Category: Life. Plans. future.

 

It has been a strange few weeks, sad but happy in equal measures.I have written in the past few months about the sickness ‘here on the farm’, ponies, dogs etc.Me. Today I am not going to do that. I want to talk about something that scares us all. Worries us and takes up a great deal of energy in thought, or is that just me?What is that? Growing old. For me it sucks. Yes I know, some don’t have the chance to grow old and I appreciate that and am sad for everyone who has lost a loved one. I have lost many these past few years. I didn’t think there would be anything worse than losing someone you love . But there is. Two things come to mind. Grieving for someone who is still alive but estranged from you, someone you love. Every day is sad, missing that person and knowing they are ‘out there’ ‘having  a life ‘that you are no part of. You should be, but you’re not. How hard is that! But even more than that, grieving for someone who is or has changed, because of age, a disease etc.and is no longer the person they were. That’s hard. Sad, scary and painful.I think the most scary part is , ‘there but for the grace of God etc…’Who knows what life has planned ahead for us. No one.

So, firstly, I am happy because I have regained something precious that I thought I had lost forever. Won’t say any more but life is fuller than it was and for that I am so happy and so grateful.I have also begun a book that I promised to write a few years ago and am now able to do so. It needs writing and the world needs to read it. (Well some of the world at least I hope).So that is underway. George has new magnetic boots and is walking well so everything crossed.

The sad.

For many years, David and I have been visited by a close friend who now lives in Australia.A strong handsome man who David has known for more than 50 years and, unbeknown to each other, I have known since this man was in his teens. He is my husband’s best friend. We always look forward to his visits and prepare ourselves for the ‘volume’ to be raised  at home. He is strong, loud and fun to be around. A sportsman, and, a man interested in technology, always has the latest gadget. Phone, computer, camera etc.Always so much to talk about. But last week, things were different. He was different. We were expecting him a week later than  he actually arrived, so when he came to our home, we were out. He left a note and said he would be staying in New Quay that night and return to us the following morning. We tried to ring him but the phone just rang out so we waited for the next day. The phone rang and I expected it to me our friend but it was the manager of a hotel in Llandysul. He had not gone to New Quay but Llandysul! The manager wanted me to tell him our address and confirm that our friend had that address. He did. Then I handed the phone to David to speak with his friend. It seems, that although calling on us at our home, many times before, the evening before this call as well, he had become confused as to how to find our house. I was a bit worried but David went to meet up with him and they arrived home. All seemed okay although we were a bit confused as to how he ended up somewhere other than where he said as Llandysul is quite a way from us and New Quay just down the road. As the day went on, I noticed that he was a bit anxious when he couldn’t find his camera. It was in front of him. When David left us alone, this lovely man, confided that he was  becoming a bit confused at times and his memory was not as good as it was. He was quiet, not as cheeky or loud. He had lost a great deal of weight and seemed older by a lot than when we saw each other 2 years ago. He is younger than both David and me. I became a bit concerned but did not correct him when he made mistakes, just made him feel safe at our house. Asked him if his wife knew what he was telling me and sadly, won’t repeat what he said.David took him out for a meal in the evening and again, noticed the changes in his friend. I wanted him to stay with us because I was worried about him but for very personal reasons, not going to share on here, I didn’t ask him to. Something I now regret so much.After they returned he was not able to find his way back to where he was staying, or he didn’t think he could so David took him to his hotel. He would come back the next day and I had, by then, told David he could stay in spite of my reservations. He had 2 weeks left and would stay in Wales for around 7 days. The following morning, once again a call from his hotel, the manager again. He gave our friend the phone and he told us that he was going on to London to see his sister as he was running out of days in the UK. David assured him that he wasn’t, that he had another 2 weeks, but he became anxious and I told David to agree with him and ask him to ring when he reached his sisters. After putting the phone down, we looked at each other, both with tears in our eyes. This was not our friend, he seemed a stranger. No confidence, no ‘loud’, not ‘cheeky’, no him. It had been a shock to both of us but I think hit my lovely husband very much.

I had voiced that I was surprised that his wife had not accompanied him, as he had told us that she knew how confused he sometimes became and forgetful. She didn’t want to come was the response. I should not criticise her but I do know that David would not have gone anywhere on his own, if he had been in the’place’ our dear friend was. We were extremely worried. I spent the next 2 days trying to find out if he was okay. Find someone else he had spent time with whilst in the UK. Nothing. Until a few days ago when I managed to speak to a friend who confirmed that indeed, this lovely man had changed. No longer the life and soul of the party but an onlooker. I have  had an email to say he is back in Australia, earlier than planned so I hope he is now safe.We now have to rely on him writing to us and reassuring us he is okay and has taken my advice and seen a doctor. I know what it seems is happening to him and I also know that something can be done to help him. But I am helpless to do anything and that does not sit well with me.

What this visit has done, is highlight that age can do this to us. As we age, we change. Or do we? Is it just that others see us differently?I began to think of us, David and I , how we sometimes forget things, how we often have to remind each other of people’s names, places, events. My own realisation of the times I think, ‘was that right?’ It didn’t sound right. Having a conversation with myself. Is this aging? Did I get that wrong? Was that today was it last year? As we age, nothing is the same. Our bodies often let us down. We tire easily. Become weary after a short time doing something that we used to be able to do in a much shorter time!But inside, we are still 20!

A few years ago, or was it more? I worked in reminiscence therapy and was reminded of this these past days. How I tried to see the person behind the ‘haze’. The woman who was sitting in front of me, unable to identify me but able to recognise things from her childhood or earlier life. I made a promise to myself that I would always see the person who she had been. The young woman, the wife, the mother and not only the elderly, confused  lady confined to her chair. If she were me and I was treated as less of a person because I forgot; became confused, I would want to shout. ‘I haven’t always been this way’! ‘I was a mum, a wife , a Psychotherapist and an author. I loved to dance, to read poetry and to care for animals. Look at me please. I’m still here. I’m still me.’

Sometimes, after a serious illness, we can become different, not as capable,not as clear minded. Illness sucks. Growing old sucks but we need to be grateful for it. So please, always try and see the person. I feel the same. I know I am not able to do what I used to do but hey, I am still me. Still the same person even in my confusion and forgetfulness, I am still Carol Ann and would hope those around me always remember that. 

I will always be grateful for memories and hope our friend, I haven’t named him on purpose, I hope he has his memories for along time yet. We will always talk of him, laugh at the things he told us, the things he did. We will always remember HIM. No matter what.I am making a photo of David and our Aussie buddy, to place in pride of place, next to my darling brother’s photo. That is how we will remember them both. Smiling, handsome and strong.Yes age may be just a number but we always need to remember the younger version, of whoever is the subject of our thoughts.

Thank you for reading x

 

 

 

 

 

Hello,

Until a few days ago I had no idea of what you looked like even, your hair, your eyes, your smile. But now I do. As I look down at this photo of you, that has been given to me,after all the passing years, my eyes fill with tears. Some of sadness,some of happiness that at last I can see you. I can now at least,picture the woman who gave my precious baby boy, a home.

I had imagined you, many times.When I was first told how you were to be given my baby son, to take care of and love. I couldn’t ‘like you’. When, all those years ago, after I had struggled to find him in his foster home, and take him back with me, ‘They’ came and took him away again. My heart screamed at you back then. ‘I can love him. I can take care of him’. But of course I couldn’t. I was unwell and without, family or any kind of income that could support him and my daughter.  I couldn’t lose her and was made to make a choice. Lose both of my much loved children or let ‘them’ take my little boy and give him to you.That was not a choice and he went, unknowingly breaking my heart. You were happy, he was possibly happy and me? Well happy didn’t come into it. No,I didn’t feel warmly towards you, why would I?

