Words....

Just for those that aren't aware, this is a picture of my beautiful girls.

When I say 'beautiful' I wonder what people depict......
Is it facial features?  Hair? Eyes? A particular shaped nose, or mouth? Someone tall and statuesque? Good fashion sense?
What a load of shallow claptrap.

Having a child with a chronic illness or disability means you have to learn a different language, and adapt to a different kind of life.  One that actually means something.  I am always amazed at peoples inability to see beyond 'what is really important'.

Would I be different if Meg didn't have Turners? Oh definitely.  And how can I be so sure?

Let me tell you.....

I remember my life before diagnosis.  Ofcourse, it had the usual stresses and strains, and ups and downs of family life. But we were free then, as in -  "Not in the control or power of another".  As soon as we had had that phone call from Dr Kirk, life as we knew it changed. Not in an awful way (although we have had our moments...) - just different.

I almost became super sensitive to certain words.  Words before that had no real meaning to me.
Peoples obsession with the height of their children made me want to spin my head round and turn into whatever her name was from The Exorcist, and the never ending subconscious 'future' decisions made for their little darlings nearly sent me into orbit.  And yet, I know for a fact, I was once one of 'those' mothers.

Now, I'm not saying for one moment that I am now the converted Mother Theresa (absolutely no hope of that happening, not even if I wore the veil and rosary beads...), but it has made me see life in a more philosophical way.

But my postings aren't always going to be about the trauma and grief that initially enveloped us at the beginning, but of humour (and good lord, you need that!) and baking with the odd bit of crochet thrown in for good measure.

I think you can find humour in most situations (except for the death of a child).  And can remember my anxious state driving to Birmingham Childrens Hospital to see Dr Kirk the following Tuesday when we got back from The Lake District.  We had decided to tell Meg at the appointment all together, which for those of you who know Meg, wasn't fazed at all by the new diagnosis.  Craig and I drove home with the weight of the world on our shoulders, whilst Meg and Daisy sang songs from Avril Levine and Girls Aloud in the back eating crisps and rubbish.  When we got back home I realised I hadn't got a thing to eat in the cupboards, and said, "Come on girls! We've got to go to Sainsburys."(other supermarkets are available) - and quick as a flash Meg replied, "Ohh Mum, I can't!  I've got Turners!"

"I'll give you Turners.... Get in the bloody car." And so the tone was set.