December

And now it is December.  How did that happen?

Remember when you were young, and all the adults around you would complain that time goes too fast?  And remember that saying, "youth is wasted on the young"?

I remember.  And it's true.  I can't even say they are cliches, because they're just statements of fact.

I am 43 years old.  The year is about to end.  Other than some nice trips with Craig, this year has been as uneventful as the year before.  And, given that our years of marriage have generally been marked eventful because of the birth and death of another child, that is saying something.

It scares me.  The appearance and disappearance of time.  One minute it is today, then suddenly today is yesterday, and without a trace it slips to last week.  And here I am, on the verge of another year.

:::

It is just past 3 a.m. here in Amsterdam.  I woke up, and now I can't get back to sleep.

I've been having a lot of problems sleeping.  The tablets aren't working any more.  Even when I'm tired, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm awake.

I've had this issue with insomnia since I was a teenager.  Actually, probably since before then.  When I was a child I would read a book when I went to bed.  Then my mother would come in and turn the light off, and my sister and I would wait until we heard her go downstairs, then we'd turn the light on again, so that we could continue reading.  Then my mother would come upstairs again, etc, etc.  It would go on until my sister and I would give in.

Now I don't have to battle with my mother.   But I still lie awake at night.

I usually think about life.  And what should have been.  And what is.  And my utter dissatisfaction with it all.

I think about how bored I am.  With life.  With everything.

I think about the job/career I used to have.  How I wish I still had it.  All the while knowing that I couldn't cope with it any more.

I think about Face.Book.  I think about how (nearly) everyone on FB is constantly saying that they don't have enough hours in the day.  That their children keep them busy all day and all night.  And I think how I wish I had that.

I think about what my life would be like if I didn't have three dead children.  I wonder what it would be like if we had never had any children.  I wonder if we would be living here in Amsterdam.  I wonder if I would be a partner in a law firm somewhere.  I wonder.

And I wonder what it would be like if we had only one child, Freyja, who would now be 5 and a half years old.  I wonder if she would speak Dutch or English, or whether we would even live here in Amsterdam.  I wonder if I would still be working.  If maybe I would be working in a law firm part time.

I wonder.  And I don't sleep.

:::

About a week ago, someone telephoned on my mobile phone.

I don't use my mobile phone much.  Mainly because most of my "friends" are no longer my friends.

And (not surprisingly) this person who called used to be my friend.  He probably still thinks he is my friend.  Even though I hear nothing from him for years at a time.

He used to be a very good friend.  One of my best friends.  But that was a long time ago.  About 10 years ago.  And then he moved out of Australia, and then I moved out of Australia.  And we didn't keep in regular touch, but still contacted each other a few times a year.  Then I moved back to Australia and went to live in the same city as him and his girlfriend.  So we were in touch again.  Then I met Craig and he moved in with me.  Then we got pregnant.  Then we got married.  In the meantime my friend had moved out of Australia again.  Then Freyja was born and died.  And of course, since then, Kees and Jet were born and died.  And I didn't really hear from my friend again.

Two years ago, just after Jet died, Craig and I planned a trip to Scandinavia.   As far as I knew, my erstwhile friend was still living there.  So I contacted him by email, and he responded by saying he and his girlfriend were in the middle of moving to Africa.  So, again, I haven't heard from him since then.

Then the other day, he rings my mobile telephone out of the blue.  Craig answered (because I have developed an utter dislike of answering my telephone: landline or mobile).  And it was my "friend".  He spoke to Craig and told him that he was living in the UK to study, and that he wanted our Sk.ype name so that he could Sk.ype us one day.  And that was that.  He didn't ask to speak with me.

I've found it very difficult to maintain friendships over the last decade.  Because my life has changed significantly, and most of my friends have had trouble dealing with that.  In fact, most of them didn't deal with it.  They acknowledged the terrible things that happened to us, and then they just went back to their lives.  But I couldn't do that.  My life changed irrevocably.  I never understood how they could just do that.  That I, their good friend, had my life destroyed, not once, not twice, but three times, and they just stood on the sidelines.  Because that's certainly what this erstwhile friend did.  And when I confronted him about his lack of apparent interest, he said that he had been quietly and sincerely supportive from the sidelines.

So he rings, and speaks with Craig, and gets our Sk.ype address, and then nothing.  He didn't speak with me on the telephone, and he didn't ask to speak with me.  Just like that, he thinks he can just pop up in our lives again, and be our "friend".

And to be quite honest, I don't need "friends" like that.

After Freyja died, and then Kees, and then Jet, I realised that my "friends" weren't really friends at all.  They were all like my erstwhile friend who pops in and out, without caring enough, or being too busy, to share the awful moments of our lives.

Sometimes I think back over the years of our marriage, and you know what?  There's not one single person who has been continually supportive of us in our grief and in the continued destruction of our lives.  Not one.  Maybe some of them tried, but they gave up (very quickly).  It was all too much for them.  So they left.  And it still happens.

Just like this friend, who rings after an absence and silence of years, to say he's now in the UK and to get our Sk.ype address.

I wonder how long until he contacts us again ... I wonder if it will be another two years?  Probably not. Probably he'll visit the continent and need a place to sleep.  That's when we'll hear from him again.

:::

We sent christmas parcels to family in Australia and New Zealand this year.  We do every year, and this year was no exception.  We were organised enough to send our parcels in early November, so they beat the christmas rush.

But.  And I'm sure I say this every year.  This is the last time.

I'm not doing it again.  I'm sure my family (parents, siblings, etc) appreciate the parcels, but we don't always hear that from them.  And it happens that our gift giving is not always reciprocated.

I don't give gifts so that I can receive gifts, but I do believe that giving gifts is a sign of love.  And I feel very disappointed and unloved when I send gifts to my siblings, and they don't send gifts to me.

So, I really think this year is the last year.  Which is kind of sad, but a relief too.

We put so much care, time and money into those parcels, it's very hurtful when others don't do the same for us.

:::

Have I mentioned that I'm bored?  Oh yeah, B.O.R.E.D.

I have so much time on my hands, and nothing to do with it.  In fact, all I usually do is surf the internet and buy all sorts of useless and inappropriate things.  Which is not good for our bank account, and our apartment is far too small and already too full of useless things to fit much more.

I don't know what to do with myself.

This is quite unique for me.  My entire life I've been busy.  My entire life I've had a "plan".  And now there's nothing.  I'm not busy.  I have no plan.  I have nothing to do.

Our long term plan (which is really also our short term plan) is to drive back to Australia and build our house.  We plan to be self-builders, in the truest sense of the word, because we (ie. Craig and I) will be the (wo)man-power who actually build the house itself.

But that's for next year.  Hopefully.  There's still now.  Today.  And tomorrow.  And next week.  And next month.

I have nothing to do.

I try to tidy the apartment a bit.  I do a bit of laundry (although Craig does most of it).  I try to sort through years of accumulated stuff and see what I can get rid of.  I mean to get the sewing machine out and make those repairs that have been waiting for months and months.  I read a book.  I watch some tv.  I surf the internet.  But basically, I'm just bored.

I never in my life thought I would be bored with life itself.  Yet I am.  I always studied, and then I worked.  And now I do neither.  And I'm bored.

I shan't take up studying again.  For various reasons, the primary one being that I have absolutely no desire to take up formal (assessed) study again.  I was done with that after my 7 and a half year history-politics-asian studies-law stint.  Never again.

And I don't know if I shall ever work again.  I doubt that I shall ever work as a lawyer again.  I'm not that person any more.  I can't be that person any more.  And the person I am walks around in a scarred-damaged-traumatised inner (and outer) body.  My body and my mind don't cope well with ordinary people and ordinary life, which tends to be an inhibiting factor to employment.

Yet, I crave a purpose.  Something to keep my mind and my body active.  Something which makes my life and my existence relevant.

:::

Anyway.  It's now just after 4 a.m. and I'm still awake.  Ferry is still looking for mice, but would probably be happy to go back to sleep if I went back to bed.  (Did I mention he caught a mouse a few weeks ago?  Now he's continually looking for mice.)

