Please don’t think I miss him less

Please don’t think I miss him less, with every passing year….

Please don’t think I no longer take the time to shed a tear….
With each passing day and month, 

Life does continue on…

But please don’t think I’m all “Ok”…. 

I’m still trying to be strong…
I have my ups and downs you see, 

my happy times and blue….

Please don’t think as the years go by, 

That I no longer need all of you….
I try to keep things positive, 

I try, but sometimes fail…

For sometimes I can’t help it, 

I often feel so very frail….
My heart was smashed to pieces that day, 

And as the years go by, 

I’m piecing it back together…

Little by little…. That’s no word of a lie…
I have things to look forward to, 

A tiny human to guide on her way,

But please don’t think I need you less…

I need you all to stay. 
To wrap your arms around me…

Tell me it’s alright to feel this way…

But please don’t think I’m over it…

Just stay beside me and I’ll be ok  
Huss x

I will be that Mom!

I recently went to an event with my tiny human. It was a beautifully sunny afternoon, and decided to go to a promotional thingy. It was all so well laid out with an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ theme. What child wouldn’t enjoy this?!? Mine.

The tiny one was instantly shy when she walked in the door. (The same child who literally didn’t stop singing “with a knock-knack Paddy Whack” the whole way in the car. At the top of her little lungs).

The first task was a race against “The Mad Hatter” on a bouncy thing. She didn’t want to do it, so I decided to be “that Mom”, the one who would grab a bouncy thing by the ears and jump up and down like a lunatic (completely out of breath, make-up melting from my face) to encourage her to join in. She did.

We went on to the next stage, and she had to crawl through a tunnel, which again she was reluctant to do, so I decided to be “that Mom“, who practically lay on the floor, (I realised my derrière wasn’t going to fit through it) low enough for her to see me, and stuck my head in the top of the tunnel to encourage her to come to me. She did.

I realised that day, there were so many other occasions where I became “that Mom“. The one who would act so ridiculous, so childish, so silly, if it meant she would just try. I didn’t care what I looked like, what people thought. I’ve battled with this one quite a lot. I don’t like to “force” her to do things she doesn’t want to do, but sometimes she really does need some gentle persuasion… Some times she just needs to see that it’s going to be alright, it will be fun, or enjoyable. So sometimes (only sometimes) I really have to be “that Mom“, who gets her face painted at a child’s party, just so my tiny one will sit with a stranger and let her do hers. She needs to know that sometimes we have to do things that make us feel a little bit uncomfortable… She will need to when she’s older, to get her through life.

We are so quick to judge others, to comment on each other’s way of raising our children. It works for us, and to me, that is really all that matters. So for now, I will be “that Mom“. I will hold her hand in mine, and give her the gentle push she needs, just to help her be a little bit braver.  💕

Huss X

Remembering the good old days..

I remember days walking in Dublin with my wonderful Nana. Walking down Henry street, hand in hand, watching everyone rushing around me. I was only about 3 foot tall but felt so safe with my hand in hers. She was a wonderful woman. The first one I would go to when I needed someone to talk to, the first one I went to when I rowed with my parents. We would get on the 11 bus and get off on O’Connell St. and stroll through the crowds. We’d pop into Clearys, and (religiously) into Guineys to check for any bargains, and always have lunch in the Kylemore Café. We would always get doughnuts at the kiosk at the bus stop outside the arcade on the way homeIt was our Saturday ritual. Sunday’s consisted of mass in Bird Avenue church, and buying papers from the boot of the mans car at the gate. I lived for those moments. 

As I got older those Weekends in Nana’s got less and less but we always had our time together. We’d sit in her kitchen drinking tea (and maybe the odd cigarette!) and we would talk for hours. When the sun went down we would play Gin Rummy (and she always let me win!), we’d watch the Late Late Show and then it was time for bed. I slept on the Camp bed, which lay along side her “side” of the bed. I always felt so safe, always. I have never seen a bigger smile on her face than the one when I told her I was getting married. It meant the world to me to have her there that day. To watch me walk up that isle. 

