New every morning. 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures, 

All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me, and be okay with that. I had no need for material possessions, money or even close friends with me on my journey. I never understood people very well anyway, and they never seemed to understand me very well either. All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality. I wanted the open road and new beginnings every day.

– Charlotte Eriksson

I remember a time in my life I honestly believed that I got to try again tomorrow. I’m not saying be an idiot and then all is forgiven when the sun comes up. 

A new day would emerge where transgressions were not a well indexed encyclopaedia. I got to try again without question as the sun came up. I’ve not felt that way for well over a decade. 

Peace. Acceptance. Happiness. Fulfillment. Love. 

You cannot find everlasting hunger, fed and satisfied by humanity. There is no solution to be found inside others. People are flawed, they are human. Their mood and emotions blow as the wind. It is the nature of the beast. The wind blows intermittently. Unpredictable. Storm and sunshine. 

The Bible speaks about “New mercies every day”, “Come to me all who are heavy burdened and I will give you rest.” While I cannot pledge myself as a devoted Christian, I do believe that if once you were held in the palm of God’s hand, that He will not let you go. I find a strange comfort in that. A solitude. He knows my name. Inscribed in His hand, I will find rest,… eventually. 

I’ve read the Bible. I can quote scripture. I grew up with a strong Biblical background. My grandfather is a Pastor. This is not saying much as the devil is quite proficient in scripture himself. I do not often speak about religion because I do not live in a glasshouse. I am not fond of stones. 

I attempt to act in kindness, acceptance, toletance and love. I do not always succeed. I try. I am flawed. I run with the wind. I’m human. 

I wish you enough, 

Wenchy

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This is her story.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

This post was written by Cara who needed a platform to let out her feelings about a baby girl she miscarried when she was 17 years old.

To my unborn child

I remember the day I met you and lost you all at once like it was burnt into the back of my mind with a hot poker. I remember thinking to myself that there is something wrong with me for not knowing you were there and for not being able to keep you there.

I am truly sorry for not listening to my body when the signs were there, and doing something when I did, instead of finding excuses.

But thank you. Thank you for the miracle and the adventure that you turned out to be. You showed me who I am, that I am not made of glass and taught me how to stand tall. You taught me how to stand up again when I couldn’t even find the strength to breath.

The thought of you is what has moulded me into the person I am today. The memory of you is my greatest inspiration.

I can say will full honesty that if it wasn’t for the loss of you, I would be a law student, fiancé or friend that I am today.

Your father wouldn’t be the man he is today, and I have never been more proud of who is and who he continues to grow into.

I love you with my whole heart and I miss you every day.

To my best friend and the father of my child

People have accused me of being many things but the mother to your child will be my greatest honour, no matter how many times it is said with the intention of using it as a weapon. No matter what, you will always be my greatest adventure, and I’m sorry it had to end this way.

There are many times that I regret how you found out that the only child you will ever have, is gone. I never regret that it happened though.

That is the thing about idolising someone so much. You dehumanise that person, creating something of a demigod. You could do no wrong. And it took the greatest tragedy for that to change. But im glad it did.

You have the most amazing fiancé that wouldn’t still be around if you hadn’t gone through the horror story of us. If you didn’t break down. If you didn’t show your vulnerable side. And im really glad you did.

To the fiancé

I will never be able to explain to you how deeply and truly thankful I am for looking after my angel boy. He will always be my first love and the person I go when things are bad, but I am grateful he has someone as strong and kind-hearted as you by his side building him back up in a way that nobody else ever could. I am sorry you had to go through the wreckage but I am truly grateful you stayed. You are the biggest blessing of this whole thing. Thank you for being the person who put all his pieces back together. Thank you for making him the man he is today. I’m sorry you got caught in the shrapnel. My heart will never be able to show you the gratitude for the guardian angel you have become and remain.

To the girl in the hospital room alone.

I want you to know there is nothing wrong with you, and you are in no way alone. This is a tragedy but it’s not the end. There is no amount of time that could change it and there is nothing that can be said to make it easier. But know that there is most definitely nothing wrong with you.

We live in a society where it has become normal to speak about traumatic events and the after effects but it’s not ok to speak up about a phenomenon that is happening in almost every household. The loss of a child.

1 in 4 pregnancies result in a miscarriage. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not alone.

You will learn to smile again without your hand drifting to your stomach and you will learn how to walk down the baby aisle without freezing and becoming starstruck at the possibility of something that was taken away from you.

You are allowed to grieve and mourn. Most importantly, don’t forget to breathe.

To my future husband.

I was 17 when it happened and the impact from the womb exploding has made it one of about 20 reasons why I will never be able to have children ever again. I am sorry.