So, maybe having written this post will soothe my mind, and let me go back to sleep.

Goodnight.

Cousins

I spoke on the telephone with one of my sisters today. Her name is L.

I have two sisters, but I only have contact with L. She is the sister who is one year younger than me. The other sister (the one I don't speak with) is eight years younger than me. Anyway, I spoke with L today.

We recently sent parcels to Australia and NZ for xmas, and I heard from L that she had received hers. I was happy to hear that, as our parcels are usually packed full of gifts and other things that we've been saving up all year.

Somehow we got on to the subject of family visits. My sister L and her husband are missionaries. They live about 2,500 km from my parents, and also from my youngest sister and her family. When my sister L takes her vacation time, she goes either to visit my parents or her husband's parents (who live in the USA).

Somehow I had always thought that when we live back in Australia, although we won't live around the corner from my parents, we would have more physical contact with my sister L. I had always thought that even though we would live 300+ km from my parents (and therefore even further away from my sister L), we would see L and her family more often. They would visit us, or we would visit them.

Yet today, when I was speaking with L on the phone, she said that she visits my parents (and my youngest sister who lives not far from them) because she wants her children to bond with their cousins. That's what she said. She wants her children to bond with their cousins. That is, with my youngest sister's kids.

We grew up in Australia away from most of our cousins. Most of our cousins lived here in the Netherlands. We really never knew them as children. We met them as adults, when they visited us in Australia, or (in most cases) when we visited them in the Netherlands. So my sister L and I have always had this yearning. A yearning to grow up with cousins. It's only now, as I live in the Netherlands, that I realise we yearned for something that didn't really exist. My cousins here in the Netherlands are scattered. They have no relationship with each other. They are all so different. And the cousins we grew up with in Australia are more like us than we know. We've been yearning for something that never existed, and never would have existed.

But my sister's desire for her children to have this bond with their cousins puts me firmly in my place. I have no children for her children to bond with. This fantasy I have had of spending more time with my sister and her three girls was just that: a fantasy. She will take her children to what she wants most for them: their cousins.

I said to my sister that I was looking forward to going camping with them. She said they only ever go camping for one or two nights, because they use all their vacation days to visit family so the girls can bond with their cousins.

And there it was.

If we want to see them, and spend time with them, we will have to go to them. They won't come to us. And camping with them will not really be an option, because their vacation days are saved for others.

It was like a slap in the face.

I have a brother also. He's also younger than me. Three years younger. That's right: I'm the oldest of four. My brother is gay. He came out (of the closet) in the year that Freyja was born. He has no real relationship with our sister L. He thinks that she is judgmental of his homosexuality. And in a way she is. Because she is a fundamental christian. So his homosexuality is contrary to what she believes. But she doesn't say that to him. She is not vocal about her judgment. She loves him because he is her brother. But we all know what she believes, and his sexuality doesn't fit with it. I know this because I too was once a christian, as was my brother. Before he came out, my brother was the most fundamental christian in our family.

Anyway, after my brother came out, he ceased having contact with my sister L. He doesn't speak with her, or send her cards, or remember her kids birthdays. I understand why he does what he does. Because I know what L believes. I don't believe what she does. I am no longer a fundamental christian. I stopped believing on the day that Kees died.

But today was the first day that I suddenly realised that even if my brother had not stopped communicating with my sister L, her contact with him would be minimal. Because he has no children. He has not provided any cousins for her children. And she only spends her vacation time with my parents and our youngest sister, so that her children can bond with their cousins.

(This despite the fact that her husband has a brother in Australia who also has two children. My sister L and her husband never seem to spend any time with them.)

So my brother and I, we're left out in the cold. My brother because he chose to be (although he would have been left out anyway), and I because my children are all dead.

Yet another life that I might have lived.

Our future life in Australia will certainly be different from anything I have ever imagined. And not in a good way.

Fear

I was reading a post at Glow In The Woods recently. About being alone. And it really struck a chord with me.

I never feared being alone. Until after my children died. Because suddenly my life bubble had popped. There was suddenly no such thing as "happily ever after". Suddenly I realised that life is fleeting. That life is precious. That we have no control over how long we live or when we die.

So I suddenly feared being alone. I feared losing Craig. And it's not getting any less. That fear. In fact, the fear just keeps growing.

I have read other blogs, other posts, also written by baby-lost mommas, where they also have that fear. But most other BLM's go on to have perfectly healthy, living children. So their fear subsides. The constant fear lessens for them.

But my fear is very real. And it hasn't lessened. In fact, with the deaths of Freyja, then Kees and then Jet, my fear increased. So that today, when it's more than two years after Jet's death, I still wake in the middle of the night, and have to check that Craig is warm and breathing. (After waking to find Jet cold and dead, warm and breathing is critical.) And every time I wake and go to check Craig, there's a part of me that fears finding him cold and dead. Just like I found Jet.

Craig has been doing lots of work on our car recently. He's been doing most of the work at a friend's place. Our friend has a driveway, garage and lots of tools. All things which we don't have. Anyway, today we are at our friend's place. Initially Craig was going to go by himself, and I would stay at home. But over the last few days I became so anxious about it, about him travelling 100 km down south, and then 100 km back north again, that I came along with him (like I usually do). The anxiety, the fear, the worries - I couldn't do it. It's far simpler to just come along.

I wonder whether this fear will ever go away.

I wonder if I will ever be able to let Craig go and do things on his own.

I wonder whether I will ever wake at night and not fear he is dead.

... and now it's October

I don't have anything new to say any more.

It's all the same. I miss my children. I miss my life. I miss me.

I'm terribly bored all the time. I'm also very sad. And angry.

:::

I was thinking about happiness today, and trying to remember the last time I was happy. I can't remember really.

I read about The Happiness Project recently. So I wrote an email to the founder of the project, as she'd promised on her site that she always responds to emails. She didn't respond until I sent her a second email 3-4 weeks later. Then she said that what had happened to us was so momentous it wasn't something she could address in an email. So she just didn't address it. Turns out that she is just like everyone else.

:::

A friend dropped by recently. She'd contacted me from Australia a few months ago, to say she would be in Amsterdam. She'd asked if it was ok for her to contact us, as she hasn't been in touch with us since Kees died. I said it would be ok. Then I heard nothing from her again. So I texted her and asked when she'd be in Amsterdam. Fortunately I did, because the day I texted her was her last day in Europe and she was in Amsterdam. Then she turned up at our doorstep with her young son, and an unexpected 7-month pregnant belly. Does no-one in the world think about this sort of stuff? Did it occur to her that maybe she should have told us? Nope. Nothing occurs to people about us any more.

:::

We went away. We had planned two weeks away, with the caravan. To southern France and northern Italy. We were gone in total for 12 days, and then the urge to be at home overwhelmed us. So we went home, after spending some time (with great weather) in Chamonix-Mont Blanc, Venice and Nice. At least the cats were happy to see us.

:::

I've been missing my children more and more. Everywhere we go there are families and children and babies. And all I can see and think about, is our children, and our family that does not exist.

:::

At one of the campgrounds we stayed in, there was a young couple with a baby. They had a tent, and nothing else! No car, no bikes, nothing! Their baby was at the first-walking stage, and was walking everywhere. And, as usual with parents and a baby, they think nothing of it if the baby walks on the middle of the road, on to other camping sites, into the bathroom. And of course the baby was screaming all the time. Somehow people who have children, think that their children take precedence over everything and everyone else. It does not occur to them that their child might be annoying someone. Or bothering someone. Or disturbing someone. It does not occur to them that their child might be annoying someone. That some people just want to enjoy the peace and quiet of the campground. Or, that some people might be offended by the very loud and obvious presence of a child everywhere. We both struggled with that. I found it incredibly difficult to try to ignore the presence of the child. I couldn't really ignore it. Which made for a difficult time there.

:::

The weather has gone bad here. It's now well and truly autumn. Gray skies and rain. The central heating has come on several times already. We've had some terribly cold days and nights.

