A Mama Bear's work is never done

On Sunday we took the boys swimming. We try to have a family day when we can and part of that is taking them out to run off some energy and splash around so they sleep well. I was exhausted after a late night at a school event the night before. Whereas I usually swim on my own in the big pool I decided to stay with the boys in the small pool. As I moved around to stay warm I watched Blue Bear jumping in and swimming with his head under the water. It took my breath away. I remember when we first took him swimming and he would cling on and cry if we tried to let him go in the water. When I took him for swimming lessons he would get upset and sit on the side and shake his head forcefully insisting he wasn't going to go into the water today. I gave up being embarrassed and figured that if he wasn't going to be made to do it then I wasn't going to insist. Blue knows his own mind. He is a force to be reckoned with.

I thought about the little boy who first came to live with us. This tiny toddler who had a dummy in his mouth the entire time. He would put his hand over it if you tried to take it out. It was only ever removed to put in a milk bottle or if I managed to persuade him to let me brush his teeth. He barely spoke. He would shout or cry and his screams broke my heart. He slept in the cot next to my side of the bed and in the night I would feel his teeny fingers reach out to touch me to check I was there. In the end I would keep my hand inside the cot just next to his body. Not touching. He didn't like to be touched unnecessarily. Hugging was a one way street for a long time. We would hug him and he would allow us to, but he wouldn't participate. When we went anywhere he would stick close to us and hide if anyone spoke to him. 

This was 4 years ago. Now the story is very different. He has found his voice. Oh has he found his voice. Blue is a funny and engaging little guy. His teacher describes him as fun and kind which makes me so proud. He tells jokes. His laughter rings through the house and it is like magic hearing it. I recall the first time we met him at the foster carers' house and Hubbie was playing on the floor with Blue. He was hiding from him and lifting him up making him laugh. That throaty baby giggle that warms the heart. 

Yes he still wakes up crying and sometimes screams too. Early life trauma will do that to a child. I can't tell you how it feels to see your child shaking and sweating with fear and with tears all over his face. Inconsolable and unable to speak. All I know is that I comfort him and keep reassuring him that he is safe and we are here. We are not going away.

Brown Bear and Blue Bear now share a bedroom and a bunk bed. They were so excited to have their first sleepover the other week. My friend Soraya's son came to stay for the weekend and the boys were so excited to see him. They shared space, played and ate together, went to football with Hubbie and generally did boy things. At night when the boys went to bed I would kiss mine and when I went in to check on him I touched his head and wished him goodnight. The thought that he doesn't get a hug from his mummy any more was too much to bear. I didn't want to impose. When he was leaving I gave him a long hug - it was more for me than anything. 

This evening Brown Bear was really upset with me. He was tired and wasn't getting his own way. At one point I said, 

"Why didn't you ask me to help you ?" 

"You're a mum you're supposed to be able to read my mind." 

"I have read your mind since the day you were born. I have done everything for you. Now I want to teach you to be able to do things yourself." 

He looked baffled. 

"One day you will live somewhere else and will have to look after yourself. I won't always do everything for you." 

This boy has had me in his life since I put my hand on my belly and gave thanks for his very existence. How do I tell him that I won't always be here ? That his brother and his friend have already lost a mother and he is the only one of the three of them to still be with the woman who carried him. He takes me for granted. It isn't his fault. He doesn't know any different. His brother does. His friend does.

I have enough love for them all. Even if they don't believe it. 

This time next week it will be done

This year began with the loss of two people I love. A family member who was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer that took her life and a beloved friend who having beaten breast cancer and completed the Moonwalk with me developed secondary cancer and died painfully and suddenly. Both were cared for by Macmillan.

Years ago my friend's father Michael and Hubbie's school friend Helen were cared for by Macmillan nurses at the end of their lives. The nurses attended Michael and Helen's funerals and I know it meant a lot to the families and those who loved them. 

When I told Macmillan I was going to raise money in memory of my friend they said, "we are here for you too." That is why they are so amazing - they support and care for everyone who is affected by cancer. 

I am fortunate to have my health and my life so I am doing this for those who:

- are waiting for results

- have just had a diagnosis

- are having treatment 

- have reached the end of their journey 

- care for someone with cancer 

In May I cut off my hair and donated it so now I'm all streamlined and ready to run a half marathon. This is a genuine challenge for me and I'm training so that I can do my best to finish this distance. It is the furthest I've run so far and I've set an ambitious target to enable Macmillan to continue their fantastic support for people living with cancer and those around them.

Finally, this is for the lady who sat in front of me at the theatre the other night wearing a hat to cover her post-chemo hair loss. She told me her cancer is now incurable. I hope she gets to dance and sing for a lot longer.

On Sunday 14th October I am running my first half marathon to raise funds for Macmillan Cancer Support. It is a genuine challenge for me and the furthest I've ever run. Wish me luck - and if you are able to please sponsor me: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/RunSwazi

Thank you

You want me to put my boobs where ?

There are a few things that I have observed about getting older - I mean proper older not that "Oh I can't believe I'm going to be 30 next birthday" kind of rubbish. This is the realistion that two years from now I'm going to be 50. Oh shit ! What on earth have I done with all these years so far ? Well, a fair bit really. It's what's to come that fascinates me now.

I always took it for granted that I would grow old with my friend Soraya. We had our kids older than most women we know so shared a loathing of all things aimed at, 'yummy mummies.' When we were both back at work after maternity leave we used to go for a run at lunchtime. It was less about fitness and more about plodding round Green Park while having a natter and a catch up. One weekend while driving somewhere - probably to visit the in-laws - she phoned me. It wasn't unusual for us to have a chat outside of work, but it was often futile as one or other of us would be on the move. She told me that she had something to tell me and she was sorry not to tell me in person, but wanted me to  know something. I knew it wasn't going to be good news. It wasn't. Soraya had breast cancer. She apologised to me - I told her not to be so daft. Then we talked about all the practical things that she had to do, the treatment plan, the time off work, etc. I offered my help with anything at all. She thanked me and we went about our business.

