Three months ago ferocious storms lashed Sydney. The waves crashed in time after time against the beach where I live, washing away structures, landmarks and cutting into the psyche and wellbeing of the local community.
This same weekend I had an ectopic pregnancy with the removal of my much wanted little one, and a fallopian tube. The beach is still there, though the surrounding landscape is ripped, scarred and torn. The beach is slowly being repaired, one truck of rock and sand at a time.
So am I. Today was the first time I ventured down to the beach. Til now I have not wanted to view the loss, the heartbreak and the destructuon.
Standing on the shifting sand, I am processing what I can see. I am also processing how I feel.
I too am being rebuilt, one day at a time. I hurt every single day. On the outside I am mostly the same. On the inside I have days when I feel utterly broken. I miss that my little one did not get to become the pregnancy I wanted.
I think of my lost pregnency each time I see a mother with a newborn. But I am heartbreakingly happy that that mother has her child safely in her arms.
I hope that one day that will again be me. But I do not know if that will happen.
As I process what happened I do begin to slowly feel brighter. As the suns come through the clouds I do see beauty and hope.
Life goes on day after day and is ever constant. So is my love for my little lost child. I will always wonder who you would have been.