I woke up this morning full of optimism. I’d had a reasonable night’s sleep by my paltry standards, my fab Homestart volunteer was coming to give me a couple of hours to catch up with myself, and I was going to get lots done. Heck, the sun even came out in smpathy.
But within a few hours, that all-too-familiar tidal wave of anxiety came over me. The knot in my stomach drew tighter. I was drowning. I had prescriptions to sort out, appointments to chase, emergency childcare to arrange when it turned out that the two next week, which I’d been assured would be mid-morning, clashed with school pick-up. I had a DLA form to complete (the shortest road to depression I have yet encountered – it’ll hit you by page 3 guaranteed) and two carers forms to fill out. I even had to chase a 3-month old referral to the keyworker who is supposed to be managing all our referrals. I kid you not.
Every form in which I had to list Mr Boo’s problems – PVL (brain damage), likely Cerebral Palsy, infantile spasms, developmental delay – felt like a punch in the gut. I needed distraction, and another cup of coffee was not a good idea, not if I didn’t want to do my best Mrs Overall carrying the macaroons impression. So I checked my blog stats.
I know this is not advisable for morale, especially as such a newbie blogger, but a few people do seem to read this (thanks!) and I love that. But before I got to the stats I stopped in my tracks. I looked at my blog header and just stared.
I long to put photos on this blog, I am a rubbish (and I mean rubbish) photographer, but I have a ton of photos and because my kids are in them they are fabulous, even if I do say so myself. More to the point, I know how much photos mean to blog readers, perhaps to none more so than readers whose children were born prematurely, or who have disabilities or special needs. To SEE how your story may develop is thrilling. If I could make one NICU parent smile by showing them what a robust and cheeky monkey Mr Boo is now, my day, week and year would be made.
But I am a secret blogger. No one knows I am writing this, not even The Grumposaur, who I fear might not get it or approve. Unless and until I out myself, I can’t very well put up pics of our kids on this blog. But I do have the joy of being able to see the real Mr Boo, to look at our header pic and see how far we’ve come.
The knot in my stomach starts to loosen and I can breathe again.
You are so much more than a list of diagnoses, Mr Boo. You are a marvel. And I love you and your sister more than I can say.