Face to face January 18, 2012

Photo by Lisa Jay

I am not very good at living in the moment.  Ask my husband.  I’m only happy when I’m planning the next holiday or working towards a goal.  I always need something to look forward to.  I remember when mobile phones first started to become widespread.  It became quite common to go to a party and see people talking on their mobile phones, talking about the next party while ignoring everybody who was actually at the party with them.  Or you would find yourself having lunch with somebody who would be on the phone planning the next lunch with somebody else.  At the time it seemed utterly ridiculous!  Now it’s just normal.  We accept it.  But with smart phones we’re not just talking to somebody else, we’re also updating our status, checking tomorrow’s weather, catching up on emails, googling for information.  We’re never fully in the moment.  We’re never just with the people we’re with.  We don’t give each other our full attention.  Maybe I particularly feel this because I’m a ‘quality time’ person.  (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, read the 5 Love Languages, by Gary Chapman).  Spending quality time with people, especially one on one, is what makes me feel loved and connected to them.  But to get ‘quality time’ people have to be fully present.  And you just don’t get a whole heap of that from anybody these days.  Except maybe kids.

One of the best and hardest things about having a baby is that it forces you to live in the moment.  The real and present moment.  You can’t plan ahead too much.  You can’t put the baby on hold.  You can’t make him or her wait.  If the baby wants to be fed, they’ll get fed.  If the baby wants to sleep, the baby has to sleep.  The baby only knows the here and now.  And children are the same.  When you spend a day with a small child, you spend it in the moment.  And that can be a challenge to our task oriented, list-making, adult way of thinking.  But children at least give you quality time!

One of the reasons I decided it was time to have a baby the first time was because I wanted to spend more time with friends and family.  My Dad had just recovered from pretty serious bowel cancer surgery and we all felt we were lucky to still have him with us.  About eight years before that he’d had a triple heart by-pass.  It was like we’d already been given a second chance and now we were being given a second ‘second chance’.  Suddenly it hit home to me that family was the most important thing in life.  I wanted my Dad to meet my children.  But I also figured that work had eaten up way too much of my life and it was time to just slow the pace a little and spend time with the people I love.

Here I am now with a second baby and the world has changed.  In just five years, it’s changed.  People don’t spend as much time with people now, they spend it online, connecting through social media and blogging and emails and facetime and anything but face to face contact.  This becomes more obvious than ever when you have a new baby or a birthday.   When I had Birdy we were inundated with visitors.  This time we were inundated with facebook messages.  Nobody feels the need to come and see the baby because they’ve already seen it on facebook.  Ten years ago, when you had a birthday the phone used to ring all day.  Now those same people send a text or leave a facebook message.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it seems like these forms of communication are a bit less personal.  They’re more immediate and it’s nice that you can have conversations with people on the other side of the world, but it’s also a more distant way of communicating.  And more temporary.  I know I’ll keep every single card that was sent to welcome Molly into the world.  And when she’s older, I’ll get them all out of their musty shoebox and read them with her, whereas the facebook messages and texts will be lost forever.  To me, there’s something unspeakably beautiful about the fact that those cards once ran through a physical printing process, travelled to a shop, were carefully selected, were held in the hands and homes of the people who wrote them, that they then travelled through real space and time to get to us, were delivered by another pair of hands to our mailbox and were held and read by us in another place and time.  It’s like a big community effort to deliver those greetings and messages.  One day when Molly is much, much older she’ll hold them again, even if it’s only to throw them in the bin!

We Mums have particularly embraced social media.  When you’re stuck at home with a sleeping or feeding baby you can go online and feel like you’ve connected with somebody.  You can put a question out there and a bunch of people will have something to say about it.  But I think it can also make us lazy and, in a way, isolated.  We’re less likely to pick up the phone and call our friends.  We don’t bother to drive across town to visit.  We don’t open up our homes quite so much as we used to and we miss out on spending really good quality time with each other.

Last weekend we had Birdy’s 5th birthday party at our house.  We always have our parties at home.  It was nice this year to include a few of Birdy’s pre-school friends who have never been to our house before.  I always think you never really know a person until you’ve been to their house.  Sure you can see on facebook what a person’s fave movies and TV shows are, but you learn so much more when you eat a meal in their home.  You can tell what year they got married by the colour of their crockery  (Blue & yellow, 1999, Square plates, 2005, Brown & maroon 2006, black & white patterns, 2010 and 2011)!  When you visit someone’s home you see photos of their family and their travels, artworks they treasure, their CD collection, instruments you never knew they played, books on the shelf (or the fact that there are no books on the shelf) or whatever!

