365 days without you...

A year ago today I flew back to be with you after spending about two nights at home. I had been flying back and forth and trying to find a balance between helping nurse you and still keep my job - and I was six months pregnant.

I made sure that I flew in in the morning because I knew that that afternoon we were moving you. We knew the time to say goodbye forever was drawing nearer and we took a decision to move you to the beautiful Hospice we had chosen. The one with the bedroom with doors that opened up onto the most beautiful garden, filled with flowers...

I arrived at the house just in time. The moving process had started and the ambulance that was coming to transfer you was on its way. You had been in and out quite a bit lately, but on this day you seemed quite alert and full of smiles. I remember standing at the end of the bed and you mouthed something to me. I didn't understand and asked you to repeat it. You mouthed, a little more forcefully this time, I Love You. I said "I love you too my mommy." That was my last 'I love you' from you.

You weren't happy about being moved - with two broken legs any movement was extremely painful. But we had arranged for one of the ambulance drivers that you had grown close to over the past few months to come and oversee the process - even though it was her day off. She was more than happy to oblige.

I said I would drive in the ambulance with you. They wouldn't let me sit at the back with you - there wasn't space - so I climbed in the front next to the driver. You were scared. I spoke to you the entire way there. I kept telling you over and over that I was there with you, even though you couldn't see me.

We arrived and settled you into your room. The gardens really were beautiful and we opened the doors so you could face outwards and see the flowers. You were in a joking mood and even said you wanted to go the casino...we fed you ice lollies. When you fell asleep we didn't know it would be the last time we would hear you talk.

Leaving you behind was harder than any of had expected it would be. We just couldn't seem to make ourselves go - but eventually we had to. We took turns kissing you goodbye. You were asleep.

The next day we spent most of the day in and around your room. You were very asleep the whole time and very peaceful. We wandered around the gardens and went for lunch at a nearby restaurant. We went home for a few hours in the late afternoon.

That evening T, N and I drove back together, just the three of us. We spoke and sang the whole way. When we arrived dad and Pa were with you. We all sat together for a while and then dad and Pa left the three of us with you. We spoke, about things we would only have discussed with you. We remembered special times and, when we each took turns saying goodbye, it was without tears. T kissed you goodbye last and the last thing she said to you was "Don't worry mom, we are all going to be okay."

An hour after we arrived home the phone rang. They told us to come. When we got there they told us you were gone. We were devastated that we hadn't been with you, but one of the nurses told us that in her experience mothers hardly ever pass on with their children in the room...you waited for us to go.

They made us tea that we didn't drink. They gave us scissors and told us to go into the garden and cut any flowers we wanted. They let us light a candle for you. When we went in to see you we each placed our flowers on your chest. We cried. I kissed your hands, your cheeks and your forehead. And then, after looking at your beautiful face one last time, we left. When we got home we lit a candle at the front door and made sure it stayed lit, day and night for a week.

I don't know how I've survived an entire year without you. You've missed so much. But somehow I know you have been with me throughout this year - you've seen and enjoyed all the very special moments and you've gently guided us through the toughest times.

I know this, but I still miss you so very much. I dread facing tomorrow - and all the tomorrows for the rest of my life - without you.


I love you my little mommy...to the undiscovered universes and beyond.

And we're off...

He did it. He crawled. It was such a special moment and I couldn't have asked for it to happen any differently...

It was our turn to have the girls for the weekend and when they arrived on Friday afternoon and were playing with N on his playmat I said to him, "Are you going to start crawling this weekend, while your sisters are here so they can see..?"

Low and behold...Saturday morning we all got up (nice and early as is the norm these days) and we were all sitting in the lounge. We are hardly ever all sitting together in the lounge these days. Either DH or I are busy doing something in the house/kitchen or one of the girls is up in their room, or N is asleep...But there we were just sitting around chatting and he got up onto his hands and knees and rocked (like he's been doing for about two weeks) and then just took off crawling across the floor - as if he'd been doing it forever! We were all in a little shock initially! And then we had loads of fun playing 'fetch' with him and clicking away, taking photographs and video-taping the moment. It was really special and I'm so glad the girls got to share such a big milestone with him and us.

