One of the girls from the forum had her baby today. Congrats Bel. It’s made me long to go back in time because four weeks ago today, it was me, having my baby. Those first few magical moments, hearing him cry for the first time, holding his little warm body against me for the first time and feeling the after-effects of the caesar – proof that he had been removed from my tummy and is now a living, breathing perfect little person.
It might sound strange but I savour the memories of my stay in hospital. Some people hate hospitals. I guess it all depends on why you are there. For me it was wonderful. It was just me and my new baby. I had nothing to worry about except me and him. A momentary pause before life as normal resumed.
Now, his birth, Christmas and his first few weeks are behind us. Just like that, it’s over. What a splendid time. I wish it could be December forever.
But life goes on. Now all I can do is savour every minute with my baby and hope that he doesn’t grow too fast. And I am. I am enjoying him so much. I think that it’s because I know he is my last and that I will never (unless Michael agrees to have another baby) pass this way again.
Cameron started his third year of school on Monday. He’s getting so big. Soon I will have to start planning his forth birthday party. He wants everyone to dress up as knights, dragons or princesses. A party game on the top of his list is “pull the sword from the stone” (inspired by his favourite movie “The Sword and the Stone”). The person who manages it, gets a prize he says. I have wracked my brain since he made this request but I have yet to come up with a way of embedding a toy sword in a “pretend” stone.
Margaret starts her chemo next week and understandably, she is very nervous and emotional about what lies ahead. She is also very tired and weepy. Michael asked the doctor to prescribe an anti-depressant, which she is now on. Apparently they take a week or so to work. When I phoned there yesterday to see how she and Peter are doing, she was asleep, and Michael reports that when he went there mid-morning today, she was still in bed. This is a woman – a very proud woman – whose outfits always matched, who always wore make-up and who would never have been be caught mid-morning in her pyjamas.
The other day she burst into tears when leaving our house. “What I want,” she said, “let me tell you what I want. I want everything to be the way it was. For all of you to be small again.” (looking at Michael). My heart really went out to her that day. Imagine being diagnosed with cancer and all the uncertainty that comes with it. Imagine not knowing if you’ll be cured or if your days on earth really are numbered. Imagine looking at your children, all grown up, and wondering where the time has gone – and how much time you have left to spend with them.
I know that the road that lies ahead for her is not going to be easy. I don’t think it’s going to be easy for anyone in the family. For now, it’s one step at a time.
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