Our beautiful baby daughter Anabelle was born sleeping June 2010.
Blessed with the screaming arrivals of our gorgeous rainbow sons,
Alexander October 2011, Zachary November 2013 and Lucas July 2016.

After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows
Heartbreak. Joy. Death. Life. But most of all Love.

Sunday, 28 August 2011

Our Little Metal-Head

Weeks ago I posted about music being a big part of our pregnancy with Anabelle. (Wriggly Baby) I reminised about the evenings we'd spent playing her her baby classical music CD and watching her 'dance', I wondered what CD we should buy for Alexander. 

Well as it turns out we still haven't yet bought him a CD. That doesn't mean we haven't  been playing music to him though; he's had the big headphones on plugged into his Daddy's phone and experienced a whole varied range of music. Alexander appears to have VERY different tastes to his sister! 

Anabelle always responded to classical music; she was especially wakeful when listening to the playtime disc of the two. Alexander on the other hand has been a bit nonplussed by classical music, barely a movement. Instead, as Jon has scrolled through his extensive music collection, Alexander has responded consistently to "metal-head" stuff!  This is much to Jon's delight; Alexander has apparently already become a bit of a fan of Marilyn Manson and Metallica.  

Jon's take on it; he's already a head-banger like Daddy. My take on it; he wakes up, rolls around and kicks really hard in an attempt to get away from the awful noise! Haha! 

Whether Alexander really likes the "metal-head" stuff or not its been lovely for Jon and I watching him dance around like Anabelle did. Getting to know him, interacting with him and falling totally in love with him too.  

Keep dancing around little man; you've got just over seven weeks of cooking left to do. 

Friday, 26 August 2011

Fundraising Update

It has been a long time coming; two months on from Anabelle's Angel Day and the final figure has been collated and ready to reveal! 

Santander this morning confirmed that they have sent £3500 to Sands in Anabelle's name. Only last week another donation was kindly contributed on her Just Giving page; because of a connection I've made through blogging. More kindness from strangers.  I think I will just leave her page open for the time being; I have a feeling its work is not finished! 

So excitedly, adding it altogether today; an enormous £9320.74 has now been sent to Sands. NINE THOUSAND, THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY POUNDS AND SEVENTY FOUR PENCE! 

My baby girl has inspried an enormous amount of generoristy from so many people. It is mine and Jon's hope that it will be a valued contribution to the continuation of the services Sands provides for bereaved families and help with funding research to stop babies of the future dying. 

Nothing can bring Anabelle back. She can't come back; but even in her death she has been involved in something so huge and has made such a difference. £9320.74 is a figure that was beyond all our expectations. I never in a million years thought we would achieve anywhere near so much. It really is quite precious. What a legacy for Anabelle Violet Morgan! 

So who thinks we can make it to the £10k mark by her second birthday?! 

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

Capture a Moment... Caz, Jon and 28+4 Bump

I just wanted to share my current favourite photograph because I can!

It was taken on last Saturday evening, when I was 28+4 weeks pregnant with Xander.  Today we are 29+1. Every day counts; a little celebration that he is that one day older and still with us. My next big celebration will be on the 18th September, when I hope that I will be 32+5 weeks pregnant, and Alexander will have been alive longer than his sister was. Anabelle died at 32+4 days old. 

Alexander being 32+5 will be a celebration, hopefully the most properly pregnant I've ever been. I'm sure it will be a painful emotional day too; reminders, living through another point. The hospital kept counting the days after Anabelle died until she'd actually arrived. My notes say Anabelle was born at 33+ weeks. This is not true for Jon and I. For us our pregnancy stopped at 32+4 when Anabelle grew her wings. It was only a physicality after that. 

The 18th September is currently the day I'm looking towards as our next biggy of a milestone. After that, I guess we only have reaching his long awaited hopefully happy birthday to go. 

Today there is approximately 55 days left until I'm planned to be induced.  Maybe a few more. Hopefully not any less for the wrong reasons. I'm not sure what sounds longer at the moment, 8 weeks or 55 days. I hope I'm given an actual date for admission to hospital soon. A date to pin the all important milestone on and count down to properly.  I'm really ready to know the hoped for date my son will begin his journey into my arms. 