She started to get sick in 2011. Not long after my husband left us. She couldn’t get her head around what happened, so unfair, so cruel, but her way of helping me get through it was to tell me to suck it up, get on with it. At the time, I found it harsh, but now, looking back, it was her way of making me stronger. After I had my tiny human we’d call in after work every day to see her. My tiny one stood up for the first time in her sitting room. They would endlessly babble at each other, like they had some sort of mutual understanding. She spent the next few years in and out of hospital, each time it broke my heart to see her that way, she didn’t deserve it, she deserved so much more. 

She finally left us in January this year, after a good fight. She went in her sleep in the end. Exactly how I hoped she would go. She deserved that much, to just nod off. A part of me went with her that day. I will never forget the dart of pain in my chest when my Mom broke the news, but she was “happier” now, no more pain, no more loss of independence (she always struggled with that bit). I felt devastated and relieved all at the same time. I have never seen so many people at an “older” persons funeral. A true testament to the incredible woman she was. As I sit on the Luas, looking out at the sunshine, I remember her so fondly,  the good auld days, walking along Henry Street, with my hand in hers….

“Miss her but remember the glint in her eye, Remeber the good times you’d had.

Miss her but remember the stories you shared, The good times, the laughs, and be glad.

Miss her but remember the places you went, To Bird Avenue, Wicklow and beyond.

Treasure those memories so dearly now, For those moments gave all of us that bond. 

Miss her but think of her wonderful smile, And we must make sure to mention,

No matter what you confided in her, All she gave was her undivided attention.

Miss her but remember she’s happier now, Reunited with who she got to know.

Miss her but keep all those memories safe, Miss her, but now let her go”

She will never know

She will never know just how important she is,
How she gave me that important goal,
To keep her safe inside me,
When my world was no longer whole.
She will never know how many tears I shed,
For the life she would now never have,
She will never know just how scared I was,
Facing life without her “Dad”.
She will never know what she kept me from,
The drink, the drugs, the sadness,
She was the one who kept me going,
Kept me away from all that badness.
She will never know how much I watch her sleep,
Watching her little chest rise and fall,
Or how I look at her and wonder,
Will she be quite as tall?
She will never know how grateful I am,
For all her smiles and giggles,
She will never know all the times I worry,
About all those little niggles.
She will never know everything I do is for her,
From work, to rest, to play,
She will never know how much I honestly hope….
That I as a Mommy am doing “ok”.
She will never know how massive just being here is,
Being my little sunshine ray,
She will never know she is my reason.
She is the reason I am here. To this day.

The Light…..

I’ve thought a lot about whether or not to post this, but feck it, here it goes!

#‎suicideprevention‬ ‪#‎aware‬ ‪#‎mystory‬ ‪#‎iamareason‬

I was just 30 when he died. A baby myself some might say, well I have never grown up so quick, so soon. I was 19 weeks pregnant, and can honestly say, hand on my heart, that that pregnancy is the only thing that kept me here. We were married a wonderful 7 months. Life was amazing, happy, exciting. Then my reality hit. Widowed, nowhere to live, no life insurance and moving back from London to live with my parents, pregnant with our little Bubba. I have never felt a wave of darkness wash over me as quick as I did that day.

I don’t remember a huge amount from the moment I got that news… “I’m sorry we did everything we could, he didn’t make it”. I laughed nervously. Then I passed out. I don’t remember much, apart from being surrounded by people/faces all the time, until in and around the time my waters broke, at 1am on the 11th of December 2011. There it was. The moment I had been waiting for, to hold our beautiful baby, the one we had made together, the reason I was still here! I had no idea how I was going to do this but but with my Mom & Sister by my side, she made her appearance. Our beautiful, perfect baby girl. I felt a new wave of relief, but also devastation. She was out, (albeit 2 weeks early) she survived 19 weeks of me crying, unable to eat, unable to breathe, panic attacks. She was perfect. But he wasn’t here. Nothing could have prepared me for that bit. The pain in my heart that he would never get to meet her.
She is 4 now. And the light in my world. She knows just what to say, when to say it (sometimes a little too much!) She makes me smile and laugh in ways that I never thought I’d be able to again. She talks openly about the man she never met, her Daddy. It’s her “normal”.

