Tuesday, February 17, 2015

A blast from the past.

There's a scene from 'Peggy Sue got married' that knocks the wind out of my sails every time I see it. You know the one. Where she goes back to her childhood home and sees her mum again. Every time I see it I feel like I've been hit in the guts with a cricket bat. 
What I wouldn't give to see my mother again.

This week, I had another blast from the past. A message popped up from someone buried deep down in the past and it pretty much evoked the same response. Winded. 

 A name not spoken in many years. A faded photo in an album. A crumpled letter in an office rubbish bin. Tales of revenge and women scorned.

I feel like Pandora's Box has been opened.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Turning 40

Let's face it.  As far as years are concerned, this one has been an absolute cunt of a year.  I don't like that word, and I don't use it often, but really, it's so fitting to describe this year.

Almost nine months since my life changed.  This year has been so challenging in so many ways.  It's been so hard.  It's only now I feel I'm really coming together again. 

My birth trauma psych has set me free, saying that she no longer has any help to offer me.  I've done it. I've come through the other side. 

I've had my first round of reparitive surgery and lived to tell the tale.  I sleep well at night and I love my baby girl.  Things are going well. 

Next week, I turn 40.  I'm looking forward to it.  A lot.  Thirty-nine has been shitful.  Forty is a clean slate.  Bring it on, I say!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Part one. Prelude.

January 7th was always going to be a busy day. We had a full packed schedule and before we left Kyneton to drive to FTG for the party we were invited to, we had a lot of school errands to run. Freja and I spent the morning getting presents organised, and then getting her fitted for school shoes.

We came home in time for lunch, quickly ate and organised the car. I mentioned to Per in passing, that maybe I should bring my hospital bags *in case* something happened, but quickly brushed aside the thought and made sure everyone else had there stuff in the car. I did get him to take a pic of Len's card, so that we had all the details..... in case.

We arrived in Knox in the mid afternoon, and decided to get the girls fitted with their ballet shoes. Naturally, that took longer than expected...and a side trip to Bunnings was also included, because let's face it, it wouldn't be a trip to the Big Smoke without one.

The party was lovely, the kids disappeared instantly, playing with their friends and I was able to sit and relax and catch up with my friends. I had no inkling that things were going to happen. Then Annie told THE JOKE. And bang. Instant labour.

I'm pausing now. This was was the easy part.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Ice, Ice baby

There's a chill in the air, and it's not because we're heading towards a cold season. My DH pulled a Sixteen Candles for me on my birthday. And yeah. I'm hurt. Should I be? I don't know...but being pregnant and hormonal, he really should know better than to poke the bear.

So it's frosty here in K-town, people. And I can't see a thaw on my horizon.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Pregnant Pause

Yes. It's true. I'm pregnant. Again.

Yes. 'Another' Halvarsson is on its way.


Haven't announced to the majority of the world and to be honest, I'd like to wait. Maybe until I'm really fat. Or the baby is born. Or has turned a year old.

Number six just 'isn't' that exciting according to a bunch of friends who've seen me do this before. They don't want to know the ups and downs of this pregnancy. (Does anyone, really?) I have a Subchorionic Hematoma present, but according to one friend, I should just STFU and not worry about it. Because bleeding is NORMAL during pregnancy. (I must have missed that memo).


I'm glad actually that there are only a handful of people that know. Even the big guys don't know yet, although I suspect that Freja has her suspicions.

Morning sickness is in full swing. I am nauseous ALL OF THE TIME. I want to vomit when I knit. It's depressing.

Anyway.. there you have it. For now.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Friends are the families we choose for ourselves

I'm really blessed with the friends in my life. What I probably should do is pick up the phone and thank them personally for all their imput into our lives, but I'm too busy (lazy) to do that. This post will have to suffice. I have a definition of family in my mind. However, after my mother's death, my immediate family (and by that I'm talking about my brother) has fallen apart. I remember how after her funeral, he got into his car and drove off and I literally didn't see him for weeks. Then he pulled himself together and got back into the routine of coming over for dinner and movie nights again. Then he met his girlfriend and suffice it to say, that was the end of dinner at our place with him. I grieved his absence more than I did the loss of my mother. Because at least with her, I KNEW she wasn't coming back. It's been a painful process, this dealing with the loss of my brother. This is where friends come in. I'm a firm believer that people come in to your lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I have a lot of people I classify as friends, but only a handful of them have made it into the inner sanctum. Some of these people I have known for a lifetime indeed. Others I have met while travelling through life. Then others have popped up in an absolute astounding way and stuck around when I was sure they wouldn't. Let me tell you about the latest addition to my inner sanctum. They are a wonderful group of women who I met through a knitting and crochet website. Of all the places. The first day I met them, I would never have laid money on them becoming people I would call my family. Yet, this common thread of craftiness has woven its threads through our lives and I would absolutely call them my family now. Indeed. They are. Our move to Kyneton has meant that I have taken myself away from where the majority of these women live. Sometimes I feel very far away from what's going on with them. Sometimes I feel not part of them at all. But that is only me being silly and insecure, because I know this is not the case. I know that these women are the most reliable people in the world, who ARE there for me whenever I need them. Amazing. I may have lost a brother over the last two years, but I have gained many sisters in his stead. And let me tell you, a girl will never let you down...

Tuesday, March 1, 2011


Finally, after a second visit to Saigon in the last four years, I got to visit the War Remnants Museum. I've always been intrigued/fascinated by the Vietnam War era, have studied the history of it in school and university, read biographies, autobiographies, talked to returned Veterans about their experiences and still nothing prepared me for this confronting experience when I finally got there.

I went alone, which is a good thing. It was the kind of thing you either have to do by yourself, or with the right person. The photographs, the images, the displays...they are etched into my mind and soul and will never be eradicated. I would walk through the different areas, looking and reading, with tears streaming down my face and would have to sit in the foyer to compose myself before going in to the next exhibit.

Some people took photos of everything. I found that once inside, I did not take a single picture. I couldn't. Some things just are better off in your mind's eye and not something you need to bring home to show your family. Not the sort of pictures for family slide night, for sure.

The things that were seen cannot be unseen and although knowledge is power, one cannot help but be affected by the stories in this museum. The human side of the war, from all perspectives. I'll give them that, the Vietnamese did a good job of exhibiting not just their own casualties of war, but made sure there was coverage of all parties. Ultimately, what they provide is a place of reflection that makes certain you understand that there are no winners in wartime. Everyone pays a price. Most often, a price that is still being paid, long after the declarations of peace have been made.