Things seem a little better today. I am sure that is partly due to the fact that yesterday I actually ate three meals and went out of the flat twice, including once for a 45 minute walk. I can feel the betterness as very fragile, a feeling as if I'm waiting for a penny to drop, to realise that people are dead. I'm sure that it's when I go home that the reality of Dad not being there will hit me. At the moment I can pretend he didn't come to the phone to talk to me.

Are all the deaths in my life going to be ones where there is no chance to say goodbye, no chance to say I love you a last time, no going home to spend the last weeks together?

I had a dream about Dad yesterday, it was perfectly normal him, we were in a flat, not ours, and there was a lot of noise coming from a neighbour. I could see Dad getting more and more annoyed, and I went up to the neighbour to ask them to be quiet.

Dad, I miss you a lot. On the other hand I am glad you didn't have to suffer any sort of violence or cruelty or long drawn out illness which you would have hated. For you I think it was a good way to go, but for us it is somehow the worst. So shocking and unbelievable.

I will see the psychiatrist tomorrow and tell her about my bad episodes, the increase in suicidal thoughts and so on but on the other hand I don't want to be on ADs when trying to get pregnant. I don't think she hear that as very reasonable, clearly I'm not in a fit state to get pregnant, mentally or physically and she probably thinks I should not be focusing on that at the moment.

I am glad to be going to stay with Mum for two weeks, she seems to be doing as well as can be expected, although she is probably hiding things from me as she is so worried about me. I think it will relieve her that I be staying with her as well.

I have lost focus on DH and how he is doing. I don't know how he is doing. He is probably worried about me but not so worried that he calls me from work to see if I am still alive. He will be on a business trip from Sunday to Thursday next week. He's not looking forward to coming back to an empty house on Thursday. He said he has a very busy week the next week, at work. He continues to talk about going on holiday. I have to plan my trips back to the UK for the rest of this year. I think I would feel better if this were all planned, but as yet I don't even know when I will be going back to work.

Mother hangs herself and four daughters

She was only 23.


Ed Pilkington in New York
Wednesday May 30, 2007
The Guardian

A 23-year-old woman gathered her four young daughters yesterday morning and apparently hanged them in a row, before hanging herself. The tragedy was discovered by Gilberta Estrada's sister, who found one of the four, a baby of eight months, hanging by a strip of cloth but still alive. She rushed the child to the nearest hospital, at Fort Worth in Texas, where she is recovering.

Ms Estrada had been due to start work early yesterday at Wendy's restaurant at the small community of Hudson Oaks. When she did not appear, her sister, who lived in the same trailer park, was phoned and went to find out what the matter was. She heard crying and went inside, where she found the baby alive. The other girls, aged five, three and one, were found dead, along with their mother.

Ms Estrada's neighbour, Joyce Harris, was stunned by the deaths: "I got a big kick out of watching the kids play over there on her porch. Today it's sad, very sad."

The sheriff, Larry Fowler, told the Fort Worth Star Telegram newspaper that no note had been found, but the police presumed the mother was responsible for the deaths as well as her own.

"We may never know [why], but we'll do our best to try to establish her state of mind," he said.

Ms Estrada was separated from her husband, Gregario Rodriguez, who, it was reported, had a restraining order placed against him last August. He was told by officers yesterday. The children were understood to have been fathered by two men.

This is not the first such incident in Hudson Oaks, a community of 1,600 people. In 2002, Dee Etta Perez shot her three children aged four, nine and 10, before killing herself.

My core strength is failing

My core strength last time came from my marriage. This is failing now. Or I am switching off and generally convincing myself that my husband would be better off without me, he could make a fresh start with someone else with less baggage.

He is also making me angry. Today he went to work. I had a very bad weekend psychologically-wise. I spent the whole day today on my own. He didn't call once to find out if I was still alive. I went to meet his bus in the village - a huge effort for me. I don't know why it's a huge effort. It's the only time I went out. He is the only person I have seen today. When he saw me he carried on doing something on his stupid fucking new mobile phone.

