After Anabelle

Last month the middle boy had a birthday!

Our lovely Zachy Small is three! There is no way Zachary feels anywhere near big enough to be three mind you! My small. Still my Small, he really is a doot for his age; 89cm tall, still wearing 18-24 month trousers and only just going in to 2-3 on top. Only a size 6 shoe.  So Small, yet a month from now starts his school nursery journey! 

He doesn't seem at all big enough - at his nursery starter meeting last week the other Rising 3's seemed to tower above him! The uniform shops seem to agree he is too small too - hand-me-downs from Xander's nursery start are ridiculously oversized in 3-4 and so new uniform is being bought - I've been struggling to find 2-3 uniform still in stock - so bits and pieces are coming from a few different places. But we're getting there, jumpers and tshirts are bought. Trousers and shoes we'll think about after Christmas now. 

I'm as nervous for him starting nursery as I was for Alexander.

I thought it would be easier to let the apron strings unravel a bit this time around - but it proves that different children give you different worries and it is no easier with the nerves of starting school at all! With Xander (click to open) it was all about my own resistance to change, letting him go, worrying about others looking after him for half a day every day, I worried about him being ready of course, but I knew on the whole he would be ok; he had that kind of personality and he gelled fairly well in most situations. My compliant and easy going little boy. 

This time around I know the team that will be looking after Zac. They're vivacious and dedicated and there are no worries there, although I'll admit I'm not really ready to share him that bit more! Still I feel unnerved that he has to grow up.  I worry that  he isn't really ready.  I worry that we're rushing him. Even more than I worried that Alexander wasn't ready. Zachy is less easy-going than his older brother, much more sensitive, quick to react, quick to be upset and very much still a toddler. A baby. Oh how he will change so very quickly when he starts in school. All of a sudden he will grow up too much I'm sure. Thrive just as his big brother did after all my nerves of him starting school nursery. I hope so anyway!

My beautiful beautiful boy. Three. It sounds so big when you are so Small. I'm not ready for you to be big! But you? You love being big! You are forever telling us that you are NOT a baby. 

This is since the arrival of your baby brother. You are a Big Brother now and you love it! On your first visit to the hospital to meet him you couldn't take your eyes off him. In the beginning you called Lucas 'it' - but in the most adorable affectionate way; requesting of us that 'I hold it'. When he was brand new you didn't like it when he cried. He was too noisy! 

You make us so proud in how you care for your baby brother, you are always talking to him and giving him cuddles, or proudly telling strangers when we're out and about that he is your Baby Luc. Your Baby. So often you and Xander fall out now about whose baby brother Luc is - you not accepting that he is actually baby brother to both of you! 




There really is so much to tell you - you've had an amazingly busy six months. Learning and growing. Changing. You are so chatty to everyone. To a complete stranger in a lift, or a queue, or the cashier at a till, other children playing at the park, you'll turn around to and say 'I'm Zachary' or 'I'm Zachy'.  Your vocabulary has exploded all the more and the way you talk has changed, more grown up. Nearly everyone can understand everything you say now. It felt like your speech grew up overnight when Lucas was born. 

You have these adorable little phrases. Some are beautifully reminisent of things that Xander used to say when he was the same amount of big as you. Things like 'I not sleepy, it good morning' to his 'I not sleepy, I wake up'. You still make a 'b' sound when you should say 'v' - but it makes for the cutest expressions.  'I lub you' 'It too heaby'. 'Seebeeseebees' for CBeebies. You like to tell us who you want to talk to, most days I hear 'I want to talk to Mummy'. You are already asking 'Why?', which feels way earlier than Xander's 'Why' stage. 

At three you love Ben and Holly, you love having a story read to you, you like singing songs; my favourite at the moment is listening to you sing along to Emeli Sande 'Wonder'.  You love Happyland toys and role play, fairies and princesses and pink. I love watching you play with Xander as you discover imaginary play with him; your little people go on such adventures with you! 

