All posts tagged: Childhood Cancer

September was…Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

But I could not bring myself to write Georgie’s story down until tonight. I got pregnant with Georgie in late spring 2013. I had been longing for another child, to complete our family unit, for years but hadn’t had the courage until then as I had been plagued with severe antenatal and postnatal depression with my first pregnancy with Emma. From the very beginning, my body knew something was amiss with the pregnancy. I had very strong pains in my belly, ended up in the A&E but was dismissed home with pain killers and the advice to return if the pain didn’t subside. It did. I also started waking up at night, shortly after that. If only I had known that this was my “borrowed time”, I would have used it to pour all my love and affection on my unborn baby, much more than I did… There were also other signs no-one could interpret then but in my heart, I know that they were all related to my baby being sick, even from the …

Grief, galvanized

I have been on the road that no parent ever wants to walk for a year and two months now. In the car today, Alex made a random remark that got me thinking and now, writing. “You have come a long way“, he said, not meaning it as a hurtful remark but as encouragement and praise. Have I truly? I suppose it all depends on the way one looks at things that molds one’s perception. Yes, it does seem we have travelled a long way on the grief path. Our life, post Georgie, has taken turns I have never known to have existed, let alone desired or planned to take before I lost my boy. If I were to put it simplistically and squeeze it all in two sentences, I guess I would say that: 1. grief has completely and utterly transformed me on the inside. 2. grief has(paradoxically and illogically to the non-bereaved) liberated me to see the world in a way I wouldn’t have been able to, had I not lost my son and …

Silence

I sat there, in silence, remembering the silence we shared two summers ago. When you were only a grain, in my pregnant belly. I sat there, willing my memory To go back and find you there, A squirming little life, Full of promise and joy. I sat there, in silence and I remembered the times, we shared, just you and me. Those dark nights at home, when your little bones were sore. Those long days on the ICU ward, with only each other and the beeping machines pumping chemo into your tiny frame as company. I sat there, with my precious memories of you, sweet baby boy, feeling you close, so very close to my very bruised heart. I sat there, in silence, and for a split moment in time, our love managed to transcend death and space and time, and we were together, once again.

When grief falls like a hammer

I have been doing well. As well as a bereaved mother can be doing, shortly after such an important milestone, as Georgie’s death first anniversary. But grief is a wheel which keeps turning and keeps mauling your soul, over and over and over again. I know that talking about Georgie’s life helps other parents, finding themselves in the same horrific situation we have, a year and 30 days ago. I have been receiving messages from people all over the world. And Georgie’s story has been recently published by a women’s magazine in Romania, and I had the absolute honour to introduce my baby boy to a Romanian audience of caring new mothers. But the crust has been ripped off the wounds, once again. I have been waking up frequently during the night, tormented by the same questions. Why my boy? Why like this? Why was he allowed to cross the threshold of existence only to know excruciating pain? Why, Lord, oh, why? I have learned to live with the pain. I have learned to cope …

#LiveItForGeorgie

Many of my friends have asked recently about our plans for the 5th of July. On the day, we will mourn the loss of our baby boy afresh as the time will mark, cruelly, a year since Georgie left us. I know that this boy is loved by many more people than we will ever know and I decided to include you all in the marking of what has been the most difficult year of our lives. On the day, we will be on our own. We will spend the day remembering a sweet boy’s face, personality and character and will do things to honour his short life. This is where I want to invite you to take part. I want to launch a campaign called #LiveItForGeorgie. I want to invite you all, alongside family members and friends, to create a bank of memories in the memory of my boy. You see, Georgie never got to do many things on this earth. The simplest things, that we all take for granted. Like ….eating an ice …