be still, my moving child

'sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory' ~ unknown

The only way she can describe loosing a baby is that one second, she's happy and she's going to have a baby in five months time, and then in another second, she's empty and her world isn't quite the same. Harry isn't touching or treating her the same way, like he used to, and her family aren't sure what to do with her, and her mind is full of images that taunt her.

She spends her days on her bed, wondering about what life would've been like if her baby hadn't have died. She wonders if it's her fault – maybe she wasn't ever going to be mum, and getting pregnant was an accident, because it was a surprise, sure – if she could've done something to prevent her baby loosing life. The healers have tried to reassure her that sometimes the baby had abnormalities in the womb, and even if it had survived, it's life would've been terrible. Even Harry has spent hour after, led by her side, hand clutching hers for dear life – because he's fucking scared too – trying to get it in her head that she's okay, that she will be a wonderful mum when the time is right. He doesn't have the heart to say that maybe it's fate, telling her that they aren't ready, and this just proves it.

Ginny can picture the baby being a girl, the brightness of her green eyes as she grizzles, the humour she will grow into, the smile she will have, the magic she will make, the family she will grow up in, and she misses something that never happened. But, slowly, slowly, slowly, she realises she needs to grip onto the reality on the situation. She knows, now, that she needs to seize the day, get back into life, because her baby didn't know, didn't understand, when she left.

The light hurts her eyes, but she knows she needs to do this. Her stomach feels like acid, burning, but she propels herself forward, out the door, and into the sunlight. It hurts her skin but she doesn't care. She's doing it. This is healing: standing in the warmth of reality's light; eating and feeling and not pretending when she laughs at George's jokes; grasping a broomstick as it takes her up and up and she's flying and knowing she's not going to fall is the best feeling.

She goes home that night and curls up with Harry, and his body against hers, how alive he feels when his fingers trace circles into her forearm and she smiles against his chest, makes her feel happy.

She knows, and it's drilled into her brain, that days like this may be rare. That tomorrow she might feel the emptiness again, the feeling of loss of purpose because one second she could see her and Harry's lives entwining with a baby's life, and the next the road turned into a dead end. But she also knows that one day everything will be fully okay, because she's healing, no matter how slowly.

hihihihihi

i saw ed sheeran's 'small bump' video when i got back earlier and i'm in love with the simplicity of it.

i'm getting a cat, and my mum was adamant on calling it 'voldemort' -.- me and my sisters convinced her that it was not an appropriate name, and now we're calling it Harry. :D (you know you wanted to know that)