So my goal for this year at home is to try to reconnect with people face to face.  To have more friends over to my house and to just pick up the phone and call, rather than always sending messages on facebook or by email.  I don’t have a beautifully renovated home or a blitzed backyard and I don’t cook like a Masterchef, but hey, I’m aiming for reality, not reality TV.  So if I blog a little less this year, hopefully it’s because I’m calling a little more often!  And living in the moment.  The fully present, real, right now moment.  And hey, if you’re my friend and you’re reading this, maybe you could call me too, and we could catch up sometime… face to face, not on facebook or facetime.  But right now, I’ve got to go.  Molly needs a feed.  And she needs it right now!

xx

Do you use social media and technology to connect with other Mums and to the outside world when you’re at home?  Is there a down side to all this interaction or do you feel it’s only a positive force in your life?  Do you agree that children help you to live in the moment?

Furniture, photos and family history January 1, 2012

It’s 4 am.  I’m staying at my parents house in the country, feeding Molly while sitting on the antique couch that belonged to my grandmother and grandfather.  Just behind me, I can hear the rhythmic, gentle tick of the 400 year old grandfather clock they brought out with them when they emigrated from the UK more than 60 years ago.  (My little sister got into Granny’s bad books by winding the two clock weights around each other like a tightly coiled DNA strand when she was a toddler.  You can imagine how well that went down!)

Lying beside me on the couch is a sleeping Birdy.  If she happens to wake up in the night while I’m feeding she comes and finds me and sleeps beside me.  It’s very sweet and nice to have company in the wee hours.

Outside in the soil, just a hundred metres from the house, lie the ashes of our miscarried son, Samuel.  Over the road, lie the remains of my paternal grandmother, Ivy.

Molly Hay on her wedding day, and with my mum, Rosemary

On the other side of the room on a desk, are two formal portraits of my maternal grandmother, Molly – the one our little Molly (now 5 weeks old) is named after.  There were a number of reasons we chose the name Molly, but one of them was because of our common loss.  A few years ago I discovered that my mother, who was an only child, had a little stillborn brother.  It was only when we went through the trauma of losing Samuel that I found out more about what happened.  Molly had developed severe pre-eclampsia and her kidneys were failing, putting her life in danger.  The pregnancy had to be induced prematurely and she delivered a stillborn baby boy.

So as I sit here feeding baby Molly, I do so surrounded by this lineage, this history.  When I’m back at home, I spend a lot of time asking Mum and Dad about our family history.  It’s often prompted by an enquiry about a photo or an old piece of furniture.  ”Who did this belong to?” or ” Where did this come from?” or “Where was this photo taken?”  In an old locked bookshelf in the sitting room, there’s a small, seemingly insignificant goat bell.  To be honest, I’ve never even noticed it before.  The key to that bookshelf snapped off in the lock years ago and it’s never been opened since.  But yesterday I learned that the goat bell belonged to Mum’s grandfather, Sir Henry Newland.  It was brought home from Gallipoli.  He was later knighted for his pioneering work there, patching up the soldiers using an early form of plastic surgery, which makes it a pretty interesting little goat bell.

I’ve been thinking about lineage a bit in the context of Christmas – how important it was in Jewish culture.  The gospels trace Jesus’ lineage back to King David to show his Kingship.   Lineage is not really a concept we think about in modern life.  But I think we are still biologically driven to reproduce and to see our family line go on.  Most people don’t have kids because they love children.  They have kids because they feel a drive to reproduce and to be a family.  Men in particular seem to need to leave a legacy, to make a mark on the world.  Having children is just one way of doing that.

Of course our spiritual heritage can be even more influential than our physical heritage.  Molly’s second name, Jean, is after my husband’s paternal grandmother, Jeanie.  I didn’t have the privilege of knowing her as she had already slipped into dementia by the time I met her, but I felt I got to know her a little bit at her funeral.  Testimony after testimony was given about her strong faith and her faithfulness.  Her son, Molly’s grandfather, now runs a missional Christian community and bible college.  My grandmother, the original Molly, married an anglican minister, Andrew Hay, who was also involved in missions.  My other grandmother Ivy, sang hymns to my father under the kitchen table when the Germans were carrying out air raids during the second world war and prayed faithfully for the safe return of her husband.  Today my father is heavily involved in the local branch of the welfare charity, Anglicare.  Over the holiday period a number of people knocked on the front door or phoned up asking for help with rent or grocery and power bills.  All these things are different expressions of faith and they are all part of little Molly’s rich spiritual heritage.  She will have to make her own choices about what she believes and how she expresses that, but we will make sure she knows where she comes from.

