The warrior parent. A much used label for a parent with a special needs child who fights the system until they are bruised and bloodied and then still gets up, spits out a loose tooth and goes in for a second round. Some parents wear this label as a badge of pride, and I completely
I don’t get unwell very often, I feel grotty an awful lot though. It’s a side effect of staying up too late, getting up too early and being surrounded by small humans leaking germs at me all the time. I don’t get can’t-get-up-out-of-bed sick, because I just can’t. At least I can’t Monday to Friday, because someone has to be vertical and vaguely compos mentis to look after Dominic.
When my beautiful Lilia was three years old, and already wise beyond her years, she and Elliot travelled on the train to London with her Granny and Opa to come and say goodbye to her baby brother who was not expected to make it through another night. I stood in the toilet cubicle with her outside intensive care and, as it had been my only opportunity to talk to her by myself, we discussed what it meant to be dead, what forever meant and why it was important to say a proper good bye to her little brother. Of course Lilia, wiser than us all, didn’t see her little brother on the table. She saw a small swollen body, connected to countless tubes and machines that pinged and beeped and made a small chest rise and fall awkwardly. She saw no need to say good bye to the body that did not look like her brother, sound like her brother or smell like her brother. She found it difficult to even contemplate that her beautiful, doe-eyed Dominic was somehow trapped inside this swollen, battered body that was giving up the fight. I wonder if she looked at me with the same curious large eyes wondering where her mother was too, as I may have looked, sounded and smelt right, but I wasn’t the one calmly talking about the finality of death and the importance of saying goodbye, I was trapped inside in my own way, just like Dominic. My body going through the motions whilst inside a growing black hole raged threatening to lift my last finger off the ledge.
******Reposted in its entirety from my original blog****** Just to let you all know that I gave birth at home in water to a beautiful baby BOY weighing 7lbs 6oz this morning at 4.00am. My waters broke quite spectacularly after I felt him literally punch his way out at 1.00am (I’d just gone to bed