The last time I talked to a baby in my belly, it was to tell Charlie to go if they were leaving...to let go and be in peace and that I would be okay and Daddy would be okay and everyone would be okay and that that all they had to worry about was their journey and that they were loved and didn't need to hold on.

I was bleeding. And scared. And I knew in my bones. I KNEW I was miscarrying. I KNEW I was losing a baby, full of life and hope and the future and that baby smell...I knew. And I wanted the baby to go without having to deal with a mess of a mama.

That was the last time I talked to a baby in my belly.

And here I am today. Pregnant. With a belly that looks bigger than my 13 weeks (I'm told they get bigger faster the more times you do this...it's my fourth time, so...).

And I'm on the couch, watching a movie and rubbing my belly and wanting to whisper to it. To talk about how excited we are to meet this person. How exciting the next appointment will be because we'll get to hear their heartbeat. How I have no idea how we're going to handle 3 crazy little ones at once, but somehow we'll figure it out.

And yet...all I can think about is that last conversation. That last time when I was trying to be brave and kind and loving and the best mama I could be to someone I had never met or kissed or cooed at.

The last time when I said goodbye and told my baby to go into the great beyond, to not worry about me.

I miss my gone baby today. I hate that that feeling is mixed up in the feelings I have for this baby, my fourth baby...

And yet I don't know any other way.

I miss Charlie.

Today. Yesterday. Always.



Drama queen

So, I'm not really fading away.

I'm just pregnant. And have the cold from hell. And I chase after 2-3 little people every. single. day.

I wish I could remember ALL of those things when I'm in the middle of feeling like everything is falling apart and I'm having a bad day.

I know I'm allowed to have bad days, but in the midst of the exhaustion, sickness, run-down-ness, I forget that I'm allowed to sleep longer, nap more, do less. I forget and think that the sky is falling simply because the balls I have in the air are not as high or spun as nicely or are landing on the ground at record speed.

I am a bit of a drama queen on bad days.

Perhaps you could argue that because of past circumstances, because of my past experience, I am completely justified to feel like it's the end of the world when really it's just a blip. But my children don't care that I deserve the right to be dramatic. And my marriage certainly doesn't deserve my normal, everyday nonsense, let alone the over-the-top-unnecessarily-dramatic nonsense.

I remember sobbing in my therapist's office, months after beating postpartum depression, telling her that it was all coming back, that I was losing it. Again.

And she gently (although it didn't FEEL gentle) reminded me that it can't. That once you beat postpartum depression, that's it. It could be something else, but it's not 'coming back.' It doesn't work that way.

Then she asked me how I was sleeping. I had had the flu and the girls were both sick, so sleeping was not an option. She asked me how I was feeling. Ahem...flu! Then she asked me if I had any relief during the day. No, stay-at-home moms don't get sick days.

If bopping people on the head in therapy was allowed, this would be the moment. Instead, she just said, Julia, take a sick day. Figure out a way to get a day off.

So I did.

I spent that whole Saturday in bed, with my computer and the Bridesmaids movie, which literally made me cackle and laugh out loud, and a stack of books, fiction, non-fiction, parenting, goofy, and magazines and I napped and rested and emerged to eat and disappeared again and then spent the night on the couch with my husband, snuggling and enjoying life.

And you know what? I didn't get postpartum depression again. I felt SO. MUCH. BETTER.

It's amazing what a little recharge will do.

And it's amazing what creeping into the second trimester will do and breathing through your nose will do and being able to taste the food you've been craving will do.

So, dear reader(s). I'm not falling apart, the world isn't ending, and I'm okay. I swear.

Just a little overly dramatic when things get rough and pile on top of me.

Now I know where my three-year old gets it....so embarassing.

PS. PREGNANT!! :) Baby number 4 is on its way this September. Trying to stay in my skin and this moment and being excited. Trying so damn hard.



I feel like I'm fading.

Or at least just wasting away while waiting for something to happen.

It's not like there aren't things happening in my life. I'm the busy mom of two little people. I have friends and a semi-regular social life. Ish. I have a husband who I could talk to for hours.

It's not like I'm an island and I'm just frittering away my time, waiting for something to happen TO me. There are things HAPPENING. I just...

...it's like my skin isn't as bright as it used to be. It's dull. My hair even - streaked with ever-increasing lines of grey and hints of a hair colour that used to be mine. My clothes even feel scratchy, like my skin is trying to leave but the clothes are in the way.

What is that saying? Follow the rats? On a sinking ship? Or if they're leaving the slum all of a sudden? Get out?

I've wanted to escape my life before...before when I was sick and sad and broken after having my oldest, Sophie. I wanted to run away and never look back. I didn't have anything in particular to run to except for anywhere-but-here.

It isn't the same feeling. It's more like an "I'm here, now what?" feeling. As if there is supposed to be something MORE.

And maybe that's the issue. There isn't for now.

I'm a stay-at-home mom, so there is no MORE career-wise. I don't participate in my volunteer positions at church anymore, so there isn't any MORE there either.

Family-wise, I see people and participate and am engaged...so again, no MORE.

And getting out and doing things, I sometimes feel like it's too much, so I'm not comfortable adding MORE to that.

Is it that I'm missing a calling? Something I SHOULD be doing (although, if my therapist heard me use that word she'd remind me to stop shoulding on myself and start living my reality...smart lady)?

I don't know.

I do know that winter has been hard with being stuck inside, being overwhelmed with the idea of all the winter clothes and preparations needed to get out.

I do know that I have been at home by choice versus by blessing of a government maternity leave for a year...so I'm a year into being the stay-at-home-mom I swore I'd never be. Ever.

So I'm here. On my island full of people and teeming with life. I just need to find my spot again, find my equilibrium.

You know, before something else comes along and changes everything all over again.