You hate loud noises. Genuinely petrified of crowds shouting and screaming, noisy parties and hand driers in toilets. It is ironic really when you can make the most piercing scream that goes absolutely through me every time you make it. 

You're no longer that keen on having your photograph taken, unless you are caught in exactly the right mood! You're going through that phase. Or at least I hope its a phase because you have very snap happy parents - wrong family boyo! At the moment I'm winning through bribery and corruption or stealth photos! Haha! 

You love swimming. You are a little fish. So confident already and have been since before you were two and a half - I really should've have had this on your last blog update. You surprised us all on a family swim one day - a woggle around you and off you went, kicking your legs, trying to use your arms and speedily travelling through the water. You totally blew us away! You've started swimming lessons now and now you'll swim around with a mini woggle under each arm instead of a big one around your tummy! 

You my boy are so physically brave and fearless. You love the challenge of climbing and bouncing. I'm absolutely convinced you will be the first of my children to break a bone. Just a few months ago we turned around at the farm to find you dangling by your arms from some pretty high monkey bars. Needless to say Daddy dashed over to catch you before you let go. Gulps from Mummy. You will turn me grey! 




You are getting so independent and are as determined as ever! Absolutely refusing help now until you ask for it if you have decided that you will do something by yourself. It amuses me how much you want to try doing for yourself compared to your big brother who would be happy to still let me to absolutely everything for him! 

Zachy you are such a sensitive soul. You can be such a Jekyll and Hyde; you'll even tell us if you're feeling Happy Zachy or Grumpy Zachy! You're sensitive to the way others interact with you, you are a child who loves his own space to play and sometimes needs that space away from others. Sometimes you really struggle if someone invades your space. But equally you love the joy of the game with other children too. You're still learning how to interact with the world. You show such beautiful concern for others when you can see they are upset - you come along and ask what is the matter, or pat someone shoulder to show your concern. 




You're growing up far far too quickly. In just a few weeks you will start nursery class at school! It is going to be so exciting, new adventures, new friends, new things to learn.  More big changes! 

This year we're changing our Christmas routine. 

Even a year ago I wouldn't have believed I could ever feel it was the right change to make. To be honest, I'm not sure it is the right change to make. 

We're not going up to the cemetery Christmas Day. 

Instead we're going to go up with Anabelle's garden gift things on Christmas Eve afternoon. 

The guilt is already in the pit of my stomach, like we're cutting our daughter out of Christmas. Doing something we promised we'd never do. Not doing something we promised we'd always do. 

Not going to her on Christmas Day. 

Christmas has been bothering me for weeks. 

The nagging feeling that it wasn't fair on the boys to rush their Christmas morning, or clock-watch, the potential of their mother getting stressed and anxious and snappy to get out of the house by a certain time and up to their sister so we had time to fit everything in before cooking dinner.

So I floated the idea to Jon at the weekend that maybe we should go to Anabelle on Christmas Eve. This year to see how it felt. To see if it could fit and become what we do at Christmas. 

That maybe while the boys are so young their entire Christmas morning or even the day at home should be the priority. 

Not rushing them, rushing presents, rushing getting them dressed, rushing up there, and rushing back home. Not giving ourselves time-pressures on Christmas Day that would threaten to bubble and boil and spoil.  I don't want to rush my time with Belle up there, and I don't want to rush my time with the boys at home. 

So this year we're making a change. 

It feels the wrong thing to do and the right thing to do all at the same time. It feels like maybe a slippery slope. I don't know.

This year we're so excited for Christmas. Baby Lucas's first Christmas. Its a big deal. I've already enjoyed dressing him up in the novelty Christmas outfits, my little baby Elf, and his little Christmas Jumper. I've chosen what I'll want him to wear on Christmas day and the 'My First Christmas' pyjamas he'll wear to bed Christmas Eve. And of course for the older boys too. Wanting to make it magical for them. 

Excited.

It has taken us years to reach excited. For those first four years we went through the motions, mostly treading water, knowing that Boxing Day would wipe me out completely after holding it together Christmas Day.  It has taken us all these years to reach this point and it had to be a conscious effort to do it. Deciding to try so very hard to embrace Christmas. 

