Clouds enveloping, folding ever higher, reaching over the earth. Ever
changing, adaptable, flowing. This morning has been unexpected. As usual, I am
not able to digest the news or do anything with it, feel the emotions that are
about to cascade…I have to box it up, cuddle Esmie and carry on.
My sister came over to see you and look after Esmie whilst I have our
6-weekly Goal planning Meeting. They are full of encouragement, and we discuss
the way forward over the next 6 weeks, when we will all meet again, all your
therapists and us, to discuss discharge and ‘where you will go’. Which doesn’t
look as if you’ll be home in a year, 2 years, it’s more like a two year
placement somewhere, after the (nearly) one you will have been away already. Three
years, Alex. Three long, long years, and you will be in re-education, which is
amazing-you will no doubt make huge progress, and be not needing of the 24/7 care
side of things from me after this…But I find myself working out the age the
kids will be when you will finally be able to move home and receive therapies
as an outpatient. Monty will be 10, Lola 9, Mitzi 8 and Esmie 6…
It resounds like a drum beat in the pits of my aching soul…
I have a rare afternoon of quiet, cuddles, chasing, tickles, bike rides
with Esmie. It’s our last afternoon to do this, she’s off to school next school
year. I try hard not to feel overwhelmed at the idea of this, at the thought
that I am not there as I should be either for the kids, or for you. Guilt
scratches away internally, whispering coldly I am not doing enough, there’s
more I should be doing, it tells me everyone is losing out in someway or
I now sit here, having downed left over pasta, braided hair all
afternoon for roughly 8 girls I had round (a couple of mums for moral support
too!) one who braided and learned on the spot, the other who did the tea runs!
I know the plan is for the best, the well fare of everyone, but I feel
you’ve been away 10 months long enough. Now 2 and a half more long years to be
single…bringing up the kids without you having your input. How will it affect
them? How can I make it OK for them? How will they ever be OK with just me
bringing them up, them knowing daddy’s still in hospital…
It takes time to adjust. But I don’t have time! Do I even have the
I am told ‘this is not a sprint’ and I still am incapable of taking that
on board. It has to be, can’t it be over yet? Please??!
I busy myself, organising fundraisers, planning your nutrition, helping
achieve your goals (at least I like to think I help!)…adoring you, adoring the
little precious four souls that keep my mind focused, keep me advancing…
Sadness just engulfs me tonight.
I have to, again, refocus, adapt, positive cap on and think of the ‘positives’
in this plan.
Tomorrow I know it’s another day, an amazing one at that, I am not
coming in to see you in hospital, I am sitting here, waiting for you to come to
me!! Yes, your first homevisit! I’ve pushed furniture out of the way so you can
get in, it’s all set…the kids will be at school, so it’ll be you and me (and
the OT and the physio). But your first trip home! I am overwhelmed with pride
and excitement. My man, visiting me at home!
What an occasion, what a privilege…
So I will push thoughts towards the good and the immediate, and push
aside thoughts that drag me back.
Seizing the rain ceasing long enough to mow the lawn, I snatch the
opportunity today. I am not the strongest armed of people (!) and I think how proud
of myself I am for becoming as DIYey and dude jobby as I have (no offence but
there are certain jobs I classify as boy ones, like taking out the bins,
unblocking the toilets, generally all the sh*tty ones, putting up prepacked
furniture and all the other ones I don’t want to do!)…
I have become scared of the dark. Well, I have always been to be honest,
but not for over ten years have I felt the fear, you by my side took that away.
I became scared of the dark again when this happened.
In so many ways, your accident has had me re-evaluate, consciously,
unconsciously. There’s SO many changes, so many intricate facets…
Trying to change an outlook on life. Challenging normal anticipations,
Is everything all relative? As I hear a great deal, or is, in fact that
I just should damn well try as hard as possible to give thanks for all I have,
continually and not excuse it on a ‘well, it’s all relative’ quip? Tough one.
But sometimes I overhear a comment and I do feel I would love to have that to worry
I don’t know how I get to sleep at the moment, I drench the pillow
heavily with lavender oil, I no longer need the TV on all night to help me
sleep…but I think I finally drifted off, tears flooding, free falling, around
1 am last night. The nights are something I’ll never get used to, with no you
in the bed it so starkly stares me in the face; emptiness, when I have to turn out the
light- eyes burning with tiredness, I can read no more. I dread it, having
to put out the light. Knowing what’s coming next. Darkness, real and blind, no
protector by my side, just little me to look after, to watch, to protect four
I think part of me has been facing the fact you will not be the same,
that you are not the same, that you’re not going to just reappear…it’s been a
struggle, tangled and heavy, I still feel I am dragging myself through it. In
facing this, I am acknowledging something, something unthinkable, and for as
long as it is blocked out, it means it’s not real, surely? But fight it as I
might, nine and a half months into it, I cannot shake it, it’s there. It’s terrifying
acknowledging it, it means accepting.