But this is not about all of that. This is a letter to you, my son’s other mum. I gave birth to him and loved him and lost him. You took him on as your own and loved him. At that time, I wasn’t grateful to you. I wasn’t happy for you. I wasn’t wishing you everything that was good. How could I? You had my son.I didn’t know you then, I still don’t know you but now I know of you and a little about you. And now, I can see you. The lady he called Mum. 

You are different from what I imagined. I, for some reason thought you would be younger, brunette, fuller faced. How or why, I don’t know, because you were an entity that I didn’t want to think about. A person who had something that I wanted. Something that should have been mine by right,to be my son’s mum. Of course I had thought about you and not with any love or gratitude. Just jealousy and something akin to hatred. Very unhealthy. But not now. Life currently has been painful, full of loss and pain but it is time I put my house in order. I can’t do that in some areas but need to do this with you. Even if only in my mind.There comes a time and this is that time.

When I first saw your photo, a few days ago, I was surprised at how it made me feel. You look kind, smart,with your lovely red hair in curls down to your ears. Pearl ear-rings and a pretty top. The first thing that came into my head is that your eyes are so dark, not blue like mine and my son’s.I don’t know why but I had imagined they would have been blue.Don’t know why but things stick don’t they and I had been told by the adoption society, that things like that were important and they would match my baby with parents who had similar characteristics, like eye colour. But your photos is a nice photo.You are not what I had imagined at all. As I stared down at the stranger who had taken my place, I was full of so many emotions.I wanted to be angry. I thought I would be angry but No, I am not. Of course I wish things had been different. But I wish I had not been in that horrendous position when he was born and that he had stayed with me, grown up with me and my daughters but he didn’t. I wish, I wish, I wish so so much.He grew up with you.I have waited so many years to talk to you. To see you. Now I can, if only over this media. I see you now. I need to tell you so much.

I had always hoped we would meet. I made up this story in my head of me going to your home when my son, our son, was at school and sharing a mug of tea, chatting about how this precious boy was doing. This boy we both loved. Sharing our child, his ups and downs of growing up Becoming friends. I don’t know how I could possibly have imagined that happening, as adoption was so closed back when he was a child. But this little story in my head,gave me hope. Comfort on a bad day. I used to wonder if you would like me. If you would understand why you had him and I didn’t. I used to wonder so much over those years.How he was growing. What he liked, what sports he played. What music he enjoyed. I know all of that now, he told me when we met back in 1992. Just after he lost you, his other Mum.Yes I met him and we still have contact. Not in the way I would have hoped but so much more than I had while he was growing up.

I do wish you had told him how things were for me back when he was born. I understand why you didn’t, but do wish you had. 

You made me promises but didn’t keep them. Again, I understand why. This is not a recrimination, just how I feel. It is the same with many adopters, promises made at that emotional time, to the birth mum, promises that were meant to be kept. But as I said, I understand why they weren’t. When you first take charge of this much wanted baby, a long time coming, the promises are pushed aside, not even voluntarily, but just forgotten. Because you don’t want to be reminded of me, of a time before ‘you’. You want and need to forget I even exist ,to make this precious child your own. I understand all of that but not thinking about me does not make me go away. Didn’t make me less real.Yes I understand but it doesn’t work, didn’t work because I was always here. Waiting and hoping and yes, praying that one day, I would see him again.The problem is, if a child doesn’t have the whole truth, he will grow up thinking there is something wrong with him. He may feel guilty that he wasn’t enough for his birth mum to keep him. That is so wrong. In my case, the guilt was all mine. 

I bear you no ill. Of course I envy those wonderful years you shared, of my little boy growing up. All his milestones that I missed. Every single birthday for the first few years I sent a card. Every Christmas I bought gifts, that went to charity. If I heard his name called, I turned hoping. All to no avail. He was happy living with you and his dad and his sister. As you know I already had a daughter, one I love with all my heart. My son brought his own love but that wasn’t enough for me to keep him. We, my daughter and I, missed him so much in the early days and it was hard for her to understand. A difficult time for her, one that I had not really truly understood back then. So entrenched in my own pain and hurt.I went on to re marry and have another daughter and another son but sadly I lost him at birth. 

But my life now is good. Not perfect, not without pain, but in all, good. The regrets of the past have to be put to bed and that is why I now have your photo, here  on my desk. A photo of the lady who loved my son. The lady he called Mum and that is okay. That’s good.I will keep it always. Gratitude and love replace the jealousy and regret. As my husband always says, ‘we are where we are’. And where we are, is here. Today, not yesterday with its’ pain, its sadness, its guilt. I want to think of you and your family, our son, being happy in a love filled home. That helps the memories of the past, only a little, but helps.

I would love to have had the chance to say one thing to you. Thank you. Thank you for taking him into your home, your family. Thank you for giving him all you could. Thank you for loving him.I like to think that if you had received this letter, you would understand my need to write to you. So in my heart, I will pretend that you have. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Love from

Our son’s other mum. His birth mother.xx

 

 

For my readers,thank you for reading x

 

Okay, so where shall I start?!The beginning? Where was that? When was that? I am not sure anymore, sure of anything.

The past few months have been horrible, loss of ponies and my little dog. George having a Strangles scare and all that that entailed.Our lovely home being on lock down, everything sanitised, boots, etc. every time we entered the barn, unable to cuddle the ponies, scrubbing our hands etc. etc. only to find 3 weeks later that it was just a scare. He didn’t have Strangles or anything infectious. But he was very poorly and all of this almost brought us to our knees. So much hard work, sleeping in the barn, still looking after the others but keeping George on his own. Awful time. We made sure he could see them all and eventually he was able to go back in with is little herd. Me? I was shattered, emotionally and physically.I began to wonder why I ‘joined’.The horsey world I mean. So much worry, so much heartache. Most of the time it is good but then we get a year like this one and your heart aches for those who are ill and those we lose, life is extremely hard. GiGi our mini mare is very stiff and had pain in both front feet, she she has Cushings and so gets Laminitis. George is also still unwell with the same condition, so the worry had not lessened. Blood results were due on Mondday. Feeling helpless when they are sick, is a horrid feeling and one I can never get used to.

My ‘dad’ William once told me that’God only gives you what he knows you can take’. Well sorry God but you’ve got it wrong.You must be thinking of someone else. After Monday of this past week, please don’t send me anything else. Please.

 The day began with us planning to take Cody our little dog, to the beach, Poppit Sands, a beauty spot quite close to where we live. Then to explore the area for a new home.David awoke with a tummy ache, nothing bad he said but a bit upset. He said he would be fine and for me to get things ready for our day out. He went down to the stables to feed the ponies and lean the beds.After a while I went down to see how he was an if I could help and he still had tummy ache.I decided to abandon our trip and went in to get coffee for us both. After a while he came in looking very hot and unusually sat down in the living room. I placed a wet flannel on his forehead as he was burning up.He said he would be fine and I took a phone-call  in the kitchen from our vet, when I heard David calling my name and run upstairs to the bathroom. Then the heavy thud. I knew he had collapsed. Slamming the phone down, I ran up after him, not easy for me,to find him unconscious between the bathroom and back bedroom. His left leg was in a very strange position under him, twisted back and he was not breathing. Time seemed to stand still. To say I was terrified is an understatement.Although I knew what was happening as it had happened a few times before, and although I knew he would come round, the ‘knowing’ seemed absent at the time. These attacks are Vasal Vagel attacks and usually follow a pattern, this one however, didn’t. I thought the worst, I thought this was it.

