Life’s rich and twisted tapestry

Little bean, 

What timing, bang smack in the middle of Baby Loss Awareness Week. How sickeningly apt.

I am sorry things didn't work out. You had your mothers sense of direction plus her determination to keep going regardless. You were just in the wrong place and we know that it simply wasn't meant to be.

Thank you for the 3 weeks we savoured knowing you were here. Her 2nd round of IVF, we were excited, ecstatic, nervous and aware that we had to remain positive yet realistic in equal measure about your demise for the coming weeks and months. Being realistic doesn't prepare you though, nothing can - for the torture of having you pulled from under our feet. This isn't about me of course, but I have held your mummy’s hand through this and watched her fragility and strength mould to create the perfect setting for you to flourish. I watched her pour her heart and beautiful soul (and bank balance) into doing everything she could to grow you and get it 'right' this time. And all alone. There is no 'getting it right', it just happens when it happens and that comes with an abundance of luck, something she’s long overdue.

The day you made it clear you weren’t to stay is a bitter twist in this cruel fate. Bent double in pain during a lesson at school, another member of staff urged her to call 111 which resulted in immediate ambulance, due to the risk of ectopic pregnancy. I arrived in A&E 3 hours later to find her wincing in a bed (managing the odd joke), curtains open taking in the chaotic scene around her - synonymous, I imagine with all A&E departments across the country. Reactive and buzzing by its very nature. She was still awaiting the 'immediate' visit of an obs and gynae doctor recommended on her arrival assessment. Despite numerous requests for information, passed via nurses - nothing was forthcoming and we sat and watched as other, emergencies flitted around us. 6 hours later in a new ward, with no explanation for the move, a doctor came. Not to confirm pregnancy nor to discuss anything other than a clear opinion that there was no ectopic pregnancy and that a scan would be done in the morning. We assumed, with no other information, that she was still pregnant, that you were hanging on in there and perhaps her gut had twisted or something benign had caused that pain. She had learned to embrace a phenominally positive mindset, it worried me at times but I understood why she had to. The power of positive thinking can, I understand, be very effective. Except when you have to pick up the pieces and rebuild from disappointment.

Morning came, another ward move, no explanation of why she was there or what might be going on. Another 10 hours of anxiously waiting alone, querying the validity of needing a bed or being in hospital at all. At midday a porter moved her to a corridor outside radiology where she relayed her timeline since arrival/confusion about what was going on - to someone who seemed to have the nouse to do something. Within 30 minutes she sat looking at your ultrasound and there you were; clinging in your egg sac, close to her right ovary, flooded by swathes of blood as her fallopian tube waved its ruptured tendrils. 4 hours later you and the Fallopian tube were removed. My darling sister left numb, exhausted and heartbroken.

You were so tiny I suppose you weren't considered ‘viable’ but you were so viable to us, 7 weeks into this ‘world’ and tantalisingly close to making her life journey so very different. That shambolic 30 hours in hospital just made your demise all the more painful to swallow, we will never know if that right fallopian tube might have been salvageable with quick identification, the anxiety and fear alone in that hospital for hours on end were totally unavoidable - not to mention the threat to a mothers life of ectopic pregnancies... but I am just angry at the desperate sadness if truth be told, and perhaps at letting myself be excited for her. I should know better. We know and appreciate that the NHS is an insitution, people are working so hard to help others but morale is clearly low and people are being pushed to their limits. It is sad to see.

My anger lies in the injustice, sure she had an avoidable shitty experience but it doesn't change the fundamental cause of inexplicable grief. This was supposed to be my sisters time, it feels like no one deserves it more nor has more love and energy to give. When dealing with grief - trying to find someone to blame for this ultimately heartbreaking outcome, is normal but there is .... no one. It is plain and simple cruel, unfair and shit. My heart feels completely crushed, shattered and beaten when I consider the pain she will be harbouring at this moment. I want to take some, all of it; away. I feel an enormous sense of guilt that I have 3 healthy children, whom she adores and embraces completely. I also grieve the niece or nephew I never got to meet. It all sounds incredibly dramatic but it hit hard how cruel and unfair life can be.

So, we will bid you farewell properly in a couple of days, we will talk about you if my sister wants, I will cuddle her for as long as she needs. Whatever it takes to mark your tiny, brief existence. Then we will work on restoring her confidence and faith in herself and in this world. She is the kindest, sweetest, most loyal, fragile and yet strong person I know. I have no idea why life gives her a merciless and unjust battering as it does, but there is something to learn from this and there are things to take away from this all. One day we will find out what that is. In the meantime; it is one foot in front of the other as I hold her hand in this next part of life’s rich tapestry.  

.