:::

I'm officially unemployed now. My employment ended on 1 October. In my daily life, nothing changes. I haven't been at work since before Jet's birth and death. In reality our income drops significantly.

:::

I spoke to my dad on the phone the other day. My sister and her husband and kids are staying with my parents for a month. And he was telling me that one of my cousins with her husband and kids were over visiting. I said to him, "all happy families then", and he said yes and continued waffling. He doesn't get it. Happy families are not us. We are not a happy family. I suspect we will never be a happy family, because there will always be too much missing. Too large a void to fill. But my dad doesn't see that. He says that I should be "happy for others". He doesn't see that's not possible any more.

:::

Oh, and I didn't follow my diet whilst we were away, and I only put on 200 grams. Thank goodness.

September already

Unbelievable. August has come and gone and it is September already.

August with its birthdays. My birthday, Craig's birthday and Jet's birthday.

I loathe birthdays now.

I was brought up to believe that birthdays are special. That the birthday-person is special. That it deserves to be celebrated. But now the last thing I feel like doing on birthdays is celebrate. Instead birthdays have become an unavoidable milestone. Another year gone, another year older. It feels like I'm sliding down the slippery slope of old age. And the older I get the less likely it is that I will parent a living child.

Anyway, for this year the birthdays and the deathdays have gone. But I know that it won't be long until it's February, when Kees should be turning 4, and then March when his deathday will approach with speed.

:::

Craig and I made some decisions this week.

We decided that we are going to leave Amsterdam, and head back to Australia. Finally!

I guess we've been postponing the decision, but its time had come. We have nothing to stay in Amsterdam for. Nothing and no-one. Our future (whatever it will be) is in Australia.

We're going to a little seaside town in South Australia. We bought a block of land there after Kees died. We haven't seen it (!!) except for on maps and with Google.Earth. But it's a lovely little town, with beautiful beaches and 5 acres for us to build a new home together.

So the winter which is coming towards us now will be our last one in Europe ... yippee!!

I am longing for trees and space and beach and sunshine and a garden ... it is definitely time to move.

:::

Also this week I found out that my ex-best-friend (who recently got married) has had a child.

I was looking on the Amsterdam real estate website, as I always do, when I saw her apartment advertised. So I looked and looked at the photos, and lo and behold, there it was. A baby room. I was so shocked that I started shaking.

I stopped being friends with this woman (F) after Kees' death. F has always been a social butterfly and always makes too many commitments. Then she regularly cancels them. And she had gotten into the habit over the years of cancelling me. When Kees died she continued to cancel me, as she always had. It was very upsetting to me, so I spoke with her about it. We really talked, because it was important to me that she understand. And I thought she did. But she didn't. She kept cancelling. And I kept being upset. In the end I told her I didn't want to see her any more. I needed reliable people in my life, and she wasn't. She didn't understand at all, so our friendship ended very abruptly.

I haven't heard anything from her or about her for about 3.5 years. Until I saw that real estate advertisement and photos on the net. And it was like being punched in the gut.

It is impossible to describe to any woman who has living children and no dead children, how I feel when others around me have "normal" lives. How I feel when they have healthy living children. How I feel that they have a successful career and a healthy child(ren). How I feel because I had all that and I lost it all. How I feel because my life lies in tatters around me. I cannot describe it to them. But even if I was able to do so, they can not understand. And they don't want to understand. Really. They want nothing to do with even the idea of a dead child.

So there I was, staring at the laptop, seeing evidence of a baby in F's life. And I was shaking and crying. Because there on the screen was more evidence that everyone around me gets everything they want. And I loathe that.

My mum said to me (after Jet's death) that I should be "happy" for others because they have healthy happy families. But I cannot. I cannot be happy for people who have everything that I had, but which was ripped from me and destroyed.

I was so shocked about F's life and child, that I contacted the one real-life friend I have, K. The problem is that K is also a friend of F. The three of us were always good friends, close friends. So when I told K that I was absolutely shocked to find out that F had a child, she immediately became defensive. She said that being friends with us was difficult enough. That I shouldn't be negative about F. That F suffered so much because sometimes her bad health prevents her from looking after her own child. That I should stop being so negative about F and K. And that she now knows how I feel about her (K).

It was quite shocking. It appeared that she deliberately misinterpreted everything I said to her. Everything. Every word. She took up an immediate defensive position to defend F and herself. As if I was attacking them. When all I was doing was sharing my shock and pain with her.

That evening, after I had cried and cried and drank some wine, whilst I was sleeping, Craig rang K and spoke to her. He tried to explain what I had said (although the words were quite clear). Even on the phone with Craig, K was defensive. She immediately jumped to F's defence and said how F had been crying just the other day because she couldn't care for her own child. I don't think it occurs to K that we can't care for any of our children. (I also said to her that Craig and I would gladly have given up our good health for even one of our children to live. I think she didn't even hear that.)

She said to Craig that it is hard for her to listen to me talking about my dead children for "hours". That's what she said. And you know what?? I don't talk about my dead children for hours. Never. The only place I talk about my children is at home, with Craig. Or here, on my blog. Or on FB, with my baby-lost friends. Or with my parents, on my children's special days. I have learned (the hard way) over the last 5 years that NO-ONE wants to hear about dead children. People don't even want to be confronted with the memory of a dead child. We, Craig and I, even without opening our mouths, are too much for people. No-one wants to have any sort of conversation or relationship with me, a baby-lost mother. Because they DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

We are freaks. Craig and I. Our children are freaks. Because they are dead. Because no reasons for their deaths have been found. It's better to put freaks like us as far away as possible. Shut them out of your life, out of your children's lives. Believe the fairy tale that bad things only happen to bad people. Believe that only freaks' children die.

K has been a friend for more than 10 years. But it's very clear now that she has no idea what our lives are like. She thinks that if she invites us over for a meal once every 3-4 months, that she is "relieving us temporarily of our pain". Seriously, those are her words. She has no idea that losing a child is forever. That the grief doesn't just stop. That I might be angry at the world. That I might be envious of all those who have what I lost. She has no idea.

So she now thinks that our friendship has ended. Unbelievably. Because I said to her that I was shocked that F had a child. That I was angry that everyone gets what I had and lost. That's what causes a 10 year friendship to end.

And you know what? I can't be bothered any more. She's never even realised that our dinners with her and her family are painful for us. She doesn't even see that when she shows me her holiday photos, it's a stab in my heart when every photo is of her kids.

:::

So there it is.

A new month.

More than two years since Jet died.

Another friend lost.

A decision made.

Oh, and the cats are both ill and sneezing, and I've lost 12 kg so far.

Awake

I can't sleep.

I've been trying to get to sleep for about an hour, but without success.

I read in bed for a while, to finish a book I'd been trying to finish. Craig read too, but he went to sleep without any problems. Except that my restlessness kept him awake longer than he intended.

And when I don't sleep, my mind is terribly active. I think about everything. Mainly bad things. Dead baby things. About things past that I can not change. And about things future which I know not of.

The past bothers me, for obvious reasons. Because I can't change it. But the future bothers me too. Because I don't know what it will be. Because I don't see how it could be anything.

:::

I said to Craig today that we don't laugh any more. I was thinking about it and wondering if we laughed at all during a day. Even once. But I don't think I did today. Or yesterday. I wonder if I have any joy left in my life.

:::

My diet is going well. I'm continuing to lose weight every week. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be. I've never heard anyone say to me that losing weight was easy. All I have ever heard from people is how difficult it is. So I'm surprised that (until now) my weight-loss journey has been fairly easy. If only everything else was that easy.

I knew even before I began the diet that I would succeed. Because it was something over which I had control. And I don't have control over much these days. Actually, I feel that I have no control over anything really. Except the diet.

I've lost nearly 10 kilos. But that's only a drop in the ocean. I want to lose another 25 kilos yet. My sister is of the opinion that I shouldn't lose too much. That I shouldn't go back to my old weight, because that will be too "skinny" for me. I'm of the opinion that I would like to fit into all those clothes I have packed away around the apartment. I'm not going to settle for less.