He told me he had telephoned about V.'s plaque for his bench. That it was ready. That he went to pick it up. Information dribbled out with dramatic pauses like it's some sort of exciting event. Congratulations, you didn't get a baby but here's the consolation prize - a plaque for his memorial bench, ten months from the day he was born. What a shame you didn't wait so you could put your father and your second son on it too.

Maybe I'm letting him make me angry because it's all part of switching off the links which are preventing me going one step further. Trapped by my husband, my brother and my mother. He did a very low thing - he went out (we were both supposed to go out to see the new "plan" for our village) and called my mother to let her know I was going to be on my own. What the fuck is my mother supposed to do? That was such a low thing to do. My mother is on her own. Because HER HUSBAND IS DEAD. HE'S NOT COMING BACK LATER ON THIS EVENING TO COMFORT HER.

No translocation

The OB called. The full amnio results confirm T21, with no other chromosomal problems. There is no translocation. Just another freak accident.

I am also slightly overmedicated in thyroxine. The endocrinologist suggested stopping altogether, but that doesn't make me feel comfortable since I am going to the UK for two weeks. Not a particularly scientific reason for continuing, but he agreed that I could drop down to 25 mcg, the lowest dose available. He will send me the prescription in the post, I should get it before leaving on Saturday.

I haven't been to V.'s lake, I don't think I'm going to go.

10 months

Dear V.,

Ten months since our lives changed forever. I'm having a hard time thinking about you. It's like you have been pushed out by Nanaji and A. Is that what would have happened if you were alive? What sort of mother does that make me?

I have been thinking a lot this weekend about reasons to live. But I can't do it. I am ashamed that I don't even think of death being a way to join you any more. I only think of the end for myself. It's not very good is it? I can observe myself trying to loosen the bonds that keep me here. I am starting to shut out DH, shut out my brother and even my mother. Not shut out, but distance myself. I made this blog private. What's the point of other people reading and being unable to help? It's not nice for them. Since you died, I already cut out friends, they were inept at accompanying me for the most part. That is harsh, I don't think I would have been any better.

So as well as being a poor mother, I have become a poor wife, a poor daughter and a poor sister. I haven't offered any support to my brother since Nanaji died.

But why I am I burdening you with this? What shall I do today to mark your 10 months? 10 months that feel like 10 years. A balloon? Three balloons? Tomorrow is 1 month since Nanaji died. Probably I will just go to your (and A.'s) lake and leave you some flowers.

Take care little one.
Your mother.

The shadow

The shadow comes across the murderous rocks
It beckons to me with sweet promises of relief
Family love transforms into leaden chains
Like staring into a silent flaming inferno
With invisible arms holding me back
While screams come from within

The shadow calls me with a romantic Siren song
You will find them again; you will join them again
You will be able to protect and watch over them
You will swim like a sea lion or dart like a penguin
Instead of wading through treacly, neck-deep mud
Wasting your time on waiting for nothing

I welcome you and invite you in
More comforting than the stark sunshine
More soothing than repeated promises of future-happy
You accompany me through my wide-eyed rest time
You let me imagine a bullet ripping flesh, in peace
You offer me an option

I see you cutting my empty form down
Or you, calling for a futile ambulance in panic
Or you, hearing the sticky red drip, drip on the floor
Or you, angrily disappointed that I followed too early
The shadow is gone for now

May 26th 2007

I am sliding into depression. I don't want this life. I can't get out.

Living

I just went to see my psychiatrist. I feel these sessions are much more useful than the ones I had with a psychotherapist after Moksha died.

One of the questions she asked was if I had been having any particular dreams. And last night (or rather this morning) I did have a particular dream, the theme of which I have written about before (dream 3). I have had this dream several times since Moksha died.

