Last night I dreamed that I was in the middle of a shoot and needed to change my lens. When I leaned down to my camera bag, I saw that the fronts of all my lenses had been smashed and there were chunks of glass scattered in my bag. I hadn't seen what caused it, it just was and I couldn't understand what had happened. Surely I would have seen or heard something or someone cause that? But no, it just was. It didn't occur to me in the dream to cancel the shoot - I realised that I was going to get some very different images from the session.

Since that awful morning our whole World was shattered, it's been impossible to look at life in the same sharp, structured way. But often sharpness and structure are quite boring and dull and uninspiring - there is beauty in depth and layers; and pain brings a perspective of what is truly important in life.

I've been loving my Holga - it's unpredictable, often blurry and multi-layered. Sometimes when you're not sure of the bigger view, it's comforting to find beauty in the abstract.

(For photographers who might be interested, these are all cross-processed slide film, straight out of camera)

So many well-meaning people have said to us in sympathy: 'Wow, this is a very, very, VERY long road you guys are on'.

To a newly-grieving person, these words are nothing short of terrifying - a day is torturous to get through and if that's only a small segment of this very long road, then how the hell do you manage to get through the rest of the journey without losing the will to live?

But then I thought about this a little bit and realised that Simon and I know a lot about going on very, very long and bad roads after having driven back to Cape Town from London in a non-air-conditioned Landcruiser. I'm not sure if this road of grief we're on is supposed to be on foot, bicycle or a 4x4 but the last one is the one I can relate to.

So, if I think back to our trip nearly 4 years ago...

'Today I will be unafraid. I will enjoy what is beautiful, and believe as I give to the world, so the world will give to me'

So many things have shifted in our New World. After reading this quote online the other day, I realised that a shift in my beliefs is one of the most fundamental changes that has taken place. This is a beautiful quote and one that I would have easily identified with in the past but now I know otherwise - the world does not always give you what your 'deserve'.

After witnessing cancer consume my beautiful mother when I was 22, I still naively believed in the goodness  and abundance of Life – that to a large extent, you got out of Life what you put into it. Kharma, reaping what you sow.. whatever you want to call it. But losing a child so suddenly makes you realise that you have very little control over what your days will hold, whether your day will include tragedy or joy or if your whole life journey is re-directed on a course you really don't want to be on. Sometimes life just screws you over, no matter what you do. Whether you're good or bad, do the 'right' things or not, if you spend every day in gratitude for what you have or moan incessantly about your life... it doesn't matter. Bad things happen, they can happen to anyone and just because you've experienced bad things before doesn't mean that they won't happen again - there is no 'tragedy quota' per person.

When Simon and I travelled down Africa, we were walking on a stunning section of beach in Kenya when 3 men ran down the dunes, threatened us with pangas and demanded we give them our backpack and then scattered off into the distance. I wasn't that upset about the backpack,  but from then on, I constantly imagined panga-laden men lurking around every corner and I was most irritated that they had changed my perception of the world and I could no longer enjoy our trip in the same carefree way that I had before.

This time, our loss is substantially more valuable than a backpack of possessions, but aside from desperately longing for to hold my beautiful boy again, I think this loss of faith in the goodness and abundance in life is a biggest other loss for me. Will I ever be truly carefree and blissfully ignorant again? Will I be able to not think of a deadly virus lurking around with our future children? Probably not. But I can still appreciate everything I have right now in a much bigger way, right at this moment and hope for better things. And when the better things come I will treasure them that extra bit more and with a realisation of what really matters. I will rub my belly in appreciation as it grows and be truly grateful for my health and fertility, I will cuddle Simon that extra little bit and be thankful for hope -even if to hope is to risk pain.

Today I may be a little more fearful than I was before but I will try and enjoy what is still beautiful and hope with all my heart that the world has good things to give to me.

I mean isn't this just a face that reflects the goodness and abundance of life? Sunshine, grass, dirt and sunscreen, happy times...

For seventy-three days we have survived. We have endured. We have limped along through our Changed World with our invisible amputation, biding the Passage of Time. We wake up in the same room, work in the same places, drive the same roads, see the same friends, but we are no longer the same people and the world for us is not the same.

On the morning of our changed lives, I remember numbly saying to someone that it would be impossible for me not to be a bitter and twisted after what we had been subjected to. It's been a relief to discover that bitterness has not been a side effect of this, I don't feel a hint of bitterness towards other people's perfect lives. I do wonder though - will we really be truly truly happy ever again? That really deep down happiness and contentment that fills your soul? I had written in my journal a few days before Jude's death about how deeply grateful, content and fulfilled I felt and somehow that now feels like somebody else's life. I know that I still have so much to be grateful for but sometimes it's hard to realise.

What I am grateful for is that the intense grief has changed from beating ourselves up and feeling like we could have done something into some kind of acceptance and integrating this horrific event into our lifestory. I am intensely grateful that I have an amazing husband to relate to and to cry and identify with and to remember together. I am grateful that I have another chance at being a mom with a new life growing inside me.

Now that the wedding season is winding down I've had some time to go through my personal photos and remember. These were taken in February a few weeks before he died. Some of my imported albums arrived in a box which Jude merrily amused himself with for ages. Simon came home and it looked like Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere and I cursed myself for having freely let him make a mess as it took just as long to clean up the whole of the lounge floor.  Now I would do it all over again.

My most precious Judle-Noodle

I remember bringing you home from the hospital, sitting on my couch, crying tears of happiness at your arrival into our lives. You had come early and there was no one to help me out, but I knew that we would be fine. We were home and you were mine.

I watched with pride as you gurgled and grew into a stocky, gorgeous boy who embraced every moment to the full, pudgy hands exploring everything, never missing a beat. You loved everyone around you with random hugs and lap visits and you charmed your way into random people's hearts. I wondered how I could have been so lucky to get such a happy, loving, friendly child.

I could not believe that life could be so cruel when I found you cold and lifeless in your cot last Saturday morning. The autopsy revealed that you had a random reaction to a viral infection which caused myocarditis which pretty much feels like a lightning bolt.

The gaping hole you have left in our hearts is unbearable. Life will never ever be the same without your bright blue eyes, contagious laugh and unending enthusiam for anything and everything. The journey from you wriggling in my belly to clinging onto my hips has been the most fulfilling and amazing one and I will never be the same again.

On a practical note to my clients - I will be taking a few weeks break from family and baby shoots as it's all a bit raw at the moment but will be back in action soon!

There are a few more images of Jude on my other site from his very short life:

Not sure if this is a love or hate reaction...

I can't believe that Jude a real actual one year old already!

On 25 Aug 10 years ago I first got together with Simon so I thought it would be fun to post some family shots! Happy 10 year get-together anniversary babe, life is definitely better with you!

especially if they are super-cute!