:::

My birthday is coming up. In 18 days. I will be 43 years old. Actually it will be the end of my 43rd year and the beginning of my 44th. And of course, just days after that will be Jet's 2nd birthday. And three days after that, the anniversary of his death. I wonder, will the remainder of my life only be filled with sad birthdays and death-anniversaries?

:::

I didn't get a period this month. I think it's because I lost 1.7 kilos last week. I think my body is a bit screwed up. I was petrified that I might be pregnant, but a home pregnancy test put an end to that. It made me wonder, that fear. It was the first time I would have faced a pregnancy with fear. The other three were faced with wonder, and a secret certainty that everything would be ok. But another pregnancy ... I have no certainty any more. Only about death.

So even though a living child is still my greatest wish, an even greater wish is no more death.

:::

Every day I swing from an overwhelming desire to have another baby to acceptance of what we have now. The only problem is that Craig and I have nothing now. And that's what causes all those uncertainties about the future. What sort of future will we have if we have nothing? We just exist. We don't do anything. We don't produce anything. We don't contribute anything. What on earth would our future hold? Two fairly useless, sad, unproductive people, with no purpose. Sounds miserable.

:::

Well, Blair has just come down to look for me. He does that if I'm gone too long. He sleeps in our bedroom, and he sees when I leave. Then if I'm not back immediately he comes looking. He's crawled on to my lap, so I've had to move the laptop. I haven't seen Ferry, so I might go look for him. He finds a different place to sleep every night. Ferry is a restless thing. A busy little cat. Constantly on the go, finding something new. Whereas Blair is predictable and routine. What a comfort.

Yet that same routine and predictability, when seen in my life, gives me no comfort at all. The idea of this routine stretching into my future (however long that may be), makes me want to scream. This is not what I wanted. It's not what I want.

:::

Where the hell has my life gone?

Alone

I've just been scrolling through the blogs I read. Or used to read.

I deleted some of them. Stopped following them. Because they are going to a place where I don't go.

:::

I feel more alone these days. I feel that there are less people listening. That there are less people who care.

I know that there are people who remember my children. And I love that. But it's very abstract. It's not real in my life.

I miss having people in my life who care. Who care about me and what I do. Craig is there, and he cares, but he's the only one.

An example. On Monday it was Freyja's birthday. Her fifth. My parents sent us flowers. My sister rang. An aunt and uncle (for inexplicable reasons) suddenly sent a card.

A friend who has not been in touch with me since Kees' funeral sent a text message. Her reason? She's coming to Amsterdam in September and would like to "catch up".

I dislike it. I dislike it when people who haven't been there for the tough times, suddenly drop a note out of the sky, because they want to catch up. And (guaranteed) once they've had their catch up, they'll go back to their little world and I won't hear from them again for however many years.

It annoys the shit out of me.

:::

When I'm with other people, I'm pretending most of the time. Pretending that my life is ok. Pretending that I'm not sad. Pretending that I'm not angry. Pretending that I have a future. Really, I'm pretending all these things. Because in reality I am sad, my life is not ok (how could it be?), I am angry, and I don't see that I have a future.

So why am I pretending? Because no-one wants to know any of this stuff.

I never noticed this when I was a single person. Maybe because I was always accommodating my life to fit into others' lives.

But now I see that actually others have their own life, and they certainly don't do anything to accommodate me into it. In fact, most people have closed their lives to me. I don't fit in any more, so they have moved on without me.

Which leaves me back where I started. Alone.

:::

When I speak to my parents on the phone, it's all just jibber-jabber (love that phrase). Because I know that they only hear what they want. They forget what I actually jibber-jabbered to them about. They regurgitate what they wanted to hear from me to their friends. To tell them that I'm ok. When I'm so obviously not.

It makes me angry. That no-one wants to hear the real stuff. They only want the fluffy stuff. And if there is no fluffy stuff, they just embroider reality to make it fluffy.

I talk to people about (i) my cats, (ii) any trips or holidays we have planned, and (iii) the weather. Anything else they talk about I just let flow over me. Like politics, religion, the fate of asylum seekers and refugees, my mental health and their advice. I don't talk about that. I don't encourage talk about it. I just make "mmm" noises at appropriate times, and that seems enough for people. Because if I do talk about those things, they will disagree with what I say, and it will be an opportunity for them to shoot me down. So I don't give them the chance. Anyway, the cats and the weather is usually enough.

:::

I forgot what I was writing about.

Oh yes, alone-ness.

It's different from loneliness. I'm not lonely. I have Craig.

But I do feel alone. When I walk on the street, surrounded by hundreds of people, I feel alone. In fact, the sheer numbers of people who surround me, make me feel more alone.

All those families, those mums with babies, those dads with Baby Bjorn's strapped to them, they make me feel alone.

I live in one of the most densely populated spots on the planet, and yet I feel alone. How strange is that?

:::

I wish there were people here who understand me. I wish there were people around me who didn't think I was "strange". I wish there were people here who could shepherd me towards a future I wouldn't be scared of.

I wish for so many things. But they are wistful wishes.

Nowadays I really have only one wish. A child. Our child. Who lives. A long and healthy life.

That is my wish.

Maybe I would be less alone then. Maybe I would be less "strange". Maybe then I could see a future.

Lost

I'm lost. I don't know what to do. It's confusing.

I'm talking about now and the rest of my life.

I don't know what to do today, or tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year.

I'm completely lost.

:::

Back before all the dead babies, I never really doubted the future, my future. I didn't query what was to come. I was just always sure it would be "better".

I can be honest and say I had high expectations, but I'd grown up with parents who encouraged that for their children and believed it themselves.

So I always expected the best from myself, as well as from others, and looked forward to a future which would (of course) be better.

Not surprisingly I've felt incredibly let down.

I feel let down by the people around me. Those from whom I expected nothing but the best.

I feel let down by my parents and siblings. It was a hurtful truth the day I realised that my pain and my grief comes only second (or third or fourth or more ...) to theirs.

I feel let down by life in general. How come my children died? Why couldn't it be someone else's children? How come all my children died? Couldn't one have been left for me?

I'm sad that my career has come to an end. And that it finished not because of a conscious decision, but because I fell apart.

I'm sad because I feel so alone. So incredibly alone. I have Craig, but I have no-one else. I feel let down by all those friends I used to have. Where are they now? Where have they been?

:::

I sit in our apartment and watch the weather outside. It's been raining a lot. I'm wondering when summer is coming this year ... if at all.

I feel "safe" in our apartment. Or perhaps "safe" is the wrong word. After all, Kees stopped breathing right over there, on the black leather sofa. Our living room was barely big enough to accommodate the 7 or 8 police officers and paramedics who responded to my emergency phone call.

So safe isn't the right word. Comfortable. Isolated. Away from nasty people who think they know everything better.

:::

I don't know how long we can stay here. In this apartment. It may be that the pension I will receive, together with income insurance, will not be enough to pay for this apartment.

It's scary, not knowing.

But maybe it will jolt us out of our comfort zone to a new place. Maybe we'll get a chance to start in another place, to build something for ourselves.

:::

Shall I have another baby? Or not?

That's what we think about now. Because we've spoken to doctors. And they've said that a future child of ours would require 24/7 monitoring. To see if there's something wrong.

So that's what I think about now.

Another baby?

Or not.

Assumptions

It seems to me that a lot of people are making assumptions these days.

Assumptions about me. Assumptions about Craig. Assumptions about everything.

Like my uncles who assume that because I have not gone back to work that I am "lazy".

They also assume that because Craig has not gone back to work that he is "trailer-trash" and a "gold-digger".

Like my friends from Australia who were here this week, who assumed that things must be "getting better".

Or my friend here in the Netherlands who assumes that as the days, months and years pass, our grief must be "getting less".

:::

I am totally in hate with the world at the moment (as opposed to in love with it).

:::

My sister rang me last week to tell me that she's pregnant. An unplanned pregnancy. She has three beautiful healthy daughters, and she had two early miscarriages since those girls were born.

