I’ve written this a wee bit tipsy, there, I said it! It’s a little celebration drinky-poo because we’ve gone three whole days without any drama’s; no phone calls, no hospital or therapy appointments, no paperwork (that’s not completely true, hubby and I filled out ADHD questionnaire last night for Lewis and I’m in the process of completing a sleep, behavioural and psychosis diary, but that’s normal right?) I drove home my new car today..it’s red! and Lewis was a happy chappy when we went to collect it.
So I though blow it, why not have a little Cointreau and Coke, just the one Mrs Wembley? (that’s a reference to an old British sitcom in case you’re wondering) I fleetingly thought ‘you jammy cow, on a school night too’, then I thought ‘there is no school night, you’re on a permanent holiday’. Then I realised, there is no holiday….
and then I realised, I’m the luckiest mum alive.
I love, love, love my children to bits…my heart aches with the love I have for them. I want to tell them that although their lives are tough and they’ve been dealt a rather shitty hand it’s all good, you’ll be better for it…I promise.
A letter to my daughter Bethany
Where do I start? My darling daughter. You’re everything I used to be at your age, confident, feisty, determined. I pray that you keep those qualities. Don’t think I don’t know a lot of it is bravado, a facade. You’re only 12 and life has been pretty full on with a diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes at 3.5 yrs and Coeliac Disease at 5 yrs then there was the Convergence Insufficiency at 10 yrs (you see double), struggles with Pica and maintaining iron levels and now the latest drama, lack of feeling in your feet (neuropathy? not sure?). I tell myself its all for a good reason, you’re destined for great things, this is just the training. The truth is, you’ve already won in my heart, your strength is breathtaking. There are the inevitable pre-teen paddies and moments where you test the boundaries, but my God child, I’m so very proud of you. You’re creative, caring, helpful, kind and I love to the moon and back.
A Letter to my son Lewis
My baby boy, you’ve had it tough, severe lack of sleep from birth, a sister who was very poorly when you were just 18mths old, a constant fear that something bad is always around the corner. You’ve struggled at school and school have struggled with you. At last a diagnosis of Autism but nothing’s changed, no cure, no medicine, only unconditional love and a whole heap of patience from me and your dad. You are loving, caring, gentle and for some reason can talk to the animals, not actually talk darling, I mean they love you, are drawn to you and sit with you. That’s the highest honour a human is bestowed from an animal, it means you have a pure and kind heart and that’s something you keep with you forever. I’m not sure what the future holds for you, every day is taken one step at a time, but I’m certain of one thing, your loving nature will shine through and light the way. I love you more and more each day.