Things have been busy here.  Really busy.  We have been cleaning, decluttering, gardening etc… lots.

On top of that, I have had a creative burst recently and have been doing lots of art.  Some of which I have been selling.  I have a bit of a waiting list, but its good to be letting the creativity flow.  It’s nice.  But it comes in bursts, I just need to try and sustain it all.

Anyways, here are some of the images I have been creating!

If you are interested my work, follow me on twitter – HesperasGarden – as I often post them there. Proceeds helping me get to #DPCON12

The medicine is working.

It seems that this one is doing a good job at the moment.  I am not having severe reactions to it like I did with the Zoloft.  The new one I am on – Citalopram – has taken a bit of time for my body to get used to, but I can tell a great big difference.  And I am not as foggy in the head as I was on the Zoloft.

The prickly heat rash, the constant heart palpitations, the breathing rapidly… they have all settled.  The sense of fear and dread has dissipated and reduced and I am feeling far more stable than I was before That Night.

I seem to have gone “off” food again however, and the idea of eating is only there due to routine, rather than hunger.  It’s leaving my inspiration for cooking elsewhere.  But I am sure that it will return.

I must admit I was not completely sold on the treatment when my body was getting used to it.  Massive headache, dizziness, sweating, a completely spaced out and stoned feeling.  I refused to drive anywhere of distance due to not feeling as though I was safe behind the wheel – so much so I would not even drive down the street on the second day after increasing my dose!  But now my body is more used to the dosage, I am feeling more “normal”.

I also know that the tears are not gone, the sadness has not vanished. I can cry, I can feel, I can experience.  I was not having that reaction on the Zoloft at all – I felt numb on it – but I don’t on this one.  In fact, if anything, I have had more drive, more creativity and more determination the last two weeks or so.

I am on a full 20mg dose now (after starting on 10mg).  I am working steadily with my psychiatrist and my GP with all of this.  It’s good to know everyone has my back.

I also started seeing a new psychologist – dealing in Perinatal Issues. Two sessions down. 4 to go. At least, for now.

It’s all moving forward, one way or another.

Hello sweet boy.

It’s been a tough month. It has been an easy month.  It’s been another month.

I broke down and lost the plot. I’m on my way to finding it again.  I’ve been struggling so hard with the realisation this is my life – without you.  I struggle to look at your face and SEE it, to FEEL it, to BELIEVE that you were here, and that you are not now.  How can it be real? Isn’t it a nightmare?  No… you can wake up from nightmares.

Generally though, my mind is in a calmer place.  That’s probably the medicine talking as well – but falling apart was perhaps exactly what was needed at the time.  I am seeking help, talking to your daddy more about what is in my heart, seeing more doctors.  I need to get better to be proud of my parenting of your sister, to get back to where I used to be with her.

She has started wearing your name on a necklace. She does not take it of – wears it to school even.  She sleeps with your photo on her pillow some nights when she is sad.  She’s got monsters in her room and tears that fall in her sleep.  Sobbing.  She misses you.  She misses me.  She’s struggling.  I guess we all are.

She loves talking about you – even to complete strangers. Sometimes it I think it would be so much easier to be a child, with no filters, to talk about you.

“Is that your name on your necklace?”
“No, it is my brother’s.  He was a baby but he died”

And that is it… that is as far as the conversation goes.  Simple.  Easy.

I know that confronting the fact you are gone is a constant struggle. I know that I say it each month.  This month I have not taken you out of your case.  Instead, I have left you snuggled in the fleece blanket that held you when you were here, warm and safe in the case, with an Avery Bear sitting on top.  I now have your hands and feet on the mantle where you used to rest. I love to look at them, though they also remind me exactly what I am not holding in my hands.   Some days I just wish I could rip them out of the frame and touch your fingers again – but that would be futile as they would not be subtle in my own fingers like they were back then.

I was telling my psychologist that sometimes it feels as though it never happened.  That you never existed.  That I don’t recognise you in the photos.  What mother doesn’t recognise her own child?

They have told me I am probably suffering from PND.  Looking at my, I guess many would say that would not be the case.  But then again, when the thoughts come flooding into the head about how messed up I am, and the negative words, I think perhaps they are right.  The meds keep those thoughts at bay though.

We are closer to one year than we are to your birth day now.  The downward slope. Past “Hump day” as we would say when I was working.  The idea that I will pass a year… pass two years… fills me with utter dread.  Time will never stop marching on.  I am coming to live with that horror, but accepting it is another matter.