The last one David suffered, not a bad one, was after the biopsy for Prostate Cancer and we put it down to stress. Although he didn’t seem concerned, I am sure he was.  We had arrived home after an hour long journey, he got out of the car and rushed to the outside loo, in our utility and shouted for me. He then  passed out but only for few moments. As soon as it had passed and he had rested, I managed to get him into the house and onto our sofa. After a while he fell asleep, usual thing after VV. This was different, Monday was not following the usual pattern and I was becoming very scared.I kept reminding myself of something a paramedic told me after he had been called during an attack, ‘A VV won’t kill your husband, he will always come round. The only issue is, how he falls and if he hurts himself in that fall’. ‘He will always come round’ I kept saying to myself, but he wasn’t. I was frantically trying to turn him onto his side, he was still showing no breath signs and was still unconscious. I couldn’t move him. I was calling his name, knowing that people unconscious can still hear. I was begging him to come round, out of this attack and it seemed like an eternity.Stupid how your mind works, I could hear Jeremy Vine on the radio and wanted to grab hold of that as if it would return us to normality. Normality has been scarce ‘here on the farm’ this year.

After around 3 minutes I think, felt more like 3 hours, he began to rally.He tried to move his head and that is when I saw it, the blood. I was trying not to panic but panic almost won. I held on. My darling husband opened his eyes and tried to speak. In a very slurred speech he said he could hear me. At that moment it went through my head that this was different. This was not what was supposed to happen. Fear was present in bucket loads.Maybe it wasn’t a VV, maybe he had suffered a stroke. The ‘what ifs’ were having a field day. If he had, how would we cope? What would we do with our ponies?etc. But then suddenly,that didn’t matter, all that mattered was that he was going to be okay, he had to be okay.Selfishly I silently said, ‘Don’t leave me David, I love you so much’. I was desperately shouting his name, trying to bring him back to me, to our then reality.The seriousness of the situation was heavy on my mind.

As he moved to try and sit up, I rushed for a wet flannel and held it on his head, I couldn’t see where the blood was coming from except it was from his head. ‘Shall I call an ambulance?’ Stupid question, I should just have done that but I know David too well. ‘No, please don’t , I’ll be okay, I am always okay’. I held him close and didn’t want to alarm him by telling him of the blood and his cut head. I couldn’t actually see the wound but I could see the blood and where it was coming from. It had eased a lot and I ran for the phone to ring my daughter Marie. She was at work but said she would come straight away but it would take around an hour. David’s speech returned to normal , he could talk and I did few checks to see if he had hurt anywhere else and if he could see me okay, if he had pain anywhere etc. He had no blurred vision no loss of sensation, no pain. After what seemed like a lifetime, Marie arrived. I had kept David  on the floor and made sure he was warm. Something we had been told to do after the VV’s. The hugs from my daughter brought the tears. I hadn’t realised how alone I had felt.We rang our GP who called round and said David’s head needed stitches.

So off to hospital we went. On the long drive he must have been so bored with my asking if he was okay. At A&E he had all the tests, scans, ECG and blood tests then a doctor came and stitched his head. My vain husband was more concerned at having to lose some hair than about the attack! The ECG was fine and we had a long wait for the blood test results. And there it was! The words I never wanted to hear again. The words or reference that send shivers down my spine. Bringing the F word back with full force. ‘You had PC?’ the young doctor who had stitched David, said. Not as a question but as a fact. As if we didn’t know! David calmly said Yes. ‘Everything was normal’ the medic continued, ‘except for the blood test showing…..” I didn’t at first hear the rest. I held my breath, the room was spinning. David as usual was very calm, pragmatic as always and asked what it had shown. ‘ A high white blood count, showing infection. Sometimes after PC this happens. Sometimes men who have had surgery have a residual infection and don’t know it. No symptoms.’ ‘What had PC to do with it. David had his prostate removed at the beginning of 2017’ I said.Or at least I thought I had but my voice was inaudible and David then said what I had tried to say. ‘So what now?’ my man asked this young ’20 something’ doctor standing in front of us. ‘What happens now. Again I held my breath. ‘Let’s do a urine dip and see ‘. Off he went and brought back what my husband needed to do the test and then the wait. On his return, he was smiling. ‘Just a slight UTI, nothing to worry about but might explain the collapse’ Doesn’t need investigating, just some antibiotics.’ Oh how I needed that statement, those words. Yes I say ‘I’ because as I have said many times, ‘I’ for us now and for the past 2 years,means ‘We’.

So, David is recovered now, but with a very painful leg, no damage just where he was ‘stuck’ with it under him and the force he hit the floor.These attacks take it out of him for few days but he is okay now. They remind us of how fragile life is. Make us stop and appreciate each other ,we do, but they remind us to show each other how we feel. Me? I am tearful, fragile and a little scared. I had known for while that we need to move closer to other people, this has made it more important to do that. Marie is brilliant but has her own life and although she will always come to us, she lives too far now to just’pop round’. Some of you will know that I am estranged from my eldest daughter Lisa. This time last year we were talking and I had hoped we could put things behind us, but no. Times like this I miss her even more. Being my first born she has a special place in my heart and I love and miss her every day. Monday also told me that we are not getting any younger, that one-day, things won’t be ‘okay’, one day either David or I will not ‘recover ‘. This makes me even more sad. I need to see her, talk to her, tell her I love her and I can’t. She knows I miss her and said she misses me. Let’s hope she acts on that before it’s too late.

These past months have been horrendous, Monday was  horrendous and scary.Life is fragile and yes, sometimes full of fear, 2 ‘f’ words that are real and scary.

But today is an aniversary. 34 years ago, David and I met and our lives changed. We both say for the better. He as stuck with me through all of life’s storms and there have been many. Let’s hope we have many more years. 

Thank you for reading. x

My blog today was going to be upbeat and happy but things ‘here on the farm’ are anything but that. But I needed to write today, needed to use this outlet for so many topics but after listening to Michael Ball and Nicky Campbell on the radio, I decided to air my thoughts on here. They were discussing the very popular TV show that Nicky  presents and the wonderful reunions the program enables. Well, I am not sure if I am alone in this but I don’t believe every reunion, is as it shows during this show. The reality can be very different indeed. Not taking anything away from the families stories told but some, I am sure, are not as this program depicts. Please bear with me.

I have, rather stupidly in a way, been watching ‘Long Lost Family’ on Mondays, on television. I say stupidly, because every week, it hits me like a ton of bricks, a huge heavy feeling in my heart, a sadness that I know will never leave me.Of course I love seeing mothers re united with their children. Adults finding the parent to whom they were born, the family lost to them up until that day. I wouldn’t be a nice person if I didn’t like to see that. But every single week I see the pain of those who had to let their babies go, for whatever reason and my heart breaks, for them and for me.

All children are borrowed, whether born to you or adopted. They don’t ‘belong’ to us. They are on loan if you like, until they become adults and choose their own lives. But having given birth to your child, you feel a kind of ‘ownership’, in a way that I can’t explain. It’s just there, that’s the way it is. But in adoption, the new parents try and feel that, try and ‘own’ the new baby and I understand that , it is a natural feeling. Over the years, the adopters make memories, family memories, a lifetime of memories with this child who has become ‘theirs’. The last person they want to think about is the birth mum.Most birth mum’s have very little time with their babes. They carry this new life for 9 months and maybe have a few weeks, days or in my case a few minutes. Women, to my knowledge and experience ,both as a birth mum and someone who has worked for post adoption, don’t ‘give up’ their babies. Often they have no choice; very young, in a position where it would not be possible to keep their precious child. Others have adoption forced upon them by officialdom, people who make that decision for them or make it  impossible for the mum to do anything but part with their child. In my case, I had to make a choice. Let Jonathan go to adoption or risk losing Lisa and my son because I didn’t have the means to provide for them both. Life was so different back then, no help and unmarried women who had children, were still frowned upon. I had been married to Lisa’s dad and after we had separated for a few years, I became pregnant, so I was an unmarried woman.How far we have come thankfully.