The name Molly means ‘bitterness’ or ‘out of bitterness’.  The name Jean means ‘God is faithful’.  Already Molly Jean is such a blessing to us.  And I hope we can raise her to be a blessing to others, just as many of her ancestors were before her.

xx

PS. Happy New Year!

Newborn photos by Lisa Jay December 16, 2011

Photo by Lisa Jay

Sydney child and family photographer Lisa Jay recently posted a number of pictures from Molly’s newborn shoot.

You can see the collection here.

Or visit www.bylisajay.com

 

Good Golly, Miss Molly! December 15, 2011

Photo by Lisa Jay

It’s been nearly nine months since I put pen to paper.  Or fingers to keyboard.

I just wasn’t able to write during the last 9 months.

Initially it was because of the morning sickness.  I was just so sick every night that as soon as Birdy was in bed, I passed out from exhaustion.  If I didn’t go to sleep, I started vomiting.

Then as the pregnancy progressed further, (we got through the dreaded 12 week ultrasound without any bad news!), we started to wonder if maybe this pregnancy would actually result in a baby!  But I still didn’t really dare to hope.  And I just couldn’t bring myself to write about it.  What if I wrote about the pregnancy and then something went wrong?  Then I would have to write about that too.

So I stayed quiet.  At least on this blog.  I kept thinking that when the time was right, I’d start writing again.  But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  After sharing so much of my last 6 failed pregnancies, I decided to keep this one to myself.  It was like there was just too much at stake. Too much going on emotionally. And if I can’t share openly what I’m really going through, then why write anything at all?  If a blog is going to be anything, it should at least be personal.  And real.

So here we are now.  At the end of a three-and-a-half-year heartache and the beginning of a whole new little miracle.

Molly Jean Macdonald Roe was born on November 21 at 8.40pm after a fantastic birth.  I looked at her in amazement.  ”You’re real,” I said as I held her in my arms for the first time.  ”And you’re alive.  And you’re perfect.”

But more about the birth later.

For now, we’re just all enjoying the fact that she’s here.

And that she’s real.  And she’s alive.  And she’s perfect.

xx

The rewards of parenting March 24, 2011

Last week I had a new experience.  That makes two in two weeks.  You don’t get that many new experiences at 36, so to have two in two weeks is kinda novel.  The first one was that I got a henna tattoo to celebrate my friend’s wedding!  It was a communal girls’ night activity and rather fun!  The second new experience was that I auditioned for a TV show last week.  Again, not something that happens every day.

The audition was for a new family show and they were looking for a female  co-host to join the male presenter.  For the audition, I had to prepare a 3-minute piece to camera on a parenting topic of my choice.  I was inspired to write on the topic of rewards.  This is because I had recently interviewed Lousie Porter, Child Psychologist on my radio program.  If you’re interested, you can listen to the interview here.   Anyway, since I did the interview a lot of people have asked me about it and expressed an interest in reading her book, Children Are People Too.  Louise is totally against all forms of reward and punishment as a way of influencing young children’s behaviour.  She believes that learning to behave considerately is a new skill, just like riding a bike, or playing the piano and that children shouldn’t be punished for making mistakes because punishment damages the parent-child relationship.  (Again, if you want to know more, listen to the interview or read the book – I can’t do her theories justice in a short paragraph!)  She also believes that rewards encourage competitive behaviour, not cooperation, so I decided to explore that idea in my presentation.  (It’s less controversial than her ideas on punishment!)

So I thought I’d share my presentation with you.  It’s a little more instructional than my usual style, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway:

We all know parenting has its rewards, but is offering rewards part of good parenting?

When our children do something that pleases us, we naturally want to reward them.  Most of us who are parents will just instinctively reward behaviour we like, and punish behaviour we don’t like or that we think is unacceptable.

Rewards can be an easy way to get your child to cooperate with your agenda.  I have a strong memory from my childhood of what my mum called The Hanky Race. It was my Mum’s way of getting us all into bed as quickly as possible.  Whoever was first into bed won a hanky.  It might seem like the most enticing prize today, but it certainly worked every time.  My sisters and I would vie for the honour of winning the hanky and Mum got us all to bed in a flash.

Rewards can also be helpful when you want to encourage your child to focus their energy on learning a new skill, like the classic star chart for toilet training.  The star chart helps the child to see their progress and focus on what they’re achieving, rather than their mistakes.

Of course, there are some downsides to using rewards, especially individual ones.  Imagine you have a team of sales executives and you offer a big prize, such as a holiday to the executive who makes the most sales.  This may motivate the executives individually, but it won’t encourage them to pass on sales leads to each other.  Individual rewards promote competition, not cooperation.