When she rang to tell me she was 6 weeks pregnant, and she'd already told her girls. I think she's mad. Anything can happen, as she knows. When I said something like this to her, she said the girls are aware that bad things happen, "like to your babies".

:::

I'm angry with anyone who has a healthy living child. Anyone. And it doesn't matter if they've lost a child/ren, had miscarriages, etc. If they have a living healthy child than they are a whole lot more fortunate than I am. They have a purpose in their lives, which I am missing in mine.

:::

One of my other uncles assumed that I was "comfortable wallowing in my grief/depression". I was so shocked when he said this (in Dutch so I had translate in my head), that I didn't respond.

I mean, surely anyone who has suffered ongoing and long-term grief, will know that there's nothing comfortable about it? Surely? Maybe I'm making an assumption here.

:::

I'm on a diet. I intend to lose about 30-35 kg.

When I mention that to people, they look skeptical. As if they're doubtful that I could lose that much weight.

Perhaps they've forgotten that for most of my life (prior to dead-children), I was a very tall, slim woman. They must have forgotten.

I was going through some clothes that I'd put away, and saw all these wonderful trousers, skirts, etc, which will only fit me if I get back to that size. And I'm going to try.

The diet is giving me a purpose. A short-term one, but a purpose nevertheless.

:::

When my father was here in the Netherlands a few weeks ago, I think he was quite shocked by us. By our appearances, by our lifestyle, by many things.

My anger, my sadness, my apathy, it all appeared to be quite new and shocking to him.

Strange though, we've been telephoning and skype-ing them regularly, but he doesn't really pay attention. He only sees and hears what he wants to.

But then, being here, there's no avoiding the reality of me, my life.

One day we saw him after he'd been staying at his sister's place for a while. He saw me, hugged me, and said that I looked much better. This surprised me, because I looked exactly the same as when he saw me the week before. I said as much, but he denied it vehemently, because apparently it suited his mentality to view me as a better and happier person than I was.

I guess he went back to Australia with that "happy and better" image in his head. It will make him feel better in the long run. It will allow him to get on with his life, without having to worry too much about me.

He made assumptions (erroneously) about me and my life. But they were assumptions which sat better with him.

:::

I guess other people make assumptions for the same reason. So that they can distance themselves from me and from Craig, without feeling too bad about it.

Motivation ...

A friend showed me an article he found online about employees getting in trouble because of their FB updates. When they're ill, and they post online about their adventures. When they don't like their superiors, and then post their feelings online. That sort of stuff.

One of the examples was of an employee who was off work, ill, with depression. S/he went on a vacation/holiday whilst being ill with depression, and posted on FB about it. Their illness was then challenged on the basis that no-one can go on holidays when they are "ill".

Quite bizarre really.

I've been telling my brother often enough to keep is private life private, and to not post every drunken thought on FB. He often complains about the system he's in, and about the superiors he works with/for. But that's his problem.

I'm off work. I'm ill. I haven't been to work at all since Jet was born and died. Before then, when I was pregnant with Kees, and then after his death, I was regularly going to work, but not full time. I've been on some form of sick-leave for more than three years now.

But it's not a sickness or illness that many people understand. It's not something that they can see. And it's not something I'll just "recover" from.

I suffer from anxiety. I suffer from depression. I suffer from post traumatic stress disorder. All these illnesses/conditions have been diagnosed and confirmed by our treating psychiatrist.

So people who are my FB friends often see me update my status in relation to weekend trips away, or a longer vacation/holiday.

So my friend, who sent me the link to the online article, said that maybe I should be more careful. Because of who might be reading.

I had two responses.

The first is that I have a very select group of FB friends. No family, no colleagues.

The second is that for us to go away from home, even if just for a few days, is a tremendously emotional and draining experience. I often don't want to go away at all, and am only agreeing because I think we should, and because Craig wants to go.

It all comes down to motivation. And the fact that I don't have any.

The deaths of our children, the change in lives, our plummeting careers, losing friends and family, these things have affected us profoundly.

For me it is motivation. I don't have any. I don't see the point in anything any more. So whenever we talk about going away (whether for a few days or weeks) I have to force myself to go.

We plan months in advance, so that those days/weeks are blocked on our calendar. And I force myself to get in preparation mode, pack, find all our stuff. Then it's loading the car, collecting the caravan, you name it. And I have to force myself to do all and any of it. Because I have no motivation.

I have travelled widely and extensively. Both with Craig and before him. And I loved it. Always. But not any more. It's nice to see places, sure. But I get tired. The crowds bother me.

When you're traveling, you have to make the most of each day, regardless of the weather. I just get tired, and I worry about my cats.

I can honestly say that the only thing that I'm motivated about when we are planning and going on holidays/vacation, is when we're heading home!

And the worst thing? Is that other people are envious of us because we travel to faraway places!! When all I really want is to have my children, or even one child, living here with us, at our home, being part of our family.

:::

We're heading off again tomorrow. For a short trip. To an off-road show in Germany. We're driving there with a friend (who sent me the online article) who also has a Land Rover. The weather looks iffy. I'm trying to be positive. But the motivation is still lacking.

Friends

My former best friend got married on the weekend.

We stopped being friends a few months after Kees died. I expected a lot more from her, and she disappointed me several times. We spoke about it. My expectations. But it made no difference. She was too busy with other things and other people. She didn't understand that I needed more from her than before.

Anyway. One of my other friends mentioned a few months ago that she was going "away" for a wedding. I guessed immediately that it was my former best friend. And it was.

She was my witness at my wedding. I wasn't invited to hers.

How life changes. And (in my case) not for the better.

Families

I've been thinking about families a lot recently.

:::

My father is staying with us at the moment. He decided about a month ago that he would visit the Netherlands, primarily to see his brothers and sisters. He contacted us and asked whether we'd be around, and I advised him that we would be away for the whole month of May. He booked his trip anyway.

We got home a few days early, so I rang my father at his sister's house, and collected him from there on Monday.

:::

Families. I've been thinking about what makes a family.

I was part of a family - my parents, me and my three siblings.

Then we started to break up as a family. My siblings and I all went our own ways. And I began to realise that a family isn't forever.

My mother likes to pretend that we're a "close" family. We used to be, but we are not any more.

There are divisions in our family now. I don't expect we will all gather together as a family for anything other than funerals any more.

I was single for a long time, and I counted my siblings and my parents as my family. But it turns out that they didn't. Not really. My sisters were both married with their own children. They had their own family. My brother has been running away from his family since he first left home at age 18. He's just entered a new relationship and I hope for him that he finds what he needs in this relationship.

But. I digress.

I slowly realised that my friends, my close friends, were actually more of a family to me than my parents and siblings. (Although, as it turns out, those friends weren't family at all. They couldn't run away fast enough when our babies started dying.)

Then I married Craig. I never thought of Craig and I as a "family". More as a "couple". Families somehow include children. Families aren't made up of two people.

Anyway, so my father is here. And his presence again makes me realise that I am not even in his top 10 priority list any more. His focus in life is on other things. Not on me, his daughter.

He hasn't really seemed at all interested in finding out what I am up to in my life. Or how I'm feeling. And when we do talk, he doesn't really listen. We have conversations and he immediately forgets what we talked about.

The nasty emails I received from the ranting uncles were spurred on by my father having lunch with them at their house. I wasn't aware that he was having lunch with them (as they haven't talked in many years) until I started receiving nasty emails. And even then, when I told him about the emails, which were directed at us and nasty about us, all he was really interested in was what the nasty emails said about him and my mother. Then he had to show the emails to his other siblings in an effort to get them all to "boycott" my ranting uncles.

I was quite shocked. I mean, the nasty emails were about us, Craig and I, yet he chose to make it all about him. He didn't even ask us about how we were affected by the nasty emails.

Now he regrets having lunch with the ranting uncles. Something I had already advised him against. But he doesn't listen to me. He's more interested in gathering his siblings and showing them how evil and nasty his brother (and partner) are. It's all very strange.