Saturday night we were out for a whole family meal for my Grandmothers birthday; aunties, uncles, cousins. I think we just look happy. This photograph doesn't give away the hugely enormous emotional stresses and strains on us during this pregnancy, I don't think it gives away our fear; we just look proud of our little boy bump. 

We are proud of our little boy bump.  I wish things were always as simple as this photograph. 

Monday, 22 August 2011

Say Her Name

The time of concern is over. No longer are we asked how are we doing. Never is the name of our child mentioned to us. A curtain descends. The moment has passed. Her life slips from recall. There are exceptions, close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent. But, for us the play will NEVER end. 

The effects on us are timeless. Say HER NAME to us. On the stage of our lives she has been both leading and supporting actress. Love does not die. Her name is written on our lives. The sound of her voice replays within our minds. You feel she is dead. We feel she is of the dead but still she lives. She ghostwalks our souls, beckoning in future welcome. 

You say she was our child. We say she is. Say HER NAME to us, and say HER NAME again. It hurts to bury her memory in silence. What she was in flesh is no part of our now. She was our hope for the future. You say not to remind us. How little you understand; we cannot forget. We would not if we could. 

We understand you, but feel the pain in being forced to do so. We forgive you because you cannot know. And we would forgive you anyway. We accept how you see us, but understand you see us not at all. We strive not to judge you, but we wish that you could understand that we dwell in both flesh and in spirit. The mystery is that you do too, but know it not. 

We do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. We walk it not by choice. We would rather walk it with her in the flesh, looking not to spirit worlds beyond. We are what we have to be. What we have lost you cannot feel. What we have gained, you cannot see. 

Say HER NAME for she is alive in us. She and we will meet again, although in many ways we've never parted. She and her life play light songs on our minds, sunrises and sunsets on our dreams. She is real and shadow, was and is. 

Say HER NAME to us and say HER NAME again. She is our child and we love her as we always did.

Author Unknown

Friday, 19 August 2011

My Newborns

The last two weeks I've realised something, well a couple of things; and I feel in a really uncomfortable place. 

1) I'm a fraud. 

Despite being a 'second time' mother, the actual reality is so very far from that. I feel a pretend second timer, and that is because I am a pretend second timer. Oh I've done the pregnancy and birth thing before, of course, but not the actual being a mother to a newborn bit. 

The pregnancy and birth bit before are a bit inconsequential to what comes afterwards and I'm really a first timer. A first time mother in a second times body. I hate it. A big part of me feels it takes away from Anabelle as my first child; and she IS my first child, not Alexander. He of course has his own special place as my first son, but he is not my first child. She should've been the one I did my learning with. I should already know how to do newborns. 

I have absolutely no idea how to be a mother to a newborn.  Not a single clue. My first newborn only needed me to dress her once, that's all she needed of me. No settling, no comforting, no feeding, nothing. Anabelle didn't even need me to hold her, not really. I needed her; I needed to hold her and love her but Anabelle was already gone, she didn't need me. Not in the way she would've if she'd been alive. Anabelle needed us to plan her funeral, that was all. 

So what do I really know about babies? The cry, they feed, they sleep, they poop. That is the extent of my knowledge, that and how to change a nappy already. 

2) If I'm really honest I'm a little bit scared of Alexander.   

Fourteen months on from Anabelle's death and I still struggle on many occasions to 'deal' with a crying small baby around me. I'm instantly on edge, I instantly want it to shut up, I can feel anxiety radiate through my entire body.   Crying babies never bothered me before Anabelle died, but she was so silent. The first thing you expect to hear after you've given birth is that cry and the cry was obviously never going to come. So instead silence deafened us. 

I still cannot cope with crying babies and it bothers me. It bothers me how I might react to my own son. As much as I'm desperate to hear that first cry to reassure me he got here alive I am at the same time very nervous of it. What happens if the reaction I currently have to crying babies automatically takes over and I freeze? What if I cannot comfort him or remotely cope with the sound he is making like how I am now?  

