As some of you know, last August we started the tradition of Ava’s Tea Party.  An idea borne out of wishing and missing and a beauty-full way to honor the birthday of our Super-Princess each year.   It was all we’d hoped for, and so much more.. a small gathering in our garden with close friends and family but also an invitation extended to all of you to share in time spent cherishing those you love.  We were so touched by the effort many of you went to – all the beautiful tea parties held in Ava’s honor – but more importantly, it meant so much to imagine people stopping their usual day to day and just sharing a cuddle and a moment to really appreciate one another.

Our hope is to see Ava’s Tea Party become something huge and wonderful and celebrated World over every year.  We have so many ideas that we want to see happen but we do need help along the way.  Belle and Boo’s illustration of Ava’s Tea Party was the first step in letting our dream take flight..  And then, just a few weeks ago, I received an email from Siobhan and Vanessa at Details Details..full of wonderful ideas and a beautiful proposal to grow Ava’s Tea Party a little more this year.  Oh how my heart sang reading those words and today, as they launch The Beauty Full Collection, a range of products specifically designed for this very occasion, my heart soars.  Such an incredible amount of work has gone into this project and much of what you’ll see has been so generously donated by wonderful well known designers.  Additionally, the majority of the proceeds from these sales will then be donated by Details Details to Paradise Kids.    To everyone involved in this project,  for the talent donated and time spent,  we are so very grateful.  Thank you.  We’d love it if you could take a moment to see what’s been so lovingly created and to perhaps give some thought to hosting your own tea party around August 22nd this year.  Simple or grande, for two or twenty.  Store-bought or home made and anywhere you wish.

In preparation for Ava’s Tea Party this year, we’ve also launched a dedicated website and Facebook page, which we’d love you to join and spread the word.  I’ve begun adding photos from 2009 Tea Parties to the galleries at both, of course if anyone does not wish to have theirs included please just let me know.  If you do take photos this year, please upload them in the 2010 album there – it means so much for us to see them!   If you’d like to go in the draw for an Ava’s Tea Party A4 print, please join the FB page and invite others to do the same..and of course leave a comment here to let me know you’ve done so!  Thankyou!!

I’ll take this opportunity to extend an open invitation to anyone who believes their product or skills would compliment Ava’s Tea Party..to those who sell handmade wares, to suppliers of pretty things, to anyone really who is passionate about being involved in something special..please send us a note! If you have your own ideas about how you could contribute to Ava’s Tea Party, we would love to hear them.  (While some elements of Ava’s Tea Party includes fund-raising and donation, this is not expected from those who participate).  It doesn’t need to be for this year but we would certainly love the chance to plan for 2011 with anyone interested!

Thank you again to all who’ve contributed thus far and to every single one of you who has helped us realize our dreams for Ava’s Tea Party :)  As always, seeing Ava’s memory included in beautiful ways means so very much to our whole family but this project has a very special place in our hearts..We do hope you will join us.

xx

Ava’s Tea Party Kit from Details Details | Image: Luminessence

Did you know, I woke with her that day?  Sleepy, quiet, morning hush.   Messy hair and making plans and cartoons on tv.
And did you know, we played together?  We laughed and we teased and we talked over our favorite toys.
And something else, I adored her that day.  I held her and I hugged her and I told her I loved her.
And she loved me back.
But did you know, I raised my voice?  She was three and I was tired and my forever days will regret that I didn’t just take a deeper breath.
Did I tell you too that I knew?  That I found her and my heart stopped and my World shattered and instantly, I knew.  Her Daddy held her and I knew.  It will be okay, she will make it through but oh, no.  I knew and I knew and I knew.
Did you know that reporters filled our garden while grief filled our souls and someone sent roses from Texas?  That I lay on the floor and I sobbed to my core and I begged her Daddy to fix it?
Did I mention that I hate Halloween and I can’t bear the smell of Easter lilies and that Saturday afternoons still don’t feel right.     That I don’t like the news and I can’t eat cashews and that I can never walk to the car without fear.   I still have her dirty clothes, I still can’t watch her videos and three years, four months and an eternity further on..I still don’t understand.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

Oh, The Missing.  Not unexpected, for it hovers in the before.  A vague sense, a hazey blanket that wraps around while memories and wishing increasingly interrupt the present.  And then, there it is.  Stealing the breath from my lungs, it is.   In front of the beauty and the excitement and the gratitude, The Missing sits.  Today, I cannot stop my thoughts from floating to her face and her laugh and the pain in my heart.

Ava, in every part of the World, and all the corners of my soul, I miss you.

