These moments she does not forget

Every year on that day she relives the hell. The torment knots inside her womb as she remembers. They say time heals all wounds. Bullshit. Whoever said that never went through pain the way she did. The way others like her did. Waking up empty and numb like a girl on crack. Time heals nothing. Mends nothing. The memories remain vivid etched in her mind, that no amount of therapy, alcohol, love and affection can erase.

When she became pregnant for the 4th time, all she could think was "shit, not another mouth to feed." She went through her pregnancy dragging her feet, thinking only of the hardships ahead. The fact that her youngest child couldn't even walk yet. Her marriage falling apart. What people would think. Later on, she would hate herself for these thoughts. Mind fuck herself over and over for not welcoming this beautiful gift. After 3 children, she became complacent. Doctor's check ups were few. She was sick more often, but neglected to look after herself and not that there was anyone else to look after her anyway. She choked it down. There was no time to be sick. That was for the weak.

Her doctor said she was fine, the picture of perfect health and an expecting mother. The child was healthy, heart beat was normal and she could look forward to a beautiful bouncy baby girl in a few months time. Slowly she attuned herself to expect that beautiful girl. She talked to her every day. Told her in no uncertain terms what she expected from her when she turned 18. What she knew she would look like. How she would bond her broken family together. How she would remind her mother to live.

She felt her child kick almost endlessly. Every waking moment the child reminded her that she was there with her. "See you soon Mummy," she said with every bump and kick. She couldn't for the life of her remember when she last felt her remind her that she was there. That she was coming. She was so busy with work, the other three children, that she forgot.

These moments she would relive. Feeling the pains of childbirth, her excitement soon punctured by the doctor telling her that there was no heartbeat. That the child was dead. When had she last felt her kick? When dammit when? These moments she would relive. That she would still have to deliver her baby. Her dead baby. These moments. Pushing her child out knowing the pain was for nothing, These moments when she felt God forsake her. When she held her lifeless perfect child in her arms, against her chest, still warm from her body, yet cold and soulless. Oh these moments she wanted to die. She wanted to stop the pain gushing through her like a burst pipe. Gripping her throat, choking, choking ever so slowly.

Three years later. She relives hell again. And prays that her Angel is in God's arms. That her Angel does not forget her. That her Angel forgives her for being complacent. For not accepting her in the beginning. For all the mistakes she made which could have possibly been the reason for her death.

She would never forget this day. But she prayed that perhaps one day, it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

Happy Birthday my sweet love. 

What to write, what to write...

Tired of writing about my sorry self. I've decided to write a story of sorts. Let's see where that ends up. I haven't even decided what it's about, because I can't think past myself and writing an autobiography. Eh fefe e. Ia sei mafaufau aku.

Thursday rants and blahs

Eh been a shet week so the writing is all over the place.

Just heard last night that a friend lost her baby at birth. Don't know the details, possibly stillborn. Join the club sister, I feel your pain. Nobody should have to deal with that shet. Nobody. I hope she finds solace in her family and her two beautiful daughters and in God's love. That's all we can hope for. But wait that's not all. A mutual friend decides to call me this morning and give me all the gory details and worse, send me pics of the baby. Seriously!! Se kefs ia.

Everyone's a bloody baker these days. I'm sure that's what real bakers said when they saw me trying my hand at baking ha. Now I know what it feels like pe a omai le au fia baker ma post solo aka o lakou keke no nice. Juhu ia ok jealous.org. I know what Caroline's Kitchen thinks now "ugh amateurs". Ioe a la ua oki ai le business. Speaking of which, I think I've lost my mojo. I've been cancelling orders left and right. So two days ago, a regular ordered 3 cakes for Friday (thats *check calculator* $300!). I said sorry I'm going to Savaii this weekend and can't make it. And then I thought WTF Gikia e le keikei maua sau $300 aye. So I emailed her back and said hey ua cancel lau alu i Savaii so can still make it. THEN I woke up this morning and thought oh shit the order is for tomorrow and I am currently in Depression mode (talk about that later) so I emailed her again and said sorry sis ua koe on e trip i Savaii. Shet what a fail. Meanwhile I am looking through pics of a fellow baker Sweet Tooth and thinking of ordering a cheesecake this weekend. Because you know how I need it. AND these amateur bakers need quality assurance. Fink about it.