I haven't held a newborn tiny baby since the last time I held Anabelle. Partly because I just cannot do it, I have absolutely no desire to hold anyone else's brand new baby and dread the day someone tries to pass a tiny to me. But mainly because I want the next new baby I hold to be my own again.

But now, mixed in with the desperation to hold Alexander, my baby, I'm becoming increasingly aware he is likely to look a lot like Anabelle. The scan pictures, both 2D and 3D indicate he has her likeness. How will I react to that in real life? I've no idea. This was not an anxiety I had anticipated. 

My head is a whirlwind of these thoughts, a bit tormented. There is no way on this earth I would ever intentionally reject my son, not after everything we've been through. God knows how much I love my children.  I don't want to be nervous of him, or nervous of my reaction to him. I want to enjoy him from the very moment he makes his appearance. 

How on earth do I come to terms with these worries and put them in a place where they won't matter? 
Thursday, 18 August 2011


Its been a long old week since I last blogged. I'm not really sure where the time has gone; I didn't realise it had been a week until yesterday. Time is passing by in a bit of a blur again.

Minor pregnancy ailments are catching up with me; I don't know whether it is the additional emotional strain taking its toll this time or just how things generally are during a second pregnancy anyway.  I'm not sleeping very well at all, between the numerous toilet trips through the night, heartburn rearing is ugly head and foul dreams it just all feels very disturbed. Like I can't switch off anymore.  The pain in my hips and groin area is worsening and also contributing to the restless nights and causing me problems during the day. Its intermittent, and some days are worse than others, but I've now been referred for physiotherapy.

I can endure all of this; don't get me wrong this is nothing if its what it takes to get me Alexander and he comes home safely.

I guess I'm just feeling more and more vulnerable. Emotionally I'm not feeling particularly strong anymore; this was to be expected and I'm sure is contributing to struggling more physically than I did with Anabelle. Everyone tells me I'm looking well; far healthier than I did when I was pregnant with Anabelle but I'm really starting to feel more exhausted. The bags under my eyes from the broken nights are something else! 

Tuesday was particularly stressful.

My routine weekly midwife appointment day. Unusually Jon attended with me and the lady I normally see wasn't there so I saw the stand-in lady. I'd only met her once before; the day before Anabelle died.

It was just as well Jon was there. Tuesday she found a heartbeat on the doppler but spent what felt like an eternity deciding whether the heartbeat she had found was mine or Alexander's. The heartbeat she'd found was on the slow side for a baby and all but matched my own heart rate other than being out by a beat she said.

We felt sick. The look on Jon's face was fear; we'd been here before. The whole mine or baby's heartbeat. Baby's heartbeat slow. I hadn't been concerned before, I'd felt him move, or I thought I'd felt him move; panic obviously descending my mind into chaos.

Anyway, she decided she was happy and sent us on our way.

She may have been happy; we on the other hand started to crumble to bits. The echo's of losing Anabelle had hit us full force and we were right back at a place we were terrified to be.

We phoned the hospital and asked for reassurance monitoring.  This in itself was traumatic; the journey there spent imagining the worst, that our boy was struggling or worse he was dead. Then walking through the day assessment unit and through those doors into labour ward. By now I was barely holding it together; scared of what the CTG trace might reveal and walking down that corridor towards the room where Anabelle was born and eventually being put in the room opposite.

Then there my little boy was on the trace. No mistaking it was him. Strong, normal heart-rate and regular. His movement went crazy - I don't think he liked being listened into for so long. Just like the baby books say babies normally behave when monitoring starts. Relieved does not remotely cover it.

The midwives at the hospital said it is very possible that the doppler at my appointment hadn't picked up his heart-rate at all and had only found mine as I had thought. That he could've been in a position, tucked away and out of range.

They were as always gentle with me; I cannot fault my hospital care. Going out of their way to reiterate again that if I am ever worried about anything or more anxious than normal that it is not a problem for me to go up and spend an hour on a trace to be reassured, any time day or night. The Doctor came and said the same.  

Its just as well really they are so open to me needing reassurance because something tells me that won't be my last visit being teary and scared.

My next scan is next Wednesday, and it cannot come quickly enough now. I want to see my boy. The hour of doubt on  Tuesday went to show than neither Jon nor myself could possibly emotionally survive losing another of our children and just desperately need the next 9 weeks to pass smoothly, safely with smiles at the end. 

