Waiting for the movie to begin and I have no idea what Byron is doing, but I can see Lily is stuffing her face full of popcorn. A typical movie experience I would say.

What is it with boys and their fascination with all things exploration and dirt?

We have a creek at the end of our street, and with all the recent rain it’s been quite high. Byron insits on checking it out at least once a day. Today I went along for the ride in the hope of spotting one of the three turtles he had the pleasure of seeing these past few days.

No such luck unfortunately. The turtles had fled. No fauna to see on this occassion. The only fun to have was chucking rocks in and seeing how big they splash!

Daughter number one.

Is so obviously a poser.
Wonders off with the pixies. Often.
Beautiful.
Has hair I could only dream of.
Loves to give big, long kisses. On the lips.
Forgets her brother is three years older.
Screams, cries and whines like there’s no tomorrow. Still.
Wants to play the iPad constantly.
Will try and put makeup on and hope you don’t notice .
Doesn’t really like dolls or any toys. Sadly.
Shines like a warmer summer’s day.
Is 5.35 years.

You can see last year’s pic HERE.

And one more for good measure because I couldn’t not:

The little Miss is finally figuring out how to make her way out of nappies and into big girl undies. She’s getting there slowly, one wee at a time and she couldn’t be more excited. Nor could I.

C’mon darling…just a little bit faster. Mummy’s been waiting. Patiently.

School starts tomorrow. The husband is at Big Day Out (will he ever grow up?!). I’m home alone with too many books to cover and things to label. Trust me to leave it until the very end. So, it’s home made pizzas for dinner. Make. Your. Own. The two year old wants to make her own way with an apple by the looks of it…

Sometimes, the best laid plans never work out.

It was too much to ask Byron to hug his sisters, on this particular day, at this particular time (although he will do it on other occasions). The girls were happy to oblige. But. Even if I had succeeded in obtaining a nice portrait of them all looking (which I failed to do), I still would have preferred this one the best. So. Much. Attitude. I adore the dichotomy between comfortable versus uncomfortable. It’s an extremely confusing image to look at which is why I love it.

Bath time with daddy. There is always so much to talk about.

When I started this photo a day journey for 2012 I had envisaged a completely different experience; one filled with anticipation, excitement and of course hope; lots and lots of hope. Hope for the future. Mainly. Naturally, there is always hope and excitement where children are involved, and I am beyond blessed to have enough excitement to last a lifetime. But there really was an extra special reason why 2012 was going to be a great year.

The buzz and excitement of the lead up to the Christmas season was compounded by the news that we were expecting our fourth beautiful baby. Believe me, I was beyond excited (and a little shocked) but so thrilled that I would be blessed with a little sibling to complete our family.

Unfortunately, our sweet bundle of joy, due August, a boy my instincts told me, would not be born to earth.

Today at eight weeks and four days my little bubble left me. With that, I lost a lifetime of hopes; of dreams and a heart full of aspirations for that child. It was as though a slice of my future simply vanished right before my eyes.

Miscarriage is such a cruel, cruel irony. On the one hand you know in your head that your baby was not ready for this world; that it was ‘for the best’. But in your heart of hearts, those words mean nothing. The uniformity of emotion cannot ring true in a situation where head and heart do not agree.

Before Lily was born I suffered a true broken heart, when at ten weeks my first beautiful angel went to heaven. But it is harder this time. So. Much. Harder. I know now looking back, that he (as I again thought ‘it’ was) made way for my sweet Lily and that makes it easier to comprehend in hindsight. But. Now, right now, there is no hindsight. No ‘other’ baby to take the pain away.

It’s funny when I got pregnant I thought to myself, “I’ve suffered my 1:4”, “Surely it won’t happen again?!”. I told myself this because, as any of those who have suffered miscarriage will understand, the thrill and excitement of early pregnancy is marred by the sheer panic it will end like the others before it. I didn’t want to get excited too early. I tried to ‘protect my heart’ where I could, but it’s simply not possible to withhold the excitement that greets you when you see those beautiful pink lines. It’s as though the excitement escalates with each sweet child you have. It is, the simplest and purest form of love at first sight.

I am truly saddened and disappointed. My heart is broken by the fact I will never get to feel him kick, or look into his eyes. I will never hold him in my arms, or hear his little cry. I will never get to see his smile. I never will tickle his toes or watch him grow. I never will. Never.

I thought about keeping ‘him’ to myself. Just for me but then I remembered the pain I felt the first time my heart was broken; the thirst for others’ stories. I needed to understand that it was ok to feel the way I did; that I was allowed to love my baby…that it was a baby. A soul made by me. I want my girls to understand, should they ever be unfortunate enough to experience the pain, that I suffered too; that I truly understand, with all my heart, how their heart aches. I want them to know the pain that drowns their soul will in all likelihood one day be softened by the love felt from the sweet, sweet embrace of another child. I need to tell myself that right now, on this sad day. That I too will feel that embrace some time soon.

Above all, of course, I want my children to know that one day they will meet two sweet angels who never made it into our family, but who were always in my heart. Always.

If I had a choice to have breakfast at my mum’s house every Sunday, there would be no stopping me. With bacon and the most amazing poached eggs, followed by pancakes with any topping you desire, I’m sure you would too. It’s not hard to guess what the kids prefer Nanna serve their way (and unfortunately it’s not eggs on toast).

Miss Willow.

Has hair that is out of control.
Happy.
Speaks highly of Dora.
Says “What you doing Mumma?” and “Answer me Mumma!” at least five times a day.
Thinks she’s a big kid.
Loves babies.
Remains as cheeky as ever.
Still wears nappies and at this rate will be til she’s three.
Has a voice of an angel.
Trashes her room. All. The. Time.
Is perfectly, perfect for our family.
Is 2.5 years old.

See last year’s picture HERE