First sunny day in ages, and we are still in bed

I’ve been offered a place in a Bachelor of Science at Macquarie.

Now I just have to decide if I’ll take it. Which probably sounds bizarre given the amount of stress I have been vibrating with over this issue.

I suppose the disappointment, and the waiting has taken its toll, and I am realising that Macquarie is a great big faceless institution, and UNE is a lot more student friendly. I’ll be swapping support for access. There are a lot of factors to weigh up – but at least now I have a CHOICE.

And in Squishy news, he came home last night declaring an unwillingness to go back to preschool today. So we talked a lot, and took it easy this morning. It turns out that he’s a bit overwhelmed with the busyness and noise of preschool. He’s only ever been with a maximum of four other kids at daycare, so it’s a big adjustment. And one of the kids said something mean to another kid, then Squish thought they were talking about him (he wasn’t), and he found the whole thing very upsetting.

We talked about how interpersonal relationships are hard, even for grown ups, and that the best you can do is use your manners and be kind and friendly. If you can do that, you will always find someone who wants to hang out with you. And that sometimes it can be hard to make new friends, but the rewards are great.

He agreed to go (we were nearly an hour late), and before we left home we rehearsed asking Christian if he would like to play.

This afternoon, when I went to pick him up, he was surrounded by kids, happily drawing away. About six of the kids piped up with, “Inigo, your mum’s here!”. He ran to me, and on the way home told me that he and Christian had played together.

It feels like a huge win. I am so proud of that kid, I could burst.

Inigo had a great time today, and is looking forward to going back tomorrow. He really loves Claire, one of the teachers, and he loves Eva and Jody too.

Eva thought that I packed too much food for him. She has no idea how much that kid can eat when he isnt distracted!

As for Macquarie, I think their assessment protocols suck. Evie got it right, they shouldnt be punishing me for a fuckup in 19-freaking-99. Or 2000. If I recall correctly, I dropped out of uni when my grandmother died. Lots of stuff in my life was down the toilet. I didnt know why I was studying, I had no direction, and I didnt withdraw in time to escape academic penalty. Cest la vie.

But for now, if I can get into a Bachelor of Science, do some psych subjects, and then dazzle them with my brilliance for a while, I should be able to easily transfer into the BA/Psych or the BSc/Psych.

Well, that is the plan. There are a few more hurdles, like, will they give me credit for the 3 units I did in 1999/2000? Of they are going to punish me for the failures, they bloody well better give me credit for the wins.

And then there is convincing the lecturers to allow me to study Psych subjects when I am not enrolled in a Psych degree. But that is a battle for another day.
I havent even been accepted yet, and I am already hating the bureaucracy!

Ready for school – Mark went in to work late, and we all cycled to preschool together. He asked us to wait for 5 minutes, but was then happy to let us go.

Last seen playing by himself, I am hopeful that he will make friends and that he will come home looking forward to going again tomorrow. Waiting till 3.30pm to find out how is is doing is so hard!

Now, on to Chad…

Today, my babies should have been turning one. We didn’t celebrate, didn’t visit the cemetery, and I didn’t collapse into an alcoholic stupor.

Because, I’m pregnant.

I want to write “it looks like I am pregnant”, or, “I might be pregnant”. But the pee on the stick doesn’t lie. It doesn’t guarantee anything. But for the past three days (since the day my period was due), there have been two little pink lines of the stick. Very faint on the first day, but getting stronger day by day.

And there are a shedload of things that can, and probably will go wrong. At this point I am approximately 4 weeks and one day along. Something like 50% of pregnancies miscarry withing the first trimester – before 12 weeks. Conventional wisdom says that you shouldn’t announce a pregnancy until after this “danger period” has passed.

But hey, I was well out of my first trimester when things went pear shaped during my pregnancy with the twins. Aubrey was 19 weeks when he died. Archimedes was well past “viability” when he was born.

Crazy, terrible, devastating things happen during pregnancy, and there is no magic “safe” time. Your baby can die during labour, or you can have her for three years and have her die in her sleep. I have lost the comfort of believing that these things don’t happen, or that they happen to “other people”.

I am now the living embodiment of that horrible warning. The woman with the dead babies. The one that you don’t quite know what to say to. And that is ok – “I don’t know what to say” is a perfectly acceptable thing to say.

So the announcement is coming now for two reasons.

1. I am not your gorgeous glowing pregnant woman. I get really tired, really nauseous, and I find it really hard to stay cheerful and hide my symptoms in public. And this time there is one other symptom that I will be unable to hide. The all consuming terror. The countdown to early September (if we make it) will be glacial. Every hour, every twinge, every cramp, every visit to the toilet will be, in my mind, a harbinger of doom. It’s hard to live a normal life when you feel like that.

2. If this goes pear shaped, I will need people to know. Miscarriage is such a private thing, rarely discussed, usually hidden and secret. Baby loss used to be the same way, whispered about, but never discussed openly.

And that just isn’t my style.

We started with a CD collection of Enid Blyton stories read by Kate Winslet in the car, he was enthralled.

It’s so great to have a kid that appreciates the finer things in life

But they knock off at 4.30pm on Fridays.

Not. Happy. Chad.

I hate waiting, especially when there isn’t much hope of good news.

Today Bonnie and Zenia asked us if we would accept the position, and I immediately burst into tears. Not only are Frog Chops 1 and Frog Chops 2 (Inigo has earned the moniker Frog Chops 3) two of the most adorable, sparkly eyed, feisty, clever and captivating children you could hope to meet, their parents are very special people too.

Inigo still has three of his original four “Odd Parents” who take an active role in his life, and I know the care and consideration we put in to selecting those people – people that we hoped would be a part of his life as he grew up, people that he would be able to turn to no matter what. People that would love him unconditionally, people that would be there for him if ever we couldn’t be.

It’s a special job. A sacred job. One that I am honoured to do. And feel very lucky to have the opportunity.