time I see it; I can smell you. Your wardrobe doors hide so many clothes, and not many shoes. Your dresser-top houses impulse sprays, pearls and jewels; and your Anais Anais is hiding somewhere. Your massive roses are outside the window and there is the gate I walked through. That bed... How warm and soft it was; how billowy the duvet. I have one of your feather pillows and it still smells of you. Your night light is plugged in, although it now shines on at Mum and Sam's house. I touch everything. I slowly walk back past you and your watchful gaze (which is of course, fixed on Addi) doesn't break. I am in your kitchen, I sit on the green velvet and dark wooden chair which goes with the rest of the dining table set. I remember you; as I always do when something gives me shivers, makes me cry with happiness, or when someone breaks my heart- that is when I get lost in the memory of your hugs. Excitedly, I remember the "Fairy Drawer"; your tea towel drawer where the Fairies used to hide sweets for Sam and I. I open it; Hello Wine Gums and Raspberry Sparkles; Fruitbursts and Rolo's... Your shopping list is full but I can't make out one word of it which is probably a good thing because I bet somewhere there it says Sparkles and Wine Gums.

I walk back and see where Granddad's armchair still sits; you sat there the last time I saw you. Granddad has been gone for a long time now; although I remember you best, I remember snippets of Granddad and my conversations. I remember I had a Koosh Ball and it had a plastic Mouse Head and tail sticking out of it; I asked Granddad what I should call him. Granddad said "Parsley". I miss you both terribly.

The last thing you said to me was "Give your mum a hug for me"; September 2003. I gave her that hug, and every time I hug her I give one to her from you.

I couldn't go to your funeral, Nana. I don't know if I regret it or not. I was so young and in shock; not aware of how I felt, or maybe I was, I just wasn't so good at handling it. The weeks for a while, were cold and lonely. You only lived 5 minutes walk from Dad's house. I would have wanted to say something, to express how much I love and loved you; but at that time, no words could have really been strung together to make sense.

This time last year, Addi was conceived. I know you had a part in that, and I love you even more for it. This little girl has your eyes. I don't know if they'll stay blue but blue is yours, and I want you to have something in common that I can see every day.

I hope to visit your memorial stone today. In a perfect world (where appointment times didn't matter and babies didn't have needs) I would go to your house and snip off some of those cloud-like roses, and take them with me. I would dig out the entire plant if I could and cuddle up to it at night- perfect world again!

You were perfect, Nana. You were nothing less. You were gentle, warm, kind, friendly, happy... you were my favourite persons', favourite person. I am now someones favourite person; and it is the best feeling in the world. So thank you, infinitely, thank you.

I have your perfume; Addi is named after you, your flowers are on my neck... I have tried to put you everywhere... But in this world- although it's not perfect... You *are* everywhere, without me even trying.

I love you Nana.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubTveCihjoQ

My Shinoosh

13 weeks ago, I was sitting in the same place. I was breathing through the contractions and swearing at your dad while he was in my bed sleeping.

I was on the phone to the midwife and I told her I was coming in. She said okay, leave at 12am.

I was on facebook talking to Tiffany and Trish had gone to sleep I think. They had gotten me through the last 14 hours.

The contractions were scary and crippling. Although I can't remember

the exact pain or how bad it was, the only way to describe it is to think of those toys-

when you press the bottom, the whole body falls down. Every contraction was like that but you're trying to hold yourself up/in the same position, trying to breathe, trying to keep your energy... Doing everything to keep calm.

I reheated the beanbag numerous times that evening, and ate copious amounts of iceblocks that were stashed in the back of the freezer. Your dad bought me BK for afternoon tea and the midwife came and checked on me twice that day, didn't check anything physically but felt you and still wasn't sure how you were laying although I knew :).

A man came to nail down the roofing (last thing you want while in labour!) and he didn't really fix the problem. Each gust of wind blew the tin up and down; sounded like Chewbacca.

I spoke to mum a few times, and also dad. I was wearing a white skirt and my birthing tops. I ended up having my waters broken and was still wearing that skirt- which is now ruined but also not ruined at all, if you get me.

For 9 months you were my Peach; you got hiccups numerous times a day and kicked me until they went. You liked Loyal by Dave Dobbyn and you also liked the radio when I was driving. And then you were Addi; so alert, so quiet and slow. You held onto your wind and wouldn't part with it; and hiccups became routine after each feed. I had bad baby blues and you got me through.