It’s been a roller coaster ride since July 2011, but a journey I am proud of. I forced myself to live. I met a wonderful man in 2013, and to be honest, he deserves a Nobel peace prize for putting up with me at this stage. He’s been by my side, through all of my emotions, my tears, my frustrations. He is simply amazing. My baby girl adores him too. We are making awesome new memories, but I will always treasure my old ones.

I’m still living with my parents, still trying to save to have our own dream home, starting over, but I am doing it. There is light at the end of my once very dark, very scary tunnel. After swearing I’d never ever meet anyone again, here I am, in love. Having said I would never have more children, here I am, hoping some day my beautiful baby girl will get to be a big sister. After Having said I couldn’t do this without him, here I am, doing it.

There is always hope. Time is a wonderful thing we all take for granted in everything we do. I have my ups and downs. I’d be lying if I said that I had never thought about how much better off everyone would be if I wasn’t around, but those thoughts pass. There are days where I really just want to curl up under a duvet and not leave the house, but I make myself, because I know that feeling will pass, I know things get better, I’m living proof. When you hit the bottom, the ONLY way is up again.

So when you are feeling like this is it, like you can’t do this anymore, just wait… Just take your time. Take a deep breath and surround yourself with the people/things that make you feel better, that make you feel happy. Talk to people, they will want to help but they need to know you feel that way (we are scarily amazing at hiding how bad we can feel). Do that for as long as it takes, because time will help you rebuild, it will help you feel better. That I promise you.

Huss x

The Comforter Conflict

imageI swore I was never going to be one of “those” parents. “My child will never have just one blanket they become so attached to we can’t do anything without it!”

My tiny human now has 2. Her “Duckie” and her “Blankie”. They are 4 years old, one of a kind items. They have come with us wherever we go, and yes, we (as any parents who’s child has one has felt) have gone through the sheer panic of when they have been misplaced for longer than 30 seconds, but the have simply become part of our little family.

I was looking back on photos recently of when she was a tiny baby, and looking at the pics, 2 things seemed awfully similar… there was Duckie… and there was Blankie, in each and every pic of her asleep during her first year. I realised that day, it wasn’t my tiny human’s fault that she had become so attached to these two items, it was in fact…. Mine. Every time she got sleepy I gave them to her. Every time she got sad, I gave them to her. The same blanket, the same duck.

I remember I even spent a couple of months, as she got older (and they got more worn), searching for replacements. To no avail. I did find one ducky in America somewhere on eBay, but couldn’t justify spending $70 on shipping (I almost did, almost…) but then realised if I did try to replace them, they just wouldn’t have the same meaning. These two pieces of material have travelled on every overnight trip we’ve ever gone on.

I did however give in on day just before Christmas. We went into town on the Luas and I decided to let her bring them. Biggest mistake of my life. as we were on our way home, we were comfortable on the Luas, and I looked out the window to get lost in my thoughts of our wonderful day in town… there was blankie, just lying on the pavement, all alone beside the ticket machine. In that moment I made the stupidest decision of my entire life. I left my tiny human, on the Luas, while I jumped off and grabbed it (it was a split second, and it was just outside the door, in my defence). Yes, the doors could have shut with her on it and me not. Yes, I had to suffer the judging eyes of those who realised what I had just done, but the alternative seemed so. much. worse.

The funny thing is, deep down, I know for a fact that one night without either of these items, and she will survive it. And the night after, she may mention them once or twice, but she will still go to sleep. And by the 3rd night, she probably won’t mention them at all… SO I have begun to realise, that not only is she attached to “Duckie & Blankie”, I have grown to be just as attached to them too. I have also come to realise that it isn’t such a bad thing, to have items that make you feel comfortable, that make you feel safe, that help you sleep better. That’s exactly what they do for her, and as long as we find the balance (and not suffer heart failure if they get mislaid) then there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. So as much as people say “I can’t believe she’s 4 and she is still attached to those”… I’m secretly saying to myself.. “If only you knew, I’m 35… and I’m probably more attached to them than she is” 🙂

Huss x