Lion-hearted girl

My preffered haunt for jogging is a glorious park near us.  It has a couple of soccer pitches, a rose garden, a fountain, a swan and duck pond and loads of trees.  There is a woodland trail as well and a couple of hills thrown in for a little challenge.  It was where I imagined taking Isla during those long, endless afternoons I was supposed to enjoy during my maternity leave.  I imagined pushing her stroller while listening to good tunes on my iPod while she dozed.  I fantasized about taking her to see the wildlife and teaching her how to pronounce their names.  There would be other walks and short trips to mix it up (hey, variety is the spice of life), but I knew this park would be our favourite place to while away the hours.  I thought about all this as I passed the swings and children's area in the park during my jog Friday afternoon.  I started to feel THE SADNESS and began to slow down when a man ran past me and gave me a "hey" and a friendly jogger's wave.  He spurred me on without realizing it and I kept going whilst listening to Florence + the Machine's Rabbit Heart, singing along: "I wish that I could just be brave.  I must become the lion-hearted girl, ready for a fight..."

This morning Dave and I left the flat, heading to the park for a late morning jog, when I tripped over the pavement and fell hard on grass and gravel, skinning me knee and hand, knocking the breath out of me.  A lady asked if I was alright and Dave told me that we should go back to the flat and rest.  After assessing my bloodied knee and ascertaining that my weak ankles were not damaged, I told him that we should keep going.  So he helped me get up, I brushed myself off and that's what we did.

I guess those two anecdotes basically illustrate how I've been handling grieving for our little girl.  Each time I despair and weep and feel like sleeping forever, I feel it and then brush it off and keep going.  I'm sure I'm stronger for it.  Every time I break down and every time I tell someone else that yes, I had the baby, but she died, I feel like I'm becoming that lion-hearted girl.  Laughing helps and so does running.  Hugging and crying also help to soothe the pain.  I think about my pregnancy so fondly.  I loved that time my daughter and I shared.  Her somersaults and kicks and punches, letting me know that she was alive and growing.  I absolutely hate that she's gone, along with her future, her potential and her place in the world.  But I love that I was her mother for too brief a time.

I haven't weighed myself yet, but I suspect I'm getting close to my pre-pregnancy weight.  It was important to me to lose the weight I put on over the last few months because it seemed so sad to me to keep carrying the baby weight without the baby.  A sad empty belly with nothing to show for it.  Now that it's pretty flat again, I feel better and look back at my bump with fondness tinged with sadness; bittersweet in every sense of the word.

I've never really shared this pictures before, but I feel that  now it's right to:

Week 19

Week 21

Week 22 - Exactly 1 week before I gave birth to Isla

As the Brits say, I was carrying "neat".  My body was changing immensely, but I loved it.  I absolutely fucking loved it.  I feel stronger each day, but damn, sharing this was hard.  I think I'll sign off here.

BTW, I wanted to thank everyone who commented and discussed with me what I wrote in my previous post.  My new beliefs are helping me immensely through this process so thank you for your intelligent and respectful thoughts.