Come on little man. Keep with us, its a single figure countdown now. 

Alexander and Mummy - 28 Weeks Grown

Thursday, 11 August 2011

Third Trimester

So today I am 27+2 pregnant. Officially now into the 3rd, and final trimester.

At this point in my first pregnancy it felt like I was on the home stretch. I was excited; the final countdown. I wanted it to go quickly because I just couldn't wait to be Mummy.  We'd made plans to have our last weekend away before the impending arrival of Anabelle. So at 27 weeks we were in North Wales enjoying our 'babymoon'.  

There is no 'babymoon' planned this week. 

Then just weeks into 3rd trimester, at 31 weeks, we were knocked off our feet with a threatened premature labour.  Completely unexpected and terrifying. We'd gone to the hospital because Anabelle had been quite and I felt uncomfortable. I thought we were over-reacting initially, but decided the worry had got to the stage we should visit. 

I thought she was quiet because the baby book was telling me she was running out of room and the uncomfortable feeling was braxton hicks.  Never did I dream I would be hooked up to a monitor and within the hour have a Dr telling me that they were not braxton hicks but regular tightenings and that I was threatening prem-labour and our daughter's heart rate was dipping with the onset of the mild contractions.  

We went up to the hospital expecting to have the quick once over and be on our way home again within the hour; the baby books said it is always better to go and get checked, but that nearly all babies start behaving as soon as they are on the monitor.  Instead a Dr was telling the midwives to prepare equipment and me for theatre just incase they would have to deliver Anabelle early in the next couple of hours. 

I was admitted to hospital, treated to stop the threat of labour, treated to mature Anabelle's lungs with steroids 'just incase'. After 3 days we were allowed home again. All was ok. We were SO relieved the treatment had worked and she remained what we thought was safely inside. 31 weeks so too soon to be born; I was scared of the prospect of SCBU, all the potential premature difficulties and what it might mean for her future. 

A week later Anabelle died. She wasn't safer inside me after all. 

I've been promised the the prem-labour and her death are unlinked. Just a horrible coincidence in timing. But the niggling doubt that the prem-labour was our warning sign continues to dog me. The week before we were relieved she had been kept inside me; now days later we wished they had delivered her. They might've had a chance of saving her. Anabelle died silently inside me. She'd had another quiet day but because we had listened in the heart monitor and knew she was there, we decided to wait to see how things were in the morning. The morning was too late; I let her down, the hospital had no chance of saving her. 

What happens this time if I threaten prem-labour over the next few weeks? What decision will be made? What will be in Alexander's best interests?  Already I'm obsessed with his movements and braxton hicks. I'm torn; my instinct still tells me early 30 weeks are too little to be born if it can be prevented and I might be setting him up life-long difficulties, but my heart is saying I will want him out so at least the Dr's could have a chance at doing their thing. Lots of babies are born around that gestation and are absolutely fine.   

There is so many what if's all around. 

I've already asked the consultant and of course she couldn't answer. It would have to be assessed at the time. I'm as scared of another threatened prem-labour and the wrong decision being made as I am of my baby dying inside me again. 

Third trimester doesn't feel like the home stretch this time.  Yes there are 'only' 10 weeks to go until my induction and it doesn't sound very long. But this is by far the scariest part of this pregnancy for me. The part where it all went wrong and Anabelle died.  I don't trust my body and I don't trust me.  This time, I want it to go quickly for my sanity. For Alexander to survive, come home. 

We don't know how the next few weeks will pan out. As always we don't really know anything, the Dr's don't really know anything. All we can do is see the midwife weekly minimum, consultant regularly and hope that my body does the job it is designed to do. 

Hope that Alexander cooks smoothly until 37 weeks when we want to meet him. 
Monday, 8 August 2011

I Wish

A familiar ache has developed in my chest today. Grief mixed with desperation mixed with fear.I want my babies. I want to physically be Mummy. My arms are empty and all I want to do is cuddle my children in. 

