Mine. Four compelling, riveting and equally beautiful souls.

They make me laugh, and cry. Sometimes at the same time. On occasions they drive me up the wall. Probably more often than not. But without them who would I be? Sometimes I can hardly believe I’m so lucky. Sometimes I can hardly believe they’re all mine.

Thank you for sharing in my journey. Especially for your lovely, uplifting words regarding my ‘Day 18′. I truly felt every bit of love. And for that, I am beyond grateful. Until next year my friends…

Nic xxx

Shhhhh!! Don’t tell anyone.

I let her jump on the lounge. Just this once (although I know she secretly does it all the time).

She was in heaven.

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:

There is not a mother in the world, me included, that does not love that cliche, first day back to school portrait.

Byron is heading into year three. My mind boggles at the thought of this being his fourth year of school. Little Lily is braving her very first day of big school. She is beyond excited. And Willow. My beautiful poppet still has three years to go before she dons her uniform for the very first time. And for that I am thankful.

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.

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

The wonders of the trampoline. They can literally spend hours on there during the course of the day. Ten minutes here and twenty minutes there. They jump on there together, apart, with stuff (like beanbags and balls) or simply by themselves. Sometimes they take a moment and just quietly lay there watching the clouds roll by. They fight and scream on there. Sometimes they cry. I can’t tell you how many times I want to pull my hair out at the noise levels…. particularly Lily and her incessant need to scream in times of joy and in times of sorrow.

The greatest lover of the trampoline would have to be Willow though. She loves to bounce high, and she can jump as high as the rest of them. Byron and Lily think she’s one big rag doll the way they jump her around and you know what? Most times she thinks it’s the greatest thing in the world.

CLICK HERE FOR IPAD VIEWING

As I’ve said before, Birth Photography is about emotion. It’s about capturing the blur that is labour through a photojournalistic approach. It’s about people’s faces. A touch. A moment. The tears. The relief. The laughter. The love. It’s a ride of emotion – moments in time everlasting.

My boy.

Has an affection for a certain iPod.
Caring.
Still thinks he knows it all.
Flicks his hair because it’s way too long.
Smiles with his eyes.
Must have the last word. Every. Single. Time.
Listens to the radio at bed time much too loud.
Loves to jump on the trampoline with his sisters.
Stayed up until 1:00am New Years Day and was so proud of his efforts.
Is still as handsome as ever.
Laughs when he sees me naked.
Is 8.25 years.

…compare it to last year’s picture HERE.

We hit the road last week for a trip down to Sydney, only a mere 12 hours away. Of course I had palpations and night sweats at the thought of packing up in the car with three kids, including one toddler and driving such a long way. But you know what? They were as perfect as perfect could be. Willow sat happily in her car seat just looking out the window, dosing off to sleep or asking, “what your doing mumma?“.  Lily and Byron watched their DVDs, ate lollies and well, just sat there. There was no fighting and no arguing, which was most probably due in part to Byron having his ‘own space’ in the third row (I’ve never been more grateful to own a 7 seater car as I was driving those long legs). They were truly the most perfect little angels and because of this I have come to the realisation that I LOVE road trips. Yep. I want to go on more of them – drive and drive and drive. There is something uniquely fun about it even if you’ve travelled the journey before.

Naturally, the trip away is always more excitable than the coming home journey, but there is no denying there is nothing more exciting than stepping foot back on your own turf.