Bored

I am bored.

Totally and completely bored.

I get up in the morning, and I am bored.

I am bored for the whole day.

I go to bed at night, and I am bored.

I have nothing to do.

I have no purpose.

Sometimes I hang some laundry to dry, or fold some clean, dry laundry, but usually I can't even be bothered doing that. Usually Craig will hang the laundry. Usually the laundry piles up waiting for me to fold it and put it away.

Sometimes I cook. Because there's nothing else to do. But although I like to cook, I usually end up feeling guilty because cooking just means I'll eat more. And after losing all that weight last year, I'm putting it all back on.

Sometimes I polish my nails. That keeps me busy for half an hour or so. And then I can't do much for a couple of hours whilst the polish dries.

Sometimes we go for a walk. To the supermarket, or to the post office. To somewhere. For a short walk.

Occasionally we cycle to the car. To the garage. And go for a drive. Sometimes.

Once every 5-6 weeks we go to visit our shrink. And discuss the same old stuff. Babies still dead. Still angry. Still sad. Blah, blah, blah. Please give me more medication. Although I'm not at all convinced it does anything for me.

Sometimes we talk to people on the phone. Not very much, because there aren't many people who want to talk to us.

Usually I spend my days sitting on the sofa, with my laptop. I get bored with that too, because I only have a few websites I look at, and then nothing.

Or we watch dvd's. Endless dvd's. And really, after the first 100 or so, that's pretty boring too. It drives Craig crazy, that I get bored with the dvd's. That I stop focussing. It's boring.

I used to buy things. From online. Something to do. Something to receive in the post. But that gets expensive, and it was all stuff I didn't need. Shoes, handbags, nail polish, etc. And it means nothing. Now I have too many shoes. Too many handbags. Too many polishes. And I'm still bored.

So what do I do all day?? Nothing. Nada. Niks. I watch Craig playing his stupid game on the internet all day. And he does - all day, every day. And if I didn't interrupt him occasionally, he'd play it every waking moment. And when I do interrupt him, he gets pissed with me. In truth, I'm jealous. I wish I had an internet game that so completely obsessed me.

So, that's what we do all day, every day. Sit on the sofa and get fat. And I am bored.

:::

I never used to be like that.

I used to be busy.

I used to work.

I used to read books.

I USED TO GO OUT. WITH PEOPLE. OTHER PEOPLE. We never do that any more. We never go out. We never meet other people. There are no other people who want to meet us.

I used to work. I had a career. I was good at it. I was better than good at it. I was great at it. I don't work any more.

I used to love travelling. I travelled with friends and loved it. Now when Craig and I travel it's a chore more than anything. We plan our trips because otherwise we have nothing to plan. Otherwise we have nothing to "look forward to". But the reality is that we don't look forward to our trips. Most of the time we'd rather stay home. Most of the time we resent the effort required for these trips. We often come home earlier because we're unsettled and not enjoying ourselves.

I used to enjoy the sunny weather (when it was sunny). I used to go out and make the most of beautiful weather. Now I sit on the sofa and think that we should go out, but instead we just stay inside and draw the blinds, and put another dvd in the player.

I used to have lots of friends. Now I have none.

I used to trust my parents and my siblings. Now I don't.

I used to believe in the future. Now I don't.

I used to think the best was still to come. Now I know that the best has already been.

I used to care what I looked like. Now I don't.

I used to wear make-up. Every day. Now I never do.

I used to love buying clothes and shoes. Now I don't.

I used to get my hair done every six weeks. Now I don't.

I used to like my nieces and nephews. Now I don't.

I loathe it that my cats are alive, whilst my children are dead. I LOATHE IT.

:::

I'm totally bored. Completely and utterly. And I don't know what to do about it.

Sometimes I think I have an idea, but it doesn't work.

Sometimes I think we need to get out of the apartment more, and then we do, but it doesn't change things.

For a while, we subscribed to a monthly movie theatre pass, thinking it would get us out of the house, and it did for a while, but then it stopped working. And we were going to see stupid movies too. That's when we stopped, when we realised that the movies we saw were just stupid.

:::

Sometimes I surf the net and look at the blogs I used to read. But I can't read them any more. They just make me sad and angry. Because those people have moved on. Their lives have changed. They have living babies who give them joy. Even places like glow.in.the.woods aren't directed at people like me. I don't feel welcome there. They're directed at people who move on from their losses. And when I move on, my losses come with me. I don't have a living child to focus on. I don't have a living child to give me joy. I have no joy.

I feel like I have no place where I belong. And it's lonely, not having a place.

I exist. I eat. I sleep. I miss my old life. I miss the life I should have had. I hate my life. I miss my children. I stare at my laptop. I hate all my old "friends", who deserted me when the going got tough. I loathe my sisters for having children who live. I loathe my parents for doting on their grandchildren (and my sisters for being mothers to their grandchildren).

