Postpals

I've had a rather flat week, after coming home from Bertie sitting I felt pretty rough for most of the week and the weather wasn't that great either so I didn't feel very inspired to go out and do anything. I was kind of annoyed with myself about that as before my admission I'd done so well at finding activities to go and do as well as making friends with my various mummy-chummys.

I think part of the problem was me worrying about university, I had spoken to my tutor about it and she had given me the time-table. After my initial cockiness that I would be fine to go back full time I suddenly came to the rather crushing realization there is just no way I am capable of that. Also seeing the amount of hours Edward would have to spend at nursery written down in black and white made me accept finally that it is not what I want for him. Though I don't want my life to go on hold and get stuck as a stay-at-home-mum I also don't want Edward in nursery from 8.30-6.30 at least three days a week it's just not fair on him. If he was a bit more mobile and capable of occupying himself I wouldn't mind, but at the moment he is just a bit too vulnerable, though I know it works for some people and I'm sure the nursery will take good care of him, that is just a bit too much.

All that said it still really got me down as it made me feel pretty feeble and the prospect of my degree going on for another four years is not one I relish. However rather than moping about I was proactive and booked a meeting with a student adviser. What we hadn't previously realized is that Luke is still entitled to a full student loan and childcare allowance for this year, we thought because he was re-sitting modules from his 2nd year he'd get nothing. It has totally changed the situation as it now means we can afford for me to go part time. We are going to use Luke's loan to pay for my fees and his childcare will cover Edward for the few hours that both of us are at university which hopefully won't be too many in a week. That really cheered me up, but I'm still quite panicky about whether I'm going to cope or not, a worry that has been amplified by the fact I've had to have naps during the day most days in the last week, I'm sure once I'm there I will be fine especially now we've found a way for me to go part time.

Despite that good news today has been a really quite rubbish day, I've been asleep almost as much as Edward and when I have been awake I've been really bored but not really had enough energy to do much about it except trawl through BBC i-player which is my new favorite toy!

Then in the evening I was doing my usual peek through the blogs I follow regularly and on little William's blog his mum mentioned that he had been given a Chemo duck by a charity called Postpals as well as attending a party arranged by them. The duck has undergone various surgeries so that he has the same sorts of tubes and implants as William which I think is a fantastic idea.

Postpals main aim though is to get people to write letters and send little presents to children who are stuck in hospital a lot and having to put up with tons of treatments and generally feeling rubbish, and in a really fantastic move the charity have also set out to support the siblings of the poorly children to make sure they get some attention too which I think is ever so important as far too often they get forgotten about when in some ways it is almost probably harder for them having to watch their brother or sister being ill all the time and having to deal with the worry and lack of attention, I don't think it should ever be underestimated how hard this can be.

I also know how isolating being unwell can be, it's hard to get out and do things and see people, and often you don't really even feel like seeing people as it takes too much energy. I really understood how much these letters could mean to all these people stuck in smelly hospital as I know just how they feel and know how much it can really make your day, or even your week actually just to get one letter or one visit. My darling friend Raj is always excellent at visiting me in hospital and often brings me little things such as muffins or white peaches, and even though they are just little things the thought behind them always touches me so much and I really savour eating them because they are all the more special :o)

It took me a long time to pick who to write to as I could have happily written to all the people on there all their siblings and all their parents. However in the end I chose a girl called Laura as she reminded me that there is always someone in a worse situation than me and that I shouldn't mope about feeling sorry for myself! I wrote a long letter that kept me occupied for ages, I told her a little about Chinese Medicine Theory regarding the role of Kidneys in the body as I thought she may find it interesting I enjoyed thinking about it and even got out my old notes to make sure I got the details right. I hope she likes it and isn't just bored by my inane waffle she sounds like a really awesome young lady :o)

I really urge everyone to go to the Postpals site, choose a person and write a letter or send a card, it won't take much time or cost much money and could put a smile on a very brave little persons face so give it a go :o)

Most of this week Luke and I have sat down together and watched a few episodes of House last thing at night. It is really excellent even if the plot structure is a little predictable. It is actually part of the reason we named Edward what we did as we watched so much of it while I was pregnant and both thought it was so awesome. We liked the name Hugh, which led to us thinking Hugh Laurie, which led to Laurence which is Edward's middle name, it was also one of the names suggested by the highly fantastic Great Aunty Mellie.

The pregnancy and birth coupled with all the long admissions and me feeling tired and grumpy has put something of a strain on our relationship, not in a disastrous way, but enough that we need to put a little more work and effort in on each other, something that is too easy to miss out between all the Edward-fussing and physio. These late night evenings have done a lot to make us feel closer it's been really lovely.

