Published...

It has been a long journey but today, for the first time, I held my book in my hand.

It feels like an age since I first posted about it here on my blog.

You may remember seeing the photo used on the cover, here.

No2 wants me to sign his copy. Sweet.

I have to confess to becoming overwhelmed with emotion when I opened the package from the courier.

Should you know someone who you think would benefit from reading it, you can find it here. It is a little earlier than anticipated, so I'm sure you won't have to wait until 1st June for despatch.

We are having a launch celebration next Friday at Helen and Douglas House. I have new shoes and an appointment at the hairdresser. It's not every day that something quite so exciting happens.

Six years...

Today is Tom's sixth Angel Anniversary.

This photo was taken on his first day of nursery at Big School. He was so excited and wanted to wear his favourite train sweatshirt.

No2 and I went to the zoo today, as we usually do to mark the day. Our ZSL membership includes Whipsnade so we decided it might be a drier option because at least we would have the car to shelter in. A wise decision as the rain and wind were foul.

This year's favourites? The bears, hands down. They reminded me of one of Tom's favourite books from nursery.

Brown bear,

brown bear,

what do you see?

I see...

a hippo, yawning at me.*

Or it could have been an elephant who had decided, in her wisdom, that hay was more stylish to wear rather than eat!

*keeping it topical and hoping Eric Carle doesn't mind.

Five years…

Today is Tom’s fifth Angel Anniversary.
Five years.



Near his grave, there is a horse chestnut tree and each autumn we collect shiny brown conkers and put them under his headstone.  Two years ago, I noticed that there was a tiny tree beginning to grow from one of them after it had lain there for some time.  I brought it home and potted it up.  It now grows in my garden having being given life from a life that has gone.
I have learnt a new phrase: mono no aware.  One that I stumbled upon recently and that resonates with me profoundly.  I think of it each time I look at my tree.



Five years.

An alternative...

On the lane that takes you into the village that my friend lives in, there is a sign on the left-hand side that has always piqued my interest.  For almost four years I have driven past it but a couple of weeks ago I decided to stop and look.

The sign says Natural Burial Ground and I have slowed my car to watch with interest what has been happening in what seemed at first, a rather unkempt field.  As my friend and I walked in, along with her young son, we were greeted by a softly-spoken lady who was treating a wooden post.  She enquired as to whether we were visiting someone or would just like to look around - which we were more than welcome to do.  Over on one side there was a gathering of what looked like a family and so we respected their space and explored the rest of the site.

In the roundhouse, pictured above, were slate plaques with inscriptions: some simple and other more poetic.  It seemed that a wonderful assortment of people had chosen this to be their final resting place.  We smiled at one that simply said a fine man  and then actually giggled at another that said Mickey the roofer.  I liked the plaque on a wooden post that said that the lady would be remembered for her wit and charm.

I remember when I was arranging Tom's funeral that I think I stunned the funeral director by requesting a woven bamboo basket instead of a wooden coffin for him.  It just seemed wrong to have my last memory of him in an ugly wooden casket.  Instead, my memory is of a wonderfully natural basket with a calico lining and smothered in ivy and sweet peas.  Had I known about this, I think I would have chosen it as Tom's final resting place.  I love the philosophy behind its creation:

    A nature reserve burial ground is not only a place of peace.  It is an extraordinary memorial to those who have gone before us.  It is an important gift for our children, their children, their grandchildren.



As we approached the gate again, the lady who had spoken to us earlier came over.  She introduced herself as Emma and I asked about what her vision was for this area.  She told us about the plans to create a woodland and nature reserve and that they had recently created a pond at the bottom of the site.  I found myself telling her about Tom and how much I would have loved to have him here and she suggested that I could consider a memorial tree.  I loved the sense of peace that I found there and the openness with which I felt able to talk about such things.  It is a part of the country that has many strong memories and ties for me so although it may seem far from home, the thought of being part of a landscape is very appealing.

As we were walking around, we noticed that there were fossils amongst the stones on the paths and Emma told us that this area was once an inland sea and evidence of that was all around.  My friends son found an unusual looking fossil and we were told it was known as a devil's toenail!  You can imagine how much this appealed to an eight year old boy!

I hope it isn't too early for me to consider that I would like to become part of this landscape too and I am glad that my mind is open enough for me to consider it. I guess because I am writing about death and grief, I feel strangely comfortable talking about it and I will definitely be discussing this alternative in the book.

So far, what we have written has been met with a really positive reception and we have a meeting scheduled for the week after next with an editor at a rather prestigious publisher.  But that's all I'm saying at the moment as I don't want to tempt fate.

A weekend of writing awaits...

That time of year...