So after adoption,the adopters are happy, the child, baby is happy but the mum who gave that child life, is left bereft, lost and grief stricken. She is left alone,grieving, regretting and with all the maternal needs, all the loss and all the pain. Okay, so maybe not every single mum but I am sure, almost every one.I am sure she hopes and prays that one day she will see her child again.

As time passes the loss is no less.Seeing a baby of the age yours would be, is painful to say the least. At every milestone someone ‘s child hits a milestone and they share it with you, your heart breaks just a little bit more. Hearing someone call the name you gave your child, you turn to look. Why? Just in case? Maybe? I am not sure but turn you do.Do we, as birth mothers, always hope? Always wonder? Always hope that one day they will see their child again? I don’t know but I think they do. I did for 21 years. 

One of the things I find so hard, both in this program and in life in general, is a mum who has been unable to tell her family, sometimes even her partner, of a child lost to adoption. What a terrible strain for that mum. How hard to live denying the birth and life of a child she carried. My heart goes out to them all. Keeping a child a secret must be so painful , unable to express your grief, your loss, your pain. A secret that can only threaten everything as the years pass and at some time, you know, could be exposed.

Does she grieve in private? I would think so. Does she keep secret keepsakes? I would think so. Is she always afraid? I would think so.I told my daughters about my son, their brother. Lisa kind of ‘knew’ because she was almost 3 when Jonathan was born. I have always had a photo of him as a baby, on my mantle-piece, next to photos of my daughters, all through their growing up. He was never a secret. I now have all three children’s photos pride of place, and photos of my grandchildren,even though I don’t see Lisa.For those of you who have read my book, you will know the pain of that horrible time. The choices I had to make and the sacrifices that ensued. What you will never know is the pain and grief I felt right up to the day I met him again, our reunion. The pain of those lost years will stay with me always.

I had stayed in touch with Social Services for the first 4-5 years of my son’t life. Sending birthday cards, Christmas cards and letters. I had been promised that he would get them one day but he didn’t. I also wrote a long poem to him , something the adopters asked me to do, write to him and they promised to give him that when he was older.They never.I won’t tell the whole story here, just  the time we met again. Our reunion.

I had tried to find him and failed because back then, adoption was kept very secret and I was told nothing. I never gave up, with the support of Lisa, Marie and David I kept looking. After being contacted by a lovely social worker, Sally, who had read my records and apologised for the way I had been treated by S.S. back when Jonathan was born, wanted to help me find him. She succeeded and asked me if she could write to his adopters, enclosing a letter from me. Once agreed she heard back and sadly, his adoptive mum had recently died, so we agreed to leave it for a year. I didn’t think it would happen but after 1 year she contacted me again. His adoptive dad had given him my letter to read and he wanted to meet me. I can’t explain how I felt. I can still recall that moment, my heart seemed to stop and I was overjoyed. I see this in L.L.F’s, how overjoyed the mums are when their child wants to meet them.When the day came for us to meet, I had bought a new dress, had my hair done etc. and was trying to please him in how I looked. Why? He didn’t  know how I normally look did he! On the day, a Wednesday, I couldn’t stand up. I was shaking all over, feeling sick and David had to drive me to Eastleigh where the meeting was arranged. We were upstairs in a contact centre, me David, and Sally. It was early, I am always early, I suddenly told Sally that ‘he’ was here. She said he wasn’t because it was too early and she hadn’t heard the door. She went down anyway and he had arrived. I just knew he was in the building. I felt him close, sounds silly but it’s true. I knew he was there.

Now, the reunion. Jonathan came into the room looking at the floor. He looked like my 2 daughters, Lisa and Marie, all rolled into one handsome young man. My heart melted. I was back there, in the hospital, where I held him for a few fleeting minutes. I wanted to rush to him but was afraid of scaring him off. I was a stranger.

I was his mother.

He didn’t know me.

I knew him from carrying him under my heart for nine months. From giving him life.But he didn’t know me.

He made his way around the room, not looking up. Seemed to take years. He shook hands with Sally and then came nearer to David. He shook his hand and then hesitatingly was standing in front of me. I couldn’t move. I was still sat down in fear of falling if I stood. I was cold, terrified. Wanting to grab him, wanting to run away. Wanting to hold him and never let him go. Scared of him and his maybe not wanting contact. 

Would he pull away? Would he accept my hand? Can I hug him? Should I hug him? My mind was whirling and then he touched me. The rush I felt was enormous. The love I felt, that I had held on to for 22 years was in danger of rushing out. If I let that happen it would scare him. He might leave and I might not see him again. I held tight. Held on to my emotions and that was such a mistake.I wanted to grab him, make him come home with me, never let him out of my sight again. But. At first I just sat there with his hand in mine. Eventually after what seemed like days, he sat beside me and there it was. The smell I had held in my heart for all those years, since the day he was delivered of my body. He smelt the same. There he was.My son. 

I didn’t cry. I had not been able to cry for many years, legacy of my childhood, didn’t cry very often or rather, didn’t cry tears but my heart had broken silently many times in the past. Tears made me vulnerable so I learned from an early age, not to cry tears. So I didn’t cry. I had taken an album I had made for him and talked him through the photos, starting from that day, my home, my husband, my pets and children and then me as a young mum, pregnant with him and a photo a baby boy. My baby. My son. A photo of him. He had to ask me to repeat some things as my voice was low and shaky. Then he turned to look at me for the first time. He looked me full in the face and began to cry. ‘It is the first time I have looked at anyone and seen myself’. I will never forget his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, the ones that had looked up at me the day he was taken. I grabbed him and held him in my arms and wanted to stay there for ever, make things right but I couldn’t. My heart was breaking all over again.I had promised his father that I would not see him again, that I would not encourage him to contact me again, to see me. I knew I had to keep my promise as he had allowed me to see my son. Back to where it all started, back to having no choices or rather that is how it felt.

At the end of the evening that passed so quickly, he had to catch a bus home. I wanted to take him but was not allowed. We clung to each other and he wanted to come back with me but I had made a promise. Looking back what did that matter? So, I made a promise, so what. But my honesty and loyalty and integrity has always gotten in the way of what I really want and to my detriment. I had to let him go and catch his bus. 

So. The reason for this blog. Long Lost Family is a lovely show but the reality, I am sure, is more like my story. Real life story without influences or help from anywhere. Just as it happens.I really hope there are not many reunions like ours. That not many mums who find their children or the other way round and don’t react the way their hearts tell them to. I hope I am alone in this but fear I am not. To all mums who have lost children to adoption, I send my love. To all who have had reunions like mine, I send ,my love and hope life gets better.

People say they sob whilst watching L.L.F. Today I heard Michael Ball talk to Nicky  C and say that he and his partner Cathy, cuddle up together and sob throughout the program. I understand that. As I said, I can’t sob, can’t really cry, not properly but this program makes me very close to tears. I feel everyone’s pain. The child whose adoption wasn’t happy. For his mum who is full of regret and guilt. For adopted parents who wish they had told their child the truth. For those who fear losing the child to their birth family. I watch as mum and child hug, kiss, cry and rejoice. In reality and in some cases, it is not always like that. How I would love it to have been. How I wish I had forgotten promises to my son’t adopted father and run to my son. Hugged and held onto him and then taken him home. But life ‘aint like that! I have lost many years but now, after a very turbulent number of years, I have a relationship with my son. Not as I always dreamed I would but having the little I have, is more than I had. 

Not knowing where your child is, what they have been told. If they are well. If they are happy. What they are doing. Whether they know about you etc. is like punishment.If you hold guilt, misplaced or not, you accept that not knowing, is the price you have to pay. The child is no longer ‘yours’. More pain. More hurt. More guilt.