We are planning to go to Salsa classes together, I've looked some up, they sound a bit intimidating but I just have to tell myself that half the people there will be just as rubbish as me, and that no one is going to be laughing at me more than I'm going to be laughing at myself. It looks good fun and pretty sexy and would be a really nice grown-up thing for Luke and I to do together, I also think it will be a good confidence booster which is a major bonus for Luke :o)

In other news Edward was seven months old today!!!!

Been a while...

Like so many blogs upon the web this one has been horribly neglected for far too long, almost a year in-fact.

There are many reasons for this, partly I lost my log in details and couldn't be arsed to spend the whole 3 minutes it takes to find them. The last posts on here were just before exam season where I was rather busy handing in course-work and cramming so I just didn't find or make the time.

Not long after that I found out I was pregnant. I didn't want to write about it in public, I didn't want anyone to know because I was so scared I would loose the baby and I didn't want to have to keep going over it to everyone, and it felt like a lie to write and not talk about the most major thing going on in my life. In fact for most of the last year it has been all that happened in my life, as it took so much from me all I could do was sleep and grow my gorgeous little boy. I'm sure at some point I will write about the pregnancy in detail but there are many aspects of it I find hard to think about and I'm not in the mood and this is not that kind of post.

Edward Lawrence Crossland Dallyn was born on the 21st December 2007 and everything since has been rather beautiful for the most part. He is the most perfect little baby you could possibly wish for. He is so well behaved all the time, and recently has started smiling and giggling. It is such a joyous thing to fall asleep wrapped up in Luke's arms knowing that I will wake up to see little Edward smiling at me from his cot in the morning.

I'm enjoying being a mother very much, it's a role to which I'm naturally suited I think. I enjoy looking after people and fussing, which is perfect as that's just what babies need. I also love all the toys I now have an excuse to play with, especially the ones with that crunch-crinkly stuff in, it just feels so cool and makes the most awesome noise!!

My university course has gone on hold, however I intend to go back this September, I hope to go full time, but even part time would be lovely as I miss it terribly and I miss using my brain. I actually did some acupuncture the other day for the first time in ages on Luke's mummy, it didn't solve the problem, but it made an aspect of it a little better which I'm quite proud of.

At the moment we are looking into moving back to London. I have missed the city every day since I left last summer to go and stay at Luke's. We didn't move back there in September as we thought living with my sister in Caterham would work well, sadly is hasn't as we are too isolated and the whole house is full of mould and smells of cupboard!!

My health has been ok, but not brilliant, I started to pick up well after the pregnancy, but then have had a series of tummy bugs, colds and an infected port-a-cath which have kept me in hospital and away from my new family far too much. However I'm feeling very positive now and hope I can get a few really good clear months at home to enjoy the company of my gorgeous boys :o)

A Response To The Wordpress

Dear You

I want to write to you today, I cannot justify nor untangle my reasons why. I want it to be selfless and comforting to you, though I suspect it is only a means to comfort myself.

I read what you write, whenever you post it, and though I often phrase long passionate replies in my mind, I rarely write them. I don’t know why I do that either, which leads me to think that maybe today is simply the outpouring of all of those previous unwritten sentiments.

I love you and have since the first time we met, though it is something I strive to forget because it is so absurd, yet, every so often it flares like a bright flame cool and utterly precise and unquestionable in my mind and I miss your company as a friend even though I never truly had it.

All of this spores from what you wrote, leaks out from all the things you didn’t write. I hate it when you are fake, when you gloss over and edit out in order to please your public, in order to make it more palatable. It strikes me sometimes you are trying to be as inspirational as Emily who decorates everything with pink awe inspiring glitter. You are not her and you do not need to try. You are something darker and colder, depressed into a state of cutting weariness by the very fabric of what you are and it makes you one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever witnessed. It makes you more like me.

I dislike the strained metaphors, but take strength from the true ones. I admire the harsh honesty you inflict upon yourself the most. I suppose it is quite vulgar of me to take such solace from the observation of you torturing yourself with the ideals of who you want to be, but I conclude that I as do it to myself constantly it is equitable.

There seems to be something harsh about criticising your thoughts when they are so personal and yet so freely proffered, however you are an artist whose entire profession is constantly measured by people who know little, and like to think they know much, so in that fashion this all becomes quite fitting.

You wrote to me some time ago asking about my new life, I never responded because I didn’t know how to. I wanted to enthuse about knowledge and adventures however whenever I sat to compose all that came to me was the distinct sense that you wanted to hear how hard it all is so that you didn’t feel so alone, and like you were missing out on so much.

I have learnt a lot here, there are whole wild days where I can feel erudition flowing into me until ever border along the fabric of my being is overcome with an ecstatic saturation whereupon it is all I can do to hold myself together and not shatter with insurmountable glee!

