Category Archives: Chronic Illness

Déjà Vu

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it-s-like-deja-vu-all-over-again-yogi-berra_designdéjà vu  (noun)
 
  1. a feeling of having already experienced the present situation

Last week, when I penned my blog post marking M’s 1st tubiversary, we were in the midst of a busy week involving Christmas music concerts (G), school Christmas fairs with a choir appearance (M) and my own choir concert; and I was trying hard to avoid an eerie sense of déjà vu that just refused to go away. At the back of my mind I was very conscious that it was one year on from our last GOSH admission and had hanging over me the reality of a long 22 weeks wait for a bed to become available for another one. I can smile about it now, just,  but the stars really were aligned for last week’s outcome: my Mum was abroad again; my choir’s Christmas concert was planned for the Saturday night again; and G’s birthday was fast-approaching again.

So really, when you think about it, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the phone-call actually came when we least expected it. I think I’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the time we got to the Wednesday night. Last year our phone summons came at 1.30pm on the Tuesday afternoon and M and I had to be at GOSH by 11am Wednesday, so with no communication from them at all, other than the information passed on by our dietician that he was now top of the waiting list when Thursday dawned, I thought that was it for another week. I had my Friday planned – pack some birthday presents for G, pick up some bits and pieces for Christmas and pull together the items I’d want to take with me to GOSH when we finally had to head to London; plus some much-needed sorting out in the house to get it ready for G’s godfather and his family to visit for her birthday weekend.

I was, in fact, mid-conversation with a work colleague about what was going on re his admission, when the office phone rang and that was it. The bed was available now and we needed to head to GOSH and Rainforest ward as soon as we practically could. With so little notice, dropping everything to go there and then just wasn’t possible, but fortunately Mike and G were at home as she had an inset day, so were able to speed through a couple of loads of laundry and start pulling out all the essentials for a 2 week hospital stay.7176037017_45f555b6cc_z I started contacting those who needed to know – school, work, his GOSH dietician – and somehow managed to put in another couple of hours at work before heading off to pick M up from school and finish the packing job. The 4 of us eventually set off from home and hit London perfectly in time for the tail-end of rush hour traffic, meaning we finally reached our destination at around 8.30pm.

M and I quickly settled in the bay on Rainforest, not quite the same bed as before, but close and with some old familiar and very welcome friendly faces amongst the nursing staff to help us feel at home. It was almost as if we hadn’t been away, even though it had been 12 months since our last stay. And that was when the real sense of déjà vu hit – we had been here before. It was not just the same situation, the same bed or even the fact that it was the same ward, but on exactly the same day too, something that we could never had anticipated, even though this admission came as no surprise at all.

 

 

A Numbers Game

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Tomorrow’s Tubiversary marks:

20141207_12421712 NG-tubes and the accompanying tube changes, which included…

…2 tubes pulled out by accident and 3 that broke unexpectedly;

4 pump backpacks worn out and replaced (and number 5 will be needed soon);

approximately 70 Feeding Friends stickers and 60 strips of Tegaderm used to keep that tube firmly stuck to the side of his face;

and at least 3 other tapes tried, tested and rejected;

1 Christmas, 1 Easter and several birthdays survived and celebrated;

11026157_10152614450811123_382817830123987117_oNearly 1 whole school year achieved with only a few days off;

1 week away in Cornwall enjoyed;

4 weekend trips planned, packed for and successfully negotiated;

5 safe foods and 2 safe oils identified and back in his diet, resulting in…

…around 15 new recipes adapted and perfected…20151121_162110

…4 new kitchen gadgets invested in and well-used…

…and impressively 16 restaurants found to be amazingly able and willing to accommodate the trickiest of dietary requirements

 

Not forgetting:

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M's daily batch of medicines

410 litres of E028 pumped

12 daily medicines reduced to just 3;

nearly 3kg of weight gained

5cms of height grown

 

And including:20141216_121143

12 months of stock counting, and rotating, and checking, and ordering

52 weeks of new syringes and dressings

365 days dealing with pumps beeping – …on…off…start…stop…blockages…settings…errors…”just becauses”!