Yesterday I caught myself looking at Anabelle's photo a lot. Especially the ones where me and her Daddy are holding her. We could only hold her for such a short time; the briefest of moments with our newborn.  

There is so much I wish I'd done more of with Anabelle. 

I wish I'd held her longer and not put her down at all from the moment she arrived to the moment we had to hand her over. She was so fragile. The short time she was in her moses basket was while we were waiting for her clothes to arrive to dress her. She'd been held for hours and her skin was breaking, it looked so sore; we didn't want to hurt her anymore. So we gave her a little break wrapped up warm in her blanket with her teddy.  Wanting to protect her; but today I ache to hold her and feel I wasted precious moments that I had.

I wish we'd kept her with us longer. Anabelle was born at just gone midnight; at just gone midday we made the decision it was time to hand her over. 12 hours. We were trying to be brave, we knew the time had to come, we knew her tiny body was reaching the point where it would be safer elsewhere.  We were trying to do the right thing for our daughter.  Today I wish I'd had even a few more hours with her. I've since learnt about 'cold-cots' that some maternity units have. Special cots for angel babies that keep them safe to give their parents all the time they need with them.  We weren't offered a 'cold-cot' - I can only assume our hospital didn't have one, because I'm sure if they did it would've been there. The hospital offered us everything they could; a blanket, hat, tiny teddy for her and a moses basket. They were very kind, we can't fault them.

I wish I'd visited her more in the chapel of rest. I wish I'd gone every day. I'm not sure why we didn't. I guess we didn't want to overly pester the funeral directors. So instead we didn't see Anabelle for 5 days. She was left all alone for all that time and I feel so guilty. I should've been there more for her. 

I wish when we did see her in the chapel of rest I'd picked her up and held her one last time. I held her hand in her coffin but daren't move her. I wasn't sure that we were allowed too. How silly does that sound now? Why wouldn't I have been allowed to hold my daughter?  But in that hour we spent with her there, the night before her goodbye, I knew she was all prepared for her funeral and I thought that was it; she was in her coffin, I thought I had to leave her there. 

I wish I'd kissed her little face just one more time before I walked away from her. 

I wish Jon and I had carried her coffin on our laps in the car instead of her travelling in the back of the estate car infront.  I wish we'd slowed the bit down between her service and burial. Just to give us a couple of minutes alone, just me, Jon and her coffin.  That bit feels so rushed now, she was out of my reach too quickly. We arrived at the cemetery and she was carried over and passed down. I wish I'd had a moment with her before she was put in the ground. 

Most of all I wish she was here. 

I can't change any of these things and it hurts. I'm so desperate to hold Anabelle, and so desperate to hold Alexander. Desperate for a squidgy newborn that needs me. I want my babies.  
Sunday, 7 August 2011

Anabelle's Due Date

I'm not sure how I feel today. A bit sad, a bit strange maybe. Mostly I think deflated.

This is the first significant date in our round of 'seconds'. Anabelle's due date. A year ago today she was due to be born, a date that had held so much anticipation for so long, the date our dreams were built on; but of course she'd been born and buried for more than six weeks by the time August 7th had arrived.

Will today always feel like this I wonder? Will it change a little? Its significance always remembered?  But what is the significance now? I'm unsure. What do babies due dates really mean in the years after they are born? Would I be at all bothered by this date today if Anabelle was here? Would it have even crossed my mind it was her due date if she was here?

Last year we had a whole plan set out for today. Her day.

We went to Build-a-Bear-Workshop and made her Angel bear. The special teddy we'd been planning to go and buy with Anabelle, one of our first family trips after registering her was going to be there. We went without her, and made Angel bear for her, on her day.   We took Angel bear to Anabelle's garden and sat with her a while, on her day. We ate out at Bella Italia and I wore the pink dress I'd bought for her funeral, on her day.

Today we have no plans. Maybe that was a mistake.

Before I discovered blogging, in those early weeks I wrote a few poems. I can't actually remember writing them; part of the haze, the hurt. But I wrote one for Anabelle's due date; it is almost painful to read now. It puts me right back there in the rawness, confusion and bewilderment of it all.

But it is as true today as it was last August 7th.  Our baby girl is an angel.

