Guilty

I have thought about writing this post many times. 

I don't think it's my fault that Monkey died.  Not really.  Hindsight's a wonderful thing and maybe I could have prevented it but you don't live your life like that do you?  It doesn't stop me feeling guilty though, about so many things.

Guilty that we didn't persist in asking for a sleep system which might have meant you'd have been better positioned the night you died; you might not have rolled over.  Guilty that you didn't have a breathable pillow - that it didn't even occur to us that you might need one.  Guilty that I put you to bed that night and left you when I knew you were uncomfortable.  Guilty that your monitor wasn't near to me.  That I left you in the house that night for 5 minutes - your dad was there in the garage - and went to look at a house in the village.  That I didn't check on you sooner.  Guilty that I once read a post from a Mum whose severely disabled child had died and wondered if that might not be easier in the long run.  Guilty that I didn't pay you more attention when you were here.

When I first saw the bereavement counseller, she asked me how I felt.  "Guilty" I said.  "Perfectly normal" she replied "as a Mum it's your job to look after your children; to keep them alive".  I'm not sure it made me feel better but I was very grateful to Judith for her straight talking and for letting me know it was okay to feel guilty.

Rationally, I don't blame myself.  We don't even know for certain if that's why you died.  I know that had I had a monitor with me, I probably wouldn't have heard anything which would have made me come in to you (you made lots of noises).  Perhaps that would have been worse.  You were often uncomfortable.  Waiting until you were comfortable could have meant not leaving you at all. Popping out the house made no difference to when I came to see you and your dad was close by. The other things?  I think they are human nature - it was hard to play with you all of the time and I definitely didn't want you to die. It was just sometimes hard being your Mum.

I loved you Monkey, more than anything.  And I'm sorry.  I tried my very best.

Skyping Heaven

"Mummy, can we Skype Grandma please?" We try Grandma, she's not there. "Can we Skype Granny S?" She's not there either. "Mummy can we Skype heaven and talk to Alex." Now there's an idea...

Resignation butterflies

I've just drafted my resignation!

It is with a fair amount of trepidation and a little excitement that I am resigning today.  I have loved working at Santander over the last 15 years and it has not been an easy decision to leave.  However, I think I’d regret it if I didn’t try and spend more time with Pickle & Wotsit before they grow up too much more. 

Please accept this as the start of my 3 months notice period so my last day in the office will be 23^rd March 2012.  Please could you consider the enclosed application for a career break in case I miss you all too much?

Kind Regards

Helen Foran

I have butterflies!

Pickle the peacemaker

Wotsit has rediscovered tantrums.  Thankfully, they've always been reasonably shortlived however they can be triggered by very minor incidents.  Like cutting up his carrots for him!

Yesterday, I deigned to take the lid off his yoghurt.  Cue stroppy talk:  "Mummy, I wanted to take the lid off.  I do not want that yoghurt.  I want to take the lid off a different one."

I apologise for removing the lid but ask Wotsit to settle down and eat up.  He is not remotely placated.  "I DON'T WANT THAT YOGHURT".  This continues for a bit so I take the yoghurt (and the spoon being wielded as some sort of weapon) and start eating it.  Wotsit gets louder.

At this point, Pickle pipes up (he hates to see his brother upset).  "Oliver, perhaps if you eat that yoghurt, Mummy will let you get a new one from the fridge afterwards and you can take the lid off that one".  I'm impressed with his negotiating prowess - no-one needs to back down; everybody's happy (I only wish I'd thought of it myself!).  Wotsit and I eye each other up.  I nod. "That sounds reasonable".  Wotsit concedes and starts eating.

When he's finished he asks if he can have another one.  "Of course" I say "help yourself".  Wotsit trundles across to the fridge and comes back to the table beaming.

Two minutes later "Mummy, could you help me with the lid on this yoghurt please, it's a bit tricky". 

Remember, remember the 9th of November

Monkey would have been 7 today.  I woke this morning and cried.  Husband was lovely but still doesn't quite get that it's okay to cry sometimes.  He gets up to have a shower and Pickle gets up too.  I then hear his door shut again.  I go downstairs.  "Daddy said you were asleep" he says.  It staggers me that Husband doesn't realise that what I need most is a hug from one of my boys.  I tell Pickle that Mummy is a bit sad because it is Alex's birthday and I miss him.  In reply, he asks me to read Beast Quest.  I ask for a hug first.  The hug is half hearted.  "Read Beast Quest Mummy.  I think Alex would like it.  Do you think he can hear?  I think he can.  God can so Alex must be able to as well.  Read Beast Quest for Alex Mummy".  We read Beast Quest.

After dropping Pickle at school, Wotsit and I visit the friend I made at the bereavement group I went to after Monkey died.  It was a good place to go today.  We indulge each other a bit and eat cake whilst the children play.

We collected Pickle from school and stopped at the church to drop off 7 white flowers on Monkey's plaque.  We play outside for a bit and I sit on the Monkey Bench.  After tea, we take the sparklers we've saved out into the garden and light them.  I spell out the name of all my boys.

We come in and it's bath and bed for the boys.  Wotsit is cuddling Monkey's dog that Grandma bought the week he died.  It was the day she flew back to Australia and the day Monkey was readmitted to hospital to fight off a chest infection for a couple of days.  In Pickle's room (after more Beast Quest), I ask what song he would like before he goes to sleep.  "Happy Birthday". 

Happy Birthday dear Alex.  We love you.  We miss you. xxx

A catalogue of errors (and a lovely holiday)

This year saw us going to Denmark for a family holiday.  The first as a mini family, without any aunts, uncles or grandparents.  It didn't always often go to plan but we did have a fabulous time.  Unfortunately, Pickle & Wotsit may have added a couple of words to their vocabulary that I'd rather they didn't know.