To every adopter or would be adopter, I ask that you tell your child as soon as they are able to understand. Whatever the past you assure them that their birth mum loved them. It does great harm to a child being told she didn’t. I know that only too well. Every child needs to know their heritage, good or bad. They need to know where they came from and if they want to find the family they were born to, please help them. If you do, you won’t lose them to their birth family, you will show how much you love them.For those seeking their birth mum, make sure you have support, do it through an intermediary, don’t just ‘turn up’ a their home. Then, take a deep breath and go for it. Good luck.x

Please don’t think I am criticizing L.L.F. I am not. I love the fact that so many are reunited with lost family, lost mums and children, just  saying is not always like this for everyone. So next week when watching L.L.F please think about the reunions that never happen or those who are not as portrayed in the program.

Thank you for reading. x

 

I smiled today, I don’t remember when I last smiled but I smiled today.

Over the past 7 weeks, life has been fraught, scary and full of pain. Not the physical pain, at least not for me, but the deep pain of loss. It is said that when you suffer loss, maybe of a loved one, or an animal, you suddenly are thrust back into previous losses, maybe unresolved grief, I don’t know but I do know that it is true. March 22nd, as I wrote on here, I lost my beloved rescue pony Oliver. Did I grieve? Don’t think so because my little dog, Ellie Mae was poorly and my time and energy was taken up caring for her. As I have told you, Ellie sadly died 18th April, expected but no easier because of that.This past week, we have seen the loss of another much loved animal, pet, our huge but tiny, gentle but fierce,40 something mini stallion who thought he was a 17 hh horse. I know it will take time, I have so much unresolved grief that I need to deal with.I have seen how the remaining ponies are grieving and that in itself hurts. The barn is very quiet when they are in. The paddocks very empty. Horses grieve hard. His little mare, GiGi, is now in with the others but keeping away from them and staring up into his paddock, the one they shared. The 2 little boys, Casey and George Jones are lost and our beautiful Welsh mare is so sad and just standing about. They allow each other to grieve and I know they will recover.I wonder if they have memories? Of course they do. When we take on a rescue, we soon find the things they are afraid of, things man has made them fear. We have to teach them that they are safe and will never again be hurt or afraid. Sometimes we know a bit of their history, the rest, in their own way, they tell us. So yes, they will have memories and that is why they grieve. I just hope they remember their pals, Obi and Oliver with happy thoughts and that in some way, as they recover, that has helped them.

When we lose someone we love the pain can be unbearable, we think we will never smile again. The pain and grief can be all consuming, life can seem unbearable. I have experienced this many times , Tony my beloved brother, my big bear, my ‘Dad’, my best friend Mo, a sister and many many pets. I have read once again on my PC groups of ladies losing husbands and partners, children losing dads and others losing a loved one to this horrid disease that brought us all together. I am sad for them all and so thankful that we are through that now, that David survived the cancer with a little ‘c’ that I have written extensively about over the past few years. PC didn’t steal him from me but it did steal precious time, time wasted with worry and fear, both of us and others on here ,will have had that happen. We now know how important time is, how we need to make memories, for each other ‘just in case’. Memories to draw on at times we are sad, to help heal and comfort at very low times.The one you love may have gone but with memories made together, they are still where ever you are.

At first, looking at photos hurts, for me it was and at times still is, a physical pain in my tummy. It hurts so bad and nothing can make it go away in the early days and even sometimes now,looking at Tony’s photo, here on my desk, still hurts that way.As I quoted once before, ‘when those you love go away, you don’t get over it, you just get through it’.Sometimes it may be a song reminding you of your loss, a song that meant something to you both. It still does. It still can, the memory was made together, just because one of you is absent, doesn’t mean you can’t remember and smile,looking back at when the memory was made. Yes you may cry, and do you know what? That’s okay. But you might just smile.Sometimes there won’t be a trigger, a memory will just sneak into your mind and you will hurt at first but later you will enjoy and treasure.

It is the same with the loss of an animal you loved.The same with anything you have loved and lost. Some might say, comparing losing an animal to losing a loved one is wrong, but if you loved them as most of us do,then the loss can be the same. I loved my brother, my sister and those lost over the years and I loved every single animal in my care, all with the every fibre of my being. So why should the loss be different? Why should it feel less? It shouldn’t. I sometimes see clients who have ‘lost’ a person, an animal, even a possession or a job. All these things deserve to be grieved over in differing depths and ways. But they are all loss.

The other kind of loss, that I have written about in a previous blog, is the grief for someone still living. If you loved that person then losing them out of your life will cause you to grieve, sometimes in a harder, deeper way, than if they had died. No-one will ever know the pain I have every day, for the loss of my daughter and grandchildren through someone else’s lies and deceit. This grief can be harder because unlike death, the person you have lost,will be getting on with their lives with out you and that hurts so very much.

Turning pain away with the use of memory is a great healer. But those memories have to have been made to be able to do this. I have made memory boxes for my children, all of them. Photos, pictures, cards and  poems they gave me, written and drawn by them. Special little toys forgotten by them but not by me. All safe in their memory boxes to have when I have gone. I have always done this, well since I was 20, when I left home. Everything I treasured as a child was torn up, burned or thrown out but thankfully my memories, sadly good and bad are safely tucked up inside of me. To remind myself of any good things that I have no material reminders of.I have also made a memory album for Lisa, from the fist day she was born, to remind her of our love, our life together, to remind her and to make the wrong she has been told, right. She will have that soon.I don’t need any of this, as the memories are all tucked away , as with every mum, in my heart.

I am still working through the grief for Tony, I will get there and am on the way, I know. I smiled today whilst thinking of the anniversary of losing Star, a memory came into my head of the first time Tony had ever ridden. Star was a wonderful patient tolerant horse and so I let Tony ride her through the woods. He looked so happy and enjoyed every minute. Lin his wife, Marie and David were all there, Marie was on Emrys our rescued race horse. When they came back, Tony beaming from ear to ear, decided to dismount, without help, on his own. But it was okay, he had ‘seen it in the cowboy films,’  Star had lived with us for 24 years, almost all of her life and was very confident and could usually pre-empt actions by  the rider. Not this time. As he ‘dismounted’ he somehow ended up, under neath Star’s tummy. Or as far under a 15. 2 horse, a 6’2″man could get! We were all laughing so much we couldn’t help him, made worse, by Star turning her head, looking at him in disbelief.

So there you go, the power of memory. I smiled today. 

Thinking about all the grief from these past weeks, is hard but memories of the others I have lost,are sneaking into my mind, who knows, maybe very soon they will make me smile as well.

So yes, we all suffer loss, pain, hurt and all, I hope have memories that will help us through the hard times. Queen Elizabeth said once that ‘Grief is the price we pay for love’, how true us that. With our animals, it is the only time they hurt us, when they leave. Was it all worth it? Would it have made me love any less?  Would I have loved my daughter and my grandchildren any less, if I had known losing them the way I did, feeling the relentless pain would be so hard? Of course not. I would give that love willingly as I did, as we all do, even knowing that at some stage pain would come. I would do it all again in a heart beat. Why? Because without doing so, I wouldn’t have had the love, the times that were wonderful, happy  with those I love, that helped make these wonderful memories that will help me through. Bringing me warmth on cold days. Comfort on sad days and help me heal on lost days. They are all safely locked in my memory box as they are for you all, to be drawn on when I need them. No-one can change them tarnish them or steal them. Some will hurt but some will make me smile.

Thank you for reading.x

Today’s blog is for me, Carol Ann Something I need to do. I apologise for those who don’t understand but not for my feelings.Please only read if you think you can understand grieving for a pet.

