For seventy-three days we have survived. We have endured. We have limped along through our Changed World with our invisible amputation, biding the Passage of Time. We wake up in the same room, work in the same places, drive the same roads, see the same friends, but we are no longer the same people and the world for us is not the same.
My most precious Judle-Noodle
I remember bringing you home from the hospital, sitting on my couch, crying tears of happiness at your arrival into our lives. You had come early and there was no one to help me out, but I knew that we would be fine. We were home and you were mine.
I've heard from other photographers that it's harder to do a shoot with your own family than with complete strangers and I'd always thought that this was a bit weird... but I found this to be quite true when trying to do a little shoot at home with my 7 day old son and husband. I think we got some beautiful and classic images anyway...
There was a school outing this week where the kids ended up entertaining themselves and a group of moms sat down and started chatting. The conversation came around to a local tragedy of the death of a one-year old boy.
‘Losing a child, wow, I just don’t know how you can possibly survive that’ said one of the moms.
It's an ordinary passage in an ordinary home, maybe six metres long.
It's the place where I painfully paced at the start of labour, your arrival beckoning. Up and down, up and down, your dad timing contractions and feeling helpless as he watched me writhe in pain.