If you want your kids to tidy their room and you offer a prize to the child with the tidiest room, they may tidy up, but they probably won’t help each other.  Instead the child who doesn’t receive the prize may feel resentful of the one who did.  After all, they both tidied their rooms.  Instead, you could offer a collective reward, “If you all tidy your rooms quickly, then we can go to the aquatic centre for a swim as soon as you’re finished.”

Of course, the reward we all use most frequently is our praise.  While it seems logical to offer children praise when they do well, too much praise can be a bad thing.  You don’t want your child to be always needing praise to feel good about themselves and their achievements.  Instead, acknowledge their achievement, without overstating their brilliance.  For example if your child is improving on the piano, you can say, “Congratulations, I can see you’ve been practising.  You should be proud of yourself.”  Rather than saying, “Clever girl, aren’t you wonderful!”

You might be wondering what the difference is.  Well one is encouraging them to enjoy the achievement for it’s own sake.  Whereas the other implies they need to be dreadfully clever to earn your approval, which may discourage them from persisting at tasks they don’t naturally excel at.  Or they may play the piano only to please you, when they really don’t enjoy it at all.

The other problem with offering a reward (eg. a new computer game if you get good grades at school) is that it teaches them to value the material reward, rather than the achievement itself.  The computer game becomes the goal, not the grades.  What ultimately has more value, a new computer game, or good grades?

Finally, rewards can be addictive.  We used to have a dog that would do any trick for a treat, but as soon as the treat was gone, he refused to do the trick.  It’s like when you reward children for eating all their dinner by offering them dessert.  The first time it works brilliantly, but soon they’ll be asking you what’s for dessert and calculating whether it’s worth eating all their peas to get it.  Again, the focus has been taken off the good thing – eating a healthy dinner, and onto the reward, dessert.

So if you’re going to use rewards in your family, don’t depend on them too much to influence behaviour.  Instead try to emphasise the natural rewards that come from right actions.  If you’re kind, you’ll make a friend.  If you sleep well, you’ll enjoy the day more.  And if you practice hard, you’ll be able to enjoy playing the piano.  In the same way, if we put the hard yards into our parenting, we’ll hopefully enjoy the rewards in years to come – by fostering a lifelong friendship with our children.

BTW, I didn’t get the part.  I got down to the final two, but they decided to give it to another lady because she has five kids whereas I only have one.  (Ouch!)  I wasn’t too heartbroken about not getting the part, but I was a little hurt by the reason, considering I had shared really openly about my miscarriages with them.  Talk about rubbing salt into the womb!  Oops, I mean wound.  Of course I do understand that someone with five kids has a lot of experience to draw on.  But with all Birdy’s various dramas, I feel like we’ve experienced more challenges than some people do with 2 or 3 kids.  Anyway, I really enjoyed the experience of auditioning.  Like I said, it’s not something that happens every day.  But I don’t think TV is for me.  I’m far more comfortable hiding behind the microphone and the headphones.  At least I don’t have to worry about hair and makeup and what to wear!

Preschool pick-up March 4, 2011

Scribbling stolen from husband and used without permission

Birdy’s Preschool

For the past four weeks I’ve been learning how to be a pre-school parent.  I’ve learnt that I have to wash Birdy’s little sleeping bag every week.  I’ve learnt that they bring home enough artwork every day to decorate the Vatican within a year.  I’ve learnt that if you don’t get to the car park at 20 to 3 you’ll spend the next 25 minutes circling the car park like a hungry vulture.  And I’ve learnt that its a very bad feeling to be the very last parent to arrive at the end of the day. (Negligent mother alert!)

I was really excited about Birdy starting Preschool.  Unlike many of my friends, I wasn’t at all nervous or upset about the idea of being apart for the whole day and I wasn’t really worried about how she would settle in and make friends.  (I had enough to worry about with all her medical dramas.)  But since then I’ve had an emotional reaction that I didn’t anticipate: I actually feel left out.  Well, just a little.

For the first time in her life, Birdy is having all these amazing experiences without me!  I’m not part of it at all.  Yes, I get to hear about what happened at Preschool, but I don’t actually get to experience it with her or witness it. This was brought home to me over the past two days because Birdy got to be one of the first ‘special helpers’ at Preschool yesterday and today.  She was really proud of this achievement.  Yesterday she went to bed talking about it, and today she woke up at 6 am still talking about it.  I would have dearly loved to see her handing out the morning teas and tapping the students on the head when it was their turn to go to the bathroom.  Instead I have to simply imagine all these things in my minds eye.

Today Birdy came home with a special sticker on her shirt that said:

You have been a TERRIFIC SPECIAL HELPER this week at Preschool.  You have led the class from place to place, called your friends by name to go inside and done special jobs for the teachers in group time. A job well done.

