We’re off on Tuesday the 26th, and back on the 5th of May. We all have passports, and apparently I will be able to travel on my ticket despite the fact that my passport is still in my old name. We have Fiji dollars, we have sunscreen, and we have a small budget (Mark’s company will reimburse us for “expenses”, but I don’t want to bankrupt them with my daiquiri bill!).
Inigo asks every day, “are we going to Fiji today mama?”, and Bev and Ted have been showing him pictures of his father in Fiji at a similar age.
I’m not excited yet, because I still feel like it’s not real. It’s too amazing, and generous, and crazy, and I suppose I am still a little out of touch with reality.
I went to the neonatal loss support group at SIDS & Kids today, and consequently was a bit of a mess this afternoon. But there were women (and a man) there whose losses were a lot more recent than mine, so it was a positive experience to reflect on the rawness of their grief, and to realise that I really have come a long way in a short space of time.
Archie would have been six months old the day after we get back from Fiji. I’d be getting info about when to start solids for his adjusted age, and watching his gross motor skills develop in leaps and bounds. His curly hair would be doing its thing, and I’d be watching him get fatter and fatter week by week as I breastfed him, and breathed in his scent as he fell asleep in my arms.
Of course, if we had Aubrey too, the fantasy has a few more vomit stained tracksuits and a lot more screaming, but hey, it’s my fantasy…