One of the reasons I love sewing, is that for me it is a kind of meditation. I had a day off from my mindee on Wednesday, and after dropping Sid at school and Ernest at playgroup, I made a little detour on my way home to a local furnishing fabric shop. I'd been feeling down, the extra walking always helps, and I'd heard they had a 50p a yard sale in the remnant room. I wasn't expecting to find anything much, maybe a few pieces for a bag or a skirt, but I was lucky I rummaged through the shelves and found four pieces of co ordinating fabrics in greys and mustards, I also bought a yard off the roll in the same range, and the whole lot cost me £10. I wasn't sure then what I was going to do with them, but when the sales lady asked me if I was going to make cushions, I found myself saying "no, I think I'm going to make a dress." I wouldn't usually tell a sales person in a furnishing fabric store I was going to sew clothing with their fabrics. She seemed nice though, and wasn't at all sniffy when I told her my plans. (She also knocked £1.50 off the bill.)



I started work as soon as I got home. I didn't pre wash the fabric. Now, I'm not much of a pre washer anyway. I only usually pre wash fabric if I expect it to shrink. Furnishing fabrics are often dry clean only, and not made to be washed frequently. Usually with furnishing fabrics I might test wash a swatch to see if there was any shrinkage or fading before deciding if I was going to pre wash the rest of the fabric or have the final garment dry clean only. This time, honestly my priority was to sew. The act of  cutting, and sewing a simple familiar garment with no particular fit issues, for me is a kind of therapy. I can feel myself breathing again as I work through each stage. 




The bodice is the Emery dress bodice pattern. The skirt is a part circle skirt pattern, the same vintage pattern I've used before on my Wool dress and as a skirt for both of my vintage pledge makes this year.
I trimmed the sleeve edges with the same patterned fabric I used for the skirt.
I decided against the collar and the bow for this dress, but I am tempted to make a co ordinating bow belt using Jennifer Laurens tutorial. I think it might be nice to have the option of a bow if I feel like it.



I still have enough fabric left too to make a bag. I think I might be stepping dangerously into that weird middle aged matchy matchy business though...not sure? I am rather smitten though with the Charlie's Aunt bag patterns, and think the remaining fabrics would work well with several of the designs, just trying to decide which one...

As for washing, hmm, I'm not going to try. I will spot clean for now, and if the dress needs a wash I'll try a cold gentle wash with gentle detergent and see what happens.

For some months now I've been avoiding something, I've skirted around the issue, dipped my toes in the water, but hastily withdrawn again.

There is a fine line between grief and depression, I know from experience. My Dad died suddenly in his early forties while my brothers and I were at school.I was a month off my 18th birthday, my brothers were 16 and 15. My Mum was widowed at 35. None of us coped terribly well, but that's a whole other story.

I remember sitting in the hospital after Florence died, holding her in my arms and telling Woody I couldn't do grief again. I don't know if he remembers that or not.

For some months now I've been stepping carefully along that fine line, keeping, or so I thought, just this side of depression.

After Ernest was born, and I met our health visitor for the first time, before anyone had a chance to brief her on our history. I explained about Florence, ignored the head tilt, and tried to ignore the little alarm bells going off in her head. I vehemently denied I was a candidate for post natal depression. I had PND with Eden, I knew what it was, and it wasn't the same as grief. I reassured her, I would know if I was depressed, and I thought I would.

Am I now? I don't know.

I'm physically and emotionally exhausted, but show me a Mum of a baby that isn't?

I'm managing my anxiety better, the flashbacks are less frequent.

My house is as clean as you might expect, the children, are fed, and clean, and loved.

I shower, put on make up, blow dry my hair.

I make things.

To a casual observer I'm fine, I even smile and laugh, make eye contact and small talk....


....but inside I'm hollow, and I cry. I cry every day. Sometimes silent weeping, sometimes howling breathless sobbing. Mostly I cry in secret, when Woody is at work and the big ones are at school. I cry when I'm busy, and when I'm still...is that normal?

I admitted my secret crying to Woody the other day, a first step maybe? a first step to what though? Getting better? I'll never be better, I don't want to be. I have so very little of Florence, that this pain sometimes feels like the only connection.

I suppose I know I need to seek some professional help, but I'm not quite brave enough yet. I'm so terribly afraid of a diagnosis. I don't want to hear "post natal depression" , it seems too trivial to fit (And i know PND is not trivial at all, I've been there.). I want to hear "heartbroken", because that's what I am, even that phrase I hate so much, mentioned by my lovely friend in the early days, "complicated grief" would suit me better. (sorry K, you know I love you.)

But you see, I'm fine really. I'm crying now, but I'll dry my tears,re apply my mascara and head out to school. I'll smile and wave at the lollipop lady, I'll buy treats on the way home, then come home and hoover the floor, do the laundry...I'm fine.

But the simple truth? I miss her.x