We are keeping that sticker forever!

The other aspect of Preschool that I was unprepared for is the post-Preschool meltdown.  At the end of the day, Birdy is so tired she can’t concentrate on anything!  Although she hasn’t yet had a complete and total meltdown after Preschool, she has been right on the edge on a number of occasions.  As I work during the mornings, I am feeling the loss of our afternoons together.  Birdy is no longer capable of playing games, or doing anything much at all after Preschool.  She just collapses like a zombie onto the kitchen floor while I offer her her favorite comfort snack of a cup of warm milk and biscotti.

I have to say that we seem to have scored the most amazing Preschool in Sydney.  I’m just inspired by all the love, care and attention shown to the kids.  And by all the thoughtful touches that make the experience so special for the children – the stickers describing something they did that day, the sharing bag, getting to be a special helper.  If the first four weeks have been anything to go by, I have a feeling that this year of innocent, joyful discovery will fly by before any of us have a chance to fully appreciate it.

Did you enjoy your child’s first year of Preschool?  Or are you looking forward to it?  Do you have any memories of your own Preschool?

Best of the Blogs February 25, 2011

 

Photo copyright Carla Gee Schneider

Thought I’d share this for those of  you who love blogging!  In my radio show on Hope 103.2, I started a blog review segment called Best of the Blogs.  In this segment, my blog reviewer, Carla Gee Schneider has hunted down some of the most interesting and original blogs from all around the world to share with Hope 103.3 listeners.

Unfortunately Carla won’t be able continue as my blog reviewer, due to other commitments.  So just this week she passed on the reins to Jennifer Reid from the blog Life’s Like a Cupcake.

Both Carla and Jen are really passionate about the medium of blogging – the way it links people together, the way it’s a democratic medium that gives people a voice, and the way you have total control over when and what you write about.

So here’s to blogging.  And here’s an excerpt from Carla’s post on her blog, Chasing Cakes.

Since August last year, I have had a short segment on Hope 103.2FM called Best of the Blogs, on Katrina Roe’s morning show. When Katrina first asked me to be part of her show as a blog reviewer, I was really excited! I spend a lot of time reading blogs, and I have also been blogging since 2003. I’m really passionate about the medium of blogs, as it is a democratic medium that allows anyone to publish their work, whether that be writing, photography, drawing, recipes…anything! I loved researching the blogs that I reviewed, and sharing interesting blogs with the listeners of Hope 103.2FM. It was also lots of fun being on the radio. Although I had done acting work before, I had never done radio.

Sadly, the time has come for me to say goodbye to my role as blog reviewer for Best of the Blogs. I am currently studying to be an art teacher, and I am in my final year of uni. This semester, I will be working at a school as part of my internship, and in the following semester, I will be writing an honours thesis. Because of these new commitments, I won’t be able to do Best of the Blogs anymore.

However, the exciting news is that Best of the Blogs will be gaining a new reviewer: my blog buddy,Jennifer Reid! I reviewed Jennifer’s blog, Life is Like a Cupcake a few months ago, and we have become blog friends since then! From the moment I first read Jen’s blog, I could tell that she was a warm, intelligent woman, who was glorifying God through her blog and her daily actions. I am thrilled that she will be the new blog reviewer for Best of the Blogs, and she was the only person that I could think of who had the blogging knowledge, passion and experience (plus a bright personality!) that this role required! She is so passionate about blogs, whether she is reading blogs, supporting other bloggers through comments and emails, or writing in her own spirited and inspiring blog. I want to wish Jen all the best for her new venture. I know that she will be incredible in her new role!

Read more of Carla’s story here…

Listen to the podcast here…

Thanks Carla for all your hard work over the year and welcome Jen.  Happy Blogging everyone!

Now I am four February 17, 2011

So I thought my first post for 2011 would be telling you all about Birdy’s four-year-old birthday.  It’s a big deal, turning four.  For us, it meant the start of pre-school and that last year at home before school starts and everything changes.  I launched into the year looking forward to all the new experiences and skills that a pre-schooler develops:  bringing home artwork from pre-school, playing board games and card games for the first time, making friends independently.

But the year started off in its own way.  And it wasn’t what I was expecting.

In the days and weeks leading up to Birdy’s birthday, my husband and I had the clear sense that Birdy wasn’t quite right.  Sometimes it was more obvious than others.  She’d wake up in a bad mood and refuse to eat anything for breakfast.  She was more lethargic than usual.  She’d fall asleep at odd times and put herself back to bed in the day.  Sometimes she said her tummy felt sick, once or twice she pointed to her head.  But then at other times she’d join in with other kids and seemed fine.   We took her to the GP with this vague assortment of symptoms.  The doctor thought she might have a urinary tract infection, but the tests came back clear.  I thought perhaps she was gluten intolerant and took her off wheat for a few days.  Then on the weekend of her birthday party, she told us she could see two Grannys.  She also completely refused to watch any television and started covering up one eye when she wanted to see something.  Then we noticed that one of her eyes had started to turn in.

