Archive for June 2008
Weekly Winners – hospital, hometime and birthdays, Oh my!
Weekly Winners is here again. Hosted by Lotus over at Sarcastic Mom.
Last week was a bust for me so I have enjoyed going through the fortnight’s photos and picking out some faves.
Hope you like them too…
In hospital, you can build tall towers…
have your spleen palpated,
your brother can pretend to visit (secretly he just wants to play with the hospital toys)
sometimes it’s hard to do things with only one hand.
Bright colours help and music helps to get you through the bad days…
When home, there are celebratory lollipops
sunshine and smiles…
happy times just sitting together, swinging your legs.
Driving in cars.
Home just in time to celebrate a special 10 year old
and to receive some birthing day flowers.
Double figures.
I could float away in those eyes.
I will never get over how something so gorgeous came from me.
Sand play
A father and son moment.
Is that my son, drinking and driving?
I think this is my favourite for the fortnight.
A rosey glow.
Three day blues…
The sun shone so brightly today.
In the Winter sunshine the voices of the children’s choir lifted into the blue sky.
So blue and clear that I felt I could whisper my thoughts upwards and they would evaporate into organza swirls of white, consumed by the vastness of the day.
I am tired today and I can’t seem to pick myself up off the ground.
Fragile.
Is it possible to have the three day blues, even though there is no baby?
I think something similar happens when I retreat to my own world after the sterility of the hospital. The first few days are busy recreating normality but the third day, I always crash and burn.
Of course, scientifically, biologically, it is a known fact, that ‘fight or flight’ response. That sudden elevation in cortisol and adrenalin that pumps through the body in times of stress.
It helps us to cope.
It helps us to get through the trauma, helps us to stay upright.
If there is that high then, realistically, there must be a low.
Right?
A time when the hormones shift back to normal levels, leaving you flat, almost down.
That’s me.
The girl is not 100% and I am watching her along.
I know the pneumonia can take up to two weeks to resolve and so I keep vigil.
Our day though has been the stuff of dreams.
Relaxed, easy hours together.
The kids playing in the green fields, happy, carefree.
You can’t ask for more than that.
Courage through sharing – thanking him. Yes. Him.
Brought to you by Childlife
* This month’s theme is to talk about a person who has helped us in some special way. There are many people who have helped us. I am very critical of the medical profession, I know that. I have many trust issues with doctors. I’ve chosen to thank Ivy’s paediatrician because, even though we have a love hate relationship, he has stuck by Ivy and our family for the last two years. Even though diagnosis has been difficult and things have not been easy, he has never said ‘I give up’. I guess, that is the most important thing, that there is someone who will walk with us.*
Thank you.
We came to you for help (you were our third attempt at finding a paediatrician)
and you did.
You never gave up. (I bet you wanted to, though. I bet you were sorry we ever walked through your door, some days).
You helped us to find answers.
You listen to my stress and sadness.
You put up with my frustrations.
You always did what was asked of you and sometimes more.
Even though I get angry and expect too much, and my expectations are too high,
you really do have our best interests at heart
and I will be forever grateful
for you -
to have someone else walking this journey with us
who knows her almost as well as we do
and for your kindness.
I know you really do care about her.
I watch how gentle you are with her.
I’ve seen you work and worry at a problem until you find the answer.
If I have to trust any doctor, I’m glad it’s you.
From the bottom of my jaded, neurotic heart,
Thank you.
*Now, back to my regular whinging* 

