I haven’t written for a few weeks, too much pain, too much grief and sadness ‘here on  the farm’. We had only just got over losing Oliver my pony and knew that Ellie Mae did not have long. But even though we knew that, when it came it hit me harder than I had expected.

10 years ago, when Cody was a little 3 year old, he lost his pal, Cassie, who had always been there with him. He was devastated and so we looked for a companion. I was hurting so much as we do when we lose an animal and really didn’t want another. But Cody refused to eat and was so unhappy that we relented. His need was greater than our feelings. I promised myself that I would not love her.If I didn’t love her, when the time comes to lose her, it won’t hurt. How stupid was I! She would be his pal and that was all. I still don’t know how she managed to creep into my heart but she did.

The house where went to to see her, was horrible. Dirty and the pups were in a huge room that had a shiny wet floor, I thought the woman had just washed it but soon realised it was wee. The puppies were all in a cardboard box in a corner, not normal for healthy puppies and that was the minute I wanted to leave but couldn’t. There were no toys and no dishes.We asked to see mum  by which time, all of the pups except for one, came over to us. I knelt down and fussed them. The woman who owned them said Mum was not friendly. I asked why she was not with her babies, the reply was that she was nasty to them. I then asked about Dad as I had seen 2 adult Shih-tzu’s through the window. They had horribly tangled coats that  had been kind of clipped . The woman brought the mum in but said she could not put her down as she didn’t like people and couldn’t be trusted with the pups. A man brought ‘Dad’ in and we were told the same about him. All kinds of alarm bells were ringing and I wanted to run but take all the dogs with me. I knew this was impossible and stood up to leave. Then I thought I could at least rescue one. I decided to pick them all up, 5 of them and then put them down again. If any of them stayed by me or returned to me, I would take them home. They all rushed back to the box except for the tiny one. She came over and pressed herself against my foot. I bought her and left. I felt so guilty and being a member of Shi tzu rescue, reported the home to them and they took it from there. 

As soon as I picked her up, she snuggled  in and fell asleep. On the journey home, this poor little pup became very agitated, we stopped and gave her some water, she passed out. I was so scared. But she soon came round and we continued home. We called her Ellie after a lovely lady I used to care for. Ellie Mae had joined our family. She had all kinds of problems, a tiny pin prick of a nose that made breathing difficult and we thought she might need surgery, a front leg deformed so that is turned the wrong way and often collapsed under her. We were told she was possibly interbred and to be aware of issues with  her temperament.

She settled in very well, Cody adored her but soon realised who was boss. I didn’t think I would love a dog again as I had loved Cassie but soon realised that Ellie had stolen my heart. She was a determined little creature, I believe that is what brought her through all her trials in health. She was funny, intelligent, bossy and had an attitude that was befitting something far bigger that her. She was tiny in stature but huge in presence. She loved hard, was possessive of her favourite bear that was given to her on arrival at our home. She loved fiercely and became very protective of me and her boy Cody. She had some quirky ways, funny little things that she did that made me smile every time. I realise now that one of the things she did might have had memories for her of where she began life and so were not funny in reality but was funny to watch. She would creep very slowly up the water bowl, like slow motion movements and then drink. Maybe the wet shiny floor of her first ‘home’ came back into her head. I don’t know. Ellie Mae, the only name she came to or acknowledged, not Ellie but only Ellie Mae, enjoyed life to the full. I have so many memories of this tiny little dog with a huge heart that I will keep forever. The way she would try and eat Cody’s dinner, any tit-bits that were going before eating her own. She knew he wouldn’t steal hers so knew she was onto a good thing, if allowed. She would bark at anyone and everyone. Would not allow anyone to come close to me in our home. Difficult when the doctor had to visit, she had to be shut in another room. I think she thought her job was to keep me safe. Maybe it was. Whenever I was up here, in my study, Ellie would be here at my feet, next to Cody. Now there is only Cody and he and I are lost.

In 2016 I noticed a lump on her tummy and took her to the vet. They were suspicious it was cancer and we had to take her back for surgery. Unfortunately the vet only removed one lump although they had seen another one but we were not told this and when we did feel it January 2017 we took her to another vet and arranged removal. Sadly after the pre -med, her heart stopped and they abandoned the operation. We were told she had about 7 months to live and to make the most of our time with her. This was the same time David was to have removal of his prostate because of Prostate Cancer.Early 2017. Life was hard.We brought her home, she was unable to stand when we left the surgery and slept all the way back. As soon as we laid her on the grass, it was a warm day, she suddenly jumped up and chased one of the barn cats across the paddock! We were so shocked but this was Ellie. Strong willed and protective.She has never liked that particular cat.

We were told what to look out for, her breathing changing etc which would mean the cancer had progressed to her lungs. For the past 2 years she has been Ellie. Naughty, disobedient at times, loud, funny and playful She was my companion as is Cody but Ellie was much more ‘in my face’ so to speak. My little girl. I never dressed her up as some do with their little dogs but did buy her some t’shirts as she lost weight and felt the cold. She would stand there and I swear I could hear her sighing, almost raising her eyes to heaven. Tolerating my whim. My love for her was huge as I hope was hers for me. She filled my days in the last few weeks, became a bit more demanding in as much she had to be with me every minute. I have not returned to my Practice as yet and so apart from going shopping, when Marie would work from home, just in case Ellie needed anything or Cody, we were never apart. At the beginning of April, she began to get a bit breathless and started a slight cough. The vet said it was only a matter of time but that time was not yet. I prayed so hard to keep her but knew in my heart I couldn’t. 

Wednesday 17th April was Ellie Mae’s 11th birthday and she spent it , as she had been doing, at my feet, alongside me if I went outside and on the bed as she had been for weeks. I realise now that my every waking hour was being aware of her. I couldn’t sleep in case she needed me. She was thankfully oblivious to this. Still eating, going outside, running around the garden etc. But I did not rest for worry. The night of her birthday she came upstairs with me and laid on her favourite blanket on the bed. At 4 in the morning of the 18th, the coughing was much worse and she came up the bed and laid between David and I as close as she could. Wide awake and looking at me. I knew it was time. My heart broke. The following day, I walked with her as far around the grounds as she wanted and then waited for the vet, trying hard to be brave and not shed tears in case thy upset her.In the past, though out the things that have happened, told of, here in my blog, Ellie would always try and comfort me,dry my tears. On this Thursday, she was asleep when Helen the vet, arrived, lying on the carpet in our sitting room with me next to her. I picked her up and suddenly she became Ellie Mae the ferocious, barking as hard as she could to keep the vet away from me. Loyal to the end. But we knew we had no choice. Loving an animal is also knowing when the time is right to let them go, help them out. I held her, she looked up and licked my tears, loving to the last breath. She died in my arms looking at me. Life has not been the same since.

The only time they hurt us is when they leave.

I wasn’t ready for this grief. I know grief, we all do. I am still grieving for my beloved brother Tony, Dad and Oliver, all lost within a year but was not ready for the huge emptiness I feel now. I adore Cody and let him know but some will remember, the blog I wrote about anticipatory grief. I knew Ellie was going to lose this fight, we lived on borrowed time for almost two years but now it is here, I am still  not ready. Only those who love animals will understand this. Some will not and I am sorry if this offends you but it is how I feel.I have a very small family and my pets have become ‘family’ to me and to David. I have never seen my husband so upset in 33 years. Ellie Mae was a tiny little dog but a huge spirit and presence. The void left is enormous. I have been going to bed cuddling her little T’shirt because it smells of her. Silly? Maybe but my comfort at such a horrid time.I think I hear her, sometimes think I see her. Still put 2 dishes out at times for their dinner. Always leave a piece of meat on my plate for her, still do, can’t get out of the habit of 11 years. I am okay most days now but evenings are the worst. Although Cody is here, Luther my black cat, 17 next week, and our new ‘stable cat’ Shamaz; the ‘missing’ is so big, so strong that you can almost touch it.