Fortunately, my husband knew that double vision is sometimes serious and took her straight back to the GP.  After seeking a second opinion, the GP referred us to an opthomologist with an appointment booked for the next morning at 7.30 AM.  My experience with all things medical tells me that if you get an appointment with a specialist the next day, especially a three-hour appointment, you know you should be getting worried.  Our GP said that it could just be a lazy eye that had deteriorated due to a virus, but they also had to check for more serious things, to make sure there wasn’t any pressure being exerted on the eyes from behind.

The next day I went to  work while my husband took Birdy to the opthomologist.  I was on-air doing my radio show at the time, waiting for the call to hear that everything was OK.  But the call didn’t come.  I knew if it was good news, my husband would ring me to let me know so that I wouldn’t worry.  I also knew that if it was bad news, he wouldn’t call me until after I had finished my radio show.  By the time it was 11 o’clock, and he still hadn’t called me, I knew something was wrong.  I couldn’t wait any longer.  I had to know.

I called hubby on his mobile.  He told me that the opthomologist had seen a lot of pressure behind the eyes.  Something was pressing onto both the eyes from the brain, but the opthomologist hadn’t said any more about what it could be.  He had just referred us to the neurologists at Westmead Children’s Hospital.  Chris and I both knew it was the ‘T’ word that nobody was going to say.  I broke down in tears.  I walked out on my show.  I couldn’t keep it together.

As I drove to the hospital in shock I was shouting at God in rage.  ”You can’t take my baby!  Not this one.  You’ve taken all the others!  I’m keeping this one.  You can’t have her!  You can’t take her!  She’s mine!”  This may sound crazy, but after five miscarriages, I’ve developed a little bit of a fear about losing Birdy as well.  My husband later told me that he was in the car with Birdy, crying quietly so she wouldn’t hear, saying almost the same words.  Although he wasn’t shouting at God.  He was more begging in desperation.  (That tells you something about our rhino/hedgehog approach to conflict.)

When we finally saw the neurology registrar, he looked in Birdy’s eyes numerous times, examined her skin, asked a gazillion questions, made her walk on a line and did all manner of acrobatics with her.  After a time, we saw the neurologist proper and he repeated the whole process.  The neurologist explained that Birdy had Papilloedema – swelling of the optic disc that is caused by raised intracranial pressue.  He said that there are three things that usually cause raised intracranial pressure.  The first can be a blood clot or blockage in the brain, the second is a brain tumor and the third is an infection of the brain, such as encephalitis or menangitis.  I was waiting to hear the good option.  He said very occasionally they don’t find any cause, but just treat the pressure by doing a lumbar puncture to drain off spinal fluid, which helps to reduce the pressure.  He didn’t think she had a severe brain infection because she seemed too well.  He thought it was most likely to be a brain tumor or a blood clot.  At this point, I was hoping for the blood clot.  At least it could be treated with drugs, not surgery.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t get Birdy in for an MRI that day.  So we were admitted to the neurology ward for observation and they said they would definately do both the MRI and a lumbar puncture the next day.  The lumbar puncture was both to measure the pressure in her head and also an opportunity to drain off some spinal fluid if needed.

So we found ourselves on the neuro ward, surrounded by children with brain tumors and head injuries.  Suddenly we had crossed over to the other side. On all our previous visits to the Children’s Hospital, we had known we were the lucky ones.  Even though any operation, any injury, any asthma attack is scary, previously our visits had always been brief.  We knew we’d be going home the next day.  We’d walk out of the hospital grateful that our child didn’t have cancer or a major disability.  This time we knew there was very little chance we’d be one of the lucky ones going home the next day.  Suddenly the road ahead seemed very uncertain.

Those 32 hours waiting for the MRI were some of the most stressful of my life.  (Though actually not the most stressful, which tells you something about my life  recently.)  Talking to other parents who were going through similar struggles was a godsend.  But it was also daunting.  One mother I met had a son with a cancerous brain tumor that just wouldn’t go away.  They’d found it when he was three and a half.  He’d had two operations and chemotherapy but it just kept coming back.  He was now 8.  That means she has lived for four years with the dread and uncertainty that we’d been experiencing for just 32 hours.  I didn’t know how I would cope if that was what we were dealing with.

