15 weeks today. I know I've already passed the point in the pregnancy where last time I'd broken out in the rash, but always looking back on when I got sick with Kat I think of it as being at 15 weeks. So this week marks one of the milestones I've been expecting to hold my breath over. It's kind of different though to how I expected it to be. I thought I would be panicking about this pregnancy, but I'm not. I know I don't have any rashes, I haven't suddenly started throwing up more, no nosebleeds and, even though I'm tired and have a sleep most days it's not like it was that week with Kat where I just couldn't wake up. And I'm feeling the baby move every day. Not as much as I'd like, but it's still so early to be feeling it at all so it's nice to be feeling it each day. So I know mentally there's nothing wrong with this baby and all my thoughts have returned to Kat. I know I keep saying it, and it's a completely useless thing to say and think, but I just wish so much there had have been some way we could have both our babies here with us. I miss her. We miss her. I don't know if it's time, or the way my mind works, or both, but I've found myself reflecting more on the time surrounding her death. I know that's something I've always done - kind of deal with the most immediate thing first and then it's only later (often months later), once the immediacy has passed that I start to process my more emotional responses, or realise that there were other layers I didn't really give much attention to at the time. Maybe it's a bad thing to give things so much thought so long after the event. I don't know. This is hardly the usual, run-of-the-mill event though. And here I am finding myself going over various people's reactions at the time. Some are painful and hurtful. I don't think people set out to hurt us, but there were a couple of people that unfortunately did. I'm sure I've written on here before about Michael's cousin telling us at the time that people would say things that hurt because they didn't understand and to remember that it was about them and not us. It was the best advice I received, but I've found it hard to live by. I find it hard to offer other people my understanding of them and their responses. My mind's been kind of stuck on those things for the last few days and there's nothing else to turn over. A few people said or did some really insensitive things and, for now at least, those people are not as big a part of my life as they were before. Today I've been remembering the amazing people and things that happened. It's not like I didn't acknowledge them at the time - I really did - but today I'm just remembering. My brother took my breath away. I still don't even know what words to use to describe hearing that he was coming and then to see him at my door. I flew into his arms, held on tight and sobbed on him. Even now, I'm sitting here with tears rolling down my face just thinking of it. No matter what else either of us does in the rest of our lives, THAT will always be how I sum up the person that my brother is. Michael's parents were just shining lights for both of us. They dropped everything and came to be with us in Newcastle and then at home. Everything they did was done so quietly, they didn't go around announcing that they were cleaning our house or doing the ironing or taking the kids out or going shopping for us. We would just find those things done or being done. Their presence was an enormous comfort to both of us and to the kids. My girlfriend and her husband travelling up from Muswellbrook; a friend of Michael's flying up from Sydney the day after receiving good test results after her cancer treatment; a lawyer from another practice and one of the Court ladies coming to the funeral; Michael's friend who organised the flowers for us and another one who just sat and talked about Kathryn with us over coffee; the boy in Rory's class who approached Rory to say he was sorry about Rory's sister and then also went looking for Sienna in the playground to say the same to her as well; the people who sent us flowers and cards and the people who sent us messages on facebook, all saying the same thing, that they knew there was nothing they could say, but just to get those little, one-line messages meant more than I could tell them - these people were all beautiful. And in the long run I really do think that it's these memories that will stay with us.