October 10th Symbol
I don't really feel totally comfortable with the idea of a symbol, but despite my unease I seem to have a few. Roses, hydrangeas, ladybirds, rabbits, and doves.
Doves are a recurring symbol. While pregnant with Florence I made two special baby carriers for her with dove applique, and in the days after her birth I appliqued the same dove onto her burial gown. That dove was interpreted by the stone mason who made this beautiful stone for our garden. We've also been gifted and have bought several trinkets and ornaments that fit the theme, I even have a whole folder of doves on flickr.
October 11th Supportive Family and Friends
We are very lucky to have been supported by so many wonderful friends and family, far too many to list here.
Woody has been my constant support, and I hope I've been his.We seem to hold each other up pretty well most of the time.
There are two very special friends that do deserve a mention, and I know I'm going to embarrass them by doing so.
They are Lisa and Heather. I love you guys, and can never pay back all the love you have both shown me and my family, and Florence over the past three years.
(If you are reading, it could be worse, I did consider asking you both to pose for portraits...and I might still!)
A Special Place
We are so very lucky to have our special place. An acre of woodland was dedicated to Florence by some wonderful beautiful people from all around the world.
We go there when we want to have some special family time, it's such a pretty place, very popular with walkers, families, I love that they all pass Florence's marker there and if they read it will know she is such a beloved baby.
(And the cafe near by does fab chips and beans to warm you up after a cold wintery walk!)
What To Say.
There's nothing I like to hear more than my daughter being included. Here in our home Florence is mentioned along with all five of my other children, it feels very natural for us to talk about her, she is part of our family.
Other than hearing her name being included, I like it when people recognise we are a family of 8 not 7. I like it when people accept that I am a Mummy to 6 children.
A lovely friend recently told me how she'd had hopes and dreams for Florence too, and I thought that was beautiful.
Sometimes a simple "I'm sorry" is enough, and sometimes, a hug, a kiss, a squeeze of the hand, or even a caring smile, a reassuring glance.
And often just sitting and listening, or just being is worth so much more than any words.
Thankfully I've been on the receiving end of all of these. I have some beautiful friends and family. x
I doubt there is a babylost parent out there that hasn't had a stupid or thoughtless comment made to them at some time.
I like to believe that most thoughless comments are the result of fear, and mouths springing into action before the brain is properly focused, or has had time to consider the impact of the words falling from the mouth.
I've had lots of the usual things said to me, been told I'm brave and often, the same person will also say how they couldn't be as brave if it happened to them...I do wonder what exactly they would do instead? And although I'm sure they don't mean this, but are they implying they love their children so much more than I do because they couldn't possibly go on?
I have had one person tell me it was time I moved on, and focused on my living children. That enraged me, but I simply walked away, when really what I wanted to do was ask her which one of her children she could move on from so quickly? And had she any idea how much I had been focussing on my older children and supporting them through their grief?
Two days after Florence died, I had a phone call from someone telling me she knew just how I felt because her happy healthy living daughter had spent some time in hospital as a baby, and then she cried and told me every detail of her child's hospital stay. She didn't just do this once, but several times over that summer.
The photo though shows something that was said to me after I told someone that my youngest daughter had died.
I was incredulous at her response, I almost laughed as I replied, "She was 9lbs 3.5oz, she was born alive."
Really though, what hurts the most is when nothing is said, when Florence is not mentioned or acknowleged.
I've struggled today with this theme, and honestly even with my decision to take part in this project.
I can't quite say why.
Looking through all of the other participants contributions on Facebook is much harder than I expected it to be, so much raw grief, so much sadness. So unsettling to see so many broken hearted parents and families. I want to make everything right for all of them. I don't want another parent to lose a precious child, but it just keeps happening.
I'm having to limit my time looking at the photos submitted to just a few minutes each day because any longer and it's too much.
I initially saw this project as an opportunity to explore my grief as it is now, 3 years on.
I wanted to challenge myself artistically with the photographs. I wanted to represent through photography the grief of my everyday.
My every day grief isn't as raw as it once was, it's softened around the edges,entwined into my life, and that of my family.
Today's theme is Memorial. I had thought I might go to the cemetery and take some photos of Florences head stone, I didn't.
Instead I stayed home and fretted about over sharing, and even if I wanted to share at all.
This photo was taken the day after her head stone was put into place, back in November 2009.
I thought hard about my most treasured item, and I couldn't really narrow it down to just one item, but to each item carefully packed away in Florence's memory box.
I thought maybe sometime today I might open her box and photo the contents, but I couldn't.