Once the treatment started we would talk about how it was going. When anyone 'helpfully' suggested some woo-woo solution like herbs or light healing we'd have an expletive filled conversation about it. I mean me and Hubbie had heard all that guff when were told we would never have children. Shamanic drumming, acupuncture, sound healing, all sorts of magical waters to bathe in and even some specific foods were all suggested. When anyone told Soraya that this thing was better for her than chemotherapy we would discuss how, "it would be lovely to bathe in marshmallows, but I'll take the poison that has a chance of killing the cancer thanks." At one point she told me how guilty she felt about the 'poison' and I told her to stop thinking of it that way and to see it as medicine that was working for her and not against her. We spoke about hair loss and how crap she felt after chemo.

Then the treatment was done and it was the waiting game until she had the 'all clear.' There were check ups and after effects and the constant fear that any twinge or headache was a sign of something far more serious. Two years ago she had a pain in her spine that wouldn't go away. Whenever I talked to her we were baffled that her doctors weren't taking it seriously considering her health history. Then a year ago she paid privately for an MRI and it showed she had a tumour on her spine. That's what was causing the pain. She was livid - understandably. We talked about what was to come next. Radiotherapy this time and she told people in stages that she had secondary cancer. She had the overseas holiday she'd wanted for years. We went to the theatre and spent time making radio shows together. Every time we met we would hug like long lost sisters and it was magic. It was her last year of life - even though we didn't know that at the time. I am so grateful I spent as much time with her as I did, albeit by accident rather than design.

So why is this on my mind right now ? Well a couple of reasons, but I'll tell you just one of them for now. About a month ago I was called for a mammogram. My first thought was, hang on who's going to go with me ? Don't get me wrong I am perfectly capable of going to appointments by myself. However, in this case it was one we had already discussed. Whenever Soraya had a check up I'd offer to go with her. We agreed when it was my turn she would do the same. I told Hubbie and he said he'd go with me. It was a lovely gesture, but when we arrived were told it is a women only clinic and he had to wait outside - fair enough. As I sat in the waiting room making small talk with the nurse I felt the panic begin. Not for me - that wasn't the issue at all. It was fear that the sadness would rise and overwhelm me. It wasn't via breast screening that she found out about her cancer. She did have a lot of them afterwards during remission though. We joked about the 'boob sandwich' and how only a man could have created such an instrument of torture. As I repeated the same joke to the kindly nurse who undertook the exam my face hurt from trying not to cry. Then it was over and I went to work.

The results came two weeks later. All fine.

Not everyone is so lucky. For anyone who has had different news I am thinking of and holding you right now.

Thank you for the music, the laughter and the love

Yesterday was a tough day. I had intended to write a post while the boys were at football, but just before they left I got a text message. A friend I love dearly is seriously ill and has days to live. She is the same age as me and we have been through a lot together. I knew she was ill - of course I did - but I had no idea this would happen. So soon. I spent some time walking round a bit lost. Then I cried. A lot. When I thought I was done it started again and eventually I had to ask Hubbie to not rush home as I didn't want the boys to see Mummy so upset. 

Things aren't so easy at the moment. I have a lot I want to say, but it is all too soon. When in doubt I turn to music so I'm doing that now. For my beautiful, wonderful, talented friend.  The last time we saw each other we chatted, made jokes and played music. All the things we love.  

So for now I can only think in terms of the music we shared and loved. Forgive me if the words don't make much sense. 

Prince - Starfish and Coffee:

Once we were at a conference in Islington and we went for brunch afterwards. Soraya ordered pancakes with maple syrup, banana and bacon. She declared them, "not that bad," and I surmised that it was her pregnancy hormones talking. 

Norah Jones - Thinking aboout you: 

Soraya phoned me one day to tell me she had some news. She had breast cancer and had wanted to tell me in person, but she wanted me to know. I saw her soon after and throughout the treatment we spoke regularly. Even if we didn't meet up, she was in my thoughts. We joked about going shopping for wigs together. She always gave time to talking about my stuff, however mundane it was in comparison. Having said that she did not forgive me for going to see Norah at Ronnie Scotts without her last Autumn. 

Shakespeare's Sister - Stay: 

Whatever happened we were there for each other. When she was given the all clear 5 years after a breast cancer diagnosis we walked the Moonwalk together. At the beginning when they said 'think about who you are doing this for' we held each other and cried. She was my reason - she was there with me. We talked non-stop for around ten hours and still had plenty to say to each other. I don't know anyone else I could do that with. 

David Bowie - Lazarus: 

I remember how devastated I felt when a man I didn't know and had never met died two years ago. His music has been with me my whole life and the idea that he was gone just filled me with sadness. When I spoke to Soraya she expressed exactly the same emotions. As 2016 progressed we shared our angst at how terrible a year it was turning into. 2017 had to be better surely ? It wasn't. When we last spoke she told me she just wanted to get the year over so that we could start a new one and look to the future. I had no idea she would not be part of it. 

Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On:

This is how I want to think of Soraya - in the studio playing tunes she loved. That and being the DJ for Cheeky in the Chapel, the fundraiser she hosted for Radio Lewes and the Oyster Project. The excitement as she introduced songs by artists she had just discovered and I shared music with her that I had fallen in love with.

In the end I will remember her through music. That and her sign off when we spoke on the phone - lots of love.