I am always at university, in my hall of residence. It's always my final year and although there are people around I don't know any of them. DH is never in this dream. I don't know where my lectures are and I have no books or notes. We spoke a little about this dream which helped me maybe understand the underlying themes better. I'm not a big dream interpretation fan, but since this one is a recurring dream, I think the underlying themes are worth analysing a bit.

During the session, I realised that in the dream, I feel fully responsible for the disaster of failing all of my exams, which will clearly happen as I haven't actually attended any of my lectures. I know that it is my fault, that I have made no effort to actually find any of my lectures or even a timetable. I am alone, even though there are people around. I just wander around my corridor and my room feeling bad and helpless, but even in my helplessness, I know I'm not really helpless, I've just not made any effort.

The psychiatrist asked me if I am a young student in the dream, or if I am me now. I didn't really know, but having thought about it on the way home, I feel in the dream as I would if I had to take chem.ical engineering finals now - that's my degree but I have never worked as a chem.ical engineer in my professional life, and know jack-shit about it now. And by the way, my father was a chem.ical engineer too.

It's strange as in real life, I was always anxious about exams, until my third year when I did an exchange year in France, and came back for my final year a lot more confident. I often refer to that year in France as a pivotal year in my character development. In my final year, which should be the one with the most pressure, I coped very well. And I got a good degree - in fact it would have been a first class degree had I coped better in my first two years, which counted towards finals 10% and 20% respectively. As it was, it was a highly marked 2:1. (Read here to understand British degree classifications if you're not familiar with them).

So why in my dream is it always the final year when I actually did well in that year?

Of course I can make an obvious link to the anxiety and feelings of avoidable failure and can already imagine the psychiatrist exploring that more next time - subconsciously I feel that I have failed every where as a direct result of my own actions, of which I was in control.

The psychiatrist said that the reason I can't eat three meals a day is probably because I seem to have very little concern generally for me as a living person. I am completely focused on the other living - mostly DH and my mother - and on the dead - Moksha, my father and A. There is no space for me as a living person with my own needs. So why would I force myself to eat properly, when my own self-worth is so low? I did tell her that I have had suicidal thoughts, but that, especially now, my mother and husband would absolutely not be able to cope with that and that was not an option open to me. Naturally she said I needed to be able to live for myself and not only for others. Makes perfect logical sense, but not easy to make it become part of your fibre so that you really believe it.

What is my life?

Today an old school friend called me after hearing about my Dad (whom he knew) and A. I don't see or even speak to him often but he is an old friend.

During our conversation, he asked me what I was going to do today. Not a complex question, it was only for today. The answer, really, is this: nothing. I am on sick leave right now and will be for at least June as well (for mental rather than physical reasons). My employer is pretty understanding.

My day today is:

- get up at 7.45am, only because I had an OB appointment at 8:30am
- see my OB
- drive home
- start writing a letter to my aunt, my father's sister, to whom he was very close
- talk to a friend who called and who didn't know my news; cry
- talk to a friend who called and who did know my news; cry
- surf the internet, blogland and news sites and a few trashy celebrity gossip sites
- feel guilty about not being able to think of something to eat, against doctor's advice which is that I must eat three proper, balanced meals a day (currently I eat two rather poorly balanced meals a day plus some snacks)
- think about how I could start Moksha's album (I do this every day)
- blank
- blank
- blank
- go and pick up A.'s ashes from the crematorium
- wait for DH to come home

My life is wasted at the moment. Time is wasted in waiting until we can start TTC again. Time is wasted in not being pregnant. Time is wasted in waiting until I will go back home to be with my mum again. I am doing nothing productive. I can't even manage to make meals for myself. I should at least be motivated into getting fit for the next TTC phase. I have lost 4 - 5 kgs since the beginning of this pregnancy, probably mostly due to the thyroxine but also stress, and about 500g since the end of it. My OB said that I had lost a lot of muscle weight and she could see my thighs wasting away.