My existence is pointless. I have no purpose. I am completely useless.

I am bored.

March

We've been on the road a bit recently.

We went to England, because the car needed it's MOT (annual roadworthy testing). So we had long planned to make a holiday of it. In the past, every time we went to England, our trip revolved around the car (repairs, parts, etc) and this time I wanted something a bit different.

We stayed in Dorset for a week, and then moved to Cornwall (on the Cornish side of Plymouth) for a week. We had a good trip, with only some bad weather. Probably the worst that happened was that a fuse blew in our caravan, so we were without electricity (although we managed to run a power cord in through one of the windows, meaning we had light, heat and a fridge). We didn't know that it was a blown fuse for a few days, and then when we did, we couldn't find a replacement fuse anywhere. Never mind.

We're back in Amsterdam now, and of course we found a replacement fuse immediately, so now we're ready for our next trip (in May, to England).

:::

What was noticeable on the trip, was the many mums and/or dads and babies and/or children we came across. Not in caravan parks (thank goodness) but in supermarkets and other shops. Every supermarket we went into was full of them. And watching someone else with their baby and/or child is not really my cup of tea.

I'm still angry, you see. Angry and envious. Angry that my children are dead, and envious that other people's aren't.

I know I'm not "supposed" to think that way. My mother said to me (over and over again) that I should "be happy" for other people. But that's simply not possible. I cannot be happy that other people's babies do not die. I'm simply pissed that they get what I had. I'm angry that my children died, and no-one knows why. I'm envious that they have living children.

And it's nearly six years since Freyja died (in July it will be 6 years). And I'm still thinking this way.

I guess I wasn't so bad after Freyja died, because I still had hope that we would have a living child. But after Kees, and then Jet. Well, it seemed quite clear that something out there had it in for us, and that more children would also die. (This is despite the fact that the doctors here, who did all the research, and all the tests, can't find anything wrong, and so they tell us that our children were healthy, and there is in principle no reason why another child would die. By the way, this train of thought from doctors isn't at all helpful or comforting. Knowing that our children died without any medical reason being found is not comforting or helpful.)

We can't even say it was SIDS. SIDS is by its very nature a completely random event. It is not possible for two children in the same family to be SIDS babies. (Only exceptions here are twins - where it has happened.) No, there must be a reason for my children's deaths, but noone can find it.

My theory is this: In 2006, after Freyja's death, we travelled for 3 months in the US. We rented an RV in LA, and drove it around the country, finishing again in LA. When we were in Las Vegas, Craig refused to give a cab driver a tip (because he'd been incredibly rude to us) and the cab driver cursed Craig. Really. The cabbie appeared to be an eastern European or from a former Soviet Bloc country, and he stood there, next to his cab, after we got out and paid, and yelled at us, cursing Craig. It was about 2.00 am and there was no-one else around. His curses were focused on any offspring that Craig might produce and that all of his issue or offspring would die.

The whole episode was quite traumatic at the time, and served to confirm our opinion of Las Vegas, and we left promptly the next morning. We didn't think much about the man's curses, just got on with our travels.

But now, I've thought long and hard about this. And all our children are dead. For no apparent medical reason. Craig's thought is that Freyja had already died, so it wasn't the cabby's curse that got her. I think that Freyja was stillborn - she could well be the 1 in 140 (the stillborn numbers in Australia). But, you see, Kees and Jethro lived. They lived and were healthy and there was nothing wrong with them. And then they died. For no apparent reason. And noone knows why. Even after full autopsies, and genetic testing. Nothing. NADA. NIKS.

So my mind keeps going back to that cabbie's curses. Maybe his curse stuck. And I keep thinking how could we get that curse removed?

Others may laugh. They may be sceptical. They will think how could I possibly give this curse idea even the faintest thought? But they don't have three dead children.

I've wondered too - about why I give this awful man's curses any credence. But now I think, why not?

Millions of people (billions probably) believe in some higher power (whether they be christian, muslim, or whatever), and I myself used to pray to god and expect to be heard and answered. I prayed like mad when Kees was in NICU (after he stopped breathing on the sofa at home), but god didn't answer my prayers. In fact, he didn't answer the prayers of the 100's or 1000's of people who were praying for Kees. I stopped praying on that day, 21 March 2008.

I may have stopped believing in god, but that doesn't stop me believing in evil. That nasty cabbie in Las Vegas appeared to truly believe in the curses he was heaping upon Craig. And now I wonder every day and every night whether maybe those curses stuck.

:::

Today Craig and have been married for six years.

Six years ago on this day we got married, on a very hot day in March. And we never dreamt (or had nightmares) that our lives together would turn out like this.

Every year on this day, I hope for better years to come for us. Today I stop with that. I have realised that it does not get better. These dead children will be with us every day for the rest of our lives, and that does not change.

So I've stopped hoping for better years.