~ Sometimes it's pure grief. Tears build up in my eyes as I think about her beautiful little face and how tiny she was. So perfect, yet gone. I miss her so much and am distraught that I don't get to see her grow up and become an amazing woman.
~ Sometimes it's happiness... that I got pregnant with Isla in the first place and that I got to see her and hold her. I feel such happiness still when I get to talk about her in any way with anyone, in exactly the same way a 'normal' mum would feel joy talking about her child.
~ Sometimes it's reminiscing - whether it's reminiscing about parts of the pregnancy, before I was a changed woman, or reminiscing about parts of the days and moments from when we found out we'd lost her, from the moment the consultant reached for my hand and said 'Im so sorry' to the incredibly traumatic labour, funeral and my time of grieving.
On this note, I've been going to ante-natal classes and it's all first time mums there. When asked if I'm a first time mum in such places, I say something along the lines of 'Kind of' and let them make their own mind up - will they leave it at that or ask more? At 31 weeks pregnant, all kinds of people, mostly strangers, ask me if it's my first and I vary between saying 'Kind of' to saying quite blatantly 'Hmm, no, I had a daughter last year who was stillborn' to giving a long pause before saying 'Yes'. In such circumstances that pause allows me a second to think of Isla and mentally apologise to her for dismissing her as my true first.
People have started talking to me about their labour stories and I think even people that know about Isla, forget that I've done it. Yes, she was tiny, but the labour was horrific enough to know what I'm going to be going through, although hopefully this time it was go a lot more smoothly.
~ Finally, sometimes it's fear. Fear that the same thing is going to happen to this little miracle I have inside me now. Surely God would not take my precious child from me twice? At over 31 weeks, according to most people I know, I'm in the 'safe zone' - I no longer believe in 'safe zones'. I have been deeply immersed in the world of baby loss and although this baby is our 'rainbow miracle', she may well still leave us. I try so hard to be positive and I do believe the positive thoughts now slightly outweigh the negative ones, but it's such a scary road.
And I also had to get rid of the beautiful Fiat 500 - we could only afford to trade it in for a Panda, but it's got 5 doors, fits the pram in the boot and is a nice colour!