Aside from the physical wait, she wants me to wait until I can smile again which sounds reasonable except that I don't know when that is going to happen. I honestly don't. The friend who called before tried to crack a couple of harmless jokes but they fell utterly flat. (By the way his wife had their 3rd baby girl last week. I managed to squeeze out a small congratulations. He said that he felt almost guilty that he has 3 living children now and I am going through this).

---------------------------------------------

By the way, OB's verdict is that I still have blood pressure that is slightly too low, my uterus is empty of placental tissue and I show no signs of infection after the curettage. The full amnio results are not in yet, but she did ask for a histological test on the placenta which has also confirmed T21. One of my fears, which is admittedly fading, is that we will find out that A. didn't have T21 after all and that it was all a huge mistake. I will call her on Monday to see if the full results are in. If we do have a translocation, we'll have to go in for more genetic counselling.

---------------------------------------------

I have been unable to comment in blogland recently, but I have continued to read. Thank you so much for all of your comments and emails. I find it truly amazing to have this blogland support network and all of the thoughts and actions of people I have never even met.

Gone

A had the same type of coffin as his brother V., it rested in the same little room as V. did (room number 19) and this morning he was cremated in the same furnace as his brother V.

V. didn't have flowers on his coffin and we didn't visit him at the crematorium before the actual cremation. I guess there was a lot more shock, and the fact that it was a full term birth meant that I was still recovering. And plus the sad fact that I already know what to do this time around.

We visited A. on Saturday and on Sunday and were present for the cremation this morning. His paternal grandmother also visited him on Sunday with us. His (living) grandfather said it was too difficult and didn't come.

I even saw A again on Saturday. The man at the funeral directors that we saw on Thursday was a total idiot and I told him I needed the coffin open since I didn't have any confidence that he would make sure A. was wrapped in my mother's blanket or given the toy. My mother finished that blanket after my father died. So I checked it for myself. It was all there.




I put a marigold in on Saturday and today I put some incense sticks in as well. Now I know that I could have seen V. again before his cremation. I didn't but I could have managed it.

I spend my nights wondering whether if I go to my mother in June my husband will die in an accident whilst I am away and if I don't spend time with my mother she will die alone with no-one to discover her. And I spend my time missing my Dad and slowly absorbing that he is gone forever and that he will never call me again and clear his throat on the phone and say hello [Rosepetal], how are you?

Where in this is the space for me to think about V? V. has suddenly become the big brother who needs to look after his little brother. The coffin was much too little when I saw it for V. But for A. it was huge.

I'm sorry A. I hope we did the right thing. I wanted you to avoid a life time of suffering, of such major operations on your little little heart when you would hardly have the strength to recover. 60% of Trisomy 21 babies miscarry in the 1st trimester. You made it but I ended it for you. I'm sorry.

I miss you Dad.

And V., I wish you were here.

Drowning

I am slowly drowning. There is too much to process, too much to think about. I need to go to my mother and support her. We got so much support from her after V. died and I wish she was here. She wishes she was here too. But she is at home dealing with the death of my father. I wish I was there. I wish none of this had happened. I wish V. hadn't died. How much easier life would be. A. wouldn't have even been here if V. had lived and he wouldn't have died as well.

So much death. My brain is not able to process all these things. It doesn't know where to begin.

When A. was born, I felt animal anguish, distress and fear. There were no thoughts. Just extreme distress. Pure emotion, no intellect. I don't know how I pulled back from that. By looking into DH's big, blue, tearful, concerned eyes. He held one hand, my OB held my other hand and the midwife stroked my leg.

When I went into theatre for the curettage to remove the placenta. which was not delivered, I became locked into an anxiety loop. I was conscious as I had eaten something a few hours before the birth, making a general anaesthetic difficult and anyway the epidural was enough. It's actually why I said yes to the epidural in the end. I had asked DH to stay with A. It's frightening lying on the bed and watching the ceiling lights go by. I don't know why. It's just a frightening perspective.