28th October

Fours and a half years ago I joined my dad at hospital in London as he made the decision on how to fight the cancer that had recently been discovered. Following an anxious hour, we left positive with the choice and treatment ahead (he is currently still in remission), I went on to meet a friend for Mexican on the south bank in the late autumnal sun and then I sauntered home.


It was standing in a fancy dress shop in front of a row of Werewolves 50m from our flat, I felt a fluttering I daren't admit to myself was the start of another little-human-arrival. (the 36 hour onslaught of number one; I was sure was partly due to my nervous excitement and inability of fully relax). I knew it was though, so I did what I had spent the last 4 months frantically reading about: nothing but relax. I went home, put my feet up and watched Sex and The City and Homes Under The Hammer, I didn't message anyone and went to collect my toddler from nursery and put him in the bath when I sent a short text telling my husband to not be late. By the time he got home to read the rugrat a bedtime story things had got strong so I hid in the sitting room with 'Dances with Wolves', 'Out of Africa'and 'Born Free' blasting out of the laptop. I messaged a dear friend who had offered to babysit her godson in this event and she was at the door within an hour. We arrived at hospital at 10pm, my husband ushering me towards the maternity ward, embarrassed that I was howling in front of the lone cleaner ..... he got a 'I am having a fucking baby, you twit'.... which I was. 

Within 15 mins of entering the maternity ward, I stood in awe at the tiny human I held between my legs. The world stopped. A beautiful, calm and sweet little boy to swell my brimming heart. The pride, the joy and the euphoria are indescribable. And so Freddie was here and he has been making me proud and joyous and challenged ever since. 

My memory is so often wretched and frustrating, I can't remember conversations I had last week, this morning even. Yet I could take you back to 28th October 2014 and tell you with finite detail - every second that passed. 

It is one of my 3 greatest achievements, indelible on my heart and soul.

Thank you Freddie for helping make me who I am today, warts and all. 

Love you darling boy x 

The Mother of All Dichotomies

It all started 5 and a half years ago; the moment my first son was wrenched into this world. 

I lay there battered, torn, exhausted, broken and shell shocked. 

I lay there ecstatic, proud, glowing, humbled and bursting with happiness. 

And so began the unrelenting, meander between utter joy and absolute despair. The clash of the opposing titans. War and Peace. No single day has passed since without the giddy highs and flailing lows that come with watching, guiding and dragging our offspring along in this mad world. It is exhilarating and it is bone-achingly frustrating, it is euphoric and it is despairing, it is lucid and it is ultimately baffling. Paradoxical, whimsical, magical, psychological, farcical… but I love it all! I have moments when I regularly want to scream but they are so tantalisingly juxtaposed with the replete satisfaction and joy of unerring love that our offspring give us, that I thankfully swallow many (some) of my tirades. I can find myself humming Katie Melua’s ‘Closest Thing to Crazy’ whilst rocking on my heels and leaning into the drinks cabinet but some little human will scoot past, high five my bum with an orange stegosaurus and yell ‘mummy is in OUR gang, come to the teepee for secret business’ and suddenly I am full of clarity and warmth and all is well with the world. 

Parenting truly is THE mother of all dichotomies.

For the shit, theres the giggles, for the mess, theres the creativity, for the embarrassment, theres the pride, for the mischief, theres the kindness…… I feel the moments will change but the underlying foundations of colliding opposing emotions will forever ebb and flow until the day I die. Sure I feel like I am being tested, I feel like I am down right crazy but my word am I privileged to be right where I am, forever somewhere betwixt delirium and delight.

Jolly Good Sport

Well, I guess I just didn’t imagine it would happen so quickly but the eldest of the 3 Musketeers has become completely obsessed with all things SPORT and he’s pulling his comrades with him. I love it really; sport can teach us so many things about this mad world and about ourselves. It is a good vehicle to release all manner of issues bubbling away below the surface. But this, this is another level.  

  

So last Monday after school, homework and some great behaviour I relented at the incessant request to watch 'sport' on the TV. A brief search through the channels found us subjected to St. Johnstones v Aberdeen with French commentary and he sat ensconced for 90 minutes.  

A couple of days later fondling oranges in the supermarket the baby boy pipes up loudly with ‘ohhhhh Jimmy Jimmy, ohhhh Jimmy Jimmy, walking along singing a song walking in a Jimmy wonderland’ a complex ditty (aren’t they all?) about the much revered cricket bowler Jimmy Anderson. The scamp is 2 years old! It did make the gentleman behind us snort into his basket of corned beef.  

