The one about celebrating 3 …

Dear  Monsters,

Today you are 3.  It’s not been an easy road to get you this far,  fate tried to take you from us early on.  You’re tough cookies though, and you fought and showed your courage from the start.

I can’t tell you life is going to be easier now you’re 3.  You’ve come so far in the past 3 years, but you still have a long way to  go with catching up to your peers. I know you’ll do it, but no matter what, I’m going to pick you up when you fall, and turn you in the right direction  when you’re lost.

3 is tough. You guys think you’re big girls now, and I still call you my babies.  You are my babies though, and you always will be.  I won’t forget holding your tiny hands inside the incubators, or  that first precious cuddle we had after you were born.  Even though you’re big girls now, I’ll still try to cuddle both of you at the same time like used to.  Just don’t wriggle too much.

The road ahead is unsure, monsters.  We don’t know what the future holds for you, for us, for anyone.  You can be sure that I’m going to be  with you on that road,  making sure that we clear any obstacles together.  We’re a good team, you monsters and me.   We fight together,  and we  charge through life  like bulldozers.  We’re a little crazy, but when you’ve been down our road, crazy helps us stay happy and healthy.

 So here’s to you, my crazy, happy, healthy little monsters.  3 years has flown by, I can’t wait to see you enter your 4th year in the same way you approach life – with enthusiasm, love and a touch of craziness. xx

Love,

Mama.

The one about finding people who get where you’ve been …

Let me be the first to say – this is by no means dissing any of my existing friends, especially those who are close to me and have been by my side throughout everything.  You are all wonderful, and I value you all.

3 years ago, I was struggling with the TTTS/TAPS diagnosis, endless doctors appointments, not knowing if my children would live or die.  I was in a country where I barely spoke the language, with only my husband knowing the full extent of what was going on, and our parents to a lesser extent.  A lot of my pain and hurt I hid from public view (this is part of who I am) and internalised.  On top of that, being part of this mysterious 10% that got a condition that not many people understand, and not being able to find good, reliable and easy to understand information about – things were stressful.  And it felt like I was alone. Very alone.  16,000 kilometres away from my family and friends, and very little emotional support. Continue reading The one about finding people who get where you’ve been …