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๐Ž๐ง ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ก๐ž๐š๐ซ๐ญ ๐Ÿ’”๐Ÿ’–

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 โ€˜๐™”๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ช๐™ก ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™’๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™ง๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œโ€™ and in the eleventh hour decided too โ€“ it was hands down one of the most difficult parts of the book to write.

So, with a deep breath, letโ€™s rumble with it in my blog (link in story/bio).

Here is the intro...

Yesterday I read a headline announcing Chrissy Teigenโ€™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 allโ€ฆthen I read the journalistโ€™s first sentence.
โ€˜๐˜“๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜บ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.โ€™

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 ๐™ž๐™จ the essence of the issue.

Read more at๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿผ https://www.annieanderson.co.nz/blog/nobody-wins/
...

๐“๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฒ ๐Ÿ’™

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 expense๐Ÿ™„), or casual Sunday strolls.
Doing life together means we have shared in the incredible, the devastating, and ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜บ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ 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. '๐˜'๐˜ฎ ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ˆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ. ๐˜‘๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ, ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฅ. ๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ.'

There it was.
Unknowingly I had ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ that because he wasn't appearing outwardly impacted in the ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ way I was, he wasn't grieving. I somehow believed that if we were to share our grief, it needed to look the same.

๐˜๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต.
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 ๐™–๐™ก๐™ก grieve differently, and our partners are no exception ๐Ÿ’™

In '๐™”๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ช๐™ก ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™’๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™ง๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ' I write,
'๐˜ž๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ซ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ด, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ข.' โ˜”๏ธ

๐Ÿ“ท Sharon Thompson
...

๐–๐จ๐ฐ!

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 ๐˜ช๐˜ด 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?โœจ๏ธ

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?๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿผโœจ๏ธ
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#awe #inspired #belonging #powerofawe #wellbeingnz #inspiration #partofsomethingbigger
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๐Œ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ'๐ฌ

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 '๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜š๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ž๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ' 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 ๐Ÿ˜†) 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? ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿผโ€โ™€๏ธ
I would love to hear them!โœจ
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๐Œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐Ÿ’™

Our lives are experienced in moments.

I donโ€™t believe it is the days or hours that we remember, but the moments that forge our most intense and lasting memories. Each moment like a thread woven into another, together forming the unique tapestry of our life story.

Moments are powerful and the events within them carry the ability to change the course of our lives forever.
Some are incredible, awe inspiring, exciting, and beautiful. Others can be devastating, challenging, heart breaking, and sorrowful.
And there are those woven in between โ€“ the mundane, obscure, commonplace, tedious, the uneventful.

Savour the incredible, embrace the mundane, and hold on through the devastating.
This is ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ one precious, messy, and crazy life - and it's a beautiful tapestry.
It is ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง๐™จ โœจ
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#lifequotes #passingoftime #lifesmoments #inspirationalquotes #wordstoliveby #moments #nzwriter #writersofinstagram
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๐“๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ฆ๐š๐ง

'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 ๐˜ช๐˜ด 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 ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ 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.

๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ... did not know how she was going to make it through the induction.
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ... was afraid of what this day held, and overwhelmed by the prospect of the days, weeks, and months that would follow.
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ... was terrified by what else could go wrong, by who else she might lose.
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ... 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.
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ... was heartbroken, devastated, adrift in grief's stormy waters, fighting to the surface for air.

๐™”๐™š๐™ฉ,

๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ... the courage and strength to endure the immense pain of an induced 10hr labour.
๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ... she was so much stronger than she knew.
๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ... she could hold her baby girl and feel both the pain ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ the beauty in these moments.
๐˜š๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ... the strength to say goodbye, in the faith she knew where her baby girl was.

Continued in comments๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿผ
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