We finally have a new kitchen, and it's even nearly finished.
I still need to paint the ceiling (booo hissss!), and we've yet to figure out what to do with the floor on no budget, but we have a working kitchen.
We had a very small budget to do the kitchen, and we've recycled the cabinets, the cooker, the door knobs,the tiles, and some hidden bits of wood, I can't think of the proper word for.
These tile decals came from a lovely seller on Etsy. I thought 12 would be enough, but I think I might have to order some more.
I think mostly I'm pleased with the sink, it was the only thing I insisted on having, mostly because I wanted to bath Ernest in it, and hopefully my future grand children too.
Source: amazon.co.uk via Jeanette on Pinterest
Is it crazy to buy your dead child a book?
I've wanted to buy this book for Florence for ages, but kept stopping myself, then a couple of days ago I just did it.
Maybe I am crazy, maybe those people whose eyes glaze over when I mention her again are right.
I'm not sure I really care if I am. I wanted a book I could read quietly in my head to my baby girl. I know she can't really hear me, but it soothes my soul to imagine that maybe just maybe...
You are my angel, my darling,
my star...and my love will find you,
wherever you are.
A timely reminder.
I flippin hate DIY !
I hate decorating, but funds don't stretch to getting anyone in to do it, and Woody isn't that great with a paint brush, so any painting jobs are all mine.
Today I'm painting the kitchen. I was meant to start yesterday, but kept finding other things to do instead, like taking the big girls school uniform shopping...yes even that particular hell is preferable to picking up the paint brush!
I keep telling myself, it'll all be worth it once I'm finished. Meanwhile I'm gritting my teeth, muttering to myself and believe me, there is resentment in every brush stroke.
We started the day early. Woody had made brioche for breakfast, and India had made flapjacks that hadn't set. She hadn't used enough syrup.
So we crumbled the non set flapjacks onto a baking tray, added raisins, dates and almonds and baked in the oven, for home made granola.
Delicious sprinked generously over greek yoghurt.
We had a house full of children today, my friend Lisa came over with her four children, and while they ate lunch we stood back and admired the fruit of our wombs!!
(There's no room at the table for us too, we have to wait for our lunch.)
Later, Ernest found the food waste recycling tub, and had fun pulling apart the tea bags...it could've been worse I suppose.
I'm amazed how quickly he can cause so much havoc.
Last night after I lit all the candles in the garden for Florence, we sat and ate apple cake in the kitchen, well Sid was asleep and India was watching the candles from her bedroom, but the rest of us ate cake. Woody and I drank tea, and I was glad to have my family just there, just being, and watching the glow of the candles and whispering goodnight to Florence.
Then the rain came,hard heavy rain that snuffed out the candles, but that was ok.
Today we had a trip out to Buxton on the train, and the rain just kept on coming. This time cold,and relentless.
We huddled in the bandstand with a couple of rain ragged crows for company. (And M, I thought of you and of Henry.)
After a warm up in a cafe, hot chocolates and cream teas, we were ready to face the rain once more.
Woody treated me to some lovely polish pottery egg cups, and a little pottery rabbit for Florence. I didn't tell him it was for Florence, I didn't have to.
Yesterday I finished Ernest's bubble suit. I had hoped he could wear it today and we could get some summery shots in the Pavillion Gardens, but the rain meant instead he was wearing legwarmers with his short dungarees and snuggling into me to keep warm.
Maybe we'll get more sun this holiday, I hope so, but I don't much mind the rain either.
Yay! I love a sewing day. Started off the day with a run...yep still running, albeit rather slowly.
I wanted to get going on the sewing by 9am, but there was tidying up to do, pumping, and budgeting....that wasn't nice at all.
I don't know if I ever mentioned here how I recently moved my sewing space back downstairs?
I just couldn't sew in the loft with Ernest crawling around the floor, it wasn't safe at all. So we moved this little desk downstairs, and it all packs away neatly when I'm not using it.