I am not a finger-painting, cookie-baking mother.
I forget to plan holiday activities and I certainly don’t rotate the toys every three months.
I’ve never owned a nappy bag or, come to think of it, used a cloth nappy.
I’m not one for bringing the oranges to soccer nor serving at tuckshop.
I’ve never done too well at mothers meets or play dates or Gymbaroo.
Tupperware makes me nervous.

I am, however, a Mum who plays chasey through the house and catches butterflies in the garden.
One who lets her kids jump in puddles and roll in  mud.
And then, when they’re all cleaned up, lets them do it over again.
A Mum who lies in the bed of her every child at night to hear their hopes and their woes.
And who still calls them darling at 3am.
A Mum who encourages free thinking and wild dreaming and self believing.
A grateful, hopeful, flawed, adoring Mum, with an endless supply of silly dances and smothering cuddles and I Love You’s.
(Lord, How I Love You.)

Happy Mothers Day.

Love Sheye xx

Each morning, as the butterflies emerge, Ivy picks up her net and runs out to the field.  She chases and squeals and if really lucky, ever-so-carefully picks them up.  She calls them her friends.  She had never caught one mid air.  We’ve always had to wait until they land. But today, she did.  We gathered round and with the butterfly down on the ground, covered in net, we peered together..She giggled, I applauded her wonderful butterfly catching skills.  I reminded her to be gentle while she reached out.

And then do you know what? Right there, right in front of our eyes, that butterfly disappeared.  We stared, Ivy moved the net around a little, we stared some more, and said in unison “where did it go?”  There was nowhere for it to go.   No holes in the net.  No nothing on the ground for it to hide under.  It didn’t fly away.  It. was. just. gone.

I thought about this all afternoon. It made no sense.  I sat, wondering how on Earth this butterfly was there.  I saw it.  And a moment later, not.  What did I miss?  A hole in the ground?  A blink where she flew away?  Clearly, I missed something.    And then I remembered.

A clear day, we marveled, we swooned, we felt so lucky to have her and then..just like that, she was gone.  Right in front of our eyes, she was no more.   It’s not so impossible to believe.  We’ve been here before.

x

(and for you, something I love:)

Butterfly – Lenny Kravitz

This quote was shared with me three years ago.  I’ve never forgotten it because it is so awfully true.  Nothing can prepare you for the fear that comes with grief.  It is a terror beyond anything I have ever known.    The moments after finding Ava, the knowing instantly that we would lose her, the waiting for 48 hours at the hospital until we did… and then facing a lifetime without her.   If I think of those early months, I think of being very, very afraid.   I hear myself saying “I’m just so scared that this is real“.   I simply couldn’t bare to imagine that this could not be fixed.   That we were actually living our worst nightmare.  The fear comes first, the missing comes later.

“You never recover from the loss of a child“.  It was said often, back at the start.  To my newly grieving, terrified self, those words were unbearable.  I couldn’t fathom never recovering.   But I also couldn’t fathom life ever being any different.  Since then, I’ve  often pondered the notion of “recovered”.  What does that even mean?  That you should return to the griefless, untouched self you once were?  Well of course you don’t.  How can you hold your lifeless, adored, child and openly weep and beg God to give them back and not walk away changed?   You face overwhelming sadness throughout your every day and have to learn to incorporate it into a life that doesn’t like to pause for your grief.  Of course you are different.   But from a place of total devastation, you do somehow find a way to open your eyes and draw breath and face another day without your beautiful baby.   You even go on to work and socialize and plan a future.   Recovered?  I don’t know.   Altered?  Without doubt.

It’s clear I’ve learned a lot in three years.  I know that the suffocating grief does not stay forever, that it changes and the sadness becomes familiar.  I have found  peace with the un-happy parts of my life and my self.  If I had the choice to erase my grief, I wouldn’t.  If not for the sadness, then what?  It isn’t enough to just remember Ava with smiles and fond memories.   I need the tears.

On the harder days, I spend time with my missing.   I write.  I mourn.  I recall.  And if I pick up my camera,  how I feel becomes how I see.

I am no longer scared.

S x

I am waking up to your footsteps on my floor.     Making toast for four.      Finding spotty socks for kindy.     Prettying your hair.     Making strawberry milk.      Buying things that sparkle.      Taking you to ballet.      Showing you off.      Watching you swim.     Hearing you sing.    Taking your photos.     Holding out my hand for your frangipanis.        Laughing at your laugh.     Reading Pat The Bunny.      Kissing you goodnight.      Breathing you in.      Marveling.       Adoring.       Expecting a tomorrow.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, I am with you.

If it were the me of three years ago writing this, I’d be complaining today.  I’d be annoyed that our new flooring install didn’t begin on schedule.  Or that the doors aren’t ready.  I’d feel stressed that Mason missed swimming and  I’d probably be pretty miffed that Crayton’s hire car got itself scratched and dented this morning.

