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.