This time last year my mum (RIP) decided to bring Alicia's (my daughter's birthday forwards a month). She was quite sure that she would not make it until 11/08 of last year - she did not, as it transpired. She died on 05/08
I was my daughter's 21st, and my mother had taken one of her diamonds to be reset into a 'modern setting' for a gold diamond ring - as a kinda coming-of-age present and, what transpired to be, the last birthday present from her grandmother. My daughter was very pleased and touched and she placed it on her middle finger, left hand (the ring finger for balance) I remember seeing a 'screen shot' of them both hugging on mum's bed, for a long while and it now resides sentimentally in my memory box of 'lovely and priceless moments'.
My sister had organised a 'light luncheon' at a venue, somewhere in Sussex. I was bleeding profusely and had been doing so for well over a week. I was not in the best place. In retrospect (and as I had believed at the time) I was most likely miscarrying because of the intense physical and emotional pain that had accompanied the heavy bleed.
It would have made sense, as it would have been at the 8-10 week mark and most miscarriages occur before the first trimester (twelve week gestation) I have had one or two, maybe three, before the first trimester. I know how they go. I tend to forget about them because they make me feel very unbalanced and depressed - during and afterwards.
I made art out of the towels that I had used. The blood was bright red, a sign of miscarriage.
I remember being 'all over the place', just in a state of constant worry, confusion, pain and tiredness. I was attempting to get on with life, which is difficult when you are experiencing severe uterus pain and constant blood and foetal loss through miscarriage.
To add insult to injury my sister did not disclose, to me, the venue for lunch and my father was attempting to attend, even though he knew that he could not leave mum. In the meantime and in between time, the plans became more an more confusing and befuddled and I realised that I could not cope with the constant changing of plan as well as my personal current health condition.
At the very last moment I opted to drop out of the lunch plan. I was getting through copious amounts of sanitary protection, constantly showering, changing undergarments and clothes. I was experiencing spasmodic gripping pain throughout day and night.
My sister must have received a second-hand and convoluted message about my plan change. She arrived at my house, impromptu, and came in with attitude and a very bad temper. I was in between bathroom and clean underwear when she arrived. She demanded that I would have exactly 5 minutes to get into her car to go to lunch. I pulled a pair of freshly laundered panties from the laundry basket, grabbled a sanitary towel from my handbag and proceeded to rush myself into activity. I did not want to go. I was being pressured to go.
I don't know what had then really aggravated her, the way I casually put my panties on in front of her - freshly picked off the washing line, or the way I looked so tired, or...? I don't know. I had a mouthful from her and she left and slammed my front door. I guess she was super stressed. I understand that. I was as well. As I said before, the death of a close family member, friend, relative can bring out the very best and the very worst in people. I know, I have witnessed this since childhood.
We had an altercation. I might have snapped to the tune of, 'How do you expect me to be ready for anything with blood pouring down my legs...that won't stop?'
I spent the next hour bawling my eyes out in my neighbour's back garden, sitting on the grass and inconsolable. I think it was a bit shocking. It was full on. I called another neighbour, who's a good hugger and listener. Soon enough I was feeling somewhat better, even though blood was seeping through onto the back of my dressing gown.
I called my dad. I told him that I was only interested in being there for mum and my daughter. This was not about an ingratitude for the lunch invite, it was that I was not coping.
I scrubbed up and dressed up. I found a neon orange mini-halter dress and tidied my hair into a chignon. Washed my eyes out with Optrex, kohl-d my eyes, lashed on sufficient a lipgloss and painted on a smile. When Alicia arrived, she was wearing the same neon orange in a mini skirt and a black halter top. We looked eerily alike. The colour orange has a great power to bring out your sunshine. It really does.
At this particular stage of mum's cancer, she was beginning the bedroom phase. She was well enough to sit on the end of her bed and sit up in bed. Mum and I had planned a celebration 21st Birthday cake, which we had designed together, and she was looking forward to having tea and birthday cake with Alicia and me and my family.
This was the only bit of the day's events that I had any real vested interest in. To be present in mum's bedroom, with Alicia's and her gifts and cake and to see mum smiling at her (the way she did, in a proud and adoring granny way). In fact, it was the most that I could cope with. It was also the best bit.
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