An exclusive Club no-one wants to join.

So here we are again,

Somehow, unbelievably we are once again staring down the unimaginably long and lonely road of coming to terms with the emptiness that comes with being just three again. where once three respresented "team Currie" the three amigos, complete in our happiness; now three is a reminder of what was once four and could have been five.

I now have more children in heaven than on earth, and that makes me so very sad. no wonder my life feels so out of balance.

When we lost Jonathon at 17 weeks it was an absolute shock. We had never contemplated that we might lose him once we had safely made it past the "safety point" of the 14 week scan. I remember what hurt the most was the silence from those whom I loved, who were so concerned with possibly saying the wrong thing that they elected to remain silent rather than risk hurting us further. What they failed to see was that nothing could make the pain worse and in fact their silence was deafening.

When we fell pregnant with Melinda we were acutely aware that there was no safe zone. I even refused to make any purchases until after 36 weeks; when we bought the cot mattress and set up her room. I know that my friends and family hoped and prayed along with us that we would get our "happy ending" this time. I'm fairly sure once we reached term everyone believed it was a done deal, we were home and hosed! Evidently that was not to be, and one day i will share Melinda's story with you all here on my blog... just not yet, I want to make sure i get it perfect. What has struck me this time is not the silence; my friends have been amazing, particulalry a select few who have sent me constant messages of support, sent me pins on pinterest, emails of love and encouragement and cards of empathy and warmth. Melinda has touched so many people in so many ways, more than i will ever know as her life and death sends shockwaves in communities far from us. i know that she will live on in the hearts of so many and will always be remembered in many small acts everyday.

No, rather than the silence, what has struck me so hard this time is the loneliness. Once again i have been handed a membership card to this most exclusive of clubs. To be an angel mummy twice over, in this way, is just unbelieveable to me. i still cannot really comprehend what has happened, and the hows and whys are far out of reach. i feel so lost and alone in this great sea of life, Im always concerned that when i post something on facebook i risk over stepping the bounds of what is socially accepted, i wish there was a way that i could know that people understand what this is like, and could continue to accept and respect this journey we are one. Even if its just so that when this happens again (which it will, 1 in 200 births end this way, inevitably someone else will suffer this agonising loss) people will be able to offer compassion and understanding to the grief-stricken family, long after the time period that society deems sufficient for mourning.

One morning a few weeks ago I was feeling particularly alone and bereft; I felt that no-one understood and that eventually people would get sick of me posting and talking about Melinda and then she would be forgotten. I was lost that morning in a sea of tears and fear about the future and i cried out to God for comfort. i didnt know how I could go on for the rest of the years of my life feeling this alone when i recieved a message from a dear friend from our church in Newcastle. Sheree's words struck me to my core. Here was the truth written in black and white. and with her permission id like to share it with you.

The Space Between

Where are you in the Space Between?
What is between the Knowing and Believing?
One day is hope and expectation, all promise, and the next is devastation and the bleak unreality of absence.
It can’t be true. A world with such a black hole cannot be.
The rip is not just of your heart, but in the nature of reality itself, and such a gaping wound cannot exist.
 And yet you know it does. It sucks all light, all life towards itself.
But still you don’t believe. You can’t believe.

You’ve touched the tiny perfect nails, held your cheek to perfect lips, and kissed the softly perfect brow.
You’ve held the little person that you’ll never get to know.
How can you say goodbye to all the might-have-beens? All the possibilities of yesterday, the plans, the musings: will this small one grow to be quiet, boisterous, bookish, loud, sporty, arty, funny, sweet? How can you bear not knowing? How have all tomorrows, in a blink, been swept away?

So long waiting, so long hoping, with anticipation building up to joy, so very, very close. And then – gone.
In your arms, but never to gaze into your eyes, never to smile and gurgle and laugh. In your arms, but so soon to be taken from them forever.
How can anyone believe this thing is real? To believe it is a travesty, a crime against everything that’s right. It makes no sense; a cruel mistake of God. Why would a tiny life be created, nurtured and loved, only to be snatched away before the first breath?

And so there is the Space Between.

It begins the moment that you Know.
 You try to push away the Knowing, but that tiny precious body without life cannot be pushed away.
But as you kiss that cherished little cheek for one last time and walk away, you know you don’t Believe.
It isn’t really true and you’ll wake up and those treasured eyes will open and the chest will rise and fall, and those tomorrows that were stolen will be poured back like a stream into a parched and thirsty land.
The world flows on around you. You’re drifting through a semblance of your days, but it’s really just your shadow filling in, fooling others that you’re there.

For you’re wandering in the Space Between, in twisting paths and rocky trails, with Knowing far behind and Believing far ahead, and the universe is made up of your pain.
No signposts there to show, ‘This is the way, back into life’.
There are only those who walk beside, whose tears mingle with yours, who hold your hand, the anchors while you roam and float and drift. Only those who never let you go, who wait with patience, month on month, until one day another you emerges. But an older, sadder you.
Because, though happiness may come, a piece of your heart’s joy and life will always stay with the child that you never got to know.

Thank you Sheree for understanding, for taking the time and effort to write it down, and for allowing me to share it here. I wish no-one understood, i wish i didnt have to expose so many of my friend and family to this heartbraking sadness.

Most of all i wish you were here Melinda Grace Currie. I. Love. You.