  Our baby girl is an angel,
How can that be?
Anabelle we had such dreams ,
For you and me.

Our baby girl is an angel,
Born on the 21st of June,
Arrived perfect and sleeping,
Anabelle was here and gone too soon.

Our baby girl is an angel,
Our first little baby born,
Beautiful angel baby,
Anabelle our hearts are broken and torn.

Our baby girl is an angel,
We miss her more every day,
We love you always Anabelle,
And wish there could’ve been another way.

Our baby girl is an angel,
Anabelle went to live in heaven,
We ache to kiss, to hold, to see her,
And things will never be normal again.

Our baby girl is an angel,
The prettiest angel you’ll ever see,
Anabelle is a Monday’s Child,
Fair of face and beautiful as can be!

Our baby girl is an angel,
We’re Mummy and Daddy to her,
Anabelle our precious baby,
Always and forever.

Our baby girl is an angel,
It seems to make her invisible to you.
But believe me, please,
Anabelle deserves your recognition too.

Our baby girl is an angel,
She is real and special and ours,
Please don’t feel awkward about Anabelle,
We need to talk about her for hours and hours.

Our baby girl is an angel,
How can it be true?
This nightmare is never ending.
Anabelle we’ll never stop missing you.

Our baby girl is an angel,
Our heartbreak will go on and on,
With each would’ve been milestone,
Anabelle this is all just so wrong.

Our baby girl is an angel,
This is the day she was due,
7th of August it was supposed to be,
Anabelle how does life go without you?

Our baby girl is an angel,
Anabelle grew her little wings,
She flew up to heaven,
And now Belle plays with beautiful angel things.

Saturday, 6 August 2011

The Fiz Morgan Rules

1.    Vacate your spot on the big bed and it will be filled immediately by me.

2.    If I am awake at 5am, you need to be awake at 5am. I will continue to throw things on the floor until you talk to me.

3.    If it is 9am and I haven’t been fed yet, expect to be attacked until you’ve got up and lovingly filled my bowl. I do not do lie in’s.

4.    If you are already up and feed yourself first, expect your sofas to be attacked until you’ve lovingly filled my bowl. I don't do waiting. 

5.    If you lock me in my room, expect to pick up pegs.

6.    Your bedtime = My playtime. Get used to it.

7.    If you put it on the floor, it now belongs to me and I will sit on it. The same goes for putting it on the bed or the sofa.

8.    I am never in the way. If you want to see, you move. Not me.

9.    You are not allowed to be busy if I want a fuss. Giving me attention is more important than Facebook or Blogger or Mumsnet or Babs so I will sit on your laptop if I want to.

10. It is perfectly reasonable to expect treats or cold running water from the tap. Don’t make me hate you by ignoring my demands.

11. My toys are great. Crumpled paper and boxes are better. I don’t care if the living room looks a mess.

12. If I roll infront of you on the floor, it is immensely rude to step over me without giving me a tummy rub.

13. Bugs are for chasing and killing. And eating.

14. I don’t do little people.

15. I am the Queen of this castle and I merely share my abode with you peasants. And don’t you forget it.
Friday, 5 August 2011

A Mother's Love

"A Mother's love endures through all." Washington Irving (1783-1859)

Been a bit of a rollercoaster of emotions this week on the blog hasn't it? Lots of gushy mush, lots of anger. Might as well keep it up then; I'll go back gushy mush today!

There is a type of love that is impossible to describe until you've experienced it for yourself. A mother's love.  The type of love that reveals the lioness in you. It is all consuming and powerful; rising from the innermost parts of you and overwhelming everything else. The love that keeps on growing. They type of love that would make you kill and die to protect if you had to, make you vicious if you had to.  A don't mess with me, my babies or my family type of love.

The type of love that made me pull no punches in my post yesterday. Hurt me, my husband or my babies; you will pay, your comeuppance will arrive. A mother's love.

Nothing can really prepare you for the feeling. Anabelle was growing and I was falling more and more in love with this tiny little thing inside me I hadn't even met yet. I knew I already loved her unconditionally and then she arrived; Wow. The rush of love was something else. I was in awe of this beautiful tiny baby that Jon and I had made; how on earth did something so precious and perfect belong to me? Mine, ours. I cradled her and wanted to protect her forever. So much love and nothing more I could do for her. There is a saying isn't there; "If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever."