I was wheeled into theatre. I knew I was bleeding as that was why I had to go to theatre and not wait anymore with A. and DH. My OB was pressing on my abdomen and I could feel something coming out although I didn't know what it was. She spontaneously told me that it wasn't only blood, but also some urine and air and not to worry. But I worried anyway. I became convinced I was going to die from blood loss. I knew that my mother and DH would not be able to cope with my death. I told a masked person next to my head to tell my husband, my mother and my brother that I loved them. She said I could tell them myself very shortly. I became convinced that if I didn't die, I would need an emergency hysterectomy. My OB saw me in this cycle and told the anaesthetist to give me something to calm me down.

It worked as I don't remember anything else about theatre. I remember being wheeled out and the epidural line being removed by the anaesthetist but not that my OB had spoken to me before going back up to speak to DH. She had told me that there were no complications, no uterine perforations, that the curettage went well. The midwife told me again before wheeling me back up. A. was still there with DH, in his little bed made of a hospital dish, a hospital blanket and my mother's knitted blanket and a little gauze sheet. My mother's knitted blanket was much too big in the end. It was made with love and will go with A.

And now? Just 48 hours later and my post partum bleeding is very light. No pushing required. No loss of bladder control. A. was so very small. But he already had fingernails.

Yellow pansies and orange marigolds

I am back at home. A. was born at 8:04pm on 15th May and I was discharged today. DH was with me throughout. I will write a longer post on how it all happened later on. I need to write it for myself, the same way I needed to write Moksha's story.

In the meantime, thank you so much for all of your comments and emails. I have found it immensely supportive and comforting to know that you were thinking of me and that I am not alone.

Special thanks also to Kate who planted yellow pansies for V. and orange marigolds for A. I had yellow pansies flowering on my balcony for almost all of my pregnancy with V. I planted them again for him this year. The French for pansies is "pensées" which means "thoughts". When I first planted them in November or December 2005, it was because they were on sale at a local garden centre. I ended up having loads and filled pots and pots with them. They flowered until the end of June. When my mum and dad visited in mid-June for a long weekend to help us get everything ready for V., my mum tidied them all up (I was finding the bending down and/or squatting a bit troublesome at 36 weeks - another reason to be doubly impressed with Kate planting these now as she is 32 weeks pregnant with twins). They weren't specially selected to be V.'s special flower, but that's how it turned out.

When we found out A. had an increased nuchal fold, we chose a flower for him. We chose orange marigolds, called "rose d'Inde" or "rose of India" in French. Orange marigolds are also used a lot in India in all types of ceremonies and occasions, often in garlands. So I have some orange marigolds flowering on my balcony for A. It means such a lot to me that Kate planted these and the yellow pansies in her garden, in such a privileged and honoured spot around the base of Nicolas' tree. Thank you friend.

If anyone else feels like planting orange marigolds for A. in their garden, I would be truly honoured. Please send me a picture if you do.

Practicalities

I must be getting used to this.

I just made a phone call I was dreading. I called the undertakers to find out what would happen to A. I didn't even cry during the call.

First I will have to tell the hospital that I want A.'s body to be saved. I assume otherwise they would dispose of it as hospital waste.

The hospital will send the body to the Insitute of Legal Medicine. They will issue a certificat de non-vie. A non-life certificate. He doesn't get a death certificate. I was expecting this anyway. There's no space for any name on the certificate, he can't have a name in the legal sense. I was expecting that too.

Then I call the undertakers back. We will meet them next week. Choose another coffin from the catalogue. Choose another urn. This was done just last week for my father. My father's coffin needed six men to carry it. That seems so long ago already. It won't be so for A's coffin. We didn't lift Moksha's coffin. We only wept over it. It was 60cm long. It's better for me to give A's little blanket to the undertakers then to the hospital.

