So I started to write another post, but it actually became so self centred that I was ashamed to post it. This blog has always been about my dead and my living daughters. And that's the way I like it. I may post the other entry one fine day, but until then it can rest in the computer generated crypts.
I love being a Mum. I never thought I would get here, and here I am. I am doing things I never knew were possible. I hold my sweet baby close to me and kiss her head and smell the milky, sweet, talcum powdered stench and it makes my soul glad. I have finally slipped into that feeling of complete, unconditional love. She is amazing, and her little soul is beautiful and makes my heart leap and sing and I cannot be thankful enough.
And then at the same time I have this incredible guilt. I am guilty for not thinking about Lucy enough. I feel I am forgetting her. Some days - most days in fact - I forget the terrible traumatic thing that preceded Georgia's birth. And other days it is all I can think about. I miss my dead daughter so much, and that is strange because I never even knew her. But I miss the personality she would have been, and I can't help but be saddened at the waste of life. I am thankful for having a beautiful daughter in my arms, that I can hold and kiss. And I am sad, but thankful that I had the chance to hold and meet my sleeping daughter Lucy. She has taught me so much, and I hope that one sweet day we will hold each other again.