This is a really interesting piece on the BBC website. It's about a funeral photographer.
I remember reading somewhere years ago that the Victorians took photographs of everything, including their funerals. (Apparently it wasn't just their funerals; they also used to take pictures of the dead.) I could understand the theory of why - they took photographs of everything, both happy and sad - but didn't really understand. Not really.
And I didn't understand. Until last January, D and I standing in the chapel at the crem. And the thing I wanted more than anything else was a picture of the tiny white coffin that contained the remains of the babies being cremated that day.
I knew I should have gone outside and got a picture of it before it came into the chapel. But I was somehow scared. I didn't. And then as it got to the end of the ceremony and I realised that I only had a short time left, I picked up my camera as quietly as I could and snatched a shot of the tiny white coffin.
I was really scared that the other parents there would freak. Would ask me what the hell I was doing. Noone did. I don't know if that's because they didn't realise what I'd done, or because they were too upset to care. D was pretty weirded out by it, but he didn't say anything after a whispered 'are you serious?'
So. I guess all I'm trying to say is that I'm glad someone is breaking this taboo. Even though it's a bit weird that it's a business idea.
I should probably say while I'm here that I'm OK. Struggling with nausea. I threw up last Friday but other than that I've just been queasy. More so than last time, which is kind of reassuring, but not constantly (and interestingly not first thing in the morning) which isn't.
I'm 7 weeks on Friday. I was supposed to get a scan around that time but... I guess I'm scared. Even if I do and all's well, it doesn't mean all will stay well. And I guess... if the news is bad it'll come soon enough. I guess I don't want to hurry it along.