Since I got out Moksha's documents to get the number of the undertakers, I even know in advance how much it's going to cost.

The urn can have A's name on it. A. will be cremated. His ashes will go into Moksha's lake. Moksha will have to share his lake with A. I was there earlier today, during the time that my father's soul was released from attachments in this life as my brother performed more last rites in the UK. It's the first time I've been to the lake on my own. The two ducks that had taken up residence there are still there. Are we going to see a file of little chicks go by soon?

9 months - belated

Dear V.

I didn't write to you around your 9 month birthday. We went to your lake on 29th April, before going for a long walk. We took you the first rose this year from the rose bush Daddy gave me for our wedding anniversary last year.

I was going to write on 30th April but then Nanaji died suddenly. I am shocked and we left the next morning to go to Naniji.

I am about to visit your lake again. Nanaji's soul will be released from attachments to this life today. At home, Naniji and Mamaji will perform special prayers to free his soul. So maybe you will see him. I cannot be at the prayers, but I will be at your lake instead. Look for him. He has some things for you. I hope you get to be together for a little while. I think Nanaji will be reborn and I don't think you will be, I think you were freed from the cycle of rebirth. Show Nanaji love and respect. He is your grandfather.

Next week you will meet your little brother A. Please look after him when he arrives.

You've now been gone for longer than you were here. I miss you V.

love Mummy.

About termination

Termination is scheduled for next Tuesday. That's the day after our 2nd wedding anniversary. There are different reasons for selecting Tuesday.

1. My OB, who was with us when V. was born and has supported us physically and emotionally and who knows us, is away from Thursday to Sunday. She said we could go into hospital yesterday evening, but that was rather fast for us. She said she could set us up with another doctor but we would rather go through it with her. She has a rare gift of remaining professional whilst adopting the right tone and managing to show her own compassion. Examples of other doctors who don't have this:

The specialist who did the amnio. Spent ages looking at the heart on the screen but did not explain anything at all until I said, "Can you see a heart defect?" He treated each question like it was an irritation to his work. I asked him to explain the defect and he launched into a very technical explanation. I am usually quite good with technical explanations but in the end I just told him to write it down and I looked it up on the internet later. He told us it was closely associated with trisomy 21 but the amnio should be done anyway as it was the only way of being sure.

When it came to the amnio he didn't explain anything, I had to hurriedly ask seconds before he jabbed the needle in if it was going to hurt. His assistant showed a lot more compassion. It was rather suddenly plunged in and yes it hurt, not unbearably but it hurt (more than a blood draw which is what they told me it would feel like). In the middle of it I felt a deep deep sob welling up inside me and struggled to keep it in for fear of moving too much with the needle inside. That must have been hard for DH to see. It hurt more when they took the fluid. Then the needle was withdrawn and I was told to wipe myself down. I asked if I would get any type of bandage (even just a sticky plaster) and was told, no, no. I couldn't understand why I wasn't bleeding from the needle jab. I asked about the risk of miscarriage and all he said was, "That's essentially linked to loss of fluid." And? And? Loss of fluid from where? From where you stuck the needle in? From the vagina? How will I know? When should I rush to hospital? Thankfully my own OB was much more helpful.

Second example: the genetecist we saw yesterday. She gave us a mini lesson in cell division, mitosis and meiosis. Her tone was all wrong, too light and convivial, too many smiles. She was a little patronising (there was a student sitting in, which I didn't mind, he didn't say anything but she kept asking him if she had explained xyz complex topic well). She knows our history. At one point I was upset and said something about losing my second child. She launched into "Well, don't worry, you're young, it doesn't matter, you'll have another one." Bitch. Both DH and I slammed her. Afterwards I thought about how I should have said, "To you these are just cells in a laboratory, to me this is my son."

So we would prefer to go through this with our own OB who we know, who knows both of us and who feels deeply for us.