8,760 hours of making sure Pictures July 06 019the tube is tight enough, taped enough, in the right place enough…and not getting caught on anything

525,600 minutes of longing to be able to hold or stroke or kiss that precious little face without the tube getting in the way

Countless tears shed, hugs shared and frustrations vented

 

All amounting to…

One year of the best health ever

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One boy and his bike

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It will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows us when I say that M is something of a daredevil. A true speed demon who loves nothing more than racing around at breakneck speed, sometimes with a frightening lack of regard for his own well-being or my nerves. I think his attitude to life could well be described as “why do anything at walking pace when you can run?” He’s always been the same and mastered climbing out of his cot and climbing up anything to hand (think window-sills, wardrobes and shelving units) from an early age. It was something of a shock when he swept into our lives like a whirlwind, especially after 2 peaceful years with G, who took a much more relaxed approach to just about everything in her early years.

Despite M’s continuing love of climbing, which now includes any tree he can get a foothold on, and his passion for being constantly on the go even until the wee small hours, he has struggled to come to grips with the more mechanical methods of moving around. His obvious clumsiness as a toddler and unquestionable difficulties in balancing in gymnastics meant that it came as no great surprise when a few years later he was finally diagnosed with dyspraxia and dyslexia. M didn’t particularly struggle with his hand-eye co-ordination, in fact his nursery commented on how impressed they were with his tennis skills at age 3, but fine motor skills, upper body strength and balance have all taken a lot longer to achieve and are things he continues to work on both at home and in school. spark_2-0_action_3It took a little longer for him to become confident on his scooter, but his determination to succeed on a 2-wheel one, rather than the 3-wheel “easier” option, paid off and earlier this year he saved up enough money to buy himself the new one he’d been eyeing up in the Argos catalogue since last Christmas.

However, the one thing that had continued to defeat him was successfully riding his bike without stabilisers. For years, M has been telling us that all we needed to do was arrange a return visit to Canada so Grandpa could teach him how to ride his bike, just as he had G and the rest of their cousins; and there was little we could do to persuade him that he could actually learn at home. Despite M’s belief that Canada and Grandpa were the key to his success, we’ve continued to encourage him to practice at home and had even attempted removing the stabilisers a couple of times in an attempt to push him into giving it his all, but to no avail. lose-the-training-wheels-logo-new-black-on-whiteWhen M had his NG-tube placed at the start of this year, he was initially a little more cautious about all things even vaguely adventurous and after a couple of failed attempts on his bike, it was relegated to a dusty corner of the garage to gather cobwebs.

I’m not quite sure what changed over the summer, but something obviously did. It may have been seeing G and Mike head out on some   Saturday afternoon bike-rides, whilst he and I played together at home; it could have been his increasing belief that he can do anything he wants with his tube in place; and without a doubt, his improved balance that is so clearly evident as he scoots around and attempts trick-jumps on his scooter also played a part; but a few weeks ago he finally found the courage to take that last step. It came as a something of a surprise and was his response to my somewhat flippant comment one afternoon. He was chatting away to me as I was pulling the washing from the machine in our garage and talking about Mike’s need to tidy up in there. I told him that in terms of sorting out their outdoor toys, maybe we should get rid of his bike as it was just cluttering up the corner and could be put to better use by someone else. He took it as a personal challenge:

“Ok Mummy, I’m going to get on my bike and ride it now!“

and with that comment, on he jumped and wobbled his way out onto the driveway, with his toes barely touching the ground.

I watched from the kitchen door as M persevered to overcome this challenge that has been his nemesis for so many years. There was a look of absolute determination etched into his brow and he just kept on going until, with G by his side cheering him on, he finally managed to put both feet to the pedals and rode the length of our driveway. Elated with his success, both children shouted out in triumph, summoning Mike and me to watch in amazement as M grew in confidence in front of our eyes and completed his victory lap several times over. Since that day he’s improved in leaps and bounds, with his bike being the first thing he pulls out as soon as he gets home fromshutterstock_17311288 school for a few bumpy trips around the garden. We always knew that his premature arrival in the world with the dyspraxia added on top would mean he might take a little longer to master certain skills, but that he would get there in the end; and we were proved right that his refusal to be beaten by anything would eventually lead to an even sweeter success when we least expected it.

