I will admit to never having had the joys of Motherhood. I didn’t really make it to the motherhood part, and the joy got lost along the way, probbably somewhere between panic, hope and then grief.
Thinking about Emmet makes me smile, but it also makes me wistful and sad, and often downright angry.
Angry at the world, myslef, other people who make it so hard to speak out about what I am feeling.
But I do smile when I see babies, I smile to think that ny Sister in law will soon hold her little bundle of joy and sleepless nights, and I am happy for the joy of others. And envious too, for what wouldn’t I give to be in their shoes.
I do feel happiness when I think about my baby, I feel it is beter to have loved and lost than never have loved at all – but most often I will admit that it makes me sad and there isn’t any escaping that fact.
As far as I know this is the only photo I have of my partner and I while I was pregnant, although I didn’t know for sure then I had by suspicions. In a way the only family photo I have. We both look a bit silly, he had a headache so kept his shades on and I’m all chin, but it is my favourite photo. We do look happy there, really genuinely happy despite the disasters that the day entailed (car brakes shot, wh had to be rescued…). I would have changed nothing about that day at all.