A Trip Down Memory Lane

Every so often you can be going about your life when boom! You are hit with memories so powerful they take your breath away. That happened to me this past week. My mother in law needed surgery which was scheduled last week at the Mater in Brisbane. The Mater in Brisbane where Elijah entered the world in an extremely scary fashion just over 6.5 years ago. I hadn’t really given it much thought, I guess the surgery had occupied my mind.

Our first stop was to check my father in law into the hotel where he would stay for two nights. It just happened to be the same motel we went to when I was discharged from hospital 3 days after giving birth. While it wasn’t the same room, it was identical to the one we stayed in. The bed where I lay down and sobbed my heart out because I was no longer in the same building as my child, because It felt one thousand types of wrong to be separated from him. The shower where I cried again each night having to leave him again and where I discovered that crying in the shower does amazing things for milk supply! Even  though I could be by his side in minutes if something went wrong if I ran my fastest (trust me, turtles have nothing to fear even with me at my fastest) And  I knew I would find superhuman speed if my child were in trouble. But it still wasn’t the same as being only a one minute lift ride away.

We then walked over to the hospital, up and down the hills we walked each day all those years ago, me with an esky bag of expressed  milk slung over my shoulder .No wonder I lost so much weight on my stay!! Past the Coffee Club where we would meet with friends who came to visit. My mind always half on the conversation and half on wondering how my baby would be when I got to see him, Praying there would be no deterioration. I was always so grateful for the human interaction and time out from the constant alarming of monitors, but a big part of me was anxious and couldn’t wait to get back to the NICU. My greatest fear was that something would happen while I was off having a coffee of all things. 

Later in the day we walked to the little IGA that we visited each afternoon to buy something yummy. In my memory it always seemed much further away. We drove past the Coles that we went to, to find an Easter present for our child who was still meant to be safely in utero over Easter. He caught us by surprise. I remembered thinking we had driven for ages and were so very far away from the hospital. I almost had a panic attack and had to leave, grabbing the nearest stuffed bunny on the way. To make it worse the Doctor rang on our way back. I feared the worst, but he was just ringing to check in with us as he had missed us on his rounds. Seeing it this time- Coles was only about 2 blocks away. It’s funny what stress can do to your perspective.

I saw the street I walked to our new accommodation. By myself, unsure of exactly where I was going, loaded down with everything I would need until Allan arrived that night. I walked that street and I quite possibly felt like the saddest girl in the world. I am a person who has never embraced change and here I was everything so up in the air and I was moving again, when all I wanted was for something to stay the same.

This time though, I saw all these places and walked these streets with that little  scrap of a baby holding my hand as a healthy, beautiful, vital 6.5 year old. I showed him where he was born and where his life was saved. I joked with him in the car on the way down about why he felt the need to be born so darn early. His reply : “I was bored. There was no I Pad in your tummy”. Such a funny little man grew from that tiny, tiny human .

 I wished I could go back in time to that woman, to those parents who had such a rough and unfair start to parenthood and show them what the future would be. Tell them that it would be so very hard, and they would see things they could never unsee, that would bring tears to their eyes for many years to come. Tell them that, yes, they would be left with nightmares and fears, but these would pass eventually. There would also be some  scars- some of which would never fade. I would hug that woman who sat day by day beside a humidicrib not feeling like a real mother, waiting every day hoping today would be the day she got to have a cuddle, wondering what she had done wrong to cause this, feeling so numb and the guilt that numbness caused . I would show her a little way down the track, not very far at all, the moment when she would look at her baby, the first time without all the monitors attached,  and her heart would explode with such complete and overwhelming love for this child she had created and she finally felt  she was a mother.

But I would also tell them that it would all be ok. Their baby would be one of the lucky little miracles. He would avoid all the horrible things that so often go hand in hand with such prematurity- brain bleeds, blindness, infection, learning difficulties, death. He would be slow to start but he would catch up and surpass every milestone. He would be amazing and very much alive and very much loved.