Finally the time for the MRI arrived.  Birdy conveniently fell asleep before they collected her for theatre.  Unfortunately she woke up just before they were about to put her under.  So she woke to find herself surrounded by doctors in masks and gowns and she was a little freaked out.  We went for a walk outside while they did the MRI and the lumbar puncture.  My heart was so heavy as we waited to hear whether we were dealing with a blood clot or a tumor.  I rang my church and asked them to send out an email to ask people to pray for a good result.  That email was forwarded into the inboxes of a most amazing range of people who prayed for us all.

When they finally took Birdy round to recovery, there was no doctor to tell us the results of her MRI.  But the aneathatist saw our worried faces and took pity on us.  ”The scans were all clear,” he said.  ”No sign of a tumour”.  You can only imagine how overjoyed we were to hear this news.  A few hours later, in the early evening, we got a more complete report from the neuorlogist confirming that she didn’t have a brain tumor, or any obvious clot.  The spinal fluid looked heathy and there was no sign of infection.  Her intracranial pressure was, however, 52 which was extremely high. On the MRI it looked as though one of her veins might be narrowed.  They would start her on medication straight away to save her eyesight.

Hang on.  What did you say?

The neurologist explained that the key concern now was to save her eyesight as the main risk was that she might lose vision.

Suddenly a massive weight lifted off my shoulders as I realised that the doctors were now fighting to save her eyesight, not her life.  Even if Birdy was blind, she was still my Birdy.  I wasn’t going to lose her.  Hallelujah!  Relief and thankfulness flooded over me.

The fact that Birdy didn’t have a tumor, a clot or a brain infection felt like a major miracle.  Even the neurologist seemed surprised.  Over the days and weeks that followed, there were more tests, consultations and even another lumbar puncture, but things were definitely on the improve.  While we still don’t know what caused Birdy’s intracranial pressure to skyrocket, so far it looks as though her medication is working.

So here we are, still at the start of 2011.  I feel like we almost lost our girl and then got her back again.  In the process, we lost a three-year-old and gained a four-year-old.  And though I have so much more to write, I’m really tired.  For a few weeks, life became just rushing from work to hospital and back again.  Somewhere in there Birdy had her first day of pre-school, then missed her second because she was back in hospital again.

How is it that for so much of our lives, we don’t realise how fragile we really are?  And how much our hearts and souls are wrapped up in the lives of these little people that we love more dearly than we love ourselves?

A Brown River Christmas December 23, 2010

Delivering shoeboxes at Brown River squatter settlement, PNG

We’re at Brown River settlement, just outside of Port Moresby in Papua New Guinea. The children are sitting in their age groups, boys 2 – 5, girls 5 – 9 etc. They wait patiently. They don’t smile. They don’t even hardly wriggle. They just sit, wide-eyed while seven foreign, white media professionals take photos, videos and stick microphones in their faces.

These are some of the most disadvantaged kids in Papua New Guinea. They’re almost all dirty. Some of their eyes are inflamed and infected. Many of them seem malnourished. The innocence of childhood is hard to recognise. These children are probably the most neglected children that I have ever seen. They’re not used to being the centre of attention. They’re not used to having much attention at all. That’s why they’re sitting in such stunned silence. They hold their shoeboxes reverently. Not just because of the stuff, but because they are special, because they have been remembered. Because for these few minutes, strange white people want to take their picture, and hold their hand and see them smile.

One of the shoeboxes that I took with me was from a woman called Gaye. I give her box to a young boy called Tony. He takes out the soap and holds it up for me to see. He takes out various other gifts. His favourite is a blue recorder that he follows me round with tooting. He toots it right in my face. He follows me more and toots again. It’s a hideous, screeching, obnoxious sound. He blows his “flute” (as he calls it) right in my ear. I have to laugh. He’s deliberately annoying me and seeking my attention. He’s being a kid again.

Just a few days earlier, one of the media team had their (very expensive) camera equipment stolen. It was locked in a car which had many people guarding it, but while a decoy was waving goods for sale in their faces, another rascal had opened the side window of the van and just happened to hit the jackpot. The camera bag was right underneath the window. The Brown River squatter settlement is a refuge for rascals. They steal from people in Port Moresby then escape to the outlying areas like Brown River. Though we were there for only a short time, the atmosphere was volatile. Many of the men were drunk or on drugs, and immediately after the boxes were delivered they started to shout out their political messages. I found myself very quickly separated from our group for just a minute or two, surrounded by a sea of people I couldn’t trust. Within ten minutes of delivering the shoeboxes, we were bundled back into the car and taken down the road to a quiet place where we could do interviews with the local pastors. But even in that short time, I had seen something transformative take place. A child was being an innocent, annoying, attention-seeking kid again.

