To the girl who called herself the third twin.

My Lily.

My life is amazing with you in it.

You are unique, beautiful and special.

I love you, sweet girl.

Hope your birthday is full of sunshine, cake and everything your heart desires.

To anyone out there, who hasn’t run away (and I know alot of you have) thanks for sticking by us, thanks for reading still and taking the time to comment, even though you don’t know what to say. I know it’s all down in the dumps, illness rants and raves and you’re all sick of hearing it.

Just thank you, ok? 

Hospital: day five,

* The nurses on the paediatric medical ward are so amazing. They are kind, beautiful women, who look after my girl with skill and grace. Today we have Ivy’s favourite nurse, Pippa.

* I had a good ‘chat’ with the paediatrician and although we are still going ahead with the operation, I feel as though things will be put in place to prevent infection as much as possible. Also, it won’t be until after we get over this hurdle.

* Ivy’s oxygen saturations are up to 94%,

* She has colour in her cheeks

* We are allowed to go home today, so we can wake up with Lily on her birthday

* That means my own bed

* and my own shower

* and something to eat besides cheese Twisties (not that I have anything against them, they are a choice stress food, it’s just that there is not much vegetable in the humble Twistie and I am so desperate for vegetable, I am craving cabbage (yes, I know that’s sad)).

*It means fresh air and wide open spaces.

* I can kiss the kids and hug them tight.

* I can wander around in my zebra patterned flannelette PJs and not feel self conscious. (What? I got them for Mother’s Day, besides I look hawt in zebra wear… not).

Just a quick shout out to Tracey, Trish, Mary and XBox who kept me sane through MSN, texts and email, to Mum and David’s Mum and to the Wonder husband for holding down the fort and to the cherubs for being so patient.

I love ya’s all. MWAH!

There are babies in there and they are mine.

I grew them, harbored them for thirty five weeks, inside my body, our hearts and souls intertwined.

I can barely believe they are here.

I am a Mummy

.

The bigger of the two has soft strawberry blonde waves, still tight with vernix. Her cheeks are round, almost chubby, against her tiny body.

“Maddy” I whisper and her eyes open wide, reacting to my voice.

Those eyes, huge blue pools that drink me in, bright from birth but exhausted by her new world.  Story telling eyes. Soul catchers.

Just as quickly as they have opened, they are shut once more and I am left to  greedily take in the rest of her. Her fingers and toes, her mouth, drawn up in a cherubs bow.

She is beautiful and already I can see that she resembles The Family.

I cannot hold her though, she needs oxygen and time, so I hold her hand and coo to her through the glass of the humidicrib.

The softness of her skin lulling me into the sweetness of motherhood.

She is the second twin.

The first is on an open resuscitation trolley, her tiny body working hard to breathe, her head is covered by an oxygen box but it has a sliding window and one of the midwives opens this so I can see her features.

The first thing that strikes me is her dark, dark hair, so unlike anything I had imagined. Her head is the size of an orange but every single tiny feature on her face is perfect. Her eyes are squeezed shut as if to deny the world and her mouth is clenched but I can tell it is bigger than her sister’s and her lips are full.

This is Imogen.

She does not respond to her name. Being here is too much work at the moment but as I hold her hand her fingers curl around mine. Such long fingers, so graceful.

I start to cry because she is not well but the baby grasps me tighter, grasps my heart and I know that everything will be okay.

I look closely and think she is a mixture of both of us but her face is wise, like an old woman, who has seen much of the world before.

Everything about this child is diminutive but not her spirit, her spirit is big and full, like the moon she was born under.

I am tired and the doctors need to work on the babies, so my first foray into motherhood is brief. I am wheeled from the NICU slowly, my heart full with these two little girls.

Happy Birthday, my sweet cherubs.

Where have those years gone?

You are no longer babies, no longer little girls but on the cusp of womanhood.

I can hardly believe my luck. I am honoured to be your mother.

Malachy is globally developmentally delayed. He has autistic tendencies.

He handled his hospital party with the style and grace of a child with such issues. He totally ignored the party and played with a helicopter instead!

When he arrived on our doorstep he had two words. ‘Mum’ and ‘No’. He was three. He spent alot of time on the ground, trying to ignore the world. He had an obsession with wheels. The girls were often upset that their doll prams had been tipped on their sides, with wheels furiously spinning.

He was aggressive and angry with everyone. Frustrated that he could not communicate his needs to us.

Such was life with Mal.

Now he is ten.

Mal has been on a huge journey of learning and for us, it has been a journey of the heart.

One of acceptance and love.

