Routine is hard to establish routine during a pandemic, but the last few weeks Tuesday adventures have returned. I am delighted.
For this week’s adventure I even managed to put together a cute ootd. I’m doubly impressed with myself as I uncovered a forgotten wardrobe gem. I have no idea when I bought this dress. I’m not sure if I’ve ever worn it before, but I bloody love it. I couldn’t find my footless tights, so I just cut the feet off these lovelies. Worked a treat.
As usual I went for all the colour because why not? I added my very favourite brooch for added fat posi vibes and my look was complete. My sister’s take was ‘it’s very you’, which means I hit the mark.
My sis only had a little work to do. After, which, we all headed to the Bonnie banks. Luss is one of my very favourite places. My thoughtful wee sis had noticed I’d talked about being sad at not visiting this year and suggested we take a trip. The boy loved it as much as we do. With ducks, a chance to build sandcastles & a a sneaky ice cream before home he was a satisfied rascal.
Today would be your 20th birthday. I’ve had the time it would have taken for you to become a man & still the wound is raw. It seems that a certain amount of pain will always be part of being an invisible Mum. I miss you and all your siblings. Even though I never got to make real memories, I hold our phantom family in my imagination.
My life will always be less for your absence, but I’d never forgo the time that I carried you. You will forever be the very best part of me.
I am often asked how I learned to feel good in my body. Whilst the answer to that question is long & winding there is one thing I always suggest. I’ve noticed tonnes of folk in the Bopo community offer the same advice; immerse yourself in fat positive content.
It’s an easy starting place. You can follow social media accounts, read articles & watch shows without having to make deep commitments to changes. Removing messages that make you feel bad and replacing them with joyous fat imaging works. It was my first step into accepting my body as it is. It remains something I expand upon.
This is how I came to create my sexy self love wall. The deep red wall in my bedroom long hankered for some art, but I could never decide on what I wanted up there. When I commissioned my first Spunk Rock piece a vision began. I decided to create a kinky, feminist ode to myself. If that sounds conceited, I don’t care. It’s a private part of my house. My bold proclamation is for me.
Which leads me to my newest pretty. This gorgeous water colour is by Mia Macauley . She reproduced one of my all time favourite selfies. I am in love. Hot curves, delicious rolls & leopard print knickers too. I cannot wait to get me up on the wall.
The R number is going in the right direction & phase 3 is here. Is everyone else as excited as I am? I’m still going to be staying at home rather a lot, but at least now I have options.
Obviously, I chose the boy & his Mama for my first excursion. I’m elated to know I can also see other people I’ve been missing like crazy. Today we tried out Cranside Kitchen , a lovely outdoor bar & restaurant. It’s entirely outdoors, but has a some shelter if required. I was really worried I wouldn’t be able to relax, but I actually felt very safe. The tables are nicely spaced & the staff have gloves etc. It was so lovely to sit in the sun & eat some yummy food (that I didn’t have to make). I even had some new purchases to try out making it an excellent Friday.
The boy seemed to enjoy being out in the world again. He loved his sausages & was very taken with the Finnieston crane. We followed up brunch with a trip to an almost empty bookshop. Again I was pleasantly surprised by how considerate everyone was. Hand sanitiser by the door, everyone in masks, folk very careful to keep their distance. I’m hoping Glasgow is going to smash easing lockdown sensibly.
Books purchased & nap taken there was just times to hit the park. We had it mostly to ourselves & I discovered a kids toy that makes my aching back feel much better. How do I go about having one installed in my garden?
Too much time in my head is distinctly bad for me. Not getting stuck amongst all the crap i’ve crammed up there is an ongoing project. It is not an endeavour that is aided by inaction.
Staying home alone all day, everyday is not ideal. I require distraction. I need people who make me feel swell and to do things that help me feel worthy. I like knowing that I could jump in a taxi and go anywhere. Having a sense of control is massively important.
Being entirely reliant on others for almost everything makes my insides jitter. I feel more of a burden than ever. Which activates my guilt & anxiety. I’m obviously also worried about myself or someone I love getting ill. Plus the horror of all the people who are suffering & dying every day. I’m basically a big ball of negative emotions.
I’m struggling with pain. I miss my little ones. I miss all my people. I can hardly sleep. There’s very little work. There’s too much time to think. All this on my own time thinking about what I miss inevitably highlights the major omission.
When left to its own devices my is brain predictable. It clings to trauma. If not occupied with the business of living, I regress. Slip back into dreams of the births I’ll never labour through. Flashbacks of the blood & pain I did. Haunted by the over used phrase that always signaled it was over.
There are so many what ifs. Too many of my own actions to question. Huge & tiny alterations that could have changed the outcome. Things I never said. Words others can never unsay. Blame to place. Regret to carry. Penance to complete.
I feel trapped with all I’ve lost and every little thing I can’t share. The good memories are as painful as the bad. The selfies I took when my belly began to change shape. That magical second line on the test. Marking midwife appointments on my calendar. Blood tests with the right numbers. Making lists. Checking what ridiculous object the app tells me my baby is now the size of. Plans & scans & the bam bam of heartbeats.