You are now Shinoosh or any other name that comes out of my mouth. I like kissing your nose and hearing you snort. You ignore me when I kiss you; you turn your head away. You like being UP or DOWN; no half-ass business or being carried like a baby. You whinge when I turn the tv off. You burp like a trooper and fart like your dad. You sneeze twice and hate being wrapped unless you are in the *exact* right state of sleepiness. You cry if me or dad leave your sight but if we say "I'm still here" then you calm down. The smell of your head makes my mouth water.

You are in love with the painting of me on the wall. You hate headbands and hoods on jackets. You have the legs of an athlete and I am jealous. You talk when you're frustrated and you've always got to have the last word (genetics...). You smile when you catch me getting sidetracked with something else and the bottles fallen out of your mouth; woops. You haven't fallen off the change table but you can roll over. You say mummummum although it's not on purpose it still counts. You have a 'food face'- your lip sticks out and goes all hard. You sleep 10-12 hours each night and if you don't, like mum, you're grumpy the next day.

You are "going to be a handful" my beautiful, smart, funny little girl. Which is why us mama's, we're made with two hands:)

You are 3 months and becoming more and more you every day.

My promises still stand, my arms will always be open and I will always be behind you.

You are infinitely loved.

Hope

As the aftershocks continue; as the fear fades, the shock is still there. Each rumble is new. Each heart-stopping CRACK is just as sickening as the last. Even though we know they will still come; they are not comforting, nor will they ever be.

Addi's smiles are comforting, they are infectious, they are soul-warming. Aftershocks are not. We all know earthquakes can and have caused deaths. Smiles haven't.

I don't know what it is with the saying "Have Hope"... Because even if we don't have it, things are still out of our control. Heartache is out of our control; if it was controllable then it wouldn't be heartache.

To be let down is the same as experiencing aftershocks. They are BOTH new and sickening, although inevitable and out of our control. We can have hope but they both are going to keep happening. They are both uncomfortable to experience and although we get used to them, they are still shocking.

So far, in my life, Addi is the only person who hasn't let me down. As far as I know, I haven't let my mother down either. Maybe it's a thing between parents and their babies, some unspoken rule. Who knows.

Addi wee'd all over the changing table before.

Maybe every repetitive act is comparable to an aftershock; just some are sickening and others are smile-worthy.

84 days

It has been 84 days, almost to the hour, since I met you.

You have changed my life. I was ready, I was waiting, and now I am in love.

Right now you are asleep. You took a wee while to get to sleep tonight but that's okay, you are allowed to want snuggles. I must admit sometimes I need them too. You don't always want them, most times you pull away and look at me as if to say "Muuuum dooooooooooon't" and you scrunch up one side of your face. Which is cute but please let me cuddle you some more until you outgrow my arms.

I still fit in my mummies arms; very well, at that. I also fit in my dads arms and sometimes I like to check and make sure.

You laughed for the first time, last night. I was bouncing you on my knee and you spurted a bit of milk out down your neck so I whipped you over to get you cleaned up and as I was rubbing your neck under your ear (mummies sensitive spot, also) you giggled. I had my face close to yours so it was even louder and clearer than it would have normally been.

Again, I am ready and waiting for another laugh from those sweet little lungs. Which can also be quite nasty at times when I'm taking too long to get you dressed or fed... SORRY ANGEL!

I promised myself I would try my best to never let anyone hurt you. That smile melts my heart, and now that laugh - well, I am considering welding onto you, a suit of armor and a shield because you are so beautiful that guys are going to be falling at your feet in no time. I am ready and waiting for the day I have to kick some teenage arse to protect you! I can do that; I don't care if it's not right.

I had a playlist on my iPod for when I was in labour. It had my favourite songs by Coldplay, Band of Horses, Citizen Cope and all sorts on it. I never got to listen to it but now it puts you to sleep. I have set up the speakers around your cot.

This post isn't really anything wonderful because its almost 2 am. But *you* are wonderful. You are full of wonder, love, smiles, and now giggles. You are beautiful, my baby girl, and I will continue to say it until you tell me to stop. I will say it so much that it will seem normal to you; and when you meet a man who says it genuinely- I will approve.

Right where is my welding kit...

That Painting