What's the big deal? This crawling thing is so easy.

I couldn't be prouder of my big boy!

Am I doing this right?

I have asked myself this question every single day since he was born. And I can't help but wonder when I will stop questioning myself. When will I just believe that I know what I'm doing, and that I know how to be a good mom? I doubt ever.

Being a mother is, without a doubt, the scariest, most demanding yet incredibly amazing and rewarding thing I've ever done. Let me tell you, it's exhausting being filled with such instense, conflicting emotions every day. There are so many things that I question: Am I feeding him the right foods, enough food? Is he sleeping enough, or too much? Should I worry more about the hemangioma on his side? Is he a happy baby? Is he developing at the right rate? Do I stimulate him enough? Or too much? It. Is. Exhausting.

Of course there are people I could (and do) ask. There are books and websites that I could (and do) read. But no matter what they say, I wish I could just feel, in my gut, that I'm doing the right things. I want to know, beyond all doubt, that I making the right decisions for him. They say that when you become a mother your 'maternal instinct' kicks in immediately and you know what's right for your child. I say "what crap!"

Something definitely does kick in when you become a mom. For me it was an insanely overwhelming instinct to protect my child from any and everything. But that doesn't mean you immediately know how to breastfeed...or whether you're dressing your child warm enough or too warmly...or why your baby is crying at 3am when you know they aren't in pain, hungry, too hot or too cold!

This is the most important job I've ever done and I have no way of knowing if I'm doing it correctly. I know I'm trying my best. I know I lie awake every night and question whether I've done the absolute best I could do for him that day...

Happy 8-month birthday to the most beaaaautiful baby boy ever born. Ever. Yes, ever.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this week, about how every mother and father thinks that their child is just the cutest thing ever to walk (or crawl ... or simply rock back and forth at this point for Mr N) the face of the earth! I mean, take me for instance. I know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that my kid is cute. And I know this because ... well, hello:

But in all seriousness I can't help but giggle at the sentiment that all parents think their children are beautiful. I mean we all know that not all kids are good looking ...

The friend I was chatting to had mentioned that he and his wife had bumped into someone they knew at the Baby Expo that morning - and she'd recently had a baby. He said he absolutely hated to admit it, but the minute they walked away he turned to his wife and said "what a strange looking baby" and she completely agreed! And I know I've felt that way too at times about babies I've seen. They aren't ugly - how can they be - but some babies just aren't exactly boootiful ... Of  course their parents clearly think they are. I guess somehow that overwhelming love you feel for your mini human the minute they enter the world completely overshadows any and all rational thought - and you just know that you've never seen anyone more perfect. Love is blind they say.

Of course, not in my case, because...well...just refer to the above image for confirmation of my 8-MONTH-OLD's bootifullness...

Eight months. I can't believe how time has flown and how much my boy has changed in this time. And how much I've changed. As I went through the motions of feeding, bathing, dressing, giving him his bottle and putting N down last night I couldn't help but think of how much my life has changed in the last year. From the early days of breast feeding every 2 to 3 hours throughout the night (and wondering if I would ever sleep again), to now watching him as he sits perfectly by himself and now tries (although still quite unsuccessfully) to rock forward onto his hands and knees in an attempt to move...

We are enjoying him so much at the moment. He is such a smiley, happy baby and just loves his mommy and daddy and sisters so much. And we couldn't love him more if we tried.

Eight months ago today my life changed forever...and I couldn't be more grateful.

Bad, bad blogger

Okay, so I'm new to the blogging thing. But I'm definitely not new to the 'journaling' thing. And, to be honest, I've always been a good 'starter' and really, really bad at seeing it through. When I look back over journals I've kept over the years there is a definite pattern. I generally start enthusiatically, writing every day and slowly it simmers down and then I'm only writing once every six months! I promised myself this would not happen on this blog - and here I am repeating the pattern! Urg!

