iphone snaps with a little eye candy softly thrown in

Just a quick note to say I am rather behind on personal email presently.   Thanks to the hit and miss internet I had through renovating in January, things began to pile up and before I knew it..Inbox Mountain.  I am currently playing catchup so to anyone who has sent me a note and hasn’t heard back, please forgive, I’m not too far away.  I don’t like rushing replies and  I do genuinely love hearing from blog readers.. I only wish there were many more hours in each day to email as I’d like to when I’d like to.

Love, Sheye xx

Most days, I love that she is four.  Growing up.  Getting taller.  Needing less help.
I  adore her big girl ways.  The longer words.  And her next shoe size up.
Most of the time, I do know that there is so very much to celebrate in her  simply becoming older.
Today though, is just not one of those days.

eye candy actions purple haze | film days | caramel overlay

Ingredients:

2 male rosemeyers
1 public place
1 large portion of Desire to Irritate
noise to taste

Directions:

Thoroughly remove sense of decorum from male species.  Infuse with Desire to Irritate.  Position haphazardly in public place and add noise.  Enjoy!

S xx

“No-one ever told me that grief felt so like fear” – CS Lewis.

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

Dear Kryspa
I really want a bubble bath, the one with the sparkles in it, you know the pink one?  In a minute, I’m going to draw you some more rainbows.  I wish you were still here.  Umm, Mummy said you will send me more princess bubbles. Did you know,  your big boy, umm Brady, is going to get me everything from the Wizard of Oz, even the real Toto and when I come to America you can give it to me.  I really miss you and I want you to come back.
Ivish

Dear Krystarella
What she said. (Sans the Toto.)
Sheye.