I love Anabelle so much I wondered how I would ever have anymore love to give to anyone else. Infact I worried if it would even be possible to love any future children anywhere near the same amount, was it possible to share? It felt Anabelle had taken it all.

I needn't have worried.

Already it is obvious my love for Anabelle does not impinge on my love for Alexander and vice versa. He has his own immense amount of love already there in abundance; different, seperate but equal to Anabelle's. Evidently each baby brings a whole new individual love with them. I love him for who he is, just like I love his sister for who she is. Between the two of them it is a wonder I haven't burst yet.

I can't wait to feel that 'wow rush' again. The moment I meet my beautiful boy. A mother's love; infinite, immeasurable.

10 and a half weeks to go my little man.
Thursday, 4 August 2011

The Parents We Want To Be

To explain the parents we want to be, lets give a  not so shining example of everything that is opposite to that. 

Who would want to be the parent who abandons their child in their greatest hour of need? Who would want to be the parent who is so bitter, twisted, selfish, childish that their own petty self-centered vendettas are more important to them than the death of their son's child? Who would want to be the parent who dares to criticize their son's child's funeral?  Who would want to be the parent who intentionally hurts their son just days and weeks after said son has just buried his child?  Who would want to be the parent who is proved to be totally selfish and unreliable during the absolute worst thing that could've happened to their son? 

Who would want to be the parent who puts their own needs and feelings first? Who, especially, would want to be the parent who is incapable of putting their grieving and heartbroken son first?  Who would want to be the parent who cannot take any responsibility for their nastiness but instead lays blame at everyone else's feet?   Who would want to be the parent who thinks 'blood' absolves them of everything, and that it gives them the right to treat their son how they like? 

Who would want to be the parent who has the audacity to seek out others to take below the belt cheap shots at their son's wife, the grieving mother of their sons dead child? Especially when said parent has proved themselves to have absolutely no conscience or moral fibre to be in the least bit self-righteous about.  Who would want to be the parent who cares so little that his son has been to hell and back many times in the last 12 months but instead harbours on with the same old and boring vendetta? 

Who even thinks this person sounds like any sort of person who has the right to call themselves a 'father' at all? Such titles are earnt after all, not given. It makes my blood boil that my beautiful husband grieves his loss of expected fatherhood when such undeserving lowlifes still see fit to abuse theirs.

Who would want to be a parent who is so obviously poisonous?

No-one?  Thought so. 

I really could go on and on. The list of abuse is quite endless. 

Our beautiful Anabelle, Alexander and any other children we have in the future will NEVER be subject to such behaviour from us. 

There is absolutely nothing that could happen in our children's lives that would result in them being treated so appallingly by us, their own parents. Our babies will always be secure in the knowledge, (as I am with my own parents - see Father's Day), that we will always put them, their needs and feelings first, we will support them in everything, we will never abandon them; regardless of situation or how old they or we might be.

Our babies will know nothing but our love, we will be selfless for them for the entirety of their lives. 

Our babies will know we will never intentionally cause them any hurt or distress, and in fact will do our utmost to remove all hurt and distress from their lives, taking any burden on for them that we can. And if, God forbid we did cause our children even the slightest of hurt we would be man enough to admit and do everything in our power to rectify our wrongdoing to them. God forbid my babies experience anywhere near the same level of grief and heartbreak we have; but if they do we will wrap them up so tightly to protect them from everything that we possibly can.  In all situations our babies will be secure in the knowledge that we will protect them.

Our babies will know we will be their constant and when everyone else has gone they can ALWAYS rely on us. Our babies will know they can turn to us about anything and we will be there. 

Our babies will know there is far more to being good parents and family than 'blood' and that said 'blood' does not equal the right to treat them in any way other than the right way.  Our children will know that love, respect and trust is a two way process, between both parents and child. And that we, their parents, regardless of 'blood' must earn these things from them based on how we treat them and our actions.  

I want our babies to have high expectations of us; because they deserve the very best.  

