One Year On

Well, the end of term 'Bright Hour' is done and oh what fun we had. But I'm in rather a contemplative mood as Hilary term Bright Hour marks one year on from that day which must have been the oddest of my life.

If we go by calendar date, the actual anniversary is tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll have time to write a Blog post tomorrow so I'm doing one now.

Our appointment was 1pm and we went in ten minutes late. Which means it must have been about 1.45pm on the 15th March 2012 when those immortal words "there's just one thing..." were uttered by the sonographer.

In the last year, life has changed a lot.

Mr A and I could now give you a full and thorough definition for all of the following terms: mylomeningocele, hydrocephalus, ventricular-peritoneal shunt, Arnold Chiari, laryngomalacia, vocal chord palsy and many many more.

"Did you drain the baby?" is also a common question in our household and I think nothing of walking into the Doctor's surgery and requesting "a tube of KY jelly, on repeat prescription, for my son who is 7 months old." We also know exactly which car parks at the JR are the least clogged up at which time of day, and have tried most of the products on offer at all of the cafes. We have spent 30 days in Critical Care and lived to tell the tale.

One year ago, I stood outside Bright Hour sobbing, unable to go in and participate in the jollity. Nothing seemed worth it any more.

If only I could have glimpsed today. I got up and went to morning prayer. I came home and Mr A was feeding him Weetabix and mashed banana in his high chair. He smiled through the banana which was both disgusting and charming. We all went to college breakfast, then I went off to preaching class. Then I took Arthur to baby & toddler group. After a delicious lunch of sweet potato and pear (Arthur, not me) I went to prayer group, and came back to find Arthur and Mr A napping on the bed. Arthur and I went to tea at 4. Then we came home and Arthur sat in his Bumbo and watched Pointless, then had his dinner and went to bed. And I went to Bright Hour and only sobbed with laughter.

Life is entirely normal. Catheterisation 5 times a day. More medication than your average baby. But that's really about it.

Here he is tonight getting ready to go to sleep. I wish I could have seen this when I was sobbing outside Bright Hour last year.

I'm able to officially announce my Curacy now, and I'll post about that in a few days. But for now I'd like to take the time to bask in the joy of an entirely normal day.

 

I feel so blessed.