6. The good days

In those moments where we get bad news or have to hear something scary about Junebug, and we both start to cry, and our breath catches in our chest and we feel the beginnings of despair rising up in the pits of our stomachs—it’s hard to imagine that we’ll have good moments, or even good days, but we do.

We’re in the middle of Chinese New Year holidays here and the streets are quiet, the families you do see are dressed in their best, kids (and dogs) in the most adorable outfits, everyone feeling festive and enjoying time together as families. It might sound a little Hallmark card, but it’s just beautiful.

We walked our dog, Captain, the other night, and Erin and I launched into a conversation tangent about what Halloween costumes we could wear as a family when Junebug gets here. It was such a light chat (I’ll go so far to say that my ideas were clear winners, but I’ll given Erin a chance to redeem himself in the future, when Junebug gets here.) We didn’t think about any chance that it wouldn’t happen, and just focused on how it would happen and how creative and hilarious it will be. All the dark stuff just melted away.

And we felt good. Today was also a good day. We’ve made each other laugh, we’ve snuggled our dog, we’ve watched silly videos, we’ve eaten delicious things, we’ve chatted about what it’ll be like when Junebug gets here and we’re a family—and it’s a bizarre feeling. If you’d told me that I would find joy in all this uncertainty, I honestly wouldn’t have believed you. The fears are always just there, a step or a flash away, but they’re exhausting. Sure, it’s important to let them out for a bit of a run-around, until they tire themselves out, but then I try (sometimes harder than others) to pop them away and find something more fun to occupy our thoughts and time with.

The way I see it, grief and pain are emotions that hurt your body. While I can’t keep them at bay all the time, I can try to keep myself as positive as possible, to keep my body as healthy as possible, and as a good an incubator as I can for our Junebug.

Junebug helps us to see the good things, and we have to keep celebrating that they’re with us, here and now. I’m still pregnant, my belly is growing, I have weird cravings, I am still experiencing all the ups and down of pregnancy, and I can’t ignore or forget that. It helps that my family do the same. There’s talk of a baby shower (I’m nervous, but know it’s a good idea), and we are picking me out a maternity bridesmaid dress for my sister’s wedding next month. It really helps to keep us positive.

My mum shared a dream she had about Junebug sitting outside in the summertime. I’m going to add it to my daydream library that also includes images of me kissing Junebug’s chubby knees, dancing with Junebug in my arms to Annie Lennox songs, and watching Erin play games with Junebug in a park.

Music and dancing is really helpful. My sister hosts No Lights No Lycra in Hong Kong, you go along and dance in the dark for an hour; free from judgment and inhibitions. If you’ve never done it, you’re missing out. The first time I went while carrying the news about Junebug, I started off great, and then couldn’t move. My whole body felt heavy and sad. I ended the session in tears in Erin’s arms.

The next time I worked up the courage to go again (it really is an addictive endorphin workout), I told myself I would have fun, I would feel good, and that would make Junebug feel good, too. It was fantastic. Plus, it feels a little goofy to dance with a big pregnant belly—in a really good way.

Another funny thing about Erin and I—we’re certified Laughter Yoga instructors. It was something we decided to do over the summer while everyone was on holidays. As kooky as it sounds, it makes you feel fantastic. You trick your body into feeling the benefits of laughter, even when you’re not REALLY laughing. When you’re in a group with other people, looking at smiling, laughing faces, your brain lights up in ways you can’t imagine. Plus, it gets oxygen pumping around your body and encourages you to breathe deeply. One part of a laughter yoga practice (which I have found hard to do myself) is personal laughter meditation. You sit on the floor, and just laugh, at nothing, alone... It seemed like a bit of stretch even for me.

But the other morning, I woke up and told myself I was going to do it. I was going to go into the other room, sit on a yoga mat and fake laugh until it felt good. And wow, it was weird. Laughing alone at 6.30 in the morning to the incredibly unamusing and noisy sounds of the rubbish truck downstairs. But as I let myself enjoy it, and fake laughs turned to real laughs, and my belly shook—Junebug started kicking about and I felt lighter with every breath.

No one looks silly when they’re having fun. I’ll make sure to tell Junebug that.