So. We have my father in the house. Our routine is completely disrupted. He's ill as well, and is coughing and spluttering all the time. But he still wants to go out and get some "fresh" air. Right.

To be quite honest, I'll be glad when he's gone. He doesn't seem at all interested in being here. He only came to the Netherlands to see his siblings, as one of his brothers was diagnosed with cancer about 6 months ago.

I haven't missed my parents. Because my life has changed so much in the last 5 years. Because I have changed so much in the last 5 years. Because my family doesn't exist any more. My family is comprised of me, Craig, Freyja, Kees and Jet. My parents and siblings form other family groups. Or, like me, my brother forms part of a couple.

Nowadays, when I say I miss my family, I'm talking about the family that Craig and I should have.

The family which I used to be a part of disintegrated a long time ago.

Happiness?

I have been catching up on blogs and emails, because we've been away for nearly four weeks.

One of the emails was from my ranting uncle(s), with more rants. Nasty, evil rants. Personal attacks - on me, on Craig, on my parents, on my siblings. It was very disturbing, and I didn't sleep well last night because of it.

Another email was from a cousin. She said (amongst other things), "be happy". It made me think.

Will I ever be happy again?

What would make me happy?

The answer is pretty simple. Just give me Freyja, Kees and Jet back, and I will be happy.

But that's impossible of course. So maybe being happy is also impossible.

Others have been blogging about their confrontations with the expectation of happiness following the birth of a healthy, living baby after a loss. Because (of course) once you have a healthy, living baby, everything must be ok again. Happiness should be yours for the taking.

But it's not really like that.

Dead babies don't just go away. Happiness doesn't just happen.

I can't make myself happy. I can't will myself to be happy. I can't just pretend that my children don't matter.

The ranting uncles wrote in their nasty email that it's a sad story, my three dead children, but I should not "act" sad, I should not be "lazy" and I should go back to work, and I should get on with my life. And that's one of the bits of the emails which is less offensive. They have also decided that my husband is "trailer trash" and is "sponging" financially off me. He is also too lazy to work. He is apparently uneducated, and really, couldn't I have afforded a better man? The ranting continues, insulting my siblings, my parents, etc, etc.

Of course all our contact with them will cease. At least I hope it will. I hope that next time they get roaring drunk, they won't feel the need to send me more emails with their "insights".

Happiness? I would grab it if I could.

Fucking nightmare

I have so much to say, and no-one to say it to.

I was thinking this week that I'm really angry at the way my life has turned out. Not just angry, but furious really.

I'm angry that my three children ARE ALL DEAD.

I'm angry that I'm no longer the person I was.

I'm angry that Craig and I no longer had that happy future we thought we had.

I'm angry that my career has gone down the toilet.

I'm angry that people think I should be "over it", and should go back "to work". As if they don't think I want all that. Of course I want to be bloody "over it", but I've come to realise that I never will be. My life changes to accommodate all the shit and death that's come our way, but I will never be "over it". And as if I wouldn't rather be working, and earning a few more million euros before retiring. As if. As if I choose to be this anxious freaked-out fat person, who remembers nothing. As if.

I'm so angry with all those stupid people, I wish I could punch them in the face.

I don't even want to go on this holiday. I'd rather stay at home, locked in our apartment, with the cats.

I hate it that the cats aren't here. I don't trust my friend to look after them properly. I hate it that she has EVERYTHING that I don't have. That she has EVERYTHING that I should have. Fuck, I hate it so much.

Why the fuck did I not get that? Why the fuck did I get what I have??? WHY? WHY?

I hate it that not only am I unhappy most of the time, I make my husband unhappy. I can't even be happy for other people when something good happens to them. I just get fucking angry and wonder why it can't be us.

Life is just SHIT and I don't know how the fuck I'm going to cope with it for however many years. I don't even have anything to look forward to. I'm just going to get older, and probably fatter, and before you know it, I'll be an old lady. An old lady with cats and three dead children.

What a fucking nightmare.

Babies and other things

Because I don't post on this blog every day now, when I do post I generally have a host of subjects to post about.

:::

First subject: babies. I haven't gotten any further in my thinking about this.

We heard back from the geneticist. She's come up with a number. 1 in 4. Or 25%. A 1 in 4 chance that another child of ours would die. A 25% chance that another child of ours would die. And this is an educated guess. Because they (the geneticists) don't know why our children died. Their guess is based on the assumption that it is a genetic issue. And an assumption that it's a recessive gene, not a dominant one.

I guess other people look at the number from the positive side. That there is a 75% chance that another child of ours would live. But I can't do that. Because I've only ever experienced the 1 in 4 chance. The deaths.

We're waiting to hear from the pediatricians about what they could do for us, and for any possible child. I would need to know exactly would they could do before I could make any decision.

But the fear is still there. Of course. I don't know if I could do it again. Watch our child die.

:::

Second subject: work. I went to the office on Saturday and removed all my stuff.

My secretary very kindly met me there. She'd locked up most of my stuff in a cupboard. She had dinner with us last week and mentioned that she was moving to a different job in the firm. So I thought that was a good time to get my stuff out. I'm technically still employed by this firm, although I have no contact with them at all any more. Except with my secretary, because she is a good friend.

It felt very strange being in the office. I haven't been there for a long time. It felt strange seeing all my stuff. The documents. All that stuff represents something that used to be very important to me. It represented a career. A very successful career. It represented a future. And we just packed it away into cardboard boxes, and put them in the garage.

I miss it. That career. That person I used to be. I really miss it. I studied hard for it. I worked harder for it.

Sometimes I daydream that I could go back to it. That life. That person. That career. But then reality surfaces. I have become such an anxious person, such a stressed person, such a traumatised person. That person will never be able to cope with such a job. That career belonged to the person I used to be.

Third subject: nuclear power plants. I'm not a supporter of nuclear power. I never have been and I never will be. Because I do not believe that nuclear power is safe. This subject makes for interesting conversations at home, because Craig does believe in the safety of nuclear power.

I think of nuclear power like I think of everything else in life, ie. bad things happen. And there doesn't have to be a particular reason for it. You can do everything right, and still bad things happen. It's just that with nuclear power plants, when bad things happen, they happen on a HUGE scale. They impact on many, many lives. The repercussions are felt by thousands (if not millions) of people. There's not just the physical impact, but also the economic impact. It will take Japan many years to recover from the earthquake(s) and tsunami, but the repercussions of the nuclear disaster are not clear, and may take years to be known.

And how many bloody nuclear power plants are there in the world which are past their use-by date? Do people even know that these bloody things have use-by dates?? Probably not. People live in ignorance. The power plants cost so much money to build that no-one has the guts to say that it's time to scrap them.

Why on earth are we (and I'm using the collective "we" here) not investing in sustainable energy. Solar power. Wind power. Water power. The options are there. But everyone says they are too expensive and too inefficient. What utter rubbish. Why is it ok to spend millions on building a nuclear power plant, but not on a solar power array? Here in the Netherlands there are many, many wind farms. We use clean energy in our apartment. We have chosen to use electricity which is produced using wind power.

I think nuclear energy is dangerous. Craig was just telling me that today is the 25th anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster. And what have we learned from that? Nothing. Nada. Niks. Absolutely zilch. Nothing has changed. And nuclear power is just as dangerous, as we now see in Japan.

Fourth subject: building co-owners group. We have a meeting coming up. With the other owners in the building. There's only four of us, so you'd think we could keep it short and sweet. No way. We have to discuss everything for hours. Then we think about it for years. And, maybe, something will eventually get done. I can't stand it. It causes me so much stress. I am dreading the meeting.

We had to fight for years to get our bloody roof fixed (because of the leaks) and it all had to be done just a month or so after Jet died. And not one of those bloody co-owners helped. Not one. We had to do everything ourselves. All the organisation. Keeping the neighbours happy (which proved impossible). Lots of confrontations and we were still in shock from the death of our son.

I really can't stand them. Our fellow co-owners. None of them have ever done anything for us. Never. Even after Kees died. Or after Jet died. Instead they just expected that we would deal with everything on behalf of all of them with getting the roof done, with the insurance claims, all of it. And then they complain afterwards. They all just suck.

