That morning I knew.. 
I had known, but I didn't say anything. I ordered cheap tests on ebay. 
The post woman dropped them through the letter box, and I plopped down my toddler and peed into a cup - dipping the stick in, holding my breath. 
I wouldn't look.. just wait. 
there was no need to wait, in an instant - my answer was revealed in a second line 

My breath was caught. in a wave of shock there was also the sting of joy rising. My mind spinning - what will i do? this is okay. this will be alright. a little baby... oh baby. 

I checked the clock, nearly time to go pick up my daughter from playschool - but quickly, a phone call to a midwife to make sure there was space on her books for a homebirth. I felt like at least if I already handled the midwife stuff telling Steven would be easier - it's under control - we can do this.  
The midwife laughed on the phone - as I hadn't even told him yet.  
I was still out of breath from the excitement of the test - she congratulated me.. and we  hung up - we'd be in touch. 

I went out to get Claire, the whole time my mind swirling.. what am I going to say? How will I tell him? What will he think? He's always okay about this stuff.. He'll be fine. I thought about this secret baby inside of me. All mine.. no one else aware. 

I came home with my girl - settled here in and started making a card to tell him when he got home from classes.. 
Finally, he walked in - my belly doing flipflops. I don't know why I was so nervous. 

'Congratulations! you're really fertile. (I'm freaking out)' it said.. along with the due month... 

I handed him the card, and with that - he already knew. A wave of joy did not wash over his face.. there was no smile. There was a furrowed brow, disappointment really - in himself, in us.. how irresponsible could we be? what will people think? this isn't the right time. how could we be so stupid. 

I felt deflated. I had already thought all of these things.. I had already felt that sting of shame - I had already wondered how the fuck I could be so irresponsible. I had already wondered how I'd manage. I had hoped that he would smile, that he would hug me, that he would say 'this is great news, we'll get through this, a baby is never a bad thing' 

and he did say that, in time, when he processed it further. 
but still.. the underlying feeling was.. shhh.. this isn't really something to celebrate. this is dumb. we are stupid. what the fuck are we doing?! 

-- 
and then i wiped and saw blood. no no no.. this is it. 
i'm losing this baby that i didn't want and then wanted. 
i went to get a scan and baby just fine, heart beat and all.. little tiny bean 

and the blood stopped. 

and then i wiped and saw blood. 
this, a few weeks later. back to the hospital for a scan - all good. all well. all just growing along nicely. 
nothing to be concerned about. the bleeding maybe just irritated cervix. the end. no more investigation. 

Christmas came and went - bleeding was on and off. I had resigned myself to the idea that I was losing this baby many times, so was trying to be careful to just accept things.. 
12 weeks - when you're 'safe' 
so the holidays were upon us, i was bleeding, but i didn't tell anyone really - it was the new normal for this pregnancy.. the scans wouldn't be available in the hospital even if i were to go. i had an appointment coming up with the early pregnancy unit - so i'd just wait. 

and I did, and baby was growing right along. kicking and alive. perfectly measuring with my dates.  
an injection of anti-d since i was still experiencing bleeding, and on my way 

until three days later.. 

Grief.
it came rushing in to my open mouth like a fly
unexpected and hard to swallow
these rituals and ways we work through
healing the holes  with flower seeds
​and leaving the past in the past, blooming into new seasons
little remnants and reminders, as we keep them with us
but then.. out of nowhere
the glimpse of his tiny body in a black and white scan
his heart beat recorded there on a trace…
there he was… he lived. Right there. Inside me.
and he was perfect.
I was the only one that witnessed his legs kicking
just days before I went into labour
miscarrying.
what an ugly word….
it looks like the fault is with the carrier. They mis-did something. Did it wrong.
and so they no longer carry.

it just feels so weird
to suddenly feel that ache constricted in my throat
for him.
for that tiny baby in my palm.
because I did all my rituals. And I moved on.. and I loved him. And I loved me. And I loved what he brought to me.. and I love this baby that I have now, because.. without that sequence of events I would not be who I am right now.. and I would not have what I have right now.. and… it just is. The way it is. 

