The Things I Left Undone
When I was little, I had no clear idea of how life was going to pan out, except for a few ‘hallmark’ achievements and occurrences which were obviously going to happen along the way… …and didn’t.
When I was little, I had no clear idea of how life was going to pan out, except for a few ‘hallmark’ achievements and occurrences which were obviously going to happen along the way… …and didn’t.
Tear. You can have it both ways with this one – ‘tear’, as in the things which drown my eyes and shine tracks down my face in the lamplight; or ‘tear’, as in the portion of my heart which ripped and ripped again with each loss and each reminder. A year ago today I shared…
This hearkens back to the spirit of one of the reasons I decided to write so frankly and openly here – to document the dual horrors of miscarriage and infertility and the ways they impact, in the faint hopes that someone, somewhere, will read it and feel less alone; less the way I did while…
It’s been a while… …to the point where I discovered that Facebook ‘yells’ at you if you’ve not published anything for longer than it deems appropriate – “Your paltry number of Facebook Followers haven’t heard from you in EIGHT days! Write them something! Have you disappeared? Buck your ideas up!” I stopped writing so that…
I don’t want to write this, not really – and I know I don’t owe it to you – but I feel like I owe it to myself, in a way, because I’ve committed (as part of my justification for having a blog) to documenting the ups and downs of infertility/child loss, as a kind…
No need for speed this week, my lovelies. I’m going to try to stretch myself for you (and it really will be a stretch – I’ve suddenly come over absolutely bone tired, and in spite of having eaten a large dinner, I want something to ‘sweeten the mouth’, and may need to resort to sugar…
ALS is a terrifying disease, no doubt about it. And there’s equally no doubt that the current viral #icebucketchallenge has caught public attention and is bringing in TONNES of much-needed money, and a lot of opportunity for education about the disease and its impact. But I’m not going to do it, and here’s why –…
“Just sign on the dotted line and we’ll make a start” The doctor’s voice is confident. He’s done this a thousand times before, extracting cells to make life-completing miracles. He probably doesn’t give it a thought any more; just sees his bank account getting fatter with each growing belly – and the potential profit sketched…
It’s been a week of some extraordinarily wonderful Thankfuls, so much so that my head is spinning and I can barely think of an appropriate way to introduce this without my words tumbling over themselves in their eagerness to get out and reach your eyes, so that your mind understands what my heart is trying…
It could be argued that I choose this – this painful, screaming label which keeps me so separate – because there is always the ongoing choice I make to stay with the man I married and to honour our wedding vows, because damnit, I just can’t stop loving him, in spite of how much more…