2. A. can spend our wedding anniversary with us. We have a week to say goodbye to him.

3. It means that we don't have two lost children to show for our two years of marriage.

For the termination decision, I have to say that the Trisomy 21 combined with a severe heart defect makes it slightly more clear for me. Just Trisomy 21 and I would have struggled a lot more. But to make A. who will already have poor muscle tone, go through several open heart surgeries as a little baby does not seem to be in his best interests. Whilst waiting for the surgery, he could become brain damaged due to poorly oxygenated blood. I do believe that that struggle is not in his best interests. He will already be prone to infection.

Just the heart defect and I would have carried on. If he was going to be well equipped for the struggle of recovering from open heart surgery, I would go on. But he isn't going to be.

Through the first three months of this pregnancy I had trouble believing in you A. Now I love you with all my heart, I have no doubt at all. Daddy loves you too.

It's over

Trisomy 21 confirmed today with heart defect confirmed at the ultrasound yesterday - holes in the walls between both the atria and both the ventricles.

It's a boy. His name is A.

Daddy's girl - updated

Thank you for all your comments and emails since my last post.

I got back from the UK this afternoon and my amniocentesis is tomorrow morning. Thankfully my brother is able to stay with my mother for a few more weeks.

My father died of a massive heart attack caused by a clot in the coronary artery. He had no known heart problems and had seen his own doctor the week before for some neck pain which was diagnosed as a muscle spasm. He had been taking a dose of Vali.um for it. A post-mortem was imposed since the death certificate could not be issued until the cause of death was known and it was so unexpected. It must have taken seconds and the coroner said that he would have had no chance of surviving it. He was 68.

My mother found him dead in the parked car of our garage. They had gone out to run an errand and she had insisted on driving since he was on Val.ium which makes you sleepy. On coming back he had said he felt much better and was planning to mow the lawn; my mother told him not to do that just yet. They could not shut the sunroof on the car. My father came in, took his coat off and said to my mother, I'm just going out to shut the sunroof in the car.

After a little while (piecing together the timings, I think no more than 10 - 15 minutes) my mother wondered why he hadn't come in yet. She went outside and found the garage door still open and the car door still open. She wondered why he had done that, my dad was very security conscious. She couldn't see him at first. Then she realised he was slumped over the wheel. She was alone as I live here and my brother in the US.

I'm not up to writing all the details just yet. My mother is a retired doctor and I let you imagine the immense guilt she feels at not having spotted any signs of a pending heart attack. I last spoke to my dad on Saturday 28th April specifically to ask him if he was feeling better due to his neck pain. He sounded much better and said he was feeling much better. His last words to me were, "I'm thinking constantly about you."

He was cremated on Friday. I will write about that another time. For now I will say that I have always regretted not giving V. a jacket or a hat. He died in the height of summer and he was cremated wearing little trousers with a short-sleeved onesie. I gave a jacket and hat that my mother had knitted for V. to my dad to give to V.

Earlier this month my mother and father celebrated 40 years of marriage. They had a great day with some of their oldest friends. We were all supposed to be going on a family trip to continue these celebrations, later this month. It was already in doubt for me and DH since we don't know what's going to happen to us this month.

Of course I did not see the genetecist, the psychiatrist or my OB this past week. Preparation time for next week was cut short. All I have is a very small blanket knitted by my mother to accompany my next child in death.

I was always a Daddy's girl. I look and act like him, my brother is much more like my mother. When V. died he found it difficult to express himself and we had been less close in recent months. But I know that he loved me and I know he knew I loved him. I last saw him alive at Christmas. I am glad that he knew his two living grandchildren.

6th August 1938 - 30th April 2007

Updated: I'm not going to write much about my Dad here. I started a new, private blog for that which I intend to share with my family.

Life has a way of reminding us what is important. My beloved father died suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday evening. I won't be blogging for a while. I leave for the UK today and will come back on Sunday in time for the amniocentesis on Monday.