Hell Week

It was Xavier's birthday on Tuesday, he turned 6.

This feels like a really hard place to be. In one week we celebrate the 6th birthday of our first born son, and then remember our last born who should be turning 1. It seems an impossible task to feel the joy and gratitude that our eldest turned 6. Xavier was so desperately wanted. We waited around 7 years for his arrival. Joseph was also so desperately wanted. He came on the heels of his older twin brothers and a miscarriage at 9 weeks.

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I've been quiet on the blog scene. I've read, maybe skimmed and for the most part haven't commented. This makes me feel like a really bad person. I wish I had more to give. More of myself. More able to read and really listen at the same time. And more able to comment. But, for the most part I just feel flat, blank, bland, empty and sad. The hot tears sit and wait and I push them away like I'm swatting a fly. The anticipation of tomorrow feels so heavy. How can I celebrate him when he isn't here? I won't be baking him a cake. It doesn't feel right to me to do that. He's not here to eat it and I think to look at a cake meant for my 1 year old, who won't get to smash it up seems, oh I don't know, futile maybe? And just so bloody sad. Lonely old cake.

We will head to the beach near my sister's house though. I have about 30 sky lanterns. It's going to be very warm tomorrow, with an offshore breeze (hopefully under at least 20knots). They were ordered weeks ago and I started to panic that they wouldn't arrive (from China). Australia is the only bloody country in the world to have a ban, albeit temporary, on sky lanterns. It's a fair point, we do have a risk of bush fires. But, it's not like I'm going to get smashed and light them in my back yard. Been there, done that.

I ordered a practice lot months ago and got a couple out when here with people and a few too many reds and thought it would be a great idea to light one up. Up, up, up it went, then over, over, o-v-e-r into the next door neighbours house. It got stuck in her tree. It was a very balmy night, late and she's about 80 years old. I panicked. How could I go knocking on her door, calmly asking to walk through her house and put out a little fire I'd started in her backyard? But then, up, up, up it went! We all breathed a sigh of sheer relief. And then over, over, o-v-e-r it went and got stuck in her next door neighbours tree (who just happens to be her son). Again the visions of running through his house requesting I just extinguish that little fire in his yard that I caused. But, then up, up, up it went and up some more. The wind picked it up and it rose higher than we could see it. Thank God!

True story, I kid you not. It wasn't how I planned it in my head. At all.

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All humour aside (cause we need it when our dead baby should be turning one, what else are we gonna do?).

He's moved beyond newborn now. I feel like I want to take down the few pictures that I have of him because for the most part, I see him as the age he would be if he were here, with us. It's sometimes disturbing for me to look at him in those photos, newborn but dead and I feel like that's such a betrayal to him.

My psychologist says this is a healthy thing, because I'm not holding him in that time, in that grief. That he's growing with me as my grief grows. I'd give anything to be 'unhealthy', sleep deprived, going absolutely insane trying to cope with 4 young boys than 'moving and growing with my grief'. It's a pissy consolation prize if you ask me.

I just really want to look at pictures of him as a one year old. Better still. I just want to hold him as a one year old. I want to co sleep with him like I did with our other boys. I was so looking forward to that especially. Xavier slept in our bed for almost 6 years. The twins slept in our room for 6 months. I had to make a hard call and move them out at this age because it was killing me softly to co sleep and demand feed 2 all night every night. I think we survived on about 3 hours total of broken sleep for those first 6 months and something had to give.

But Joseph. He was my last and I was going to enjoy that alone time with him. Just Joseph and me, after the crazyness of Eden and Augie. How nice it was going to be to have just one baby this time. I would have spoilt him rotton.

I want him back. I miss him so much. I love him so fiercly but don't know where to put that. I would sell my soul to have him back. And I can't believe that he's a year away from me. There's a certain hurt that comes with being so far away in time from him, as well as just the missing. How can a year have gone by so quickly?

It's after midnight here, so I guess now it's officially Joseph's birthday.

To my darling beautiful Joseph Gabriel. I wish for you safety, peace and love. I really hope that my Nana has you in her arms, looking after you. I know if she and you were here she would have loved you as fiercely. And I'm sorry that you're not here. I'm sorry that I didn't choose an elective at 38 weeks because I'm sure if I did, you'd be here. I hope there is an afterlife because if there is it means I'm one year closer to holding you again. I love you little man. My beautiful Joseph Gabriel. Love Mummy. xo