I don't open that box very often.
While re arranging my bedroom at the weekend I moved her memory box, her books, her cards and her paperwork all to a new shelf at the foot of my bed.
The only way I can get the memory box onto or off the shelf is by moving a large underbed storage box of shoes and then sliding the box under my bed and out.
It feels secure there...though it has crossed my mind that in a fire I might have to leave it behind.
I rarely look in the box, everything is packed so neatly, and it's all so precious, I don't want to disturb it, and honestly I don't want to share photos of the precious items inside.
I'm not sure, even Woody knows what is in there. I don't think anyone besides me has ever looked in it.
I can tell you, there is the nappy, gown,hat and blanket she was wrapped in when they took her for the post mortem.
I can tell you, that those items came back washed in some foul smelling detergent.
There is the half finished sweater I was knitting in labour, some snips of her hair, a dress I so wanted to dress my summer baby in; and more besides.
The box is lined with rose scented paper, the smell is divine. If I do open it I breath in that scent and there she is, just for a moment, a fleeting second, and I can almost feel the warmth of her skin, and the weight of her in my arms.
In the top of the box sits sweet little Beatrice Bunny.
I've written about her before, she's tattered and torn from her escapades at the cemetery, but she's in there, and there she will stay.
The theme today is Self Portrait After Loss.
Three years after Florence died. These days I'm busy, really really busy. I collapse gratefully into bed each evening exhausted, and I mostly sleep these days too...mostly.
I still have to remind myself of the date, I always want to write 2009 on forms or on cheques. I've said before how I feel there will always be a part of me back there in July 2009 with my baby girl.
I could've taken a self portrait with my living children all around me, and I considered it. That would after all sum up my life today, but I wanted to document somehow those shifting moments in time, one foot here in the present, but one very firmly in the past.
The problem is though, that on our non existent budget, and given that I can sew it seems silly not to make curtains or cushions, or anything else we might need around here.
So, with that in mind I set about making new curtains for our bedroom on Saturday.There began my three day nightmare, making curtains with not enough fabric and not enough time...ughhh!
Finally last night we had two functioning curtains, and I vowed never to make curtains again...until next time!
I did at least give in to buying some fresh new plain dye bedding.
(Which as you can see I didn't, and nor will I ever iron!)
Ernest now has a little matress on the floor next to our bed, piled high with all his hand knit blankets. He even slept in it last night, for most of the night anyway.
I also finally got around to cutting down and hemming one of the beautiful welsh wool blankets given to me by my mother in law.
Sadly, both blankets are so damaged that cutting them down was the only reasonable choice.
I got matching throws for our bed, and for Ernests, plus I had a play with a new cape pattern I've been working on for Flossie's Garden.
The theme today is Self Portrait Before Loss.
This isn't a self portrait, it was taken by Woody as we climbed the hill up to Whitby Abbey in October 2008.
We were on holiday in North Yorkshire for half term. We had such a wonderful weekend.
I was just pregnant with Florence, but had no idea.
I'd been longing for another child, but was trying to use my head over my heart and not go there.
I don't find it easy to look at before loss photos. I can see so much that is missing now. I'll never be that person again, but I'll always have happy memories of days like this one. x
More details here.
Today the subject is sunrise.
Today was a quieter day than usual, and I finished this chalkboard for the smalls to play with.
And Ernest has been perfecting his toast making skills.
Last day of the summer hols today, but first day back at work as a childminder, so an early start, and a sad little boy missing his Mummy meant we needed a distraction, and since we also needed treats for the planned picnic later in the day, Eden suggested we make cheesy biscuits.
Everyone joined in, and had fun. By 9am we had warm cheesy biscuits ready for a snack and plenty for the picnic, and tomorrow's lunch boxes too!
Day one skirt is made from some lovely wool tweed I picked up in the charity shop for £3, and I've still got quite a large piece left.
I used the skirt part of the Colette Crepe pattern.
This is the second time I've done this, and I have to say I prefer using just the skirt part, the bodice just doesn't really work for me I don't think.
For this skirt, I just made a large button hole to thread the wrap ties through so that it sits comfortably around my waist.
My first Crepe skirt, I didn't do that, I just kept the waist ties quite slim and they wrap well without being thread through.
This is quite a bulky skirt, and very warm. I can see this becomming a firm winter favourite.
So, wearing my new tweed skirt yesterday I set to making three more skirts. These were made using my own pattern, and if you look over to the left and scroll down you'll see a link showing you how to draft your own pattern for one of these simple A line skirts.