“Run, run as fast as you can…”

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“…you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”

To be perfectly honest, the last couple of months have been challenging ones. When we made the decision last year to move M to the elemental diet, we did so hoping that it would be the answer we were looking for and that he would finally find some relief from the years of chronic pain and constant bowel problems he’d barely been surviving. The great news is that his symptoms improved dramatically and for the first time in a long-time, M felt healthier and happier than ever before. However, despite the best hopes of GOSH that his NG-tube would only be needed for 2 or 3 months, Mike and I held the opinion that it would more realistically be in place for at least a year, if not longer, and we are rapidly moving closer to that 12-month mark. Of course, what none of us had anticipated was the struggle we would have in reintroducing foods back into M’s diet and over recent weeks, he has found the constant disappointment of failed food trials and the frustration of not being able to eat the same as everyone else almost unbearable to live with. With the agreement of our amazingly supportive dietician, we decided to take an extended break from the challenges, allowing M some much-needed time to come to terms with the realities of life right now.

shutterstock_190648280Having had that much-needed rest, M started to lose that haunted look that had been plaguing him for a few weeks and we finally seemed to have turned the corner and be back on track. We agreed on a new short list of foods to challenge in the run up to Christmas and had finally restarted where we had left off, more or less. However, last weekend, with another 3 unsuccessful attempts at reintroductions to chalk up to experience, tensions started to build and emotions threatened to overwhelm the tenuous calm that had just begun to settle. The final straw broke when G asked Mike and me to taste and review her cupcakes for her Food and Textiles homework. With hot, angry tears cascading down his cheeks, M crawled on to my lap to fitfully confide that it “just wasn’t fair” that everyone else could eat cakes when he couldn’t. Gently stroking his back, I offered to whip up a batch of one of the few sweet treat recipes I’ve managed to adapt for him in the last 12 months: Rice krispie treats? Cupcakes? Scones? Sugar cookies? Nothing seemed to quite hit the necessary mark, so I put my thinking cap on, did a little research and came up with the perfect pre-Christmas treat – Gingerbread!

Thanks to a few sneaky “mini” challenges, we have been able to add some extra flavourings to M’s diet and the most recent success was the addition of ginger to the humble pear crumble, so gingerbread seemed to be the logical next step. I started pulling the ingredients from the cupboards and, 20151121_162110as I weighed and measured out everything I needed, M’s interest was piqued and he pulled up the step-stool to stand by my side and help out. He rolled up his sleeves, washed and then floured his hands and, having selected an interesting array of cookie cutters, brandished my trusty rolling-pin to roll out the gingerbread dough on my pastry board. He chose to use the Christmas cutters as well as the odd one or two Mr Men ones, which have survived from my childhood and spent hours planning out to most effectively cut the shapes from the dough in front of him. We ended up with an impressive batch and I am heartily assured by my trustworthy taste-testers that they more than fit the brief and hit the mark!

A Girl’s Best Friend

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For as long as I can remember – and trust me, my long-term memory is legendary in our household – G has been passionate about learning to ride. Both she and M did a brief stint at a nearby riding stable when she was about 5, but school, hospital appointments and other hobbies soon absorbed a lot of our time and riding somehow fell by the wayside. G frequently talks of her plans to own horses when she’s older and 20151018_131727has declared on more than one occasion that she has no plans to learn to drive when she reaches 17, but will instead ride her horse wherever she needs to go. Over the last 18 months or so, she started asking about the possibility of riding lessons again and it was then that my Mum came up with the idea of rewarding all her hard work for her SATs with a short course of lessons.

It took careful planning, the odd bit of rearranging and some tentative pencilling-in, but finally everything was sorted and G started her lessons. Her first lesson was a group one, but it quickly became obvious that she would learn more and progress quicker with some more focussed teaching and so we switched to a 30-minute individual lesson every other weekend. To say she is delighted to be fulfilling this long-held dream is an understatement and she has taken to it like the proverbial duck to water. With just 3 lessons under her belt, she is already cantering around the indoor arena 20151018_133210with confidence and impressed not just her riding instructor, but me too, with her sense of balance and ability to trot round with her hands and arms in every position imaginable except where you’d expect them to be.