Incident 1 (oops)
2 weeks before we're due to leave, we start to get all the details together (flights, car hire, accommodation) - doing this 2 weeks prior to departure, for us, is the height of organisation.  We're staying at 3 different locations but unfortunately I can't find the details of our first stop.  I scour emails, websites and excel spreadsheets to no avail.  I remember remarking that the company hadn't taken payment at the time I booked and it doesn't take much to persuade me that I probably hadn't booked it all.  Still, I email a few people to see if they have my booking.  No joy.  So, I set about looking for alternatives.  I find a really great holiday resort that is fully booked and I'm gutted that I hadn't identified it first time around.  Anyway, I find an alternative and breath a sigh of relief. 

On our return home, I have a lovely answer machine message from a great holiday resort (namely the one I would have booked if it hadn't been fully booked when I looked at it) saying they hoped everything was okay but as we hadn't shown up for the first night, they were cancelling our booking...  That pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the holiday.  

Incident 2 (minor)
We're going away early on the Tuesday morning and we have to be at work on the Monday so we've booked the cat into the cattery from the Sunday.  We're also visiting my sister, 2 hours away, on the Sunday so we put the cat in the car as we leave to drop her off on the way.  We arrive at the cattery at 10.02 and I am pleased with my punctuality (I hate being late).  Only problem is we are actually 24hrs too early!  Although it would have been a great idea to drop her off on the Sunday, that's not what I'd arranged and the cattery can't take her until the next day.  This is the 3rd time we've tried to drop the cat off at the wrong time!  Hey ho.

Incident 3 (near disaster)
The night before we leave, the grandparents call to say they'll meet us at Gatwick to hand us some shorts they've bought for the boys that they want them to take on their summer holiday.  They live 45 minutes from the airport and we try to dissuade them.  We've packed and, what's more, we've not chosen Denmark for the weather.  But, once my mother-in-law's mind is made up, there's very little you can do to change it.  We concede. 

Our flight is at 08:45 the following morning from Gatwick.  Routeplanner says 1hr 17 minutes (on a clear run).  We need to be there approx 2 hours before take off so we leave at 05:45 (I know, it doesn't quite add up does it?).  Not only that but we haven't thought through which way we need to go around the M25 (we're roughly in the middle at the top and Gatwick is roughly in the middle at the bottom) and, I'm afraid to say, that clockwise wasn't a good choice!  We get stuck in traffic.  As gaps in the traffic permit, husband drives dangerously (and curses people in his way) and I am cross.

We arrive at the airport 35 minutes before take off and the only way we manage to catch the flight is due to my in-law's sweet talking the first class check in desk to fast track us.  (Thank you).  The good news is that I have no time to worry about the flight.

Incident 4 (could have been a lot worse)
We locate our hire car at Copenhagen airport and start our journey to Funen.  We've not gone too far (but far enough to be on a motorway) when we realise the child locks are not on.  We know this, of course, because Wotsit has opened his door.  Cue more swearing from my husband.  Disaster is averted as we're travelling at speed so the door doesn't open fully and I manage to put my hand behind me to keep it closed until we can pull over safely.

Incident 5 (sightly annoying)
We arrive at our first holiday house.  It looks nice (although incredibly close to a high speed train line, hence it's availability so late) but it's deserted with no sign of how we get in.  We wait for a bit before phoning the holiday company who say they sent us an email advising we needed to pick the keys up from a restaurant about 30 minutes away.  Oh yes, it's all coming back to me...

Incident 6 (potential to be the biggest error yet)
The first 10 days have been lovely and we're heading to Copenhagen for a final 3 nights.  We leave our second holiday home, drop the keys at the tourist office and head to the ferry port.  We check in there and we're in the queue waiting to board the ferry.  Which, thankfully, was a few minutes late.  I don't know what reminds me but I turn to my husband and say "I think I've left my purse in the house".  Reasonably tersely husband replies "do you want me to go back?".  I say no.  There's no money in it, I'll cancel my cards and hopefully someone will send it to me as it's a nice purse and has some personal effects in it.  And then I cry.  Monkey's 'children with disabilities' is still in my purse and I fear I might not get it back.  Husband softens and offers to turn back more gently.  It's fine, I sniff.  And then, two minutes later "I think the passports might be next to my purse".  Husband says nothing but pulls out of the queue.

We return to the tourist office, collect the keys, find the purse and the passports (and agree it wasn't completely my fault) and start all over again.

In conclusion:
We're very lucky!  Lots of near misses but no harm done.  Not even any financial penalties.  And we're still talking to each other!  We had a fabulous holiday.  Vikings, castles, Legoland, beautiful beaches, friendly people and beautiful children (most of the time), who (at 2 and 4) walked (mostly willingly) around a large part of Copenhagen, made up for all the incidents. 

Although I am slightly worried I may be losing my mind.

Time flies

It's been 4 years since Monkey died. I still miss him every day. In many ways I can't believe it's been 4 years and in other ways it seems like forever. I wish I could remember him better.  I wish it still hurt more so it felt real rather than a distant memory of someone else's life.

When Monkey died I promised I'd do something one day to honour his memory. Help some families in similar situations who could do with a hand in some way. I hope this doesn't sound like an excuse but I've been busy with Pickle & Wotsit but I've not forgotten that promise and I'm getting closer. 

I'm hoping to resign from my job in the next few weeks. It's probably a bit loopy to throw away a perfectly good job in the current economic climate but I'm going to do it anyway. The plan is to spend more time with Wotsit before he starts school - next September! - to work from home a couple of days a week and to start looking for useful things to do.

I love you Alex Monkey - you're still my inspiration.
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