There are other days when I spend long glittering hours staring out of high windows wondering exactly how far it really is to fall, and if perhaps it would be best to let my broken body shatter spectacularly upon the pavement with pools of viscous blood gathered around me like blooms, rather than continuing upon a path that is so utterly refuting of it’s end destination.

I like both equally.

Most days however possess no extremes in any direction, they just lull into a sustainable reality that glows with my love for Luke and that focuses upon little besides what time are lectures, what time is dinner, and have I completed the treatment chart that I have so ambitiously and judgementally laid upon my desk. I am surrounded by friends who love me and acquaintances who respect me. My life is probably more perfect than it has been for a considerably long time.

I am content but admittedly unsettled, the eternal pessimist, I am waiting for it to crash, I am waiting for my world to become like yours, and question languidly to what extent I am forcing it in that direction.

I feel like I am on hold, like this is just a process to become something else, and yet it is taking everything from me and at the end I may not actually be capable of dealing with the responsibility of what I have become. Yet I love it, more than anything else I have ever done and feel like my whole life has been a sole-minded journey to the point I am at now. Incongruously that makes me feel incredibly set and determined, I have found my purpose and a clear set ideal of what I am to become and the path I must walk to attain it, somehow that makes the walking all the easier.

I want to ask you not to give up hope, I want to ask you not to let your inspirational writing sink into a method of counting down to an end you don’t believe you will reach – however it seems crass and unfair, hold your hope where you feel it truly belongs, and let your writing continue to document your tenuious life with the cutting brutality I have come to love.

Smile through it darling, for me it you are succeeding in your aspiration to make sense of it all.

My Eternal Love and Respect

Toria

Paris

I woke up early on the Saturday morning as I had to finish both pieces of PPD (personal professional development) coursework, aswell as a clinic observation report. I wanted to get it all done and submitted before I flew out to Paris just incase there was a problem getting back.

I actually progressed quite speedily and got the PPD done by lunchtime, leaving me the afternoon to get the clinic-ob done. This took me a little longer than planned, mostly due to the eternal nightmare of trying to get a table to format properly in Word.

It was then a case of packing and having the obligatory 'oh shit where's my passport' moment, the whole time worrying that I was going to be late for dinner at my parents. Eventally we left the house at about 7, and made our way over to New Cavendish only to find the damm campus was closed and so I couldn't hand it in anyway!

We then walked up to Warren St., overcome with the skippy joy of steroids, and because we were running late I even ran to catch the bus!! The train ride on from there was pretty long and boring, though I did read a leaflet about a campaign to encourage fair wages and better working environments for those connected to the tourism industry in 3rd world countries. Luke pointed out though that the base of the campagin, which centred on adhereing to international law, was invalid because most of the countries involved weren't signed up to it. However I still feel the sentiment stands.

We then had a short wait in the very cold air (so used to the big warm city!) before dmama arrived with Shellie my sister, and her friend Simon. I was expecting us to rush home for fajitas but instead Shellie had decided that she wanted to show Simon around where we grew up, so we had a slightly mad drive around in the dark to look at our old primary school, and the place where Shellie was Christened as we narrated lots of silly stories.

When we got home Alex was cooking the dinner. He looks so tall and so grown up now, and when he cuddles me I can feel that he's finally turning into an adolescent, I can feel the potential of what he's going to be as an adult, as a man. I am immensely proud of him, for all his many flaws he is growing into a truly awesome person I'm proud to call my brother.

Dinner was a quite jovial affair, we were all in high flirtatious spirits and feeling like true Crosslands. Simon of course fitted into it all effortlessly just like in Gibralta. Luke was quiet, and I fussed and worried to make sure he was ok, which probably just made it worse, I should know by now he is always quiet, it's just sometimes I notice the contrast more. I want him to feel at home amoungst us, as much as I feel at home at Greatham.

After dinner Luke and Alex and I watched Doom for a little while, but I got a bit scared, and Luke didn't want me to have nightmares so he carried me out of the room! SO cute! Then I realised how late it was, and that I was actually pretty tired and cold, so I made my way haistily to bed.

Mummy had meant for us to sleep in the caravan, but in a repeat of new years no one had switched the heating on. So I decided to screw that and went up to my bedroom, and emptied my bed of all the random crap that has been dumped in there... which, for reasons quite beyond me... consisted of paperwork, knickers and many dog biscuits!!

Luke followed me up, and we got into bed. There was something special about having him there, and we talked for a while about nothing at all, it was one of the most comfortable moments of my life.

We then realsied we really ought to stop talking and sleep as we were having to get up at aboout 5am!

Note - I never wrote any more on this post, and I don't intend to, the weekend in Paris was awful for reasons I never could put my finger on. Marillion were fabulous of course, but the crazy moustached man who spent the entire gig elbowing Luke so hard he left bruises should be shot.