𝐎𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 💔💖

This is perhaps an unpopular opinion as it is counter-cultural, yet it has been on my heart for some time to share with you all. I rumbled with sharing it in ‘𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜’ and in the eleventh hour decided too – it was hands down one of the most difficult parts of the book to write.

So, with a deep breath, let’s rumble with it in my blog (link in story/bio).

Here is the intro...

Yesterday I read a headline announcing Chrissy Teigen’s pregnancy two years after losing their precious baby boy Jack in utero. I felt incredibly heartened as I clicked into the link with the thought of sharing the article with you all…then I read the journalist’s first sentence.
‘𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.’

Shaking my head, I continue to read the article, and although the rest of it was hopeful, helpful, and heartening, not to mention a great way to continue conversations surrounding baby loss, I could not share it.
This first sentence represents a cultural narrative surrounding loss that I do not wish to have a part in perpetuating.

Since my experiences with baby loss, I have been privy to numerous conversations where it has been said, either implicitly or explicitly, that the further through your pregnancy is, the tougher your loss must be.
In many respects it seems ridiculous that we even feel the need to run these kinds of comparisons, and perhaps this 𝙞𝙨 the essence of the issue.

Read more at👇🏼 https://www.annieanderson.co.nz/blog/nobody-wins/ ...

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲 💙

I don't think either of us knew what we might be in for when we met on a dance floor 18 years ago. Something we did know soon after meeting though, was that whatever it was, we wanted to face and share in it together.

And we have.

Yet it hasn't all been belly laughs (often at my expense🙄), or casual Sunday strolls.
Doing life together means we have shared in the incredible, the devastating, and 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 in between.

And, there was a moment in time when it felt as if we had ceased to share in it.
After suffering the loss of two babies in utero, we grieved... differently.
Initially, in the rawest moments of our grief we were incredibly close.
Yet, as the days turned into weeks, I watched as he 'appeared' to carry on as if nothing had changed, and he watched as I cried myself to sleep every night as if everything had changed.

I willed his eyes to leak like mine, and I have no doubt he wished mine would dry.
One night, as I was crying, he turned over and asked me how long I was going to do this for.
Hurt, I asked him when he would start, questioning if he even thought about our little girl anymore.

He softened. '𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘈𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰.'

There it was.
Unknowingly I had 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 that because he wasn't appearing outwardly impacted in the 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 way I was, he wasn't grieving. I somehow believed that if we were to share our grief, it needed to look the same.

𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵.
And more than this, we learnt it didn't have to, to be shared.

We could still share in our grief, even though we each had our own unique ways of expressing and walking with it.

We will 𝙖𝙡𝙡 grieve differently, and our partners are no exception 💙

In '𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜' I write,
'𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢.' ☔️

📷 Sharon Thompson ...

𝐖𝐨𝐰!

Each time we visit the Airforce Museum of NZ we all experience moments of awe.

'Wow' the children say as they gaze wide eyed at the size and details of the many different aircraft on display.

Awe. It 𝘪𝘴 powerful, reminding us that we are a small part of something much larger. This often invokes a sense of belonging, while providing an invitation to step outside of ourselves.

There is much research that supports the beneficial nature of experiencing awe with many psychologists noting it's ability to enhance wellbeing.

When is the last time you experienced awe?✨️

I experience it mostly in nature - staring out at the vast horizon over the ocean, the view from a high hill or mountaintop, gazing at the stars on a clear night, an incredible cloud formation...

Where do you tend to find it?👇🏼✨️
.
.
.
.
.
#awe #inspired #belonging #powerofawe #wellbeingnz #inspiration #partofsomethingbigger ...

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨'𝐬

Creativity doesn't work on a schedule - at least not for me!

Do ideas wake you in the night? Or appear just after you have shutdown your laptop? While showering or out for a walk? Just me?

When writing '𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨' I had to use the small windows of time well. What I found is after a writing session, I would often get into the car and barely have driven a block before I thought of just the word, or example, or theme that I was searching for.

Cue the voice recorder on my phone!

This alongside my notes, was such an asset for these moments. I would pull over, spill the thoughts and insights onto my phone, and then continue on my way.

The only downside (other than listening to the sound of your own voice 😆) is I didn't have an efficient system for revisiting them so by the end of the second draft there were 56 voice messages to double check!

How great can tech be?!

This is my 'go to' if it is difficult to write myself a note.
Do you have some 'hacks' for capturing your ideas or thoughts that pop up at inconvenient moments? 🤷🏼‍♀️
I would love to hear them!✨ ...

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

'Let's get a quick photo of the bump before we leave,' he suggests, a deep sadness evident in his voice. This is something we have done with each of our babies before leaving to the hospital.

But this 𝘪𝘴 different.

Unsure of whether I want this or not, I hesitate. My hospital bag sits packed on the bed and it is almost time to leave. I am caught between the desperate desire to hold onto this moment 𝘢𝘯𝘥 to run far from it.

I do not want to take this picture. It is too soon.
Yet, we will not get another opportunity.

Too tired and overwhelmed at what we have in front of us today, I comply.

My face contorts as tears begin to stream down my cheeks.

Lasts.

Standing there, I begin to rub my tummy.
These are the final hours of cradling her precious body within my own. Every inch of me knows that when I return to this room she would no longer be with us in the way we had hoped, that soon we will be physically parted.

Lasts.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯... did not know how she was going to make it through the induction.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯... was afraid of what this day held, and overwhelmed by the prospect of the days, weeks, and months that would follow.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯... was terrified by what else could go wrong, by who else she might lose.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯... wondered how she was going to find the strength to endure an induced labour all the while knowing the life she was working so hard to bring into this world had already left.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯... was heartbroken, devastated, adrift in grief's stormy waters, fighting to the surface for air.

𝙔𝙚𝙩,

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳... the courage and strength to endure the immense pain of an induced 10hr labour.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳... she was so much stronger than she knew.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳... she could hold her baby girl and feel both the pain 𝘢𝘯𝘥 the beauty in these moments.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳... the strength to say goodbye, in the faith she knew where her baby girl was.

Continued in comments👇🏼 ...