I  understand others who suffer the loss of their pets, one of the reasons I turned down a job with a local vet as Pet Bereavement Counsellor, I just wouldn’t cope, I know I wouldn’t. I offer bereavement therapy to clients who have lost family or friends and carry it our very effectively so I am told, but the loss of an animal defeats me. I am sure there is a reason for this but as for now, I have to just accept that is how it is.

So life ‘here on the farm’ is not so good. The animal part of our family is getting smaller. I know taking on rescues we have to expect loss but it doesn’t make it any easier. Losing anything we love is a loss and sometimes hard to get over. I was distraught for the first week and more and wondered what I would do without her. I know really what I have to do, I need to love her pal, Cody and the others in my care. David and I have cried buckets together, he says since PC he seems to have become more sensitive, doesn’t remember feeling loss so intense as this before. I think as you get older, you do feel more but I also think, Ellie Mae was such a huge huge character, with us all the time, sharing everything, making lots of noise, being her usual lovable bossy self ,that missing her in such a way, such a huge miss was inevitable.

So here I am, with Cody at my feet and I know he is sad. He goes outside and I am sure is looking for her, although he did see her when we laid her to rest. He has taken over her blanket and the last little piece of a bone she had on the last day. He hasn’t tried to eat it, just carries it around with him. Every time I see he is missing her another piece of my heart breaks. Not sure if he will get through but will do everything I can to make him happy and to keep him healthy.He is not a young dog, 14 now so needs a lot of reassurance as he can’t hear and has limited sight. Ellie had been his eyes and ears so now I have to be that to him.I try hard not to get upset around him, which is hard as he follows me around everywhere. But I will try .

For everyone reading who has lost an animal, my heart goes out to you. I know my eldest daughter Lisa,will understand this as does Marie. Lisa has many dogs and cats and I have seen how it hurts when one dies.Marie has 5 cats. We also have the ponies. I brought them both up to love animals as we love each other. But doing this there is price to pay when we lose them.Is it worth it? Definitely. The amount we grief shows how much we love. So of course, even though some days even I doubt it, loving them far outweighs anything else. After all, they love us unconditionally done’t they. 

Thank you for reading. x

 

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t going to write today, it’s been 3 or 4 weeks since my last blog and wasn’t sure if I could write today or should write, feeling how I feel. Life ‘here on the farm’ has been sad, scary, worrying and fraught. Not a good time or a good place to be and I didn’t want to pass that on to readers or even put how I feel into words, because that makes it all real. But then I remembered that I tell my clients to write, not only when life is good but mostly when it isn’t. To help process whatever it is that is troubling them. To try to make sense of things when they feel overwhelmed. One reason for being reluctant to share my sadness, is that a few weeks ago, I told you all that I was going to be positive, try and inspire, be upbeat, happy and at this moment in time, I can’t be any of that and so wasn’t going to write.  But then I remembered, that at the very start of my blogging, around 3 years ago, I promised to ‘tell it as it is’, to always be honest and true to how I felt and how my if was panning out. I said I would write the truth ‘warts ‘n all’. So here I am, back!

Oh how I would love to be writing happy things, encouraging, inspirational words, but sadly, today I can’t. I would like to, keep to what I had said before,but life ain’t like that is it? Things have a way of catching you out, creeping around you and then, when you least expect it, barge into your mind, your life sometimes in great numbers and shatter any peace you may have been feeling. Illness happens, for all of us and for those we love and also to our charges, our animals.Then, feeling happy and upbeat becomes impossible. 

For the past 3 years, during the time of David’ having Prostate cancer and the ‘nasties’ courtesy of my eldest daughter and her aunt, one of our precious ponies, Oliver had been ill. I admit to my mind not always being where it should be, with him, but instead,trying to cope with their onslaught. Oliver had a condition called EMS. For those who don’t know it is an illness that means his metabolism is out of kilter his body makes fat and sugar, Rendering him very unwell and often suffering from Laminitis, a condition of the hoof, very painful. We have struggled with him for 3 years, restricting his grazing and not feeding him but keeping him happy and pain-free. We thought we had won the battle but early in March this year, just after my last blog, he became very lame and on x-ray, we found the bones in every foot had dropped. We couldn’t control the pain and so had to make the awful decision to let him go. Broke my heart.Oliver had come to us in a very poor condition, from a rescue centre, who asked us to take him because we had a few of their ponies before and they had all done well. He was emaciated , in very poor condition and was afraid of people.We have watched him blossom. Saying goodbye to him on the 22nd March, with all of his friends around him was devastating. For days, we were all unable to focus, wishing it had been different and that Oliver was grazing in his paddock with his friends. Horses grieve and to watch his ‘herd’ just standing around brought tears to my eyes more than once. 

It has been a very hard time in the family in general because Ellie Mae, our little Shih -ztu who has cancer, came very close to us letting her go as well. One day she is ‘okay’ and then the next she is not so good. The advice we have, is that all the time she is doing all the things she has always done, eating, sleeping and interested in things around her, we should leave things as they are. She has been put on steroids and we thought she was improving but no. She has now developed a nasty cough and I know, I once again, have to make that decision that all animal lovers dread. I am very worried about her pal Cody. She has become his ears and eyes as he is now 14 and has little sight and no hearing. He is still the happy tolerant little boy that he has always been but without Ellie? I really don’t know what to do and how to deal with this situation. I have always been the ‘strong one’, the one who makes that final decision but am struggling with this. Feeling physically fragile myself at this time, and emotionally drained doesn’t help.Ellie sleeps a lot more but not at night, which means I have one ear for her, all the time and am getting very little sleep. She has bad days, then good days. Again, we know we are on borrowed time but I really believe this is the last time I will be blogging with her at my feet. 

In between today and the last time I wrote, with losing Oliver and Ellie being ill, I discovered that my son was having problems that I can’t help him with. Any of you who are parents, will know how hard this is and how helpless you feel. I have to just sit back and wait for him to come to me. Then there was Mother’s Day. Always a hard day for me. As a younger mum, my little girls, then young women, would always spoil me, make me feel the luckiest and ‘best’ mum in the world. These past 6 years it has not been that way. It has become a day I dread. A day that has been marred in the past by some. But this year even though I was spoiled again by my youngest daughter, Marie and her husband, giving me flowers, smellies, chocolates and pot plants, I still felt sad, bereft. I did have a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a much-needed phone-call from my son Jonathan. Although all of this made me feel better having just lost Oliver, made it hard for any of us to enjoy the day. And then there is the ‘missing’. I still can’t get used to this feeling of incompleteness. When one of your children is not in touch with you, estranged from you, days such as these are particularly hard. Not that I only miss Lisa on Mothers day, no. I miss her every single day, as those of you who are in similar positions know. So sadness was the main emotion . 

