Full many a flower

An old friend, one who I’d lost touch with and then re-encountered through the magic of F*c*Book, has just had a very beautiful, very perfect, baby girl. Of course, he’s posting darling photos of the precious little creature, and, actually, so he should. The birth of this child is a wonderful thing and a cause for spontaneous outbreaks of rainbows and unicorns, and she is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s just, I remember him at University insisting he’d never have bloody kids, quoting Cyril Connolly: ‘there is no greater enemy of promise than the perambulator in the hall!’ before getting another round in. No, he never did fulfill his promise. Hell, neither did I. But he has got a kid now. I’ve got no excuse.

And I look at his darling baby daughter, and feel weepy with envy and sorrow. Poor baby. And her so innocent and fresh.

I miss Pikaia very much, at times like this. I don’t really miss the others in the same way. Partly because I never got as attached, or got as much time to get attached. And partly because Pikaia I loved with such unspoilt fervour. I knew, intellectually, Bad Sad Things happened, but they hadn’t happened to us. And I was pregnant, at last, and I was in love with the very thought of my teeny tiny little embryo, growing a teeny tiny proto-spine.

Of course, she wasn’t. She had stopped developing long before the spine stage, leaving my fool body to carry on carrying her regardless.

But the others, well, I was wary, I was battle-scarred, and everything went tits-up so fast each time. I regret losing them, I wish, oh, how I wish one of them had stayed, I grieve over them, but I don’t really miss them.

Whereas Pikaia’s little ghost, two years old now, follows me about, to work and back, and when we pass other parents with kidlets that age, her cold little hand slips into mine.


18 responses to “Full many a flower

  • QoB

    Oh, May. That made me cry.

  • Dave

    Oh. I feel the same way. My four-year-old son walks with me very often. He was alive for only a few months, but he was. It’s a sad and empty feeling and, for me, I’m afraid to say, it only gets worse. My future has disintegrated and only the past exists.
    I hope you find the peace of mind that has so far evaded me.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    ‘This thing has a fine fuse, less a fuse
    Than a wavelength attuned, an electronic detonator
    To what lies in your grave inside us.’

    So sorry, dear.

  • Illanare

    I feel the same way, too. I miss my Matilda Bean so much, even more than I miss the others.

    I am so sorry, and I wish us both, nay us all, peace.

  • a

    For many reasons, I miss my first the most. But I have the most wonderful of consolation prizes, who wouldn’t be here if my first had made it. So it’s bittersweet. I’m hoping for the gorgeous, perfect, innocent, fresh miracle for you. Soon. Immediately.

  • Rebecca

    So beautifully put. And so true.

  • Amy P


    *several things started and deleted because they just don’t translate well from head/heart to type* *sigh*

  • Korechronicles

    So, so sorry May. I’m also hoping for a miracle for you both this year.

  • Lilian

    I read your blog on a regular basis, but I just never know what to say. Thinking of you.

  • katyboo1

    all the love in the world to you. I miss my first the most too. I used to sit outside the play area in Brent Cross watching all the kids having the times of their lives and just weeping. I even bought baby clothes (after I lost him). I think I thought he might change his mind and come back if I did that. It sucks. I am so sorry.

  • twangy

    Yes. The experience of loss has taught me to believe, or hope, at least, that joy can co-exist with sorrow. For the sorrow doesn’t ever really go away, as far as I can see, from this vantage point.

    Here’s to joy amongst us, soon.

  • wombattwo

    My little one doesn’t walk with me, mostly because she’d only be 6 months old now, and couldn’t, but she sits, propped up on the sofa and smiles at me.
    More hugs.

  • Jane G

    I know exactly what you mean. I miss my third one most, as she is the one I got farthest with, to nine weeks. I always think she’s the one who should have made it. A colleague of mine has a little girl the exact same age, almost to the day. Whenever I meet this little girl I just look at her and imagine what our little girl would look like. Sometimes I imagine her in the back seat of my car when I’m driving. It just never goes away, does it?

  • Betty M

    Oh May, this is just heartbreaking. So sorry.

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