We talk a lot about guilt in my doctors appointments.  Guilt for not protecting you – because that is what mother’s do.  Guilt for being thankful it was me left without my son, rather Tara and Ally being left without me.  Guilt for not holding onto Colt or Little Bird.  Guilt for not being a sanctuary for Tara.  Guilt for making everyone worry when I should be strong.  Guilt for not being able to talk properly about how I feel.  Guilt for needing meds and help.  Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.  I know guilt is pretty useless, but it does not help the wave of anxiety and deflation that sweeps over me when I think about those things.

I am smiling more.  I have started drawing more.  I have started keeping a day planner, and being more clear in my head.  The drugs again maybe, or the fact it is a fresh new year.  Or that perhaps help is here.  Things feel lighter.  The heart palpitations have eased and I am not suffering from them all day everyday. Perhaps I can be more of a mother to Tara now.

This letter is a contradiction of ups and downs – disjointed, and I guess that is just how it has been this month.  It’s been a month since Colt, a month of change, a month of getting lost, and then finding a map.  I am getting there.  Slowly.  I need to stop rushing trying to get through the pain – and just deal with it, and hold it for a while before letting it go.  I don’t want to stew in my thoughts either, but I am also not going to push them away.  And that is what I have been doing, pushing them away so that I can deal with them at a better time.  There will never be a good time, or a better time.

Oh sweet baby boy, 7 months.

7 months.

7 whole months of you not in my arms.

It wasn’t meant to be like this.  Not like this, here, without you.

Dearest Avery.  I love you each and every day, and think about you so much.  I can’t run away from those thoughts, or that pain. Even if I want to, it catches up with me.  So tonight I wish you Happy 7 Months.  May your spirit be dancing with the others through the energy of the universe.  Touching as many hearts as you can along the way.

Love always,

Mama.

Tara has her first installment of homework tonight. She is chomping at the bit to get it done and impress her teacher. I don’t particularly like homework for kids. Not until they are in at least year 3. But that’s another tale. Anyways, she is sitting proudly at her table next to me while she does her homework. The two of us have already run through it together, so she knows what to do, and we keep talking about what it is the teacher is wanting her to learn through such excercises.

It is funny she gets homework tonight, as I have also been given homework.  My psychologist (I have written a post about this I think and am yet to publish – ooops), she has set me some homework to do over the next week – starting Wednesday, I need to take some time by myself and sit with my emotions and let my mind wander to them and explore them, without shutting off immediately before I give myself a chance to experience the pain.  After today’s session she does not want me to do it for a couple of days to give myself time to be a bit more emotionally stable, as our sessions are quite intense.

So, I will sit down and open my mind like a book, and let my mind and heart go where it does not want to go, and will think about my little boy and not run away from the pain that will hit me, rather, toss it around in my mouth, suck on it, chew it and then slowly swallow and let it digest.

Homework when you are adult is exceptionally more difficult than Look, Cover, Write, Check.

I meant to do the first one last week, but did not get around to it. I plan to still do it though Eden!

Anyways, the amazing Eden at Edenland has started a new Meme called the Fresh Horses Brigade.  Every Saturday there is a new theme for people to post about. Welcome to my Fresh Horses Brigade.

Today’s theme is about Funerals and specifically funeral songs. The question was what do you want played.  Personally, I do not know – but I thought I would share with you some of the songs shared at Avery’s funeral.

It was *so* hard thinking of what to play – knowing that some of those songs would change meaning to people once heard at a funeral – that they would change forever for me.

I have included most of the songs we used – some of them are not included as I could not find the you tube videos or remember the song names.. and with some I can only find covers or dodgy recorded ones.

So here you go… Avery’s Funeral Soundtrack (in no -real- order except the Buffy songs. They were the last two songs played at the service.)

Bluebird – Kasey Chambers is one that really hits my core…

I wanted this too but we did not have enough time…

And didn’t find out about this song until after the funeral… how I wish we could have had this..

I have some beautiful people in my life.  Two of these beautiful people got together and set about organising a fundraiser for Heartfelt in Avery’s name.

The Auction starts tonight.

A custom, one of a kind (OOAK), Beetlebums conversion, made from the limited edition Avery Girasol.

So please, spread the word. 

Auction starts at 8.30pm, Tonight!

If you are into baby wearing at all, you may know the Beetlebums name, and will want to watch.

Thank you to Mel of Beetlebums and Brie from Tinoki.  You are both amazing.

My Kingdom for a Diary!

I need a diary. I have an iphone, and I enter things in that, but I think I need a nice pick-up-and-touch-and-feel book to carry around so that I can keep track of the mundane.

It has been suggested I start making lists. Make a list at night for the day ahead. Cross it off as I start working my way through. Become more time organised, so I can see what I am accomplishing.  I get it.