Our babies will never experience poison at the hands of us, we will never allow anyone poisonous to be anywhere near them. 

Anyone can father a child, all that takes is a sperm.  But it takes a real man to stand up and take responsibility and love their child unconditionally for the rest of their lives. It takes a real man to put their child first even through into adulthood, providing support until their dying day. Parenting; being 'Daddy' (or 'Mummy') does not stop at 18. Your babies never really stop needing you.

Abandoning even a grown up child is abhorrent. Whatever the circumstances. Particularly low life when the circumstances are the death of your child's baby. It is astounding really isn't it, that such unbelievably selfish people in such circumstances even exist.

Jon already is, and will always be millions of times over the 'father' he has had the unfortunate experience and example of.  Jon already is and will always be millions of times over the husband example he grew up with. 

We know we will be good parents because above all else our love for our babies will always be unconditional . Everlasting. Precious. 

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

1 Corinthians 13

I may speak in different languages of people or even angels, Bit if I do not have love, I am only a noisy bell or a crashing cymbal. I may have the gift of prophecy. I may understand all the secret things of God and have all knoweldge, and I may have faith so great I can move mountains. But even with all these things, if I do not have love, then I am nothing. I may give away everything I have, and I may even give my body as an offering to be burnt. But I gain nothing if I do not have love. 

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not boast, and it is not proud. Love is not rude, is not selfish, and does not get upset with others. Love does not count up wrongs that have been done. Love is not happy with evil but is happy with the truth.

Love patiently accepts all things. It always trusts, always hopes and always remains strong. Love never ends. 

There are gifts of prophecy, but they will be ended. There are gifts of speaking in different languages, but those gifts will stop. There is the gift of knowledge, but it will come to an end.   The reason is that our knowledge and our ability to prophesy are not perfect. But when perfection comes, the thing that are not perfect will end. 

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I stopped those childish ways.   It is the same with us. Now we see a dim reflections, as if we were looking into a mirror, but then we shall see clearly. Now I know only a part, but then I will know fully, as God has known me. 

So these three things continue forever; faith, hope and love. 

And the greatest of these is love. 
Monday, 1 August 2011

Greatest Day

At this point, two years ago, I was busy having my hair and make up done and being turned into what felt like a princess. I was just a few hours away from marrying my lovely Jon and becoming Mrs M! 

Full of excitement for our future; never could we have anticipated what would happen 10 months later. 

I'm still excited for our future. It isn't the future we imagined and our lives will never be complete; this is something we have to accept. Grief and the absense of Anabelle will affect us forever, but we have each other. Through it all.  There is so much left to live out, plan, grow and experience. 

1st August 2009 will forever be some of my happiest and fondest memories. I would love to rewind and do it all again, although one things is for certain - I wouldn't be fitting in my beautiful big white dress today would I! 

I know every bride says it; but it was one of the best days of my life. 

We married at the gorgeous country Cwrt Bleddyn Hotel surrounded by pink and white roses. My favourite colour and now favourite flower!  White Roses came into their own; my dress was a "White Rose" designed dress and it was the perfect idea for it to become our theme and finer detail to our day.  I've written about what the white rose  means in our lives before. 

Then there was the pink, I remember there being 'discussions' about my colour choice! Jon wasn't at all keen to begin with, until we were planning our wedding Jon 'didn't do pink'. But of course the 'discussions' went my way! He came around and wore the ivory with pink swirls waistcoat and cravat to match my bridesmaids fushia pink dresses!  Beautiful! 

 I meant every vow then, like I mean every vow now. I loved every minute of our day and would marry him all over again in a heartbeat.

So I'll finish today's mush with one of the readings from our wedding. Full of the truths of love and possibly my favourite photograph from our day. Captured during first dance when we forgot the cameras were even there; too wrapped up in each other celebrating our Greatest Day

Love is giving, not taking
Mending, not breaking
Trusting, believing
Never deceiving
Patiently bearing
And faithfully sharing
Each joy, every sorrow
Today and tomorrow.

Love is kind, understanding
But never demanding
Love is constant, prevailing
Its strength never failing
A promise once spoken
For all time unbroken
Love's time is forever. 
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After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
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