My body remembers it all in such intricate detail. I recall the fractionally altered taste of mint tea. Sex felt different and the smell of everything intensified. I was heavy with fear. Dulled by fatigue. Yet still floating on hope and entirely delighted to experience whatever this new life threw at me.
It never goes away. I can never take my foot off the pedal. I’m always close to skidding off the road. Lockdown is like a battle not to drift to sleep at the wheel. Spending too long contemplating my past or the what might have been is dangerous. Finding ways to keep my eyes open is getting harder.
If this crisis has taught me anything it’s how grateful I am to have a safe & comfortable home to quarantine in. Not everyone is so fortunate. That’s why this month I have chosen to support Refuge.
I’m sure you will have read about the increase in domestic violence incidents since lockdown began. This quarantine is far more than an inconvenience for people living with an abusive partner or parent. The choice of being locked up with someone who harms you or leaving with nothing during a global pandemic is a horrible dilemma. That’s why organisations like Refuge are even more vital at the moment.
Refuge provides a range of services for men, women & children. They offer safe houses, advocacy culturally specific help & a 24hr hotline. These services save lives. I urge to support them if you can.
You can make a one off or monthly donation of your chosen amount. Or you can opt to buy a Refuge Parcel. These fund specific items like hygiene packs, child support, emergency parcel and so on. I opted for a children’s parcel containing items to help a little one settle into a new life. I think it’s a wonderful idea. It makes me feel really happy that I can help make a child’s world a little better.
There’s nothing like a nation wide quarantine to really hammer home the fact that you’re childless. All anyone can talks about is their kids. How the silver lining of all this chaos is extra time with their cherubs. How being stuck in the house with them is driving folk crazy or all the creative ideas for activities to keep them occupied. It’s a non stop child frenzy. Unless you’re barren.
I hate that word. It feels accusatory & cold. It is, however the descriptor that keeps pushing itself into my head. Being alone in my house for over a month has contracted my world. There’s nowhere to hide. I’m content in my own company, but I’m accustomed to regular interruptions. Being unable to see friends, family or get involved in any outside work projects is tough. Those are my escapes. Adventures with little people. Laughs with big ones. Putting my skills towards something worthwhile. When you take all that away the only bit that’s left is empty.
There’s too much opportunity to be in my head. I’m not sleeping well, which facilitates bonus peak anxiety hours. Plus all this stress & uncertainty has opened the door to nightmares. Mostly relating to being pregnant & threatened by various dangers. With little snippets of real flashbacks thrown in for extra distress. When I’m not feeling powerless, I have a sense of being robbed. This strange, crazy time has necessitated hunkering down in family units. I don’t have one.
I have plenty of amazing people. I’m grateful, believe me. Lockdown has reinforced my belief that a husband is so not for me. With a little help from folks who are allowed outside I can manage my life just fine. If anything, it’s people to care for I want. I can’t stop myself from thinking how old my children would be now. I unintentionally look out for age appropriate lockdown activities. I imagine baking my Gran’s fruit loaf with tiny helpers. I caught myself constructing a home school lesson plan in my head. Fantasising about passing on one’s insights of the works of Lewis Grassic Gibbon is a lonely pursuit.
I have this sensation that I spend my life trying to squash. Hollow and raw. It’s as though someone scraped out all the essential parts of me with a dirty, jagged instrument. I occupy my time trying to keep the chasm sufficiently full. Packing in as many beautiful moments as I can find to prevent an inward collapse. Now my world is on hold, that void is ever present.
I know I am fortunate in many ways. I am able to stay safely at home. My housing is secure. I can video call the people I love. I will have access to healthcare if I need it. Life will resume. I do know that. I’m just struggling with the realisation that I’ll never fully heal this. Every time I think I have accepted my situation the wound is reopened & it feels fresh all over again.
All the last minute tidying is complete. The presents are wrapped, the festive bedsheets are on & the fridge is stocked. My final festive manicure is complete & my outfit is all picked out. All that remains to be done is put my feet up for the evening before the madness begins.
I’m getting very excited about the big day. I’ll be at my sister’s & her little man is so into Xmas this year. I can FaceTime my other wee ones to see them open their pressies. Plus I’m a big kid and I love getting gifts too!
As happy as I am to have friends & family to share the season with, there’s always a hole in my Xmas. Being reminded of all the family fun I’ll never have with my own children is hard. Lots of people who have experienced loss struggle over Christmas. That’s why organisations like Sands & Miscarriage Association are so crucial. Sands work towards reducing still birth and neonatal death. They also provide support for those have lost babies. The Miscarriage Association aim to support those who have suffered miscarriage. They also strive to end the taboo nature of baby loss. Both do essential work with vulnerable people. If you can spare a little, a donation will allow them to continue their essential mission.
However you spend Christmas I hope it will be safe, warm & filled with as much joy as you can muster. If you are missing someone this year I send you love.