Powerful squiggles

This past week has been the best and worst week of my life. It started in the wee hours of Monday morning when I got out of bed knowing that very shortly I would be handing my 4-year-old son over to a team of surgeons to fix his leaky heart. We had been upbeat and positive about the whole situation, particularly in front of Possum. We only found out that he had a congenital heart defect (AVSD) in the first week of July so it’s been a lot to get our heads around in a short time.

Shame

I did something yesterday that I’m ashamed of.  I didn’t mean to.  But it was hurtful, insensitive, thoughtless.  Cruel, even.  There were a group of mums at a birthday party.  We were all chatting as mums do.  One of them,
Elisabeth, is an ex-teacher like myself.  She shared with us that  just that morning she had learned about the death of an ex-student.  She was very upset about it and we all shared in her pain.  She talked about how that girl is still 8 years old in her mind, although in reality she was in her mid-20s when she died.  The conversation turned to how hard it must be to lose a child.