The dahlias are for picking at the nursery so it must mean the end of summer.  I know I am not alone in thinking that September signals the start of a new year with the beginning of the academic year.  I feel like I need to look back on the summer as a playful interlude and that plans that have been talked and thought about need to be put into practice.

No2 went back to school today - into Year 10, how on earth did that happen?  He's had an eventful summer of pushing his luck and his boundaries.  He looked all grown up in his blazer this morning and as soon as he'd left, I was clock watching for him to come home again.  He text me within minutes of coming out of school to say that he'd been moved up, not one but two sets this year.  At the beginning of this year, due to his difficulties during the previous terms, his year head had made the decision to move him down a set as his behaviour had affected his academic progress.  He was absolutely mortified and it seems he became determined to rectify the situation.  Today's news is wonderful and I am so pleased for and with him.  So, he is now starting his GCSE's and I'm really hoping he will work hard and realise his potential.  We talked about working hard and playing hard to find a balance to the next few years.

I need to get some discipline in place myself too.  I have decided that if I write about it here, it will be real and therefore I will have to actually make a start.  You see, I have been asked to write a book.  I will be writing alongside one of the bereavement team at Helen House.  She is someone who I have shared many hours with over the last two and a half years, both on a one-to-one level and as part of a larger group.  I cannot begin to tell you how flattered I am to be asked to collaborate in such a project.  We will be writing a book about losing a child.  It will be my personal experiences and those that I have shared with other bereaved parents I have met over the last four years, married with what is known from research and studies on grief and bereavement.  We want it to be aimed at people who have lost a child or are anticipating such a loss.  Over the last three months we have worked on an outline and at the beginning of the summer holidays we met with the Chief Executive and Clinical Director and were given the go-ahead.  So now I need to write.  My first deadline is next Friday and I have spent the last ten days mulling over where to start.  I think I have my first line.  Or maybe that should be my first first line.

My strategy is to find a balance that involves plenty of creativity which I am hoping will inspire me to tackle some painful and honest accounts of how it feels to have your entire life turned on its head.  I need to have my home filled with colour and flowers - the two things that keep me sane.  The dahlia fields are calling me...

Four years...

Today is Tom's fourth Angel Anniversary. 

This rose is on my conservatory windowsill, three others like it are at his headstone.

When in doubt, grow stuff...

...it is always a good reminder that exercising patience is a virtue and that things will always continue to grow.

No matter what.

An Elephant in the Room...

That time of year is looming again and it seems I am filled with a nagging feeling of anticipation that goes hand in hand with a nausea that hangs around and a mood that is heavy and unforgiving.

I attended the annual Service of Thanksgiving and Remembrance at Great Ormond Street Hospital yesterday.  I always come away from it with the carefully chosen words of the chaplain stored in my head.  This year he talked about the elephant in the room: you know, the one that is sometimes so big, it is hard to move around it, yet we do.  The one who all we want is for someone to mention its name.  The one who, if we actually mentioned the word death, then we could, maybe, talk about life.  A life that had the power to shape mine. He also read some words given to him by another bereaved parent.  The metaphor used this time was shoes and the fact that we are wearing them on a daily basis regardless of how much they hurt.  It's not as if we could take them off and have a break from them or let someone else wear them for us, just for a while.  They stay on our feet and we hope that one day, the hurt will become less and less noticeable.  I wear them and have become adept at hiding the pain of them.

It's only taken four short years for me to attend on my own.  That sounds really mean as I know there are two very good friends who would have come if they could.  No2 declined and so it was just me.  It was hard to sit there, on the end of a row (carefully chosen, so as I didn't have to sit between 2 people) watching families united in their grief.  I lit a candle for Tom and tried to sing the hymn that we sang at his funeral, with silent tears rolling down my face.

I stepped out of the chapel into the sunshine and walked back to St Pancras to catch my train home.  I didn't feel like talking to other people there this year.  The one person who I was hoping to meet up with wasn't there - maybe she was stranded abroad somewhere still...

I am going to go to the zoo again on Thursday.  It's good to have made a decision about what to do on Tom's anniversary as it takes the heartache of trying to think of something away.  I'm hoping No2 will want to come with me.  I'm not his favourite person at the moment - his Facebook status is ' I f***ing hate my mum' and it had 45 comments at the last count and not one of them in my defence.  I don't really know what exactly I've done to deserve it, but there you have it.  One not here and one who hates me enough to broadcast it.

I think I'll stop now.  My coffee is finished and I ought to get up.  I have a quilt to finish, plants to put in and seeds to sow.  Time to just hit the publish post button and roll with it.

One week, ten things...

• Apologies for not getting round to sharing a bit of borrowed beauty...

...while my parents are staying with me, I have been enjoying the blooms of my Mum's orchids which are residing in my conservatory... there are frilly ones...