He can talk in sentences and follow direction, he has learned to run, jump, ride a scooter. He can sing with the best of them (and holds a mean tune). He interacts with the other children and takes part in everyday life.

Things we were not sure he would ever be able to do, when he first came to live with us, he has achieved with determination.

In our eyes he is an amazing human being.

After alot of worry and tears we settled on  a late lunch on the beach. We had a cake and we sang happy birthday to our angel boy.

It was sweet.

He made his presence felt with the very low fly over of the Westpac Helicopter, the very same that was supposed to chopper him out to Westmead on that fateful night. The sound of that helicopter always makes me shudder. ALWAYS. Apparently it’s all a part of this traumatic birth deal.

After lunch we had professional photos taken. A lovely, lovely photographer, Renee Moore, was patient enough to capture the Seven Little Australians. I can’t wait to see them. There were even some with David and I.

Wow! If you ever need a photographer, and you are in the Newcastle area, we can highly recommend her.

The evening sunset was glorious on the beach and the weather was beautiful. We let the kids go in the water for an evening swim and as I watched them together, I couldn’t help but feel melancholy, for the little guy who was missing and alot of love for the earth angels.

They have kept me going, kept me mindful that it’s not just me who is hurting.

They have lost too, a brother, parts of their childhood, parts of the old Mummy.

They keep me grounded. I am thankful for that and for them.

Ivy started the Dapsone today as well and so, I have just one ask for my angel boy tonight and I know it’s his birthday but if he could just grant me this wish…

Please watch over her. Please. And keep her safe.

Happy Birthday, gorgeous boy. I love you.

The soft glow enveloping your small, pale face and big blue eyes. Filled with wonder and a new understanding. Of birthdays and life and all the important things, like snails and mud and which brand of Peanut Butter you like better and whether Captain Feathersword is funnier than Wags The Dog.

Four candles should be yours today with a wish and a dream attached to every one.

A lime green dinosaur cake with a black smartie eye and spearmint leaf spines. You might have asked me, before the party, if you could have the tail and I would have given you the biggest hug and said, of course, it’s your birthday.

Four candles should be yours today and as you blow them out, in overly dramatic puffs of boyish air, you would feel the love of your big sisters and cousins… and maybe even your little brother and sister too.

You would feel the warmth of their hugs circling you. You would secretly enjoy their attention but you would never show it because big boys who are turning four are tough. They can’t be seen to love too hard.

Except with their Mummy.

Four candles, my son. Where have those years gone?

Four candles, my boy. Has it only been four years?

Submitted as part of Mamablogga’s GWP for April

It got one comment.

It was from my husband.

It said; “Phwoarr! Awsome blog!”

Uh - huh. You read it right.

I’m not going to link you back to any posts.

Instead I am going to hand out blog bling (see post below) and I’ve got my own very spebshal handmade award.

It’s called the blogs with heart award. Sounds perty, don’t it?

I love reading posts that touch my heart in some way. Posts that make me feel a connection to the writer.

Here it is:

It’s my blogging gift to you.

My first ever recipients of the Blogs With Heart award goes to;

Trish

Kim

Veronica

Cellobella

Bettina

Lightening

Kelley

Xbox man

Childlife

Mr Lady

Dawn

Lotus

Twelve people who have touched my heart with a post. Really, there are so many of you but I thought I would keep it to twelve, one for each month of the year I have been blogging. I ‘d love it if you passed it around to other’s who have done the same for you.

I do want to thank each and every one of you who have taken the time to read, comment, reach out. For a housebound girly like me, it means the world.

Happy Birfday to my mummy, a true leap year baby!

It’s a big one and a true one.

She is 60 and 15.

Love ya Ma!

He called back.

You know,

the paed!

He had done his research, talked to  Ivy’s now four doctor team and had some suggestions.

No! Don’t faint!

There’s more!

We discussed Ivy’s pain at length and how it was getting worse and why we were holding off when the treatment was the same, no matter the outcome of the blood tests.

I said I had an appointment with the Dermatologist tomorrow and he said… wait for it…

he would see if he could be there!  To try to co - ordinate things a bit. (No promises, of course and I’m not holding my breath, ok, maybe I am holding it just a little bit).

Anyway.

I am truly amazed and happy and thankful.

There might be light at the end of this tunnel yet.

Last night, after Ivy and Noah were in bed, we did Christmas craft. I was pushed into it because today is the last day of school and we needed to make something for the teachers.

So, we baked biscuits and brownies and the kids made Rudolph pots to contain them. It was fun. Even David joined in and we spent some time together as a family. Something we haven’t done alot of lately. The kids were really proud of their efforts too and that made me feel happy. I knew there was some Christmas spirit still left in this old girl.

Then there was this.