While you're finking about it, next week Angel turns 3. Time flies but nobody forgets. So I'm finally getting off my arse to buy a headstone for the poor girl ai o faapea le keige "e le galo le alu e igu ae galo a'u". So I went to Tuigamala headstones where they have a Xmas special going on - ok so why would you have a Xmas special in Sept and say "Book your coffin and headstone early before the Xmas rush." Before the Xmas death rush? A'e. Anyway e sau le kau a le igikia e $1,000. Ok thanks, will come back...never. So I went on lau whatsapp to ask the oracles if they know where I can find a reasonably priced (just say it, cheap) headstone. I said my budget was $500. One shet said "Well in that case go to Apia Concrete Products." Aikae. Still at square 1 and the anniversary is in a couple of days. Well planned, mother of the century.

But wait. Gary Carruthers just saved my life, and has a brass plaque for me which looks even better than a proper headstone. Yay. Mother of the century award still intact.

Lunchtime blues

Eh someone give me a life changing experience. It's lunchtime and I picked up the child, took her home and came back to work. All in the span of 15 minutes. What, no ride around the town clock? No, back at work and now starving. Tempted to text "anybody wanna lunch?" in our Lau whatsapp room, but, well, don't want to have someone say "yeah sure lets go" and it's someone I don't reeeeally want to break bread with, you know? So here I am. Starving and unable to work until I get nourishment.

Ahh but wait! My boyfriend just called. He's in a work meeting and they have left over food! And when I say leftover food, I mean lobsters, steak, bbq chicken etc. And when I say boyfriend, I mean my gay boy friend. And when I say I'm coming right over, I mean I'm already in my car.

Pageant bleh

Can we just get over the new Miss Samoa and move on with our lives and stop farking posting every 5 minutes about it? I swear on pageant night every single meaola aikae on my friends list was updating every second. Every effing second. Thank you bluesky for live streaming it, I now had my relatives in Reykjavik putting in their two cents. So Miss Samoa NZ won. Yay. Hooray for NZ and the treaty of friendship and white Samoans who can't speak Samoan. Koe update mai loa se purido ga vaavaai laia iai. And if your sister didn't place, we know you love her. We know. We understand you have to tell her every 5 minutes cos she must be cut up that she hand painted her turtle costume for n.o.t.h.i.ng. Just text her for fark's sake. Call her. Viber. Whatever. Soooo proud of you #teamfuki.

And this is why I prefer to stay anonymous. Lelava vili mai se uffer fia misa mai. Ain't nobody got time, o lea e kau vaai poo lava se entitle ile NPF.

And for the record, which doesn't matter cos nobody reads my blog, I thought Dwayne looked pretty hot as MC. So all the suspender bashing I did on FB, Dwayne I'm sorry. Blame the belvedere. And Ora's shoulders which blocked us from really seeing the tv screen properly. And Riri's colouring that darkened the room. Ok bye.

Sick and tired

I think I'm sick. Had diarrhoea for the past 3 days. I blame the fish and chips I bought from the nearby store. I thought "mmm what nice fish melts in my mouth" not realising it was bad. Kae. Like I know anything about fish. So all Saturday evening, Sunday and yesterday, I've been wasting toilet paper and carrying extra baby wipes and clorox and all sorts of antiseptic in case I shit myself whilst trying to get a selfie with Ban Ki Moon.

The upside. I'm losing weight baby. Yayer. Who needs zumba, have some salmonella, works every time all the time lol.

But wait that's not all. Diarrhoea has stopped but still getting feverish spells. Ehhh aisea ea. I have things to do (candy crush) and places to go (the bedroom. alone. boohoo).

Or maybe I'm just sick of SIDS. And selfies. And different elei puletas every day. Ok jealous post over. Next post will be on the real issues SIDS is tackling like global aid, improving food security (wtf) and ocean acidification. And shet like that. Lol.