They Just Move to the Other Side

Having been in and out of the doctors/hospital for about 4 weeks my Grandma had emergency surgery on Monday evening for a twisted bowel. They had warned us that she was pretty weak and that they would only do life-saving surgery. She spent the rest of the week with a million tubes and wires doing pretty much everything for her. On Thursday evening they took her off the ventilator and warned us that her organs were failing and that they would not recusitate her if crashed. She lasted 4 hours and then stopped breathing in her sleep at just after midnight on Thursday night.

I am glad that things ended how they did as I couldn't bear the thought of her breathing on her own but still having to be fed by tube etc. More than anything she valued her independence and the prognosis meant she would never be independent again. She will, however, be very much missed.

The last time I saw her, on Wednesday evening, I stroked her hand and told her about what the children had been up to. She couldn't answer as she was barely conscious and was on a ventilator but she opened her eyes really wide as I told her about the kids recent antics. I will prefer to remember her not in a hospital connected to wires and machines but a few weeks ago, sitting in my Mum's front room watching the children play and talking to Olivia. Olivia and Grace won't remember her but I am glad she got to meet them.

It Makes You Suffer and It Makes You Cry , But It's All Worthwhile

Earlier this week I was speaking at a conference. Yes, I am still on maternity leave, but the project I was speaking about had been my baby for 18 months before I had Olivia so I wanted to see it through. Anyway, I was busy with preparations for my presentation and also had my sister staying as she was exhibiting some of her design work in London, so I hadn't really kept in touch with all my usual reading.

Yesterday morning I sat down to catch up with what has been going on in the bloggosphere and read something that deeply affected me. It was the story of a poor little boy who died tragically early in the sort of accident which no one could predict but which just makes you feel the injustice of life. When you put your child down for an afternoon nap it never enters your mind that it could be the last time you will see them alive.

As I put Olivia down in her cot yesterday afternoon I lay next to her on my bed,stroked her peachy cheek as she slept and cried. I cried tears for that poor little boy in a different country, who I had never met, and tears of fear. It reminded me just how hard loving people is. I also felt so lucky as I stoked the face of that beautiful girl and it made me cherish every second with her. I'm not a religious person but the family of that sweet boy are in my thoughts.

Being a parent is hard. The magazine stories about unusual illnesses, which I used to read with interest and then turn the page, now scare me. Even though they are mostly rare occurences they remind me of all the thousands of things that can go wrong. Worst though seems to be the accidents of everyday life where there is little warning or opportunity to say goodbye.

There is an advertising campaign on TV at the moment, and advertising obviously doesn't really work as I cannot remember what the product is but I do remember the advert. A little boy jumps on his bed and we pan upwards to see that his mother has stuck a pillow to the ceiling above his head. We move on to a birthday party where a child blows out their candles with the mother standing by with a fire extinguisher ... I get the message ... We cannot wrap our children up in cotton wool. We have to let them be children and do the sorts of things that children do and just keep them as safe as we can. We cannot possibly foresee or prevent all the things that can go wrong but we have to focus on celebrating every day of our lives and every second we spend with our children.

Being a parent IS hard, the hardest thing I have ever done, but it is also the most rewarding thing I have ever done. I am truly blessed.