I updated my Flossie's Garden blog yesterday ; I raised £10 for SANDs at the Market, despite it being a shockingly quiet day.
I started a Just Giving page to keep track of my donations.
Feels a bit silly compared to other's pages as my target is so small, but I figure every penny counts.
10% of all my sales tomorrow will be donated to SANDs in memory of our beautiful Florence Violet.
Woody kept reassuring me that the garden couldn't burn down, (everything is always so damp here in the North West.) but I wasn't worried about that. I was worried because I couldn't keep vigil. I needed to be next to Ernest in case he woke, and I needed to sleep.
During the night, Ernest woke for milk. He snuggled onto my lap,head against my breast and I gave him his milk. I was tired and my eyes closed, but the moonlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains, and right into my face. In my half asleep state, I could almost hear "Mummy", "Wake up".
Throughout the night I woke frequently, and just to confuse things more I also dreamed I was awake.
This morning, I woke myself up crying.
There was a thick mist across the garden as I padded downstairs to get Ernest some milk.
The lanterns all safely snuffed out.
Facing her third birthday without her was bad enough, but what's worse is facing the rest of my life without her. I still just want my baby back.
Three years ago we gathered with friends and family to say goodbye.
I remember Angus writing your name on his little note to you, and my brother in pain because he'd burnt his face welding without a mask and the sun was blazing down...
So much of that day is clear in my minds eye, and so much more is a muddle.
Wish you were here, all I can do is light candles, it's pretty feeble really. I'm sorry. x
I haven't pumped milk for a week. We made it past Ernest's second birthday, and you know that mostly feels ok.
Two years is far from my ideal, both my older boys breastfed right into their fourth years, and only weaned because I was heavily pregnant with their next sibling. Even then, it was a gentle process.
I've tried to wean myself from the pump in a gentle way too.
Ernest was down to just two very small bottles of breastmilk, morning and night. Topped up with extra bottles of cows milk.
I'm sitting here now, finally free from the pump, but it still hangs there on the bed frame...I might put it away today.
Ernest will continue to have bottles of cows milk when he needs them. He still needs the comfort of sucking, and I'll never deny him that.
I'm very pleased to say, that skirt is now far too big for me, and went off to the charity shop a little while ago.
This one, I came across yesterday when sorting through my sewing desk, and decided to stitch it up.
I'm really quite pleased with how it looks in a smaller size, and have cut out three more today in different fabrics..here's hoping I don't take another 10 months to sew those up!
And if you want to make your own a line skirt, you can follow my instructions on drafting and making up here, or just click on the linkie in the side bar.
I love the summer holidays. Even if I was still up at 5.30 this morning (nightmares), and even if it was raining.
My friend Lisa came over today with three of her children.
Today is Lisa's birthday and Woody had made cake especially.
We decided to have a little afternoon tea with lovely vintage cups and saucers (a pressie from another lovely friend for my birthday back in April)
And, of course we had to sing and blow out the candle.
Happy Birthday Lisa. x
This ball started out as a skein of luscious yarn, chunky and smelling divine of lanolin. There wasn't enough to do much with, so it lived in one of my treasure baskets that I use with the little ones.
After lots of play though it had become something of a tangled mess.
I decided to try and rescue it into something and after lots of squishing and squadging with hot soapy water, I shaped it into a ball, rolled it into a sock, tied the sock in a knot and shoved it into the washing machine on a hot wash with a load of laundry.
That gave me something resembling a ball, and I set about needle felting some bright colours onto it.
I had intended it to be a baby gift, but I broke three needles in it, and have only recovered two....yes I am being pretty wreckless with Ernest, but I've squished and squashed the ball so much looking for the wretched needle, that I think I can risk giving it to Ernest for supervised play. (needless to say it will get put somewhere safe while my mindee is here.)
So, anyway, here it is, my not very round ball.
The stall will be selling jewellery made by her friend, portraits, cards and vintage style headscarves made by India.
Today we had a photoshoot at Talacre beach to promote the scarves and give some ideas on how to wear them.
I have a few precious pieces of jewellery related to Florence, including a locket containing her hair, and a beautiful brooch hand made by a wonderful friend, but this pendant I wear every day, and I love it.
The chain is long and it hangs near my heart. The glass locket contains two photos of Florence. There is also a little silver tag engraved with her name.
I don't feel dressed without this pendant, I must handle it and kiss it a million times a day.
Ernest loves to look at it and says "Florence", and gives it to me to kiss, then he kisses it too.
x