I sit on the bed and I listen to the stories of how you will teach your son to play cricket. How to be a gamer worth of the internet, how your daughter will learn to play ballet.She will thave my eyes, your cheek bones and will be an angel.

Never lose hope. I am sorry you had to sacrifice the greatest gift on earth without having the choice to do it. I will never stop trying to make it up to you.

To the girl staring back at me in the mirror.

The stretch marks that now mark your body in places that live as reminders will soon be badges of pride. You will learn how to love yourself with them.

Your hair will frizz and curl in new and exciting ways than before, embrace the crown that frames your face.

The chubby cheeks and the soft edges around your curves is your new and improved body armour. You are a warrior and this is your battle. A battle you have already won.

You are alive and you are breathing.

Cara

Some of my best friends are male, but… 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

If you also feel like you have seen better days on multiple levels, offer to be the host of a hole at a golf day! 😆

I tell you, you will be reformed… okay you will at very least be amused, at worst, feel you need a bath. 

The young men, round my older kids age, so early twenties will call you “Tannie” Very respectful,  but then there is always one joker in the group.  Said joker will look at you innocently and will ask you if you have 69 tees in the bowl. 

Ag nee! I was just going to congratulate your parents on your good manners!… to which you will respond “Nee Ouboet. 42 is the meaning of life, 69 is entertainment, neither are the number of tees in the bowl.
The friends of the boy with the big mouth will laugh at how the “Tannie” just told the big mouth “waar Jacob die wortels begrawe het.” The joker will look at you sheepish and mumble “Sorry Tannie.” Ja my kind. Moenie so dof wees nie. 
… but the older (married) men I found much worse… They speak as if you are not present and then, when they finally devote their attention to you… you wish they didn’t. 

I would be delighted if I got paid to answer where all my tattoos are located. “Wys ons bietjie?” So common, ek voel skaam vir hulle, hulle se vrouens om nie eers oor hulle ouers te praat nie! 

Would you like it if men spoke to your daughter like that? Sexual innuendo and fist pumps. 

I honestly got asked if my breast is also tattooed or would I like it to be? Those are some of the less sexual slanted comments. 

Do men only do this when they run in packs? It is seldom that I’ve met a man on his own “wat hom so varklik gedra“. 

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

“And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite” 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Ouma’s room felt calm with soft light… she looked worse and better then I imagined – making no sense at all I am. She is nothing like the woman she use to be, but when I lay down beside her, she took my face in her hands and I felt like heaven had just touched me.

It was the most incredible soft, lingering, tender, loving feeling of adoration that came from her. Sweeping movement of her soft hand on my hair… such comfort I have not felt. She is the one dying and yet I felt she was giving to me… I was enough. I WAS ENOUGH!!

She spoke every now and again a few audible sentences… she said she is happy with the life she has had, that she loves me, that I am a ‘dierbare kind’… she told Noid that she raised me from the time I was one month old… that she was so happy when I was born that she cried for weeks… she said I was her first grandchild and her favourite, she told me over and over again how happy she is to see me, she asked if I was happy with Noid and if we will get married.. she asked me if he will look after me.. she specifically asked to see Kevin.. my heart was sore for him because him and I did this together not so long ago with Oupa…. She said she is so glad that I came, she loves me.. I said I love her and thank you for everything and and and ….and all the while I didn’t want her to stop touching me.  It was the most tender and intense love I have felt in a very long time – as in overwhelming complete peace and contentment – healing. I wanted to drink it in and have it run smoothly inside my body, fill me up with tenderness and love. It was beautiful.

I never want to forget how I felt. Ever.

It does not matter to me what is physically wrong with my gran. I don’t mind her dying because I saw her LIVE.  I don’t know if she will be with us for a few more hours, days or weeks… I feel content in knowing that she loves me and that I love her and that’s enough. I will miss her so much, but I am so glad she was my Ouma Chrissie… and the person who I slept next to, holding her hand for the first eleven years of my life.

When we got home, I lay in the darkness. Craving the silence, seeking that contentment, I climbed under the dovet in an effort to feel more ‘protected’ – snug – a hug almost .. . I closed my eyes and pretended the fan was raindrops and that I could almost smell the cinnamon from the pancakes.

As the wind blew the curtain, I hoped there was a life after this one… one in which Ouma will find Oupa waiting and they will once again walk hand in hand as they did for 57 years.

“Love is stronger than death even though it can’t stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can’t separate people from love. It can’t take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.” – Unknown

Written 11 Feb 2009… Ouma died on the 7th of March 2009, and was buried on this day, 14 March 2009.

I wish you enough,

Wenchy

♡ “And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite” is a memorable quote from the 1999 coming-of-age novel “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky. It is one of my favourite books ever.♡