Archive | May, 2013

Happy Mothers’ Day

12 May

As the youngest child of the youngest child, and the youngest grandchild, I never really had a lot to do with babies or young kids. I didn’t know how to act around them, to talk to them.

Then suddenly, midway between 14 and 15 years old, the maternal pull inside me began. I’d see a baby and I’d WANT a baby. I wanted the late nights, the struggle to get them to sleep. I wanted the cuddles and the spit up and the nappy changes. I wanted the satisfaction of a messy bub placed in my weary arms after a long, painful labour.

But I wasn’t silly about it. I knew a baby at that age wasn’t a good choice and I’d have to wait. And wait I would, as patiently as I could, for the baby I long to hold in my arms.

I am turning 25 this year. My partner and I have talked about children many times- at one point we were considering starting at family in 2014, which was so exciting to me. I dreamed of cribs and clothes and those beautiful, wonderful cuddles.

But as my health continues to decline and more diagnosis are named, especially those with genetic factors, we’ve had to think again.

I’ve always wanted a mini me. A daughter who would share some of my physical traits. Someone I could recognise myself in. And now I have to face the fact that this probably won’t ever happen.

R continues to care for me the best he can. He works full time and I try not to ask him to do anything I can do. I manage to keep up with the dishes and the cooking and the laundry, and he helps me with everything else.

On a day to day basis I can manage. And on a good day, I might even be able to take care of someone else. But the good days are few and far between, the hospital visits frequent. He comes in after work to watch me finally get some sleep, to shush anyone who tries to enter the room, to make sure I’m receiving enough fluids. But he couldn’t do that if we had a child to care for. He wouldn’t even have been able to go to work that day, unless he managed to find a babysitter. Its hard enough and stressful enough having two dogs in that situation.

Our latest chat about the subject has left us both with the idea of fostering. While I am devastated at the thought of never passing on the good genes I have, the bad genes far outweigh the good and I could not possibly put somebody else through the pain I have been, and continue to go, through.

“Imagine, instead of raising two great kids, maybe three, we could raise fifty! We could have a positive affect on fifty lives. You can’t be sad about that, babe.”

And its true. I’ve always known I would be a fantastic mother, who would raise thoughtful and compassionate children, but maybe this way, I’ll get a chance to help kids who need a mother more than I need a child of my own.

Maybe I’ll have such an effect on a life that they would learn to call me ‘Mum’. And maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll never be well enough to do anything more than just survive, and this is all just a pipe-dream. But its a beautiful dream, and I just can’t let go of it.  


5 May

Its funny how life comes along when you think you are already too sick to do things, and whacks you right on the arse.

“I’m too sick to ride a horse.”
No I’m not. I’m just too aware of the consequences I will face afterwards, and possibly during.

Well perspective ducked his head in and realised I wasn’t living my life to my fullest potential.
I went into the hospital unable to keep hydrated, and I had a head nurse who decided I was not worthy of a doctor’s visit. That would surely be a waste of the doctor’s time, even though they are in the hospital.
She refried my kidneys and put me in a serious, avoidable condition.

And I remembered what being sick really means.

Its not about the days you go around the house slowly, struggling to get a chore done.
Being sick is not being able to clean your own bum, nor crawl to the toilet.
Its being told the plane is on its way to pick you up, take you to a better hospital with more knowledgeable doctors.
Its being told your bowel might have to be removed.

That medication list you just got used to? Scrap it. Here’s a new one, with a bonus 6 new medications!

I will come back from this. I always bounce back, and the bruises usually heal well enough to keep on truckin’.