Author: Oana

Guess how much I love you

Published by

Dear boy, You have been gone for more than seven weeks now. Seems like an eternity yet no time at all. You know, for someone who has lived on this earth for only five and a half months, you have left a humongous gap behind you. I miss you everywhere. I miss you in the health center, where I remember taking you with Emma for your vaccines. I remember how proud she was of you. How in awe you were of her, your big and caring sister. I miss you when I drive through Carrick. Every single street and corner holds a memory of you. I pass the church where Emma goes to GB and I remember being expectant with joy and you! I go shopping in Tesco’s and you are there, accompanying me. When I glance at the baby boys’ bibs. When I see the nappy aisle. I remember you when I go for a stroll and see the coffee shop where we took you one rainy morning. I miss you when I go …

42 Days of Summer

Published by

So BritMums launched this challenge at the beginning of the summer. How do you fill your days during the summer, how do you entertain your little ones? Here is 42 ideas: 1. Go out cycling. 2. Blow bubbles. Inside or outside. Doesn’t matter as long as you spread a towel on the slippery floor to make the activity safe. 3. Go for a walk to the beach. 4. Go swimming. Indoor or in the sea, weather permitting. 5. Make a scrap book with pictures and activities you do over the summer as a memory for when they are all grown up. 6. Sleep in late after a movie night in with popcorn and sweets. 7. Build a fort indoors or in the back garden. Chairs and blankets will do. 8. Join a summer class. Emma is big on drama at the moment and although she didn’t get a chance to do any classes this summer due to our circumstances, she will start in September. 9. Go fruit picking, if you have where. 10. Go to …

Loneliness

Published by

This week the world has been shaken by the loss of a great man. I remember the shock of reading the news that evening. Robin Williams? Dead? Suicide? Wrong words jumbled together. So we all did what our hearts told us to do. We mourned publicly the loss of a great person. We quoted the artist, we comforted the man’s family. We created and forwarded lists of his favourite performances. More important, Robin Williams’ death served as a catalyst. Unprecedentedly, we ACKNOWLEDGED clinical depression publicly and its devastating effects on the sufferer and the surrounding family. And then, we acknowledged our own pain and hidden suffering. I saw so many beautiful people coming forward and bravely acknowledging their personal fight with the overbearing monster that clinical depression can be. And we showed solidarity. And we proved humanity still exists by embracing these people and whispering to them, in comments on their blogs or in tight embraces when we saw them face to face. It is okay. It is not your fault. As Nick Coffer put …

Where I live

Published by

I skipped a few days of the blogging challenge again. Too knackered with all the packing, travelling, unpacking and settling back in. But today’s challenge from Outmumbered is “Where I live.” According to Wikipedia, ” Greenisland is a village in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. It lies 7 miles north-east of Belfast and 3 miles south-west of Carrickfergus. The village is on the coast of Belfast Lough and is named after a tiny islet to the west, the Green Island. It is a semi-rural community located at the foot of Carn Hill , upon which stands the Knockagh Monument, a war memorial for those from County Antrim who died in the first and second world wars. We have been living on and off here for the past six years. I say on and off because we keep trying to leave but we always find our way back here. We lived in Groomsport for a year (too posh-read uptight-to be comfortable for us!) . We lived in Carrickfergus as well for almost a year, in the Marina but …

Grief,entitlement and forgiveness

Published by

First of all, let me start by saying my baby has been gone for five weeks yesterday. 35 days!! How cruelly fast the time passes, stealing with it the sweetest features, the small details, the tactile. I have started to forget how my baby’s tiny hands looked. I need pictures to remind me now. My body has stopped aching for his physical presence in a painful way. The time has dulled the sharpness of the physical pain. But he is still in my thoughts. Of course he is. He is there when I accidentally end up on the Mothercare website and spot the “small brother” baby grow. And my heart stops for a few painful seconds. He is there when I go for a walk in Perea, where our holiday apartment used to be and I see a baby boy pushed in a pram. And my mind says “this should have been us” before I can stop the thought from coming. He is there in Emma’s features when she is deeply asleep. He is there, …