Only because of the boys. An Alexander that understood Christmas deserved a Mother who did better at it. Didn't crash at some point within it. 

Year five was a bit hit and miss. But last year, her sixth Christmas, we managed it, a happy build up AND an entirely happy Christmas day. A corner had been turned. Somehow I felt like we had this whole Christmas thing sorted out now, managing the the turmoil, successfully riding the low without getting dragged under for the first time in six Christmas'. 

But now, even as we approach her seventh Christmas this time of year is still surrounds us in some turmoil. Still ever aware of all that we're missing. The little girl party dresses and shoes in your face everywhere, the cute pink and sparkly Christmas jumpers and matching Mummy and Daughter Christmas print dresses that are all the rage at the moment.  It stings and hurts as much as it ever did and always will. The things I can never do with the boys. 

So maybe I didn't have it quite so sorted out as I thought last year. Because attempting to make a change is hard, leaving me jittery and not really knowing how I'll react to it until it is done. Maybe we should be going up there Christmas Day. I really don't know. I feel torn and guilty. Mostly just wishing we didn't even have to contemplate grave visits for our daughter at all.  

Trying to fit four children into Christmas when we can only see three. Trying to be fair to everyone.  

I'm going to say it again. Another month has WHIZZED by! It is going so fast that he is already four and a half months before I've found a moment to type up his blog! 

Lucas really is such a happy gorgeous baby. He only even has to half smile at me and I melt; it is so easy to enjoy him. I've been lucky with them all to be fair - none of the boys have been difficult babies - but Lucas seems especially content.

My Little. The only fuss he makes is hunger and tiredness. 

He is happy to sit and play in his chair or led playing on his mat, exploring his toys and just watching the world going on around him. So easily pleased with just having company. He has spent the last month discovering how to play. Reaching out for his toys, feeling them with his fingers, grabbing, pulling toys to his mouth. He adores spending time on his new playmat especially; that was a good recent buy! 

Beautiful baby Lucas. You are four months old. Four months! You are growing and changing, becoming more and more the little person and not just the little baby. Getting nosier and nosier. You just want to sit up now and look around  - every time we try to recline you in our arms you are pulling your head up as if to say 'Let me see, let me see'!  

You are interested in everything. Especially your brothers. You so clearly LOVE their attention now, excited looks of adoration across your face whenever they talk to you! You stare at them so intently. And boy do they so obviously love you too. You are THEIR baby! The three of you absolutely melt me together. The Morgan boys. 

The world is beginning to amuse you. You give the most beautiful beaming smiles, and oh you've started to chuckle. Tiny little giggles that we're just waiting to turn into wonderful huge big belly laughs. Your first laugh this month was for Daddy. He was pulling funny faces and making funny noises and you chuckled. Beautiful delightful boy! There is something that is so infectious about a happy baby. 

At four months old you are 14lb 5oz and now comfortably into your 3-6 month wardrobe. Your looks are beginning to change and I think you're starting to resemble Zachy more and more as a baby. Predictably, like your brothers over the last month you more or less completely lost your hair. Now at four (and a half) months your hair has started to grow back but it is so fair you still look bald. Just like your brothers around the four month mark! 

This month you have started to put weight through your legs and push to stand ever so briefly on our legs. You are getting stronger and stronger. On the floor now you are ever so quick to roll on to your side, I keep waiting for you to flip right over on to your tummy but that pesky arm is still in your way! 

Your learning how to use your arms and hands, and hand-eye co-ordination to grab things infront of your to explore. You reach out now to touch and feel. You've enjoyed looking at your 'That's not my books' really pushing your hand over the pages. You love grabbing toys now and looking at them or moving them around in front of you. Your favourite toy this month has been your playmat and the light up turtle and soft feely book that hangs from it. 

