Sunday, 18 May 2008


For the last few days I have felt dangerously well. I know that it can happen like that sometimes. At the very worst times of life one is often filled with a strange energy. After my daughter died I had days when I could have conquered the world. Nothing was beyond my reach. That's what the last few days have been like. On Monday I wrote a very challenging article on late abortions and sent it off to all the national papers. On Thursday I read from my new book. That was a great evening. There were five of us who read and loads of people turned up which was a real surprise. Then yesterday I sent out a play that I've written to nine different theatres. But all this is very fragile - very. I'm like a great big red balloon, sailing through the sky, full of hope and promise, cheerfully waving in the wind. But it will only take one thorn and the balloon will be gone in one sharp bang. Nothing left but a small and twisted piece of rubber. Tomorrow is the third anniversary of my daughter's death. On Friday we get the results of the IVF. Balloons are a wonderful sight to see but they don't last long.


Tash said...

What a crazy week, packed with emotion.

Are you planning to do anything tomorrow?

Thinking of you.

Caroline said...

Thinking of you and wishing you strength and happiness.

Melissia said...

Isn't is funny how grief can become a tangible energy? Is it some sort of leftover survival mechanism of our evolution from nomadic peoples who could not stop to mourn their dead? I have seen moms(during their labor with a dead baby) making lists, making phone calls, planning funerals or birthday parties or baby showers for others, knitting, working on the laptops,etc., functioning in ways that seemed as if they were totally unaffected by their circumstances. I believe that it simply was a way to survive, that for them, the way to get through, was to keep moving.
Alice, I think that surviving the death of a child can, at times, leave you feeling bulletproof, which can give you your own kind of energy and courage. Thinking about you and Laura on this anniversary.