But I am an arteeeeeste! I like things to look pretty, to feel pretty, to be functional, to be inspiring.  I don’t want a Collins diary from the newsagency, thankyouverymuch.

But I also don’t want to pay $50 for something that still isn’t quite right.

I thought I had found it, exactly what I was looking for.  It was the VUE range from Myer, and it was sexy on the outside, and functional.  But it was week to a page.  I want day to a page.  It was the right price, but wrong format.

Found another that was perfect paper, felt lovely, even had little tabs to tear out each day – but it was so ugly! and so expensive!

I can buy a coffee table book for $50…  why do diaries have to be so expensive… and ugly?!

So, do you use a diary?  Do you have any recommendations?  i am after pretty to carry around every day, not the size of a dinner plate, the paper and text on the inside is not cheap and nasty, and it can carry a pen (optional, but desirable).  I don’t want a filofax because I get bored year after year…

HEEEEEEEEELP!

(yes, I understand I am fussy!)

I had it planned.  A special post today.  I had it ready in my mind for weeks, a post filled with nerves and fears and a tinge of joy on the edges. Oh, and a photo.  One of those photos.

At 11am today I was going to have my booking in appointment at the hospital, speak to the care providers, probably cry a little, see my baby, probably cry a lot and then come home and blog all about Colt, announcing him to the world.

Amazing how things can change so swiftly.

Not overcome, not overly sad, just resigned.

Today was supposed to be a different day.

If you know the details of this painting for credit, please let me know

Say it out loud, so it is not so scary.

Post Natal Depression.

PND, or for those playing along in the states, Post Partum Depresion (PPD).

I’ve been diagnosed with it, as well as anxiety… on top of the grief.

I completed the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Score (EPDS) at my GP’s office and scored pretty high.  And promptly broke down in tears again.  My GP, bless her, just put her hand on my knee and let me cry. Again.

I now have a psychiatrist, a psychologist, a mental health case worker, an extra mental health counsellor (soon), along with my GP and a SIDS and Kids counsellor. I guess Monday through Friday is covered at least..  The receptionist at my GP knows me by name.

All jokes aside, I think it is very important to talk about this.  About PND.  While I know that grief can be separate from PND and anxiety and you don’t have to have PND if you have lost a baby, it does happen.  I have felt it creeping up behind me slowly over a little while.  First it was just the anxiety, but as time went on, things started to change.  A snowball of misfortune and bad luck struck over the Christmas holidays further compounding the darkness that was catching up with me. And then I miscarried Colt.

It swallowed me.  The blackness rose up in a giant swoop and gulped me down in a single swift moment.

That blackness was my grief – on steroids.  With a dagger of self blame and guilt driven into the heart of the beast, to make it that little bit more pissed off.  There was no control, no rational thought, and an awful lot of wailing that accompanied that wild animal.  The stench of red wine fuelling the rage and self hatred until I barely recognised myself.

And I don’t think others recognised me either.

After a week of drs visits, and referrals, and diagnosis and more antidepressants, I am hoping the beast can be chained and held at bay.  I can’t see it disappearing for a while, but I’ll be glad for the restraints.  The PND and the grief are existing together as a evil twins… each of them is prodding the other, infuriating it that little more.

I am visiting SIDS and Kids again soon as well – both for group and personal counselling.  Covering all of my bases.

I am here, and I am fighting.  With my husband, family and friends in my corner, I am fighting.

———————–

If you, or someone you know, may be suffering from PND (postnatal) or AND (antenatal depression), here are some resources:

http://justspeakup.com.au/

http://www.panda.org.au/

http://www.lifeline.org.au/

I haven’t announced this here yet, properly at least, but it is about time I did.  A lot of cogs need to start turning!

I have spoken about wanting to go to the Digital Parents Conference before and, well, I got a Ticket and now I am going.

But… to top it all off…

I AM A SPEAKER!

Yes, my blog, my story, Avery’s Story what Hespera’s Garden means to me, will be spoken about for 7 mins in front of a room full of people.

GASP…  lots of people…

And, so, to get me there I am looking for some sponsorship.

Yes, yes, that dreaded money thing, again.

There are hotels, food, Melbourne transport, flights, etc etc etc…

It’s a lot. And I can’t do it on my lonesome.

So I am asking you – and your businesses – to help me get there!

In return I will pimp your brand out in a myriad of ways – we’ll talk about it and find the right mix for all of us..

I have a brand statement thingo I can send you if you need that sort of stuff, and I have a head full of words I can use to market you anyway we see fit.

Remember, I am a speaker at the conferece – people are going to be looking at me and my blog.  That means, they can be looking at you too!

So please email me at info@designsbykristie.com and let’s talk.