Daily routine is still much the same as last month with generally four naps of varying length throughout the day. Some days you'll nap for only 20 minutes or so at a time, others you'll sleep for two hours - it is so hard to predict. I know you would nap for far longer if I was able to hold you while you slept, but baby you are the youngest which means you rarely get the luxury of being cuddled for an entire nap. Somebody always needs Mummy. 

Night sleep was going so well - too well - for three weeks or so you had consistently started to sleep through and I think Mummy counted her chicken's a bit too soon! And then you had a little cold - and maybe a four month sleep regression - but for the last two weeks there has been at least one wake up a night again, some nights two or three! Oh it could be worse, way worse and one/two wake ups is nothing at all really - but it is surprising how quickly you get used to getting a full nights sleep again even after only three weeks! Last night you didn't wake me up until 5.00am so I'm kind of crossing my fingers you're going to start stretching out again - but now if we could get your brothers to quit their wake-ups too then we'll be well away. Horrible winter germs. 

Your next update is already fast approaching and we have your exciting first Christmas month ahead of us. I'm so looking forward to seeing how mesmerised you are by all the lights and glitter and sparkles! What will you have discovered by month five? 

My wonderful squidgy baby. Grow up slowly. In love with you. 

It was so unexpected, such a shock. We had no reason to think she was poorly; only two weeks ago she had had her annual health check and booster jabs at the vet - all was fine, she was fine. 

Tuesday evening she curled up on my left leg while I had the baby on my right. I took a 'selfie' of her with no idea it would be her last photograph. After everyone was in bed, including me, Jon had a big play-fight with her and was left with the battle-scars to prove it. Something that hadn't happened for a long time in the post new-baby days. Her last play. 

Although Jon didn't find her until Wednesday early evening, we think she must have died sometime during the early hours, the nighttime, of Wednesday morning. After her last cuddle, last photograph, last play. 

That night Jon had slept downstairs because Lucas was under the weather and very likely to end up sleeping in bed with me. I wonder at what point she stopped sleeping on his legs in the night and went into her hammock.  At least she wasn't quite alone at the end, even if we didn't know it. I hope she didn't know it - she looked like she had so peacefully passed in her sleep. 

I still feel terrible that we didn't notice Wednesday morning, her there sleeping in her hammock under her scratch post. Her scratch post, under the stairs partially behind the armchair; in sight but out of sight, her quiet spot. 

Wednesday mornings are manic; sorting out Xander to go off with my Mum to school complete with his homework bag, school bag, swim bag. Sorting Zac to go off to nursery with all the spares he could possibly need incase he has a bad potty day. Feeding and dressing a little Luc and chucking food and water down for Fiz. Its a stress getting out of the door early enough to get Zac to a nursery breakfast. We whizz around. In all the commotion I couldn't remember seeing Fiz that morning, but that is no different from any Wednesday morning in my rush. Jon said he saw her on her hammock in the morning, but just assumed she was still snoozing. Why would he have any reason to think differently? Lie-ins weren't out of the ordinary for Fiz! 

When she was tiny!

I was out for most of Wednesday, only popping back for an hour between 10.30-11.30 before meeting Jon for lunch. I didn't notice her in her hammock - and even if I had I would've assumed she was just asleep. I had no reason to look for her - she didn't even cross my mind - it wasn't unusual for her to be hidden away snoozing somewhere through the day. Nothing was out of the ordinary, or so we thought. 

But while I was still at Xander's swimming lesson with the three boys and Mum in tow, Jon returned from work and realised Fiz hadn't moved from her curled up comfortable spot in the hammock. She'd gone. I came home to find Jon incredibly upset - and I just knew he was going to tell me someone had died, but didn't for a minute expect him to say Fiz. I feel so sorry that she led there all day unnoticed - even though I know it would've been traumatic for the children had the discovery been any other way. At least Jon finding her in an otherwise empty house meant we could shelter them. 

Only nine and half years old, young for a house-cat, it did not occur to us to consider she may die yet. I honestly expected for her to be with us for at least another six plus years.We phoned the vets and took her there to arrange her cremation. Cried many tears and said our goodbyes. 

