Baby Face

 

I have been trying to think about what to blog about. When all is so dire in the world, links to pretty shoes isn’t really going to help, although Cinderella would argue against this until she turned into a pumpkin.

I can’t think of anything good happening in the world at large right now but there are a few things going on in my world that are okay, and by okay, I mean, good. Perhaps we have to take solace in that. Not in the fact that I have some good things in my life for a change but the fact that life goes on, and you absolutely must get on with things that matter to you and your life.

I have lots of writing on. Book editing, a christmas short story to write and freelance work.

I am head down, arse up and it’s a good place to be.

The eldest child is all about finishing school now, with only ten weeks to go before she’s done. It’s horrifying and exciting all at once but god, the options for her are endless. Travel, study, try new things, meet new people, work overseas, study overseas. Isn’t eighteen amazing? You don’t even realise you can do anything at this age. Now the School of Life begins.

At eighteen, I was working full time, then went to acting school 3500 km across the country. I was without any stones in my pockets, easily able to fly emotionally and physically towards the sun.

Fast forward five years later and I had a baby with a disability, who required an enormous amount of care. I stopped working, and was her primary caregiver. Twice weekly appointments at the Royal Children’s Hospital for a year. I didn’t drive then, so I would take her on the tram. Physio, OT, surgeons, tests, rinse, repeat.

I grew up quickly. Having a baby will do that to you, well some of us anyway.

And yet in the responsibility  of new motherhood was a sense of being unfettered by expectations. Everything we owned was second-hand, yet she wanted for nothing. She didn’t reach the normal physical milestones yet surpassed cognitive ones quickly. The kid spoke at nine months, I mean come on! There’s a reason she has lots of debating awards.

We didn’t fit in at the normal mothers group, and yet she wasn’t disabled enough in the special mother group. We were stuck in between. I didn’t care, I didn’t need to belong. I think this is what I am trying to instil in her now. Don’t worry about what others will think. Do whatever it is that makes your heart sing, before you’re on a tram, holding a baby who insists on waving hello at everyone who gets on board.

And then your heart will sing some more, but it’s a duet now and that’s just lovely too, especially when you’re in harmony.

 

 

 

 

 

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