Needless to say, horse-riding has become her favourite pastime and we have been inundated with requests for lessons as a gift from anyone and everyone prepared to contribute for both her birthday and Christmas. It has been fantastic to see her enthusiasm grow and the wait between lessons proves almost unbearable for her at times. What is even better is that this is something just for G, there is no irritating little brother to steal her thunder, although he has come along to watch her ride once or twice. The consequences of having a brother with a chronic illness mean that all-too-often G has been relegated to the sidelines as we’ve worried about M’s health or agonised over decisions regarding his treatment and diet; but in horse-riding, the focus is all on her: her teachers know nothing about M and his health and those 30 minutes are spent doing something she really, really loves. The lessons have also become an opportunity for G and me to spend some much-needed and precious time together, to chat about school, friends and life in general without the constant demands of M dragging my attention away from her; something I think we both have come to value.

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Early arrivals

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efcniToday, November 17th, is World Prematurity Day. A day that acknowledges the early arrival of 15 million babies across the world every year, a statistic that increases annually. Pre-term births are defined as “babies born alive before 37 weeks of pregnancy are completed”, but…

What do you think of when you think of a premature baby?

You might recall images of micro-preemies, those babies born so early and so small that they can be cradled in the palm of their parents’ hands. You might think of babies covered with tubes and wires, enclosed in incubators or even tucked into supermarket sandwich bags to help keep them warm enough to survive. You might know of the risks associated with an early arrival and how hard the doctors, nurses and parents fight, with every inch of their being, to get those babies through another day and another long night. You may even have survived the weeks of hoping to get “just one more” week through your pregnancy, knowing that every single hour counts.

The thing is that preemie babies come in all shapes and sizes; the reasons for their early arrival are many and varied; and every family has a similar, but also hugely different story to tell. Each parent and child has their own individual challenges to face and yet premature birth is a common bond that links them all. Let me introduce you to 3 special preemies, each with a unique set of circumstances and a shared experience marking their arrival  :

20131118_191134Of course, you’ve already met the first one: G just crept into the premature category, arriving at 36+6 nearly 12 years ago and weighing an extremely respectable 8lbs. Her delivery was the result of fears about my T1D and the signs that my placenta was beginning to fail, so the doctors made the decision to deliver her to ensure she had the best start in life. Even though she had an initial problem with plummeting blood sugars, G’s stay in SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit) was short at just 3 days and thanks to the wonderfully supportive nurses on the High Dependency ward who looked after us both, Mike, G and I were able to come home a week after she was born and spent our first family Christmas together at home.

M was even more impatient to arrive than his big sister, although his birth weight of 5lbs 12.5oz at 33+1 gestation was equally impressive. M spent his first few days on NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit), although there were times we felt something of a fraud, especially compared to the tiny 26-weeker 2 cribs along, who had been born at exactly 5lbs less than him. We had been warned from the moment I was first admitted at 26 weeks pregnant that once he arrived, M would almost inevitably need to stay in hospital until he reached his due date. It is of great credit to the dedicated doctors and nurses who looked after him that we were, in fact, able to bring him home after just 3.5 weeks and in perfect time for Mothers’ Day.

10329684_10152507367497848_7913075952615166607_oAnd this tiny, but beautiful fighter is B, the second son of our close friends and M’s godparents, L and C. Due to fetal distress resulting from pre-eclampsia, B was born at 27+2, weighing just 1lb 9oz and has had a very different battle so far than either G or M. He had suspected NEC (Necrotising Enterocolitis) in hospital and for a week things were very touch and go. Despite this rocky beginning, B is an incredible battler and even though he came home on oxygen after a long 98 days in hospital, 5 weeks later he had been successfully weaned off that too. 18 months on, he is a happy, loving little boy, who may be on the small side for his age, but is otherwise doing well and I know that his parents, just like us, will be forever grateful to those medics who have helped B fight and win.

image_for_happy_world_prematurity_day_5715493946These 3 precious bundles may not have had the easiest start in their lives, but we are lucky that they have each survived and become an irreplaceable part of our families. With a national health service that is in crisis, the neonatal units where G, M and B and thousands like them are cared for on a daily basis are seriously overstretched and understaffed. These children need an incredible level of specialist care to help them make it through those critical first few days and weeks of life and the doctors and nurses who give it are simply amazing as they offer not just medical care to the babies, but emotional support to the whole family. That is a gift that cannot be easily replaced and we know that we were extremely fortunate to be able to receive it.