Writing from the New Universe though, my only real reason to complain today would rightfully be about today marking the start of February.  The month of missing and wishing and life-a-changing.  It’s the month that plunged us from carefree happiness to the darkest of  voids.  Where nothing was ever the same.

It seems though,  my new is changing too.  As I approach a third February without Ava, the new includes so many lessons and so much beauty I just don’t feel I have a right to complain.   Of course I miss.  I wish.  I yearn.  Every single day.  I forget a life that didn’t include those things.  But I can also look back on thirty six months and see how far I’ve traveled.  Or, at times,  been carried.   I prefer the new me, I like the life I’ve created out of ruin.   I know less fear, I filter out the unimportant and I know what it is to truly, deeply love.  So many beautiful things to be glad of.

I don’t write these words lightly.  It has taken a lot to get to here. I had three choices after February two thousand and seven.   I could cease to exist.  (Shocking?  Not really.  Ask anyone deep in grief how viable that option might seem at times.)  I could continue on breathing whilst moving nowhere.  Barely enduring grief filled days that would undoubtedly project onto my other children.   Or, I could do something even harder.  I could make a promise that Ava would not leave un-noticed.  That I would do better. As a mother, a wife, as my self.  That our new family would survive and be strong and embrace what remained.   That I would live life.  For Ava.

I consciously chose the latter.  There were many, many days where the grief smothered my hopes.  There will be more to come.   But three years on,   I see our family as happy again.  We’re mending.  We cherish one another, and our memories of Ava.  Our Superprincess shines as brightly as she ever did.  I look forward to including her in so many beautiful ways going forward and know that we will never let her light go out.  While I know there will always be moments where The Missing sneaks up and steals the air from my lungs,  today the bigger picture fills my heart.

Happy February.

Love, Sheye xxx

In the still and the dark of night.   I thought she was sleeping.  Her little voice startled me.

Mummy?
Yes honey?
Why did Ava leave her bike here?
Because she couldn’t take it with her.
Why did my sister not take all of her things?
Because she doesn’t need them in Heaven.  She has everything she needs.
Does she have a kitchen?
I think she probably does.
Does she have a bed?
I’m sure she does.
And does she have a tutu?
Oh yes, she has a tutu.
Does she have two or five?
I think she has as many as she wants.

Mum, how does Ava get back here?
Honey, Ava can’t get back here.
Why? I am waiting for her to come back.
Because, because when babies are made, they wait in Heaven and ..
Mum, do you have tears?
Yes darling I do.
Why?
Because we miss Ava very much.
I miss her too.
I know darling.  When babies are made they wait in Heaven and then they are given to their Mummies like you and Luca and Mason were given to me too but Ava had to go back to Heaven when she was three and we miss her very much.  But we will all get to see her again in Heaven one day.
When you and Daddy and me and Luca and Mason see Ava again I’m going to tell her I’m four.  Will she be little or big?
She will be little, I think.
Can I pick her up?  Because I am four?
Yes, you probably could.  But you will be much older than four when you see her.  We will live a long time together here first and then we will get to see her.
But what will happen to our house?
We won’t need it in Heaven.
Is she like a small baby or a little bit bigger?
A little bit bigger, like when you were three just before.
Oh.  Will we be very old?
We probably will be old.
Will we have moles?  Because I don’t want moles.
No, we won’t.
Will Ava have moles?
No darling, she won’t.

Her questions make my heart race.  Never ready.  I’m still trying to work out the answers myself.  I still stare at her bike at our back door and I still don’t understand.

This
is
all
so
much
bigger
than
me.

Tonight, I put Ivy to bed, and she was three.   Come tomorrow, she will wake four.

I don’t quite know how to feel.    We’re entering the unfamiliar.   I’ve known all about one year old girls.   And I know about girls aged two.   (They’re just delightful..most of the time).   And little girls aged three?  They’ve mattered most.     For the past year, I’ve had two of them.  All those days of Ivy sharing Ava’s age.  A strange thing, her older sister being older, until she no longer was.  Is she younger now?  I don’t even know.

As I tucked Ivy in, excitedly talking of birthday cakes and wishes, I felt afraid.  I’m not ready to give up three.  It seems we’re leaving a little more behind.   I want to be able to hold this moment and know that our days will always center around princesses and sparkly shoes and Dora.  What happens at four?  A part of me is excited to find out, and so very grateful that I even can but a part of me can’t help but wish and yearn and fear the unknown.

Tomorrow will be all about our birthday girl, we’ll laugh and love and be thankful.   I’ll wish for different but I’ve become used to mixed blessings and the birthday celebrations tinged with missing.

Today though, I just miss simple, happy anticipation.

Sheye x