Goodnight My Darling

We meet you tomorrow my darling.

You must feel terrified and confused and angry and lonely. So lonely.

We’re here. We’re thinking of you. Wishing we could scoop you up tonight and tuck you in and kiss you goodnight. But it’s another Mother’s job tonight.

We’re going to be rubbish tomorrow, but my god we’re going to try our best for you, my darling.

People keep telling me that you are lucky to have us, but I think it is us that are the lucky ones. Because of your trauma, you have fallen into our care. There certainly is nothing lucky about that. 

We are the lucky ones because we get to love you. 

It’s a strange thing, falling in love with pieces of paper. I don’t know your face or your name. But I feel responsible and protective somehow.

A mothers love, I guess.

Even if you never call me Mum, you are going to make me a Mother tomorrow, and for that I can never thank you enough.

Until tomorrow my darling.

Things will be different tomorrow. I promise.

Advertisements

Infertility

We’ve been trying for a year.

If it worked straight away, I would be complaining of sleepless nights and sore boobs right about now. Instead we are booking doctors appointments to find out what is happening.

I don’t know what they are going to say. I honestly don’t mind either way, it’s just time we know now. So we can plan our family together, what ever that looks like.

It excites me that our children could be out there now, living and breathing and needing us now.

It sure is becoming a momentous year for us, in every which way.

 

Me and my councellor

I’ve been seeing a councellor for three weeks now.

I wasn’t loosing it, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t bitter or having twisted thoughts, I wasn’t crying all of the time, I wasn’t tired or depressed, I wasn’t suicidal or struggling with my marriage or at work.

But I don’t want any of the above to happen if i don’t have the toolset to help me cope with that.

I don’t want to be bitter.

I want to face grief head on.

 

It’s good too.

I like speaking about Dad. Remembering and enjoying telling a stranger about how amazing he was. Sometimes it all sounds to good to be true, like I am making it up. This makes me appreciate how truly lucky I am to have him.

Don’t get me wrong, its not all silly anecdotes and fond memories. Some feelings are raw and hurt very much. I need to learn to express and work through these feelings too. They are just not as easy to come through, when I am so used to looking for the positives all of the time.

I’m just saying, I’m pleased I am having councilling.

I am not ashamed of it.

I think it is a fantastic and free resource available to everyone and anyone and I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.

Every week I feel more and more accepting of my new reality.

Farleigh Hospice really do life changing work, with all that walk through their doors.

immortality

When you loose someone close to you, you are reminded that we are not going to live forever.

This reality check gives you two options:

  1. be sad about the idea of dying
  2. live everyday you have left to the fullest

I don’t know about you, but number two sounds far more tempting!

Im going wild this year. I’m leaving my well paid and steady teaching career, I’m shaving my head, I’m painting my skin, I am starting a business, I am travelling the world, I am becoming a parent… all in 12 months.

Have no regrets.

Life is too short.

My aim is to inspire you to do the same, okay you don’t all have to shave your heads, but my challenge to you is to live life to the fullest. Everyday. Not just on Saturday.

Say yes not maybe

run don’t walk

forgive quickly

and love everyone

 

because life is short and living life is wonderful.

 

 

 

 

Feelings on Father’s Day

How am I doing this year?
I’ve been thinking about Dad extra amounts this week. More has reminded me of him. I’ve felt quieter and more subdued. I’ve been nervous about how today would be. 

This morning I’m trying to keep busy, but also keep in mind the knowledge that I can still celebrate Fathers Day. I have a wonderful Dad, that in twenty six years with me, gave me a wonderful childhood, advice and so much love. 

Looking forward, this time next year, we will be celebrating Father’s Day in a different way. We will be parents, caring for our gorgeous little boy or girl. A child far less fortunate than myself, in regards to parenting. Jim will step into that role. He will be wonderful. He is so much like my own Dad. 

Please don’t feel sorry for me, or any other grieving children today. Just promise me you will spend time with your own Dad’s while you still have the chance.

Flutterings.

I did not write anything on here over the holiday period. I wanted to just live it, you know, without the reflection all of the time. I felt flutters of all sorts throughout the entire holiday and didn’t want to cement my flutterings on here, if that’s all they were. I do want to mark it though. Both days are very big firsts, and both different. I want to remember how I felt in the moment. I also want to share my feelings honestly, hoping they might help others. Below are writings from both days. As they were, as I wrote them, as I felt at that exact moment. Flutterings.

Fluttering one- written 26th December 2016:

And that’s a wrap. Christmas has been wonderful this year, it felt as full as our tummies. I was really hoping it wouldn’t feel broken and like pieces were missing. Obviously there was a lump in my throat most of the day, but we made it. We did it. If we can do Christmas we can do anything. Cheers to everyone, especially you Dad 💕

Fluttering two- written 1st January 2017:

That was so hard. The end of 2016. The year my Dad existed is done. Yesterday I could say ‘this year’, now I have to say ‘last year’, and soon it’ll be ‘a while a go’. I couldn’t see midnight. It was far too awful. I went to bed and was soothed to sleep after many many tears. I don’t want this year to finish. I don’t want my Dad to get further and further away from us.

Setting the table

There are lots of things that hurt that I expected would hurt. 

There are also things that hurt that I hadn’t anticipated.

This is one of those.

Every night we set the table I count through the people in the house.

I count Mum, Joe, Fred, Ella, Jim, Myself and 

and… erm…

and it stings every single time.

I thought I would get used to it, but it’s still the same pain as 11 weeks ago.

I still make myself do it though, set the table I mean, because if I don’t do it someone else will feel the sting.

Sometimes I just get all the plates, cups and cutlery out in piles on the table for people to help themselves to avoid any counting at all.

So that’s a thing.

Everything else is gliding along though.

It’s all happening and we’re kind of floating along with it.

I’m feeling a little more these days, still not in full HD 1080p yet, but it’s progress.

I’m trying really hard to look forward to Christmas. I love this time of year so much. I’m determined to make it happy and lovely and memorable.

If all this has taught me something I am a determined little soul. 🙈

Haha!

Happy Saturday you lovely lot 💕