Children In Need 2015

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Along with the rain, wind and grey skies, November also brings with it the star-studded evening of light entertainment that is BBC’s Children in Need. Last year they launched the theme of “Be a Hero” for the event and my pair decided to dress as their personal heroes of Princess Leia and M’s gastro consultant at GOSH. This year, the dressing up part was a little easier to achieve – G headed off to school in her own wardrobe selection and M wore his “Super Tubie” top as we really couldn’t think of any better superhero for him to represent. You might think that this meant I escaped lightly for this year’s celebrations, but for those of you who know me, or follow me on FB, you will be well aware that my youngest actually had very different ideas about how we should spend the night before the big day itself, and what a long night it turned out to be!

His school decided to hold a “Great Children-in-Need Bake-off” competition as part of their fundraising efforts and naturally M was keen to take part. His first step was to decide what he wanted his cake to look like and eventually settled on cupcakes rather than one big cake as they would be easier to sell as part of the school cake sale after the competition was judged. Instead of decorating a dozen individual cupcakes, 20151111_195743M wanted to use them to create Pudsey Bear’s face as best he could. Design done, Wednesday evening saw M whipping up the cake batter with a little supervision from me and the resulting 24 perfectly baked M-friendly cupcakes were left to cool overnight before he tackled the big job of the icing.

One evening to ice to perfection might sound like more than enough time, but when you take into consideration the after-school archery club requiring late pick-up, the long-awaited ‘flu vaccination appointment, the unavoidable homework and the much-needed dinner, you’ll begin to understand why we couldn’t get started until close to 6.30pm. Of course, having baked cakes that he could eat, M was keen to ice with safe icing too, so my first job was to help him make enough coconut oil icing, tinted a rather fetching Pudsey Bear yellow, to cover them all. 20151112_192831We had already made a simple cardboard frame in the shape of Pudsey’s head to hold the cupcakes securely and,having fitted 10 cupcakes neatly into place, M got started on the icing.

It was his first attempt with an icing bag and I have to say I was impressed. M handled the bag and nozzle like a pro and did what I’d consider to be a really good job for his very first go. Watching him I could see how much his motor skills have improved since he was first diagnosed with dyspraxia and he actually made a relatively fiddly task seem remarkably easy. Yellow icing piped, next came the task of rolling out and shaping the other colours to make Pudsey’s spotted bandage and facial features. He tweaked and adjusted until he was finally satisfied with the end result and I have to say it was a job well done. Whilst he couldn’t quite eat all of the cakes, he could eat those covered just with the yellow icing – the ears! – and for the first time in a long time, M knew he’d be able to buy a cake at the school cake sale!

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Now, for most people that would be a great place to stop; but oh no, not in our slightly mad household. Whilst we’d been browsing cookery books and the internet for ideas for his final cake design, M had spotted some Pudsey Bear cake pops and was keen to see if we could make some of those in a M-friendly version too. Cue some hurried reading on my part accompanied by much scratching of my head as I tried to work out a recipe that didn’t involve chocolate in some shape or form. I couldn’t find a single chocolate-free cake pop recipe, so did the next best thing and came up with my own.

20151112_204555I crumbled 8 cupcakes into a bowl and was delighted to see that the grated apple and pear in the cake mix gave enough moisture to form balls. M cut up some drinking straws as I carefully moulded our cake balls and stuck them to the sticks to create the lollipop shape. My full recipe is here, but let’s just say it took multiple moves between table and freezer as well as some much-needed help from all family members on hand to achieve the final look. The ones M decorated for school were not safe for him to try as we ended up using fondant icing, but we did try a few attempts with the coconut oil icing and I reckon with a few more tries, we might have those sussed.

20151113_082414It turned out to be a later night than planned, but M ended up with 2 entries to the school competition he could be proud of and was delighted that nearly all of his cakes sold at the fundraiser on Friday.

Apple crisps – a mixed success

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When I first discovered my own potato intolerance, there were a few things I knew I would miss. Mashed potato I could do without and chips had never been a particular favourite of mine, but the prospect of a life without roast potatoes or crisps seemed a grim one. Of course, 7 years on and the reality of all that M has had to give up from his diet, my occasional longing for a crisp butty pales into absolute insignificance; butStar Wars the one thing it has given me is the insight into how much M might be missing his favourite foods and it made me determined to search high and low to find him a safe alternative to that much-loved part of any child’s lunch-box: a  bag of crisps.