When I glance back at some of the photos of you and the kids before, I see how young the kids look,
how much they’ve grown. I can’t ignore it.
I suppose I am moving towards accepting our new future, still together,
still a family, just very different to before. No matter how much I want it, I,
we, will never have our lives ‘magicked’ back to how it was…
Letting go of the past is painful, acceptance of the new and unknown,
That you are whole again, and home…that’s my dream now…
Waking up this morning was pure delight, groggy eyed, Esmie pulls at my
eye lids ‘mummy…mummy! It’s time to get up, do you want porridge, mummy? Are
you getting up mummy?’
I draw her up the bed sheets, scrunch her little 3-year-old love into
me. And I start the morning with a big cuddle from loving kids…Gift one of the
Monty had been on breakfast round this morning, it was 8.10 am when
Esmie woke me…I had a lie in!! They had the breakfast things out, there was
more milk in the bowls than on the table, good start! Gift two…
They had chosen their outfits for church, Monty a miss-matching tracksuit,
muddy school shoes, Esmie pyjama bottoms, they were staying! And a stripy top,
Mitzi a dress on top of another dress and 2 cardigans, she’d put her hair in 5
ponytails, hair everywhere, beautiful! And Lola wore Esmie’s cardigan (as a
short sleeved too short fashion statement) and a polka dot dress…
I sip my tea and breathe in the peace, the new day, loving kids. Bliss.
Happy family; just missing one.
When I reach a place as I did yesterday, I just have to give up, hand
over the emotions, the ordeal to the Most High, and trust. Trust that I am
doing my best, this is at times, so impossible, that I do have to forget me and
put the iron lid on the emotions and trust they are safely put away, not
festering and leading to somewhere I will have no control over if they all
But I really cannot ever let them explode. This is what it is. I can only accept, and learn,
and move forward.
Yes, sometimes to pick yourself up again is nigh on impossible, but when
you have no choice, you really do find the strength to do what you have to do.
Yesterday became so ridiculous, that I did have to laugh, because why,
after a day like I had would all those other things too go wrong?! But that’s
life, they do, I am not immune from life’s little catastrophes-burning plastic
in the oven, dinner falling on the floor, cat puke on clean bed sheets, just
because I have something bigger to deal with. I just have to realise that the
bigger thing to deal with is you, Alex, and the smaller things, well, I have to
pick my battles! And party poppers in the tumble drier should make you smile
(if no one’s hurt, which no one was)! it was quite good fun actually, may use it as a cheer me up prop next time!
Picking your battles, having control, accepting when things are s***,
they just are, and find ways of lifting myself out of it. Like fresh cups of
tea, a night when 3 out of 4 kids slept through. A morning where I slept in,
beautiful souls-FOUR of them, I am blessed to nurture and be there for in their
time of need. They trust me, they need me, and as a mother, that responsibility
is what I accept, and therefore have to get on with.
The afternoon was spent with family, kids amused, cups of tea, school reports
read. A diligent Monty who had to do his homework, and did so, I had no idea,
lucky he was motivated to do it! Lola practices her handwriting, Mitzi her
reading, and Esmie just does Esmie things, which, praise the lord, did not
include cutting her hair off…
I have spent an hour cleaning carpets, had a shower, pyjamad up, and
settled in in the warmth, dog at my feet, cats finding safe places to sleep,
and I listen to music and write…and today I feel lucky, privileged for all I have,
the people who surround me, time to write…my biggest form of therapy!
‘To everything, turn, turn, turn, for everything there is a season, and
a time for every purpose under heaven…’
The Byrds sing and I heed their lyrics…
It’s about accepting, trusting, refocusing, and carrying on.
Today, I have done this, driven by my kids…
Tomorrow I am in first thing in the morning to see you, and a fresh day.
Friday you have your first home visit…SO it’s a week to look forward to, and I feel
that excitement. I can hardly contain myself at the thought you will take your
shoes off in a house, the first time in over 9 months you’ll be out of a
Yesterday, I flipped, I flailed, so I knew I had to refocus, deep breath, and
remount, I have, and I am going ‘bring it on!’ to next week…