I have broken my prolonged silence (more on that soon) to share a very special video in honour of feeding tube awareness week. I would be forever grateful if you could find a minute to share it, as ultimately the more people that watch it, the further the message can travel.
By the time you read this post, I will have packed a suitcase, boarded a fast train to London and relocated the few things that Dominic and I can survive with into a room somewhere in the heart of Great Ormond Street hospital. I have been preparing to separate myself from my family and
Home is where the heart is, or so the general consensus seems to be. In many ways I feel like I have come home now, everything has regained some kind of order, the cobwebs no longer have the larger share of the house and there has been a lot of culling of clothes and toys.
Is it possible to be addicted to procrastination, and if it is, is that a bad thing? I hold my hands up to being a terrible time waster when there is something that I really must be doing. If I was sitting in an old church hall right now, rather than standing up and embracing
About three hours after leaving him I got to take the long walk down to recovery to collect him. The nurse recognised me straight away. It took me a while to work out how she could know instantly that I was Dominic’s mother without ever having met me before. Eventually my eyes fell on a