With rice an early staple in M’s new diet, we quickly included rice cakes as a regular part of his lunch-time routine and the discovery of Rude Health Mini Rice Thins was a success that continues even now as M really enjoys munching on these during his lunch-times at school. Great as they are, the rice crackers don’t quite replace the crisps and I continued to look for something else that might just fit the bill. Rice was quickly followed by chicken and cucumber, but neither really opened up any viable alternatives and it wasn’t until the successful reintroduction of apples into his diet that we finally had a whole new realm of options to investigate.

20151104_081555Thanks to the advice of a couple of my fantastically supportive #EGID Mums, we heard all about Perry Court Farm Apple Crisps and couldn’t wait to try them out. I bought a mix of both their sweet and tangy varieties and the moment the box arrived, M eagerly grabbed a bag to try out. The sharpness of the tangy crisps proved a little too much for his particular taste-buds and he refused to eat more than one or two crisps from that original pack. Fortunately, the sweet ones proved to be more palatable and M enjoyed the addition of some crisps to his daily packed lunch. Sadly, I have to be honest and say that these haven’t been our most successful find as M isn’t keen on the after-taste he is convinced is there and has now stopped eating them completely. They do, however, satisfy my cravings for my much-missed crisps and I’ve really enjoyed them as part of my lunch-box choices for work.

M’s marks:  3.5/10                                                                                                                                    My marks: 9/10

 

That’s what friends are for

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Over the last couple of months, I’ve been focusing my blog on new recipes, holiday travels and weekend adventures, but of course, in the background of all that, there have been the ongoing food challenges, unavoidable medical dramas and inevitable hospital appointments that are very much part of our everyday life. Those are the bits that take a little longer to process as we adjust our expectations and plans for the coming months, and understandably are not always the easiest parts to share. However, whilst we’re picking our way through the discussions of our latest appointment, I wanted to share this story with you all.

You see, our most recent GOSH appointment was declared “…the best hospital appointment EVER!..” by M for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with what his consultant or dietician said, discussed or did; and absolutely indexeverything to do with some amazing friends he has met and made since our journey to a diagnosis started over 4 years ago.

We arrived an hour early for our clinic appointment, something that is nothing short of a miracle given the comedy of errors that unfolded as Mike attempted to connect with M and me mid-route as we headed into London by train. Let’s just say that realising your wife and child are not on the train you’ve just boarded and which is now leaving the station, but instead the one that’s just pulling into that self-same station behind you, probably doesn’t rank very highly in Mike’s top ten of successful travel arrangements, but we did eventually meet up and safely got to the hospital with plenty of time to spare! I knew that good friend and fellow EGID Mum, R was also there with her son, A, who has become great buddies with M since we were in GOSH last Christmas and had already tentatively arranged an attempt to meet up if at all possible. As we trundled through to the waiting room, I spotted R across the room and to my delight saw she was chatting with another old FABED friend of M’s and his Mum, L.

These 3 boys were thrilled to all be at clinic together and spent the next couple of hours sharing their electronic devices, playing games and laughing. Being in clinic with 2 good friends helped occupy M’s time and the lengthy wait just flew past as they entertained each other and we parents took the opportunity to do some catching up of our own. All 3 are on extremely restricted diets and represent beautifully the 3 different faces of elemental feeds: A who bravely drinks his daily; M with his NG-tube; and R with his PEG. It was wonderful to see, especially as all 3 were looking fit, well and really no different to other boys of their age. They looked as 3 friends should do: relaxed, happy and comfortable in each other’s presence.developing-friendship-machines-working-word-building-up-concept-construction-black-alphabetic-letters-forming-isolated-31326540

I’ll be honest, as amazing as it was to watch these 3 lads pick up where they had left off, after however long it has been, without missing a beat, it was also heart-wrenching to see them spending time together in the hospital waiting room, knowing that the reason they were there was a chronic illness that has had a long-reaching impact on each of their young lives. But; in that most perfect of moments for them all as they sat united on the waiting room floor, we also realised just how blessed we are to know such amazing people and how important it is for M to believe that he’s not on his own.