The previous day we had visited a village, Bonanamo, where shoe-boxes were delivered last year. It was good to see the children still cherishing their presents from last Christmas. But we were also there to open five new wells that had been funded by Samaritans Purse as a result of last years’ shoebox drop. There were also many latrines that had been installed by SP’s partner church in Port Moresby. The local pastor explained how for them the shoeboxes opened the door to do other development work. The goodwill created by the shoeboxes meant that they were able to say, “What do you need? How can we help you?”

One of the water pumps we opened at Bonanamo Village

While we were there, we got talking to a village mum. Only it turned out she wasn’t a mum. She was an Aunty. The children’s mother had died of TB just a few months before, so now the Aunty, who didn’t have children, was looking after the three youngest kids. How many people do you know who have died of TB? It really brought home the importance of clean water and sanitation, the two things that Samaritan’s Purse and their partner church had delivered to the village, thanks to the shoeboxes and their ability to open doors.

Brown River settlement won’t be receiving water pumps next year. The village lacks the structure, organisation and leadership to cooperate on a project such as installing and maintaining water pumps. Without a dedicated group of committed leaders, projects like that will fail to make an impact, the pumps will fall into disrepair, infighting will break out.  However the church hopes to take a medical clinic to them and help them to improve their houses.  The shoeboxes are a first-step in reaching out to them.  They’re a sign that somebody cares about their children.

Before we escaped from Brown River, another boy came up to me. He said his name was Andrew. He spoke perfect English. His eyes were clear. His face was smiling. He was polite. He was also looking for affirmation. I told him he spoke beautiful English and he beamed at me.

In an age and society where our children have so much, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that that’s what a Christmas gift is all about, an affirmation. It says, “You are special, You are loved. You matter to me.”

And that’s what it says to the kids at Brown River. “Someone cares about you. You are loved. You matter.”

 

 

 

Merry Christmas, Brown River.

Leaving on a Jet Plane December 10, 2010

Image Courtesy of Samaritan's Purse

This time next week I’ll be in Port Morseby, Papua New Guinea, getting ready to head out on the road, delivering Christmas shoeboxes filled with presents to the children of Papua New Guinea.  For those who aren’t aware, Operation Christmas Child is part of the work of Samaritan’s Purse and they spread Christmas cheer to children who otherwise probably wouldn’t receive a gift.  I’m pretty excited about the idea of seeing the children receive their presents.  I know it means a lot to them to think that somebody in a distant country cares about them enough to send them a special box full of presents.  It sounds like a cliché, but I know it will be a life-changing experience.  I’m just slightly concerned about leaving Birdy for five whole days!

Photo courtesy of Samaritan's Purse

I’ve never really gone anywhere without her.  I left her overnight with a babysitter once for our wedding anniversary but we were back home by 8am the next day.  Just the other day when we had The Voyage of the Dawntreader preview screening for work, Birdy had a sleepover at my sister’s house.  Now I must admit I quite enjoyed having a night out without her, but when I got back home the house seemed strangely empty.  And when I woke up, there was nobody squashing me off the edge of the bed.  Normally I go to sleep in the usual way, lying on my half of the bed, but when I wake up Birdy has crawled over the top of me, sandwiched herself in between Mum and Dad in the wee hours of the morning, and I’m like a seagull perched on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off, with Birdy sticking her legs and arms into my back at all sorts of impossible angles as if she’s trying to give me acupuncture.  I don’t know how I’m going to sleep without my early morning torture session.

I think she’ll be fine.  If she does miss me at all, it will probably be at bedtime, because we always cuddle up in bed and read 4 or 5 stories together.  It’s our special little time at the end of the day.  But I don’t think she’ll miss me too much because she’ll have an army of people looking after her.  My husband will be there (when he’s not working), my sister’s coming down to stay, my parents are helping out for a bit and then there’s her other Aunty and Uncle and cousins who live nearby.  So she won’t be deprived of TLC.  And as long as she manages to stay out of hospital for five days, I probably won’t be too worried about her.  I thought I might try to leave her a little letter to open every day while I’m away so she knows I’m thinking of her.  I’ve also got to figure out how to get my phone to do international roaming.  I don’t think I could go for five days without at least sending a kiss and a cuddle down the phone!

Photo courtesy of Samaritan's Purse

Have you ever gone away without your kids?  What’s the longest period of time you’ve left them for?  How did you cope?  How did they cope?  Are you glad you did it?  Do you have any ideas to help make the separation go more smoothly?

PS. I won’t be able to blog from PNG, but I’m sure I’ll have lots to write about when I get back!