The reason I don't want to let that happen here is mainly because I'm not keeping any form of a journal any more and there is SO much happening every day with my baby boy. I'm terrified that I'm going to forget the little things...well, actually, I know I'm going to forget them. I have to try my best to keep this blog going - even if I only write once a week (more would be better though) - so I have these extremely special moments recorded forever...for no one else but myself probably...but still. Okay pep talk to self over.

We're bordering on the eight-month mark (holy hell!) and the little man is just getting cuter and cuter by the day. Seriously, I can't believe how much fun we are having with him. He smiles all time. All mommy and daddy (and nanny Maureen) have to do is look at him and smile and we always get the biggest, cutest grin back. It's awesome.

I'm loving every moment of this montherhood gig - and even when I'm so tired I can barely see straight and I'm rocking him to sleep at 2am - I have to stop and thank my lucky stars. I keep asking myself, "how did I get so lucky?"

Watching CBeebies

He's already a big fan!

Rocky Balboa turns six months old

Our little man is six months old today and I absolutely cannot believe it! This time last year a lot of really crazy and scary things were happening in our lives, but at the same time I was also just over a month pregnant, and completed thrilled at the prospect of finally becoming a mommy.

In celebration of N's 'half birthday' today we scheduled a play date with his buddy J. Little J's folks were in the same antenatal classes as DH and I and we became firm friends pretty much from day one. I'll never forget the first class, when J's mom and dad walked in (she was a month further in her pregnancy than me) and sat down on the couch in the Storks Nest. The couch leg snapped immediately and the two of them landed gently (luckily) on the floor. It was hysterical and a great way to break the ice for our first class!

Anyway, I left work a bit early and we headed off after his lunchtime bottle. When we walked into their lounge, J's mom proudly told me that J (who is four weeks almost to the day older than N) had started a pre-crawl 'drag' and could now maneuver himself around on the floor! She was super excited and wanted J to demonstrate his new-found talent for us immediately. She plopped him down on the floor and tried, in vain, to get him to move. He was clearly much more interested in staring at the lady with a baby standing in front of him, and just lay there on his tummy with both legs and both arms in the air - skydiving style. "Oh well, I'm sure he'll show us his new moves in his own time," I said and plopped N down on the floor on his back (he is sooo NOT a fan of Tummy Time - to the extent that I am worried he will never ever crawl - but that's a whole different story for a whole different day…). Within seconds of me plonking N down, his buddy J went into drag-maneuver overdrive and was suddenly right next to him. Before we knew what had happened he reached out and grabbed onto N's face (I think he thought N was a toy that might squeak if he squished it really hard). Unfortunately he managed to grab a bit too hard and his nail gouged into N's skin, drawing blood. Needless to say N gave off more than just a little 'squeak' and when she saw the blood poor J's mom looked like she was about to sit down and cry herself! 

Once I settled N down and wiped away the little smudge of blood under his right eye I managed to calm J's mom and reassure her that he was okay! It was a helluva start to a playdate, but he is absolutely fine with just a tiny scratch under his eye. 

The whole thing freaked me out less than I thought it would. I know its par-for-the-course with kids and it won’t be the last time I’m sure! But it is still always hard seeing your little one in pain. We've had to endure it a few times so far in N’s life - with blood tests, vaccinations and a biopsy to boot! And consoling them when they are in genuine physical pain is heartbreaking. After his little mishap today, I realized that when I became a mom I signed up for a lifetime of consoling. I realized (especially as he’s a boy), that there would be a lifetime of scratches, bruises, bumps and cuts…and that doesn’t even begin to include the emotional pains that life brings with it. As much as I want him to grow and learn, I also wish I could keep him small and as protected as possible from all the dangers of the world. I only have to think about how much pain I have in my heart from losing you mom, and I wish I could spare my son this kind of hurt. 

I remember thinking, when we brought N home from the hospital how much I wished I could put him back into my tummy. Don't get me wrong, I loved having my baby here, but it was so much easier knowing how to protect him from the world when he was tucked away inside me.

But I know I can't protect him from everything. It's part of living... and I guess loss and hurt (both physical and emotional) remind us every day that we are truely alive.