And this morning.... the biggest boy of the house (my husband) sat up as his alarm went off ‘Best shower quickly, I can't be late’ I looked at my watch, it has 45 minutes later than his usual alarm and remembered he wasn’t leaving until later. As he rushed out the bedroom door he yelled ‘I am off for a meeting in 2 hours but the Ryder Cup starts in 5 minutes’..... it is not even 7am. So now downstairs are 4 people swarming around the TV watching men in Pringle sweaters walk around pristinely manicured courses and that is my weekend mapped out between actual sporting fixtures in our megre real life. 

It is madness, it seems madness but I actually think it’s marvellous. I love what sport can give us. A platform on which to better our physical and mental health..... to learn about rules, sharing, interacting, winning, losing, self-control, camaraderie, hard work, limitations, teamwork, trust and self-respect. Of course, as with so many things in life, it needs channeling in order that it doesn't become too much of an obsession or foster aggression or division.... but the benefits of sport far outweigh the drawbacks.  

I am grabbing my trainers, wetsuit, hockey stick and an armful of almanacs so I don't get left behind. Wish me luck... x

The 2 Year Conflict

Negotiating the impossible.

At 2; your toddler will be confronting a multitude of emotional and physical hurdles that take an inordinate amount of energy and patience to conquer. You become a doormat of torment as the giddy babe wanders from delight to dismay on the turn of a tricycle. There seems to be little reason to random episodes of fear and rage but try hard 😫 to remember that it’s a normal part of their development which (despite your every intuition) invariably requires you to stand by, give them a reassuring hug, pacify and move on quickly....even when they are being unreasonable embarrassing little shits.

On the complete flip-side and another parenting contradiction: this is when you ALSO have to watch like a hawk, gauging the undistinguishable line between a genuine plea and blatant manipulation. You will be tripped up a lot. Two-nagers are chief emotional blackmailers and they will test your patience and sanity - just because they can. The more you watch them, the more you will be in tune with the small nuances that kick-start a tantrum and that differentiate distress and defiance. Well, maybe. Good luck with that!

But here’s the thing .. (in my humble opinion).. you aren’t going to create a complete brat by pandering to their irrational tirades at this age, so err on the side of support and just ‘hug it out’ when they are screaming their way through the supermarket. You have the next few years to work on manners and negotiation; when they are actually emotionally mature enough. If you’re ever worried about eye-rolling strangers - ignore them. Everyone HAS been there, we just forget. We honestly forget.... lest we would all be miserable, scarred and crazed shells-of-human-beings. 

It’s not too long until they can start potty-training so that is one less type of shit you have to deal with. 🤟

Words

I have just spent the last week trawling through, deleting and filing 7,800 personal emails from the last 9 years. Given my borderline OCD, I have no idea why it hadn't occurred to me until now but that isn't relevant to this particular diatribe. 

I have felt nostalgic, cringed a LOT and most poignantly - realised that we remember things just how we want or have the capacity to. Reading several of my emails from friends and colleagues (when I have wanted to evade the work IT system), I have re-lived relationships and eras of past that were incredibly significant to who I have become today. Words are so powerful because they are indelible. Through their presence, they capture a moment you can't pretend didn't happen and remind you of finite details of brilliant things that did. Our brains (I am no scientist, despite my lineage) have a saturation point and I assume we have an innate subconscious filing system that enables us to retain what we want/can, in order to make space for everything we juggle daily and all the new memories we are creating. 

I wouldn't consider myself a hoarder, but when it comes to words; I glut and I am quite happy with that. This email marathon has been a very fulfilling and enlightening exercise which I would recommend to you all .. although I am sure you've plenty on your 'to-do' list. Reading all those words from the last 8 years has reminded me of the sh*t, the magic and most importantly the friends that I have who I never manage to make time for any more. Social media and photos now have the market on your easily-viewed-personal-journey but for me; words are the ultimate conveyors of history.

12-18 months - The Balance

It remains a marvel. That little human toddling, babbling, chewing, grabbing, giggling and just - mesmerising. It also remains a seriously time consuming responsibility. With all the wonder and utter delight that the wee one brings, it requires patience and unrelenting hard-graft, in equal measure. So whilst you're trying to aide the balance of that tumbling tot, it is now that you really need to lay the new foundations of balance in all aspects your life...... before you lose the plot! 

By now, your toddler is likely walking and developing emotional attachments. As the weeks go by they will test their environment and people around them; paying particular attention to those they hold dearest. Oh joy. You'll have that familiar sense of loving pride juxtaposed by exasperating vexation as you run through the repetitive motions of negotiating with the most erratic, kamikaze, unstable, charming and vulnerable boss you've ever had the pleasure of serving. That crazy yin needs a calming yang.

So whatever your release, your zen or your raison d'être - make time for it and it will keep you sane. 5 minutes meditating or 5 hours office debating; it will inject a welcome balance and a rejuvenation that is so very good for you all.

But blow me down - that kid keeps getting cooler and the months are rolling by - ENJOY!!