More than a smile

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It all started with a simple compliment that was probably given without too much thought, almost a throw-away comment, but the words, planned or not, had a profound effect months ago and still do. I had walked M and G to school after a particularly difficult night with M,  following on from a couple of really tough days and I was tired and emotional as I left the school grounds. Passing their Head at the gates, I gave a small smile, a nod of my head and a quick reply to his question about how M was feeling. His next words stopped me in my tracks and even now continue to resonate in my memory, especially when things are feeling a little more challenging or tiring than normal:

“I just wanted to say that I admire your constant smile and upbeat attitude about everything. Your positivity is reflected in the way both children deal with whatever’s thrown at them in the classroom and in life.”

My garbled response was a variation of my stock answer:

“What else can I do, but smile? If I didn’t I might end up crying, but that won’t help M or G or me; and it won’t change the way things are…” (I shrugged) “…besides, if I don’t smile and get on with things, who else will? That’s my job as Mum.”

“That might be true. but I know a lot of people who wouldn’t be able to smile about it. They’d feel hard done by and resentful of the hand they’ve been dealt, their response would be focussed on complaining – that simply isn’t you or the children.”

I don’t know if the exhaustion of a failed food trial and a bad night’s sleep had made me more sensitive to the world around me, but his words had an impact that I felt resonating deep in my soul and gave a lightness to my step that certainly hadn’t been there 10 minutes earlier. All the way home, with unexpected tears in my eyes, 11987081_10153905230214523_3086822525667980358_nI pondered what he had said to me. After all, am I really that unusual in my response? I don’t feel particularly unique in my attitude and, believe me, I can certainly have a moan with the best of them. I suddenly had reason to reflect on how I present our situation to the outside world and why I smile, even at the most difficult of times.

I smile because, despite everything – the difficult pregnancy, the premature birth, the EGID diagnosis and the decision to tube-feed – I have a lot to celebrate. I have 2 amazing, beautiful, cheeky, intelligent children, my children with super powers, who astound me regularly with their unexpected insights into the world and make me smile. Whilst I might not be able to say truthfully that they are both “happy and healthy”, the wish of every new parent as they await the arrival of their latest addition, they are growing into young people I am proud to say are mine and fascinating individuals in their own right. They might have their struggles to manage, but they are here with me and every day with them is one more opportunity to cuddle, to kiss and to share their lives. As a family we have a lot of fun and there’s always a reason to have a giggle, laugh out loud and just smile together, even at the darkest moments.

Of course the truth is that, in many ways, my smile is also much, much more than a reflection of the joy I feel when spending time with my nearest and dearest. It is also my most effective disguise. If you look hard enough, there will be times when you might notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes or that my smile is perhaps a little bittersweet. Those are the days when it’s been hard to fight the urge to crawl back under the covers and pull the duvet over my head. The days when getting up, getting dressed and just being is a massive success.12049331_865332913546071_5149015929277272601_n The days when it’s been hard work to put one foot in front of the other and not just get started, but keep going too.

And I’m not alone. Out there in the real world are a huge number of parents who are facing the same struggles, fighting similar battles and often surviving a reality that is far harder than the one we face each day. I have been privileged to meet and get to know some of these superhero parents through our shared experiences and I see that same positive and undeniably brave approach to life reflected in each and every one of them. They are often the parents who just a tiny bit more weary at the school gates, a little more contemplative at the end of each day and a lot more determined to make the most of every moment they have because they know just how precious those minutes are. They will be the ones who will shrug off your questions about their well-being and turn the focus firmly back to you and yours. Not because they don’t want to answer, but because they know that if their emotional floodgates are opened, it will cause a tidal wave that will engulf them and make keeping their heads above water just a smidgen harder to do. And they will be the parents that tell you they don’t consider themselves particularly special or outstanding or unique because this is their life, they know they can’t change it or their children and nor would they want to. M might end up being the cause of many more grey hairs than I’m ever going to admit to, but I wouldn’t have him any other way; he wouldn’t be him any other way; and those parents’ love for their children transcends the unexpected difficulties they’ve been presented with.

I want to finish with a beautiful thought that a friend shared on FB when we were reflecting on this thought-provoking blog post and our own life experiences as special needs parents:

“That’s the thing…we weren’t given these special children because we are special, they make us that way with how amazing they are.”

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