Fifth subject: my dad. He's decided to come to the Netherlands for a visit. When I heard, I was completely flabbergasted.

As far as I know my parents do not have the money for such a trip. But hey, what do I know? Nothing apparently.

He's coming to visit his siblings. One of his siblings was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in December last year. He had surgery in January this year and the doctors are optimistic. However, my uncle thinks he knows everything better, so he stopped taking his medication after a few months, and promptly suffered what the Dutch call a "heart-stop". Which pretty much means his heart stopped. Which I would call a heart attack. (Bunch of freaks, the Dutch.)

Anyway, so my father has suddenly decided he wants to see this brother of his. Because he doesn't want to come for his funeral. I asked whether he planned to come to all his siblings' funerals because that would become expensive (he is one of 7 and all his siblings live in the Netherlands). You should note that my parents moved to Australia nearly 34 years ago. My parents are therefore not as close to their siblings as others may be.

I found out just a few days ago that he was planning this trip. He'd spoken to all (but one) of his siblings, and then contacted me to see if I would be in the Netherlands at the time of the trip. Actually we had planned a holiday, but we're probably going to cut that short.

Just the idea of having my dad here for a month is already stressing me out. My dad is a very optimistic person. He always thinks the best. I don't call it optimism, I call it impractical and unrealistic. I think he's hoping for things to happen on this trip that won't. He's hoping for some sort of reconciliation with his siblings - he's hoping to make up for 34 years of separation. But it won't happen. I've seen it before. He was here 7 or 8 years ago, visiting me. He was hoping the same then, and it didn't happen. It upset him very much. So I fail to see why he thinks this time will be different.

Anyway, it's bound to be a stressful time. I know that because it already is!

Sixth subject: I'm lonely. I spend time on FB because it makes me feel less alone. It makes me feel that I have some "normality" in my life. That I communicate with people. But the truth is that I don't.

We have a very small number of people who we socialise with in real life. It's not regular. Some of them live far away from us. Some have children, so their life is all about their children.

I miss people. I miss people who know me. I miss people who I have a history with. I miss people who understand me.

And that's a loss no-one ever really talks about. We didn't just lose our children, our future with them, we lost us. We lost the us we were. I lost friends. Many friends. Friends who didn't know what to say (or do) any more, so they just said and did nothing. Can you imagine? Friends who have said nothing to me at all since Jethro's death. Obviously they are not friends any more, and arguably they weren't friends before.

And now, with the defection of my ranting uncles, our social group has shrunk even further. I have Craig, and I'm ever so thankful for that. But I have no-one else. Not in real life. And it's awful.

Last subject: I'm bored. All the time. Nothing really interests me any more. And I don't know what to do about it.

When we go away, I pine for the cats. I worry about the cats. I get homesick for the apartment. That makes it difficult to enjoy our holidays. Sometimes we decide to go back home earlier than planned because I am so anxious.

I like to buy things. But that's only interesting for a few minutes. And it's very expensive.

I'm not an artist. I'm not very creative at all. I can make our apartment look nice, but (i) it's already too full, and (ii) it's expensive. I wish I was creative. I wish I could paint, or be musical, or anything really.

I like to garden, but we only have a roof terrace. Most years in the spring I plant lots of seedlings. I love to watch them grow. I love the colours. But this year I haven't done that. Because we had planned a long holiday in May, and so any seedlings I had planted would die.

We go to the cinema. But we go when it's not busy. When there aren't kids around. And we can't go the cinema every day. Because there aren't that many watchable movies around.

The tourist season has well and truly started in Amsterdam. It means there are people EVERYWHERE. We live in the centre, in the canal-belt. In a Unesco Heritage Site. It's a beautiful city, but when the tourists are out, it turns into a nightmare. I can't even walk out of our front door without being assaulted by their presence. (They park their bikes in front of our door. Yes, really.)

So. I really don't know what to do with myself. Every day we have to think of something to do. Sometimes we have medical appointments, so our day gets planned around that. Actually, every week we generally have at least three medical appointments. Most days I get tired, so a nap is required. (My naps are anywhere from one and a half hours to three hours long.)

Discussing the meal plans for the day takes up some time. Shopping for the meals and preparing the meals takes up more time.

I made Craig help me sort out some of our storage space in the attic. We got rid of some stuff. Like our ENORMOUS (old-style) widescreen TV which hadn't been used for months. We have three floors in our apartment, and each floor had a TV. The other two TV's are LCD flat-screens, so we really didn't need the third 40 kilo monster.

I folded up some clean laundry the other day. It had been piling up for weeks. It bores me to do it, so I just don't do it. But I was feeling guilty about it piling up, so I did it.

I often think that I want a child because a child will give me a purpose. A reason for being. It will give me things to do. I will give me a reason to look forwards. To hope for the future. To even see a future. But what will I do if there isn't another child?

Ranting uncles

We had dinner with my uncles last night. I had been looking forward to it, because we had not seen them for a while. They had been away, and before that we had been away.

Our relationship with them has been a bit strange for the last few months. Since christmas when the car was damaged. I blogged about it here. At that time, when Craig first found the damaged car, he came to tell me about it, and then said he was going to confront the hotel management. I said to him not to, because I knew he would lose his temper and over-react. Well, guess what? He did. He over-reacted and lost his temper with them. They brushed off his complaints because he was a "foreigner" which only made him more angry. Unfortunately the whole unsavoury episode was witnessed by my (now ranting) uncle. And it's clear he hasn't forgotten or forgiven or tried to understand Craig's over-reaction.

But I rang them this week to welcome them home from their holiday. We had a long chat and they invited us for dinner.

Craig and I have spent a lot of time with my uncles over the last year or so. We've even been on holidays with them. We like them both very much. I've known them very well over the last forty years or so. They came to visit us in Australia quite often, and we used to sit outside and smoke on the verandah. We all three have good memories of that.

But last night the shit hit the fan. One of my uncles just started ranting, and that was the end of all those relationships. He said all sort of stuff, but I guess the most important are: (i) that Craig was trailer-trash, (ii) that Craig was sponging off me and sucking the life out of me, and (iii) that they don't want to hear any more about our dead children. He really ranted and screamed. There was no opportunity to respond, and I didn't want to anyway. So we left. We walked out. It was obviously what he wanted.

We won't hear from them again. Which is very sad.

I'm very angry with them too. For behaving like such idiots. For saying such things about my husband, about the father of my children. For dismissing the memories and names of my children with such anger. That in itself will ensure that I will never contact them ever again.

I knew there would be consequences from the episode in December, but I had not realised that it had been brewing away in my uncle's head. Not until it all came out last night.

So, our social circle has shrunken considerably. I suspect our time in the Netherlands may be ending far sooner than we had thought.

The geneticist

So today we met with the geneticist.

We hadn't met her before. Se had inherited our file from another geneticist who is currently on maternity leave. Craig had spoken with the "replacement" geneticist a couple of times on the phone, but he'd never met her either.

The purpose of this visit was to discuss with her the possibility of our having another (biological) child. And what that would mean. And what the possible genetic risks may be. Given that our other three died, and no-one knows why. And what sort of support the hospital could offer us - both during the pregnancy and after.

We met with her for an hour and a half. It was a good meeting. I think it was maybe the only meeting we've ever had with a doctor where we walked away feeling she understood our concerns. And didn't dismiss them.

So now she's going to speak to other geneticists and other specialists. She's going to speak with the obstetric team and pediatric team at the hospital, to see what they can offer us, should we choose another (biological) pregnancy.

So we've set something in motion. Something that will help us decide. Decide whether to have another biological child. Because that's what this will do. It will make us decide.

And I really don't know what that decision will be.

But it was a good meeting.

More on children.

We had another adoption information session today. The fourth and final (compulsory) one.

Some surprises came out of this session.

One of the couples who attended all the other sessions had dropped out and decided they weren't ready to commit to a special needs child. I'm very sympathetic because I'm not at all sure that I'm ready to commit to a special needs child.