...spotty ones...

...yellow ones...

...and white ones.  They seem to be thriving at the moment

• My day at St Mary's went really well.  I would even go as far as saying that I enjoyed it.  I mean, I don't often get the chance to talk about Tom much anymore, so it was more than welcome as far as I'm concerned.  I spoke to my counsellor today and the feed-back she has received was really positive about my contribution to the lecture.  The Registrars were so nice and they asked me lots of questions - some of which were quite challenging.  I'm happy to do it again in spite of feeling absolutely exhausted by the time I got home.

• Better late than never, but I have continued to do my 365 Days project over at Flickr and so here is my mosaic for February.

• I have a new favourite chocolate bar.  It has proved to be elusive, but one of my lovely friends tracked a bar down in Surrey and posted it to me!

• 
  
  I also forgot to mention the craft table we did at an Indulgence evening.  I didn't sell One Single Thing!  Never mind.  We managed to get some dates for proper craft fairs!  I didn't really get round to making that much so I'm not as disappointed as I might have been.  I was surprised that anyone could resist this cute pram toy!

• 
  
  I need to finish hand-quilting Max's quilt.  I'm half way through and would really like to get it done this week as I am impatient to start my next one!

• 
  
  I have discovered Spoonflower.  Dangerous territory.  Believe me.

• Continuing in the forgetful way that has become the norm at the moment, I also forgot to mention the discovery of the most wonderful haberdashery in Frome, Somerset.  I spent a lovely while browsing through fabrics, buttons and trimmings.

• Pip has a new girlfriend.  Meet Daisy...

...she has the most expressive ears!  I have a request to make her a jumper - she's a shivery little thing!  Unfortunately, she is not mine.  She belongs to another of my lovely friends.

• I have almost finished my giveaway amigurumi.  I'm hoping to post it out at the end of the week.

Title unknown...

At the beginning of the year, my lovely friend Mary, quoted that her mantra for the year would be to "Be open and stay alert", I asked her if I could adopt if for my year too and I think that maybe it is having an effect.


So, following on from my last post, my training at Helen House has started once again this year.  You can read about the beginnings of it here.  In our latest session we discussed the differences between open and closed questions - subtle differences in language that make a huge difference when you are trying to actively listen to somebody talking about incredibly difficult subjects.  There is always a significant amount of role play during our training and I am having to learn to really think before I speak and use silence constructively.  Not easy, I can tell you. 

Our group has now been asked how we feel about facilitating workshops for not-so-newly bereaved parents who would like some form of support to continue.  I am interested as I really see it as a two-way opportunity for support, both for the people who join us and for myself. 

A few weeks ago, I had a letter out of the blue from Tom's Consultant Paediatrician asking me if I would be interested in participating in a training day at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington that was being aimed at teaching all the Paediatric Registrars in London how to support bereaved parents and children.  She is a trustee of the Child Bereavement Charity, who will run the lectures.  Last week we met for coffee and discussed what would be useful to talk about for about an hour during the lecture.  I will be fully supported during my time by a counsellor at St Mary's who I met last week too.  My first lecture is on Thursday and I plan to go without notes as I find it easier to talk without having an agenda.  I have also said that I am more than happy for it to be open for discussion rather than have to have too much of a script to follow.  I will talk about preparation for death and discussions and interactions that took place in the weeks, months and years before.  I will also share what I thought was helpful or things that I think could have been done better.  I know it's not something that anyone could do and when I have tried to discuss it with friends and family, I get very mixed reactions.  But I feel that I can do it and that I need to give it a go.  I am trying to find a balance in my life and I think that by using my experiences constructively balances the more frivolous side of my creative life now. 

During coffee we also talked about a new government directive called the Child Death Overview Process and I was asked if I would consider being a parent member within our Local Safeguarding Children Board.  It is a role that would not be very time-consuming and from what I can gather, I would be required to read through publications from a parent's perspective to make sure that they were not too insensitive. Since 2008, it has been mandatory for every child death to be investigated and I still feel fortunate to this day that I didn't have to go through the agony of having to face Tom having a post-mortem.

Who knows if this is the right or wrong thing for me to be doing now.  I feel that unless I try it, I'll never know.  It feels incongruous to mention in my space here because I know it is a distressing and sensitive subject to stumble upon amongst the quilting and crochet and baking.  But here's the thing:  it is the biggest part of my life and no amount of creativity will ever fill the void.  In the run-up to Tom's anniversary and birthday that both fall in spring, it feels worthwhile, but I'm nervous and know it will be exhausting.  Perhaps it is my way of keeping my darling boy alongside me.  Like I could ever forget such a face - there is a serenity to this, one of my favourite photos, that always makes me sigh.

I will be back tomorrow with some borrowed beauty...