I remember as each milestone passed, the first week, the first full moon, the first bleed, the first ovulation - each bringing you further away from the final moments of carrying a tiny baby within. Each month bringing new milestones to meet, of what would have been - 20 weeks, 40 weeks, 42. The waxes and wanes of moons and months.  

There is an odd nothingness on the threshold of The Day He Would Have Been. 
It's just another day, the sky is a rolling sea of sun, and a tease of rain clouds. 
I wake with two children using my body as a horse, climbing and clamoring all over me, blowing raspberry farts on my belly, erupting in laughter. 
I'm broody, not sad. 
a third, how wild might that be to add to this brood of mortal kombat battles breaking out on the foot of the bed? where would everyone sleep? when would anyone sleep? no one sleeps through the night anyway, what's one more little body awake and sniffling and shuffling to touch mamas body?  
''I want next to mama!''  ''no I want mama!'' 
''there's two sides of mama, you can both have some... maybe mama doesn't want either one of you touching me right now?!'' 
eh whatever, c'mere - pulled into the crook of my stinky armpits and morning breath kisses. 

I butter warm toast and the smell reminds me of the hospital, of the midwife, Rachel, who would have been my second midwife here at home. Her sweetness and deep empathy, holding my hands and meeting my eyes with tenderness.  She was awful sweet, goodness.. everyone was. everyone has been. so kind, so loving, so gentle, so easy. 

Friend's that just show up, in packets of seeds and letters, in books and groceries, silk kimonos and home spun honey. They show up, and through all of this, I have realized all the more what beautiful people I have in my life, how lucky I am. How lucky am I 

This wee fairy sprite, the boy born under the full moon, tiniest limbs and toes I ever did see 
How lucky I am, to have witnessed the wide and vast generosity of hearts around the world. To have witnessed the precious ability of my body, the magnitude of life. How lucky I am, to walk the road taken by millions of women - those often silent or forgotten. How lucky I am, to breathe and beat and have another chance again. How lucky I am, to have the opportunity to dig deeper, to find ceremony, to commune with the mystery blood of my womb. 

Since before you became, you were. 
a tiny seed
star dust infinity
thrown down from heavenly galaxy
nestled in waiting
within me.

Since before you became, you were. 
tree sap hibernation
tangled roots take pause
leaves fallen in mushy muck. 
conkers for childhood games 
and new life possibility. 

Since before you became, you were. 
held in the life of dreams 
a future expanding before you, 
a birth at home and siblings to adore you
blonde haired and fair 

Since before you became, you were. 
a fusion of love and lust and longing
absence makes the heart grow fonder
lovers limbs intertwined
lazy, late September afternoon. 

and you were. 
rhyme and rhythm 
expansion under the melody of heart beat 
swollen belly and breasts
flicker of hummingbird heart on a black and white screen. 

and you are. 
forever etched in memory
held in the palm, delicate body blessed and buried 
back to the earth from which we came 

I started taking antidepressants, I'm about a week in and starting to feel the lift
but it also is weird to me, because it dulls out the reality and rawness of what i know i would be feeling right now. 
the can't breathe, can't wake up, can't mother, can't partner, can't recognize myself in the mirror. so many things going on in my life right now, the miscarriage is just a muddled pile in with it.

i would have been 39 weeks yesterday, but i wouldn't give birth until 42 weeks, as always. and now, with being medicated for the next coming month or two, i wonder how i will experience it all. feel it all. honour it all. without the raw emotions and reality. to do justice to what we have been through, this babe and me.

i woke up today and feel like i'm surviving right now, giving myself exactly what i need to so i can be here and mother my kids, mother myself, love my man. so i am not floating in between, out of my body, watching my children grow as an outsider looking in a fogged over window. like i'm not missing out on this precious time with them while they are wee things growing so fast. up up and away from me. 

the day is dreary, and it's the first day in a long time that i don't feel like i'm stuck in the mud with it. it feels... level and normal while it's miserable out and the kids are fighting. i actually feel okay.