Once upon a time I wouldn't have understood why someone was so upset about their animal. I'd never had a pet before Fiz. Of course this hurt doesn't remotely compare to the grief we already carry with us every day, it is but a drop in the ocean; we've been through worse and we'll be ok when our low subsides.  But none-the-less, we're feeling so very sad and cut-up about her loss. These have been teary days. Fiz was one of us, our fur-baby. She deserves our goodbyes. She had been such a comfort to us so often and it didn't feel like it was her time to go. So please indulge me as we adjust to Fiz no longer being with us. 

It is only now in her absence I realise just how much space she actually took up in our hearts and home. She was everywhere. 

The scratch post behind the armchair, where she died. The food bowls with left-overs still in. The food box still in the cupboard under the sink. The cat hair on the curtains, on the carpet, all over the rainbow rug, cat hair we were blind to before. The scratches all over the drawers in our wardrobe where she once got stuck. The wrecked arms and bottoms of the chairs where she had clawed. The frayed carpet on the bottom step. The claw marks on the carpets. 

The space she took up on the bed resting against our legs. The silence of her bell, not realising how that sound filled the day before. The silence of her miaow begging for a tap to be turned on in the bath or her bowls to be filled. The thud from upstairs when she jumped off the bed. The space on the bay window sill where she slept, sunbathed, or ran to greet us when she heard the car on the drive. The silence of her nightly ritual of carrying her favourite 'mousey' around and miaowing after everyone else had gone to bed. Mousey that she had had since a kitten. 

Her no longer trying to invade soft places, padding on legs, our dressing gowns, the baby blankets. No longer arguing with her about coming out from under the boys beds at their bedtime. No longer finding her curled up on the boys chair in the playroom or sunbathing on the rainbow rug. No longer finding her snoozing on the bed. No longer having to shout 'Watch the cat' whenever the front door is open or strategically closing it behind us.  No longer having to worry about how to rearrange the bathroom to fit her litter tray in as Lucas now needed the box bedroom. No longer having to worry about arranging kitty-care when we go away - only hours before we found her I had text my Mum to ask her to feed Fiz the weekend when we go to my Godson's christening. No naughty cat chewing on the Christmas tree and knocking baubles off this year. 

Remembering when we went to get her from a farm. 20th June 2007.  Our home became her home. Me, initially unbothered either way if we had a cat/pet or not but so quickly falling in love with that tiny tiny little kitten. Her mother had died so she was hand-reared from birth and had only ever known human contact. Remembering how she loved to be rocked and held just as if she was a human newborn baby. Remembering even now how she liked to be held the very same way. Remembering how we named her - The Tweenies. Remembering when she could fit in the palm of Jon's hand. Remembering her kitten collar was still in with my jewellery and comparing it to the collar we took off her as we left her at the vets to keep.

Remembering that we used to give her a bath and that she even enjoyed playing in the water when she was little, chasing bath toys. Remembering why she was a housecat - although interested in the outdoors, in those kitten days she never ventured far from home  - just up the path and back - and would be outside the front door crying as soon as it was shut - we decided to keep her in and out of the outdoor world harms way. 

Remembering the time we got locked out with her in our arms, the car journey to my Dad's work with her loose on my lap (as a passenger) to recover some keys to get back in. Remembering the day of her great escape on to my parents roof when we lived there. Remembering she was a cat that had her birthday celebrated with presents, Christmas too. 

The Great Escape

Realising the bizzare conicidence that she also died on the 16th, to go off for cremation on the 21st and her ashes returned to us on the 28th; numbers that were already so ingrained in us with Belle. Realising they also fall on Wednesday's and Monday's albeit a different month and a different year. Realising in the messed up world we had more time, more photos, more memories with our cat than our daughter. Realising how well she adjusted to two house-moves and children - undoubtedly less showered of attention with each boy arrival but loved by us all in buckets. Realising from the 851 photographs we had taken of her just how much Xander especially adored her.

Her last photo - 15th November 2016

We miss you already.

Fiz 

30th April 2007 - 16th November 2016