I found out that a severe facial (or other) birthmark can be considered "special needs". Imagine that. A perfectly healthy child, with a very visible and probably large birthmark, is not adopted in his/her own country because s/he is considered "special needs". Bizarre.

Also that in Uganda there are currently two sets of siblings waiting for adoption whose only "special need" is that they are "very black". Unbelievable. Perfectly healthy children, brothers and sisters, who are looking for a home, and some people find them "too black". Craig and I found that offensive. Imagine that. Because I really can't. I just want to scream "give them to me!", but that's never going to happen.

And apparently the adoption process will cost a whole lot more than we thought. We had thought around the EUR 25,000 mark, but it appears to be closer to the EUR 40,000 mark. For one child!

Then the facilitator mentioned a special "test" that we (as 42+ year olds) have to do. And did we know it will be on the 12th??? Neither of us had any idea what she was talking about, as we'd not received any information about a "special" test that we are required to complete. Apparently as we were 42 when our application went in, we are required to complete a test, whereby a behavioural therapist will be able to build a psychological profile of us. Right. And if we'd applied a few months earlier, before we turned 42, we wouldn't have to sit the test. Really. Anyway, this sort of test is exactly the sort of test that I think we would fail. Probably quite miserably. Considering the anger, the grief, the trauma, the stress, and everything else that we've gone through, I don't consider that our completing such a test would result in a positive recommendation.

And it all takes so long. We'd be doing the test in May this year. Then (if we "passed" the test) in August we'd begin one of three sessions which comprise a home study. Then if we passed that, we'd eventually get a "permit". Once we got a "permit" we'd have to choose our adoption mediator. But choosing a mediator is in itself a very stressful process, as there are 5, soon to be 6, mediators in the Netherlands. They each deal with particular countries. And (here's the killer) you can only register with one.

It's all a nightmare anyway. Because we would have to find a mediator who has a relationship with a country who allows (i) adoptive parents of 42+ years of age, (ii) adoptive parents with a blemished medical history (Craig's cancer and my on-going anxiety and depression), (iii) adoptive parents with an uncertain employment situation (Craig's not working and me still being on sick leave), etc, etc. There's a whole list of issues.

Which all lead me to the same conclusion. That at this stage of our lives, adoption in the Netherlands is not for us. We will only be allowed to adopt a "special needs" child, and I don't think we can give a special needs child what s/he requires. Maybe five years ago, before three dead children, yes, maybe then we could have. But not today. Not any more.

We're going to have to have the discussion. The options discussion. The discussion about what happens if we decide that special needs adoption is not for us. The discussion where we see what our remaining options are.

:::

My friend Birni had her baby today. I'm happy for her that she has a healthy baby boy. But I'm sad for me and for Craig. Sad that our healthy baby boys died.

Children

It's a gray, rainy Thursday, and we're at a friend's house in the south of the Netherlands so that Craig and he can fiddle (yet again) with our car.

I'm amusing myself for the time (hours) it will take until the fiddling (oops, fixing) is done.

:::

We've been going through a bit of a tough time recently. So much so that I decided to withdraw from F.B. and make this blog private again for a while.

:::

Craig and I both still want to parent a living child, but to date we've not agreed as to how we would be able to achieve that.

I looked into embryo adoption. And that seemed like a perfect solution to me. A baby, but not our genetic baby, so much less chance of a baby dying. Craig didn't like that idea much.

A lovely lady offered to give me her embryos. Another perfect solution. Again, no Craig/Mirne genes, so less chance of a dead baby. But Craig didn't like that either.

Then we talked about adopting. And we thought we might make some enquiries about that. Which we did. We found that for us, in our circumstances, there are many restrictions.

In the Netherlands, once one of the couple is 42 years old, that couple is in principle no longer legally eligible to adopt a child. There is an exception (of course). And that is if the couple will adopt a "special needs" child. In addition, there may not be more than a 40-year age gap between the youngest of the couple and the child(ren).

So. We have been attending (compulsory) adoption classes. These classes are intended to open the eyes of the prospective adoptive parents (us) to the type of adoption we would be facing. The adoption of a child (or children) from a country where no-one wants to adopt them. The reason no-one wants to adopt these children in their home country, is that they suffer from either physical or psychological problems (or both). And these are serious problems. Problems that make them (in effect) un-adoptable in their home countries.

We've been sitting in an English-speaking group for the last few weeks. They are couples all around our age, from Sweden, Andorra and Spain. Either married to a dutchie, or simply here in the Netherlands for the time being.

None of them have had (or have) their own biological children. They have all gone through various IVF procedures without any success.

This makes the group very interesting. Because these couples are very, very different from us. How they view a potential son/daughter is very different too. How they think about parenting is strange (to me). How they think about cultural differences (they don't) is just crazy. Sometimes I have to stop myself from laughing, or snorting, or just being completely amazed at their naivety.

Anyway. As a result, Craig and I have had lots of talks over the last few weeks. And it turns out we both want the same thing. Or rather, we don't want the same thing. We don't want to adopt a "special needs" child.

I feel like I'm being punished. I feel like if my three children hadn't died, then I wouldn't be sitting in this group thinking about adopting a child who has serious medical issues.

I feel like I'm being doubly punished. If I hadn't had any children, and we had considered adoption, we wouldn't be in this position where we have three dead children and are then told that we are too old to legally adopt a healthy child.

And it's so very, very difficult to remember how beautiful and perfect our children were, and then try to seriously consider what sort of "special needs" child we could parent. To look at the list of medical and psychological complaints and try to work it down to a "limit" that we could live with.

I mean, WTF are we doing?

It's a lengthy process. And that's if we are approved for adoption of a special needs child (we are, after all, in principle not eligible to adopt). Then it will cost a fortune. And we still may not ever find a child who fits into our "livable" limits.

So we talked about it some more.

Then Craig confessed to me that he wants one of our children. He wants another child, but he wants our biological child. I was flabbergasted.

This is the first time that our roles have been reversed.

In my previous pregnancies (after Freyja died), Craig was convinced that our baby would die. I was not. Of course not. I wouldn't deliberately get pregnant if I believed that our baby would die ... of course not. I believed sincerely that Kees and then Jet would live. Craig did not. He was right. They died.

But now. Now I'm utterly convinced that if we had another baby, it too would die. Craig doesn't think so. He's looking at the odds. The statistics. The chances. And he thinks he can live with those odds. The 50% chance the baby would live. The 25% chance the baby would live. I'm not even convinced our baby would have that much of a chance. The only percentages I see are: 100% dead. 3 out of 3. Dead. How would a fourth be any different?

So now I'm in a complete and utter conundrum. Should we have another one?

And what on earth are the dutch doctors going to do? Will they support us at all? Will they take our fears seriously? They never did before. They only ever saw me as an overly paranoid mother.

Would we be able to convince a group of doctors that our child would need continuous monitoring and testing for at least the first few weeks (preferably months) of it's life?? Because surely they can see that 3 dead babies is not just bad luck. That it's not SIDS. That obviously there must be something. Something that they haven't found yet.

I wrote a few weeks ago about Craig's heart disease. I wrote about our cardiologist's theory of our babies having an arrhythmia. And that's something they can only test on a living person. So they were never able to test Kees or Jet.

Plus there's the chance that maybe it's something completely different. Something no-one has thought about. Something that didn't show on any of the autopsies. Something that they can't look or test for on a new baby. So, what if a fourth child also dies?

How would I cope? Or would I cope at all? Would I go even crazier than I am now? I don't know. I really don't.

If I have to choose between (i) another baby dying and (ii) no more living children, then I know what I would choose. I would choose no more living children. But then Craig says .... what if our fourth child lives? What if that child would live a long, healthy life? What if???

But I'm soooooo bloody scared. Scared doesn't even begin to cover it. I feel terrified. Absolutely terrified. More terrified than I have ever been before.

Because if someone gave me any assurances that this child would live, of course I would get pregnant in a flash. But no-one will say that now. Everyone is only too aware of my three dead children.

And that's all I can see too. So I'm terrified.