I should've taken a photo of it all packed away, but it's very neat , you'll just have to trust me on that.
I do have to steal a corner of the dining table for my overlocker.
The ironing board is set up in the kitchen.
I quite like being in the hub of the house, but I do miss being able to leave my machines set up ready to use.
One day I will have a beautiful studio....
Back to today's sewing, I got a whole pile of cloth baby wipes and face cloths whipped up out of the many millions of muslins I've collected over the years.
And I made a good start on this bubble suit.
Oh, I've cried some tears over this little romper. I designed it for Ernest to wear to my brothers wedding,but then the kitchen was midway through being installed, and I couldn't get to my machines, and I cried because I hadn't made Ernest anything at all for his birthday, and I felt like the worst mother in the world going out and buying him something to wear.
I still feel sad that he didn't get to wear it on his birthday (at my brothers wedding), but I'm trying to get over it.
Maybe I can finish it tomorrow. x
I've been cloud watching. I remember those days between Florence's birth and her burial when I would lay on my bed clutching a soft doll I wanted to smell of me before it could be placed in her coffin. I would lie there watching the clouds.
Tomorrow will be two years since her burial.I've never written much about that day. I probably never will.
So, second week of the summer hols already nearly over. It's been crazy!
Every year I think I'll get so much done, I'll work on my sketchbooks, and get through my sewing lists....
The reality is, I spend most of every day making meals and snacks and clearing up in between. Especially now Ernest has decided most food needs flinging far and wide as soon as it's placed in front of him, unless it's olives or chocolate!
I love it though, having them all home, not doing the school runs...just wish they would be a bit tidier.
Today we had a trip out to MOSI. The girls and I were not really looking forward to it, it's a bit of a geek fest for Woody and the big boys, especially Angus.
We had a good time though, and visited some of the buildings we usually don't have time for.
I loved the collections archive. All these miscellaneous items placed neatly behind glass in cupboards and drawers, rows and rows. I took photos, but wished I had time and a sketchbook with me.
I even got my camera out in the transport/aviation hall to photograph this plane because I loved the combination of the blue,the steel and the wood.
Ernest sang his way around, on my back before falling asleep.
Tomorrow, I'm promised a sewing day. I'm going to not think about how I should really be painting the kitchen walls. I'm going to sew!
I'm taking part today in the Kitchen Table posts over at Glow.
1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?
It's two years and one week since Florence was born and died. I guess that means I'll start counting in years and weeks/months now. up until last week I was counting in months.
2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?
Hmmm, that's such a hard question. I don't think in the early days after Florence's death I could even think about time, it was all I could do to breath. I know I realised quite early on that if I just kept on keeping on, putting one foot in front of the other every day, then one day ,I hopefully wouldn't have to think about putting one foot in front of the other.
I think I did have a vague idea that there would come this magical time when I'd transform into a wise and dignified bereaved mother, that I would cry sometimes,but that I would have stopped grieving.
Recently I realised that's never going to happen. this grief is forever, some days it's calm and no one would know, other days I can barely breath again, and there are all the days in between. There will always be triggers. I will always miss her, always wish she were here, always always love her.
I'm mostly ok with that, it is what it is.
3. Rather than a clear end goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it thttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifake to get there?
About three months ago I went to the hairdressers, and while I was having my hair washed a song began to play that *always* makes me cry. Initially I panicked, I didn't want to cry in the hairdressers, so I made a concious decision to smile. I thought of my beautiful girl, her lovely soft skin, and her beautiful long fingers, of that moment I held her, before we knew, and I smiled.I also thought of another special little girl, that the song also reminds me of. That was a breakthrough for me.
4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you all answer "Too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you now feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?
I was so so very happy when I was pregnant with Florence. I loved almost every minute, I felt so lucky to be having a fifth child. I thought of her often, my instincts told me she was a girl, and her name came to me in a dream when I was just seven weeks pregnant. I was bonded to her from very early on, and remember remarking to another mother how I already felt her presence in our family, I already felt like Mummy to five. (Sadly I also remember a feeling of dread as I said this.)
