Tangled Branches, Roots and Shoots

Why is it that just because a person has stuff on the internet people think it gives them a right to contact them repeatedly, spam their accounts and those of loved ones and generally make a nuisance of themselves?

Given the job I do, I’m quite well versed in the law and quite willing to take legal action against all perpetrators. I’m meticulous in keeping track of all communications, be they phone calls, emails, comments or letters.

The warning has been issued.

What wikipedia has to say on stalking

Hello

Just a quickie, really, to say hi and to share a little bit of what we (well, I, mostly) have been up to.

It’s been very quiet in internet-land for a good few months, now. I think part of that has been to do with getting back to basics since the miscarriage and doing a lot of living. Now that the warmth and the sun’s coming back it’s a lot more appealing out there, but a bit of cold and wet doesn’t seem to put us off much. Priorities lately have been firmly back at home, and on holding each other through the changes that have been and gone. I’m sure there’s more to come. Life has a habit of there being more

We’ve been places - notably castle-visiting in South West Wales, and had a trip down to Tassja’s old stomping grounds in Cornwall. It may have been chilly everywhere else, but down there it was warm and sunny and balmy (barmy?!). And the Senior Wisemans were recently here to visit, which gave us an excellent excuse to go to Caerphilly and tramp around the castle there. That’s the problem with Wales - so many castles.

Work-wise, I’ve been busily involved in a project which has just had its launch. I figure Cie and Dafydd *might* be interested. (Oh, and it’s a Drupal site too :D)

What else? Hmmm. Oh yes - there was a blog software upgrade (thanks to an unexpected server upgrade - thanks Ritchie :D) and now we’re back to zero spam. Yep, that’s right. No comment spam at all.

Right. Back to the millwheel, then…

Today is a strange day. It should have been a very happy day, instead I feel a bit numb.

I’ve been staring at the Ante Natal Clinic attendance card which is lying on my desk. Today would have been the first time we would have seen our greatly wanted and much loved baby at 13 weeks, 4 days.

But it wasn’t to be. The same day we received the appointment card I started to bleed. A day that had started excitedly with J waking me up to get me to open the much anticipated letter from the hospital ended with me laying awake all night feeling very frightened.

I went to the Dr’s on the Monday feeling a little more confident as it had stopped. He was lovely and made an appointment for me to go to the EPU the next day. However, by 3am my health was getting pretty bad and I asked J to take control of the situation for me (that’s rare for me). I just couldn’t cope anymore.

Within minutes of asking for help an ambulance arrived to take me to the local hospital. I was really impressed by their rapid response. Less impressed with one of the paramedics trying to wind me up about the place I work. I’m very proud to be a civil servant.

I was prodded, poked and admitted onto a ward, where for the third night in a row I didn’t sleep. I just stared out of the window feeling hollow and miserable. I even started to cry when an aeroplane I’d been watching traverse the predawn sky, slipped out of my view. Leaving me feeling very alone.

The next morning a very tired looking J came back and took wonderful care of me. I know I’m a very lucky woman to have someone as great as him. Anything he could do to make it a bit easier for me, he did. Although worn out and upset himself, he soldiered on. Through every painful procedure he held my hand and whispered words of comfort.

At times he even managed to make me laugh, I didn’t know it was possible to laugh at such a sad time.

The staff were lovely, even the one who gave me the injection which had the end result of making me pass out in the doorway to the bathroom.

Thanks goes to J for catching me and not letting me end up in a heap on the hospital floor. He was a real star the whole time while they wheeled me back onto the ward and stuck even more tubes in me.

I have very mixed feelings. We lost our baby, and even now I’m fighting back tears. But we gained so much, and that makes me smile.

I sit here with tear filled eyes and a gentle smile of wonder. I feel so much love. J and I were close before, but now we’re even stronger. Through the loss and grief we’ve been there for each other, strengthened our bond and even healed some wounds we didn’t even know were there from a long time ago.

At a time when we both could have become bitter and withdrawn, we ended up even more in love and wide open to each other.

I feel that even though our baby didn’t live, she was already a very real part of our family. When we learned of her she brought us much happiness, every day I carried her in me was a day of wonder, a new experience. I truly feel she gave us a gift, even in death. She gave us the gift of healing.

For that I will always be grateful, there just aren’t words that describe it fully.

My beautiful little one,

I didn’t get to hold you in my arms, for that I weep. I wanted so much to see you grow and make your own way in this beautiful world. I wonder what choices you would have made and what path your feet would have tread.

I carried you in my body for a time, but I will carry you in my heart always.

Your mother and father love you and miss you.

Well, I’m not really sure where to start. A lot has happened in the past couple of months and in many ways it feels like, for me personally, a watershed has been reached. I turned 30 this November - a ripe old age that I’m frankly surprised I survived to. I’ve left TDN in any official capacity, having just completed a significant web project with them. And I’m leaving the magpie name behind. In terms of who I am, I don’t think it adequately describes me. Ten years ago, maybe five or even two years ago, I think it did. But now? Not at all. What started as not much more than a nickname and a brushing with totemism (with very little understanding of what that meant) became an identity which at first was right - a fair description of my temperament and character. Lately, it’s been increasingly something of a straight-jacket.

Perhaps I should design a symbol. Or become AFKAM.

But no. J, Jay or Jamie is fine in future, thanks. As is “oi”, and other related terms.

Wedding plans continue apace, and we’re looking good to make our original schedule. It’s nice to have time to breathe and actually be excited about it.

It’s very firmly and definitely a winding down time at the moment. Reducing the commitments and energy going in a million different directions and refocussing it back at home is having some interesting and strange effects on me. Who’dathunkit? I’m better able to cope when I’m taking the reins into my own hands, and not being led by any third party.

I’m actually looking forward to the coming year - something I’m really not used to!

At last, I’ve got around to making a blog post But that’s not why I’m feeling brave.

The reason is, for the first time since my little stay in hospital in February, I’ve worn a skirt to work! That may not seem like much to some people, but for me is a huge thing.

People can see my legs!

That’s something I’ve been afraid of for ages. Since February I’ve been keeping my legs covered up, I felt like my silly limping walk was bad enough, without drawing attention to it by showing off my long legs. Even though my walking is improving, I’m still very aware that I don’t quite look right.

So I’ve been wearing jeans and scruffy looking clothes for ages now, hoping that if I look dull enough no one will notice me - the slightly disabled looking girl, skulking around the town.

Not anymore, today I’m wearing a smart little dress and suit jacket. I’ve already been stared at by work colleagues and had someone walk up to me and say “You’ve got legs, I’ve not seen them before!”

It feels a bit strange and I know it’ll take a while to feel less self conscious, but I’m glad I’m doing it. I’m determined to be able to walk down the street with my head held high.