The Best of Both Worlds

Anyone who knows me, knows that excited, overjoyed and thrilled were not adjectives used to describe how I was feeling about my return to work this year. I had been out of the game for 2 years and in that time, the game had changed and I was not in it. I was not even in the dressing room! Whilst I was away in my little bubble of baby bliss, a whole new curriculum came in. I had seen the curriculum, I had helped make folders for the curriculum, but due to an impatient little bubba and an incompetent little cervix, I never actually got to teach the new curriculum before going on leave. So my confidence in returning to the classroom was not high.
And I was sad. Another chapter had closed in my life- that of being a full time stay at home mum. Its quite possibly the last time I will ever be that. I hadn't reached the stage of getting bored with it, or needing the stimulation that working provides. I was happy in my little nest with my beautiful chick. But such is the fickle world of education, that I either had to return, or face the very real possibility of another transfer. I had only been at my school for a year before falling pregnant, so the thought of transferring again left me in a cold sweat. I mean I had only just fully remembered my photocopier password!! So return it was.
I know that I have been very blessed to be able to have the time off with my children that I have had. Three years with Elijah and two with Joe (now don't be getting all up in my face with claims of favouritism towards my firstborn- I simply had more leave accrued, and leave rules changed in the meantime ; ). My heart aches for those mummas whose work does not allow them to stay home for as long as they want to and it makes me grateful that I could.
So 2014 saw me return to teaching part time. 2 days a week. Allan was able to take leave 2 days a week for the whole year to stay home with Joe which has meant he wasn't going into daycare before any of us were ready (his boss is Uh-mazing!) . I know lots of kids go into care a lot younger than Joe, but I want him to be able to communicate before he goes, so he can tell me if he is happy or scared or tired or he just needs a day off. Elijah was three when he went and he handled it beautifully. Its a good age.
Everything has fallen into place. I never thought I would be saying it, but I LOVE my job. I have amazing teaching partners and it makes work fun. I teach two grade one classes in a double teaching space, One class one day, the other the next. So its crazy and busy and oh so noisy. I am responsible for geography which is hilarious. If you know me well, you know I could not give a direction to save my life and my concept of North and South are limited to being able to accurately place them on a compass. I am slowly getting used to the new curriculum and working out that its not as scary as I had imagined. In fact, the biggest challenge is fitting it all in and making it more interesting so the kids don't sleep through the whole thing!
I love that I get to stretch my brain and spend time with some pretty cool 6 year olds, and I love that I get to spend time with pretty amazing adults. Changing roles for 2 days a week with Allan has also been great for perspective. We walk in each others shoes and realise that both jobs have their challenges and their triumphs. I love that Joe gets one on one time with daddy, and he does too.
Best of all though, I still get time to be a mum. I get to do the lunches and the school drop offs, and I get lots of time to hang out with my main little man. I am making a concerted effort to not get too weighed down with the cleaning and the chores. I have seen just how fast time goes with Elijah. I don't want to waste the precious time I have left before Joe goes to school. So we walk and we go to the park, we explore, we cook, we play and we have fun. It really is the best of both worlds. And I am grateful

Dear Shop Lady

Dear Shop Girl,

Firstly, let me thank you for unblocking my Bloggers block. I haven't had much inclination or inspiration to write lately, so thanks.

Now lets get down to business. The reason for this letter is that I really feel I need to let you know that today, while shopping in your shop, you annoyed the absolute crap out of me. Please don't do it again.

I saw a cute dress hanging outside your store, I went in to try it on. First mistake. I had my almost 2 year old in the pram and he was nearing the end of his shopping tether, which was mistake number 2. Now I know you are barely old enough to be out of the pram yourself, so I cant really expect you to understand. Let me break it down for you. When an almost 2 year old is nearing the end of his tether one does not have much time. I calculated I had just enough time to throw the dress on, check it fitted my criteria of a) does it fit b) does it make me look like a street walker c) does it look like pigs fighting under a blanket?  before making a quick transaction and hauling ass out to the car.  But no, you felt the desire to show me 300 other dresses that mostly did not fit criterion a, b or c. I took a deep breath and reminded myself you were doing your job. Then as I thought I was almost near the finish line you insisted I check out the box of God-awful belts, hats and scarves that were a tiny $1. Now casting my weary eye over the box I could see even Barbie herself would struggle to get some of these teeny tiny belts around her hips. Unless you thought I could use them as anklets perhaps? Almost 2 year old had reached "I am going to squeal because the acoustics in here are awesome and I am bored"

My patience was definitely wearing very thin so I just said "I will just take the dress please" I refrained from saying "For the love of all things holy just scan the freaking dress before I stick a stiletto heel through your head" cos my mumma done raised me to have manners.

And then the unthinkable happened. I thought for a moment I had misheard. But no, there it was again. "just insert your card thanks Love" WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!! You are barely out of training pants and you just referred to me as love, numerous times.. Had I been a promiscuous teen I could at a stretch be old enough to be your mother and yet here you are calling me love!! Now I admit I am a sucker for being called 'darling' or 'sweetheart' or other such niceties, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. IF, and only IF the one doing the name calling is older than me. When it is done by someone who still probably drinks from a sippy cup and has a night light then it is not cool, not cool at all.  And it is one sure way to guarantee I will not be visiting your store again any time soon. That is all

From the woman with the almost 2 year old who is definitely not your 'Love'

p.s I am sure you thought you looked impossibly cool in that flower headband, but it kinda looked impossibly like you had knicked it from Granny's grave. And I know this makes me really old, but in my day, pants used to cover ones butt cheeks. Just sayin love.....