I was standing as Florence was born, Woody and the midwife caught her on her speedy exit. I couldn't see her, and asked "where's my baby?". My midwife passed her up through my legs, and I held her and it was like meeting an old friend.
Florence died in my arms, and in turn Woody's arms. She didn't leave our arms for the rest of the day.
I had twenty plus vials of blood taken from my arm, and all the while I held on to Florence.
I washed her, I dressed her, I rocked her,walked with her and told her how all my kisses would be with her forever. Mine and Woody's tears fell on her face, and we wiped them away.
I'm so thankful for that time, it brings so much comfort to know she was in our loving arms for as long as she could be.
5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate your grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and you do you find that to be true?
I think that sounds about right, maybe something will jump up and take me by surprise,but I think I have incorporated my grief into my life.There might be others on the outside looking in who disagree,but it feels to me like I have.
6. There's a familiar saying, "Time Heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you all have lied"?
Time does not heal, it creates a distance from which to view the wound, and sometimes it's all too easy to be whipped right back in time to the moment the wound was open, raw and bleeding.
7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?
I could not think of the future at all in the immediate aftermath of florence's death, infact it took until some time after Ernest's birth that I could even look just days into the future. Honestly, I still find that hard, I don't plan more than a couple of weeks ahead. I even struggled to buy Ernest's birthday presents ahead of time.
There is a very large part of me living in the past. I've said this before,but I still think it's 2009, I know it isn't, but my heart is back there, still trying to save her.
8. How long did it take to answer these questions?
Not as long as I thought it would. These questions looked too hard at first glance, and I let them settle, but I think it's taken me about thirty minutes.
1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?
It's two years and one week since Florence was born and died. I guess that means I'll start counting in years and weeks/months now. up until last week I was counting in months.
2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?
Hmmm, that's such a hard question. I don't think in the early days after Florence's death I could even think about time, it was all I could do to breath. I know I realised quite early on that if I just kept on keeping on, putting one foot in front of the other every day, then one day ,I hopefully wouldn't have to think about putting one foot in front of the other.
I think I did have a vague idea that there would come this magical time when I'd transform into a wise and dignified bereaved mother, that I would cry sometimes,but that I would have stopped grieving.
Recently I realised that's never going to happen. this grief is forever, some days it's calm and no one would know, other days I can barely breath again, and there are all the days in between. There will always be triggers. I will always miss her, always wish she were here, always always love her.
I'm mostly ok with that, it is what it is.
3. Rather than a clear end goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it thttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifake to get there?
About three months ago I went to the hairdressers, and while I was having my hair washed a song began to play that *always* makes me cry. Initially I panicked, I didn't want to cry in the hairdressers, so I made a concious decision to smile. I thought of my beautiful girl, her lovely soft skin, and her beautiful long fingers, of that moment I held her, before we knew, and I smiled.I also thought of another special little girl, that the song also reminds me of. That was a breakthrough for me.
4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you all answer "Too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you now feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?
I was so so very happy when I was pregnant with Florence. I loved almost every minute, I felt so lucky to be having a fifth child. I thought of her often, my instincts told me she was a girl, and her name came to me in a dream when I was just seven weeks pregnant. I was bonded to her from very early on, and remember remarking to another mother how I already felt her presence in our family, I already felt like Mummy to five. (Sadly I also remember a feeling of dread as I said this.)
I was standing as Florence was born, Woody and the midwife caught her on her speedy exit. I couldn't see her, and asked "where's my baby?". My midwife passed her up through my legs, and I held her and it was like meeting an old friend.
Florence died in my arms, and in turn Woody's arms. She didn't leave our arms for the rest of the day.
I had twenty plus vials of blood taken from my arm, and all the while I held on to Florence.
