A (incomplete) family portrait.

The miscarriage.

One of the sadder and more difficult experiences I have gone through was having a miscarriage that ended my first pregnancy at a short 9 weeks into it. It was physically and emotionally devastating and it took me a few months to recover. In the end, the only thing that really made the sadness recede was falling pregnant again.

I have come a long way since that unfortunate episode and many things have happened, most of them much more joyful but it left me changed forever, in ways that would take too long to write about today.

In any case, it wasn't my own miscarriage I was referring to in the title but sadly, one of my friends'.

For a little over 1 1/2 years, I have been going to a playgroup almost religiously every week. In that time, I have made a few connections with other parents but none stronger than with my friend Aqua. Despite being very different people, we have found in one another a strong connection. We talk easily, share secrets and make plans. I am always happy to see her and she, me.

Together, we have watched our sons grow from wobbly babies into confident toddlers, all the while talking about it from the sidelines. We talked of our plans to fall pregnant, and when I fell pregnant with Eloise, I shared the news with Aqua early.

Then, a couple months ago, it was her turn to share her happy news. Her baby would be born in March, close to Hugo's birthday. As all expectant mothers, she was both excited and terrified.

Sadly, a couple of weeks ago, I received a text message quite early in the morning letting me know that she thought she was having a miscarriage. There was blood and it wasn't stopping.

She knew I had experienced something similar so she texted me in the hope I could shed some light on what would happen. Through a couple conversations and text exchanges, I did my best to reassure her but also explain clearly what I had been through. Naive to it myself at the time, the process the body undertakes was very shocking and unexpected. I wanted to spare her that if I could.

Over the next couple of weeks, we texted every so often. I asked for some news, sent some positive words, let her know my plans to attend playgroup and so on.

I saw her last Thursday at playgroup and she was looking well. She had just come back from a little family getaway to clear her head and she was feeling positive and refreshed. Her body was recovering well and, contrary to her first impulse to want to get pregnant straight away again, she now felt like waiting a little, to let the dust settle.

At the end of the session, she handed me a lucky bamboo plant to keep at home. It was to thank me for my support. I was so touched by the gesture even if I wasn't the one needing it.

The thing about terrible things happening is that they are quite often very random, making it hard to move on and get closure. Miscarriages happen. That's it. There is no reason and there is no way to stop it. With time, of course, we come to accept it and move on. So many much worse things can happen.

Helping a friend go through the same experience was sort of healing to me too. It gave it some purpose. it felt that something good could come out of something bad. If I hadn't gone through this, my words and thoughts wouldn't have had the same weight. I probably wouldn't even have received that early morning text at all in fact. It seems strange to say, but in some ways, I was almost glad it happened because it helped me be there for someone who needed it.

Friendships evolve slowly, as you move through levels hinged on specific events, from the superficial to something with more depth and intimacy. It was an honour to be told the great news of her pregnancy, but it was an even greater one to be allowed to help in more difficult times.

My own miscarriage has taken on a blurry softness. It doesn't sting to think about it like it used to. Today, I can honestly say I have come full circle with it and my beautiful exotic bamboo is there to remind me of that.

Two and a half.

My baby boy is two and a half years old today. Although it's not actually a birthday, it still feels like a big deal. I can't believe six months have gone by since his birthday party (that I didn't really enjoy) and in another six months, little Hugo will be off to pre-school. Life has certainly changed a bit in the last six months as well. Back then, I was pregnant and our house was a construction zone. It's actually strange to think back to a time, not so long ago, when Hugo was our only baby. Luckily, as we suspected, he has turned into a wonderfully gentle and caring big brother to Eloise.

Inspired by Rose, who herself was inspired by another blog she reads, I'll list a few things that I love about Hugo, followed by a few things I don't enjoy as much, since it is such an effective way to mark a fleeting moment in time. What is true today might be a distant memory in another six months.

Things I love:

• Your smile. It floods the room with light.

• Your hair. It still has that magical red tinge, darker than the usual anglo ginger colour. You absolutely hate having your hair washed or cut so we don't do either that often. I'm glad your hair is a little longer at the moment because we get to enjoy its stunning brightness.

• The way you try to pronounce certain words. Speech is still coming slow to you and when words come out, they seem to get all tangled up in your mouth. It's hard to understand you most of the time but I can see that you try so hard. At the moment, you are trying to say 'broken', which you pronounce 'Bwok-n'. It's adorable. 

• The way you show your love for Eloise. Until recently, she was still 'Baby' and now, 'Eloviiise' is coming out more often. You want to hold her on your lap, kiss her in the mornings and at night, you greet her in the morning by saying, 'Hellooo Baby' looking her right in the eyes, you pat her when she cries and smile at her when she is in the bath. She is lucky to have you.