I washed her, I dressed her, I rocked her,walked with her and told her how all my kisses would be with her forever. Mine and Woody's tears fell on her face, and we wiped them away.
I'm so thankful for that time, it brings so much comfort to know she was in our loving arms for as long as she could be.
5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate your grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and you do you find that to be true?
I think that sounds about right, maybe something will jump up and take me by surprise,but I think I have incorporated my grief into my life.There might be others on the outside looking in who disagree,but it feels to me like I have.
6. There's a familiar saying, "Time Heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you all have lied"?
Time does not heal, it creates a distance from which to view the wound, and sometimes it's all too easy to be whipped right back in time to the moment the wound was open, raw and bleeding.
7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?
I could not think of the future at all in the immediate aftermath of florence's death, infact it took until some time after Ernest's birth that I could even look just days into the future. Honestly, I still find that hard, I don't plan more than a couple of weeks ahead. I even struggled to buy Ernest's birthday presents ahead of time.
There is a very large part of me living in the past. I've said this before,but I still think it's 2009, I know it isn't, but my heart is back there, still trying to save her.
8. How long did it take to answer these questions?
Not as long as I thought it would. These questions looked too hard at first glance, and I let them settle, but I think it's taken me about thirty minutes.
I don't know why I didn't include this detail in yesterday's post. I didn't forget, but I think I'm still a little wary of that whole "signs" thing.
I think it was around seven on Friday evening when the heavens opened and the rain came. Ernest and I were in the loft, and the rain on the roof was deafening. Ernest had just nodded off on my shoulder as the rain cleared, the golden evening sunlight lit up the skies and there over the roof tops was this beautiful rainbow.
I know, so many would say it was a gift from Florence. Honestly I don't believe that, but I do believe it made my heart leap, and I dashed for the camera. (and one day I'll learn to take better pictures of rainbows)
Really it doesn't matter what I do or don't believe. Rainbows make me smile, and this perfectly timed rainbow lifted my heart for a few moments. x
And I'm ok. The run up to Florence's birthday was hard, so many ghosts. The day itself was calm and mostly ok.
We got up early,( I woke at 4.54am exactly) packed our picnic and Florence's flowers, and headed off to the cemetery via the balloon shop.
I almost burst into tears when the lady in the balloon shop asked if the balloons were for a birthday, but I didn't, and she quickly understood my mumbled reply and was very kind.
Of course, I should've bought spare balloons, not two minutes down the road and one had popped! Not really surprising with a car full of seven people, a picnic, a large bunch of flowers and eight helium filled balloons.
The cemetery was quiet, and sunny. We arranged the flowers, and the children blew bubbles left over from my brothers wedding. Then we let the balloons go.
We didn't plan it, but it just happened that we timed the balloon release for the time she died.
After the cemetery we headed off to Florence's wood for a picnic and a walk.
On the way home, both Woody and I were hit by a huge wave of exhaustion. I still forget just what a slog grief can be. Two years out and it's still so tiring, such toil.
Woody and I watched the sunrise on Saturday morning, and that's when the tears came. 
I want to say thank you so much to everyone who remembered with us. We came home to flowers and cards, and messages, and they mean so much to us.
We love you baby girl x
How did two whole years go by? We miss you sweetheart, today and everyday. x
My pump has been my constant companion now for almost a year.I'm typing now while attatched! I definately have a love/hate relationship with it, how could I not?
In many ways I'm feeling a sense of relief getting to one year, the pressure is off to a certain extent. Ernest eats more family food now, and only takes about 700 mls of breastmilk a day. I know I'm so lucky to be able to pump that for him.
Going through my photographs over the past year I was surprised to see I had taken more breastfeeding photos than I thought I had, and in some of them we even look happy.
I know it's an indulgence, but I wanted to share some of our feeding photos here.
My intention is to take more of him feeding,even with his bottle. I still hate bottles,but I want a record of how we feed,and I want to try to be proud of pumping for him.