• Your jokes. Your favourite joke at the moment comes from one of your all-time favourite books, called Moo-Baa-Lalala. It goes like this, "A cow says... Mooooo", "A sheep says... Baaaa", "Three singing pigs say, La la laaa" and so on. We all know it by heart but to spice it up, you now like to say 'Mooo' for the singing pigs and it completely cracks you up! So when we are having a laugh during the day, you look at us and say, "Moooo" because this is your big joke. It makes you laugh and it never gets old (it actually doesn't).

• Your run. You are so agile, like a little acrobat and unlike some of your friends who seem to stomp on the ground like miniature elephants, you run like a little deer, hopping from side and side on your light little feet. Since you run more than you walk, we can enjoy it all the time. 

• When you explore. When we go to the park or the beach, you spend a lot of time wandering around, picking up sticks or rocks or flowers. You like to climb the roots of the fig trees or dig in the sand. I enjoy this new autonomy where although I always keep an eye on you, you can explore while keeping yourself mostly safe... until you run towards the water.

• Your manners. I don't even know how you know these things (I suspect it's from Peppa Pig) because we don't purposely try to enforce it but when you ask for something, you often say please, or rather, "cheeeese", as in "more l'eau cheeeeese". Recently, you've also started saying something that sounds a lot like "thank you". You also love saying "bye bye" and "hellooo". It all seems so simple but it's cute and important for later so we're glad it's coming to you naturally. 

• Your beauty. In another era, you would have inspired painters.

• You love books. We read to you everyday, several times a day and books have become one of your favourite toys. Every night, you carefully choose the two or three books we will read to you and then, once you are in bed, you listen carefully, always commenting in the same spots, while you twirl your hair. A love for books will be a lifelong gift that I hope you keep.

Things that are more challenging:

• At home, you don't play much on your own. You need me by your side all the time and don't give me much breathing space. It would be tolerable if you were in a good mood but you are often grumpy as well, saying no to everything and speaking in a whinny, pretend-cry voice. 

• Your agility can be scary. I try to stay quite relaxed about letting you explore things physically but when you start jumping from the fourth step of a set of stairs, my heart does skip a beat. It's all good when you then proudly exclaim, "biiig Jump!" but it's hard not to feel worried for your lovely teeth, your pretty head and all those cute limbs you have.

• You are starting to imitate the bad behaviour of some of your friends: pushing, hitting, snatching and so on... Thankfully, you aren't doing it too much yet but it does worry me for the future of play dates. 

• You can be pretty shy. You don't easily let other people take care of you and I hope this doesn't cause problems when you start pre-school next year. Hopefully, you'll adapt easily. 

• You don't love solving problems. When things get stuck, you get mad. When things don't fit, you get mad. When things don't stick, you get mad... You don't have a lot of patience for things that require some thought. I'm hoping pre-school helps with that too.

I'm sure I could go on in both columns. I don't want to dwell on the challenging parts since I know that they are fleeting and are often challenging simply because of the situation we're in at the time. Patience will come, agility will continue to evolve, the hitting and whinging will dissipate. They are all temporary and important stages too. We'll look back on them and laugh, and think how far away it seems. For now, the problems we have are pretty harmless, not much to write a blog about. The good bits though, I hope I can hold on to for a while longer before it all moves on to the next phase.

Doing the figures.

At the start of each month, I have a little ritual called "doing the figures" which consists of going over my bank statement and transferring each expense in a table on my computer into the appropriate categories.

I have been doing it for about a year and over that time, I have actually come to enjoy the process. I started doing it at a time when I wasn't working much and we had a lot of expenses. Not knowing where we sat each month and if we were living within our means was a source of stress.

Doing the figures doesn't quite act like a budget since it happens after the fact but it has brought a lot of clarity to our spending habits and helped maintain a good balance, even when our capacity to spend is limited. Since I can not imagine running a credit card bill that I can't pay back, to me, this is absolutely crucial if we are to maintain our current lifestyle.

It helps that neither of us are big spenders but tallying everything has highlighted where some money was trickling out and could be saved. Not every month sees us in the comfortable green but at least, I know that the expensive months, which are unavoidable, are balanced out by the leaner ones. It also gives me a rough feel for what is wise to spend, like a coffee here and there won't hurt, and what isn't, rather than spending blindly and hoping for the best... only to then live with the guilt of the purchase.

I also like to remember each purchase which acts a little like a diary. Some months have been more interesting than others with trips to Sydney or a fun dinner out. Some months are all about the house with several trips to Bunnings, our local hardware store.

At a time when I am not earning anything, it restores peace of mind to simply know and be ok with what has happened. Of course, we could always spend less. We could always skip that coffee or that pastry but that wouldn't be living, it would take all the fun away. So until I start adding coins to the coffers, my job is to make what we do have stretch as far as it can. And I'm actually pretty good at it.