One of the ‘sads’ today, is my having to acknowledge the changes in my wonderful man. My rock. David was always the positive one. I was the emotionally strong one , he the physically strong one. We made a good team. No I rephrase that, we still make a good team. The same team but different. Before PC came barging into our lives, trampling over everything good. Although I personally have suffered loss, unfair treatment from ‘family, I could always depend on my family ‘here on the farm’. My husband was always ready to support me, comfort me, help me and so was my youngest daughter. They still are but now life is different and the past few months have shown that so clearly. We have a large garden, 6 plus acres with paddocks etc and he has always kept them all in good order. We have been renovating an old Georgian house, still are but now it seems to be harder for him to keep up any kind of effort. He tires so easily, isn’t able to do things in the time frame that he could before cancer with a little ‘c’ struck. He doesn’t ask for help, not in his nature but did get someone in to clear some of the brambles last year,at my insistence, but that was it. The poly tunnel that had been so productive needs new life breathing into it. The whole garden needs sorting out and he was reluctant to ‘get a man in’ as an old friend of ours used to say. But we have now discussed this and he admits to not having the strength he used to have. It breaks my heart to watch him struggle. To hear the sadness and almost embarrassment in his voice when he says ‘we need help with the land love’. I hate cancer with a vengeance! It has stolen so much from us as a couple but more importantly, from David. I love him with every ounce of my being and so grateful for his being through to the other side of PC but hate hate hate what is has taken from him. But we will ‘get a man in’ or two and get the place back to how it was and then, look for a new home, a smaller one with no land, just a good-sized garden, somewhere near Marie’s new project.This time it will be chosen just for us. We have never been able to do that, having children, 2 daughters when we met, we have always considered them when looking for a home. But this time, it will be just for us, our choice and I need to look forward to that. A new adventure, something to look ahead to and enjoy.  So maybe I need to start that today.

Wouldn’t it be good, if when we feel down, sad, we could flick a switch and feel better. There are times in life when things happen, that we can, in a way, rise above whatever it is. Choose a different thought. Take a different path, or as some would say, move on’. But as we all know, or rather (remembering these are my thoughts, my perceptions,) as I know, I don’t believe you can. Move on I mean. Not easily anyway. Over the past few years, life has thrown many curve balls at our little family and as hard as we try to dodge them, they always seem to hit us full on. I am sure this happens to many of you, to everyone but this is my life, my blog, from my perception, so please forgive me if you find it too personal, too much about ‘me’ but I  can only speak for myself.

Recap of the past few years, with some things left out. Another exercise I get clients to do.

2010 we moved to West Wales and life was wonderful. 2012, after losing my beloved horse, Star,I was embroiled in a horrid ‘hoax’ that ended in court. Cruel and damaging but I bounced back. 2013 my eldest daughter, because of my not being  prepared to lie for her, shut me out of her and my grandchildren’s life. Resulting in years of online bullying by her and her ‘friends’.2014 my youngest daughter lost her baby, my last much wanted grandchild.My eldest daughter Georgina lost her fight against cancer. 2016 my son became gravely ill and so did my youngest daughter. She recovered and so did he but both with lasting issues. 2017 David was diagnosed with PC. We all know the journey that is and the pain and worry, fear and helplessness it gives.2018 My beloved brother Tony lost his fight with cancer and the man who became my  dad died.My health has been poor resulting in my hospital stay in January this year. This year is all written about above. So,remembering something my dad used to say, that ‘He only gives you as much as he knows you can take’. Sorry dad, but I think ‘He’ has got it wrong. I am almost out of ‘taking’.

Now making sense of this blog, of how I feel today. I will follow my own teachings now. 

Life will improve but only if I give it a kick up the proverbial. Thinking about it, talking about it, writing about it is good but changing it, at least the way I think about it, is down to me.

The positives are this. David is still here, still with me and the cancer has gone. My health will always be poor but I cope. My two books, one of which is a 2nd edition are both selling well and a third on the way. Marie is moving next week, later than we first thought, to begin her own Equine Therapy project in a lovely spot and will live close by. The blossoms are in full glory all over the land, the spring flowers are still in bloom and the holiday park at the end of our land is open. Summer is on the way. and do you know what? I am already beginning to feel better so yes, writing things down, sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings does help. So, sorry for being  on a downer but I will do what I always do and bounce back again, very soon. You have all helped, so thank you for reading. x

Post script.

Since writing this, Ellie Mae my precious little girl Shih tzu, lost her fight against cancer. She was in my arms, still fighting the vet, trying to ‘protect me’ from her when she left us. I couldn’t put her down, cried it seemed for days. Then a few weeks later our wonderful 29 inch stallion, Oberon, had a choke and eventually we had to let him go as well. Been a horrid time ‘here on the farm’. If you read current blogs, June July this year, you will see that more of our little ones have been ill and we had a Strangle fright. Today, 7th July, 2 of our minis have gone down with laminitis. So things have not improved and I am worn out as is David. The sanitising and sterilising we had to do during the Strangles fright were such a lot of hard work but had to be done to protect our other ponies.As it turned out, it had not been necessary.

I have written again to my eldest daughter and hope if I keep on writing, one day she will reply. I hope.I don’t want sorries, don’t expect explanations, just want contact.I have also written to my grandson but heard nothing.

So let’s hope a new week will bring some respite. Thank you for reading. x

 

Once again, thank you for all your comments, pm’s and emails after last week’s blog. Good to know that it helped those it resonated with. Today’s is PC related but mostly a general blog I felt I needed to write. Please don’t read if you think it might offend. Feel free to scroll by.

Life ‘here on the farm’ is hard. Sick ponies, poorly dogs and my own health not so good.To compound all of that , David has a painful foot, courtesy, we think, of a black thorn that went through his shoe!But compared to many, we are very lucky, especially reading of the awful things in the news this week.Being such a horrid time for many, I have been looking at how we have become so focused on things that are really not important. How important values have changed.How in general, we have become a throw away society. A society not valuing things we have, relationships we share and people who love us. Most of all, not valuing life itself.

We don’t mend anything any more. If something breaks, we buy new. Phones, radios, clothes etc. This has now spilled over into our values of people, of life and that I find scary and unacceptable.It is happening more and more, I see that in my own life and in my work. Couples breaking up, parents being estranged from their children. Children being shunned by parents. Why? Usually over an untruth or something that was said and neither party willing to make things right. Broken relationships can be mended, maybe not back to how they were, but back to being more acceptable to those involved, leading to less pain and heartache.It happens on social media all the time. Someone says something because a comment made might not be to their liking and the recipient becomes upset and blocks the writer or becomes angry and retaliates. Maybe if we communicated better, maybe if we valued other people’s comments and respected their point of view, there would be less of this. Please talk to each other, sort it out!

In families, children loved throughout their lives, fall out with parents as my eldest has with me. Most parents give everything they can to their children, make sacrifices etc. willingly and take everything the child dishes out to them. Then either a misunderstanding or something one party does not agree with is said and the relationship is over. When this happens, communication breaks down but all is not or should not be lost. We need to show respect for each other’s opinions and beg to differ, to maintain important relationships with family and friends. We need not to give up on them.

People have left groups I belong to because others have disagreed with their opinions, choices, religion or beliefs. Personal stuff that is important to the member and not really the business of other group members. Most of the groups I belong to are support groups, giving knowledge, sharing experiences and most of all, giving support. Clue in the name. Sometimes it is hard not to allow our own personal issues, our own fear, anger or sadness, get in the way when we comment on a post. It is not always meant as disrespect but can so easily come across as that. Some readers may be in the first stages of diagnosis, or at the end stage and life may be very tough. Prostate cancer takes us to the lowest of places and we can sometimes become insensitive to those reading our posts and also to those commenting. Our feelings can get the better of us and we may express them without thinking of how others may perceive them, or process their meaning.Our own pain can make us selfish without thinking. All of this, along with news stories in the press this past week,the none-valuing ,things I will mention later in this blog, the throwing away, the ‘not thinking’ of others, even inadvertently, makes me feel that something in our world is missing. Respect.

The definition of respect is: ‘due regard for the feelings, wishes, rights, or traditions of others:’Most ‘disrespect I see online is not meant. Not done deliberately but can still hurt.

This has been more than evident this past few weeks, not on Social media but in reality. The greatest disrespect there can be. The lack of respect for life itself.We have all seen reports of the killings of young people on the street. Innocent lives cut short by other young people with no thought of the consequences. Carrying knives , attacking innocent people with no thought for the victim, their family or even for their own future. All done out of choice. Not accident, not their upbringing, not the fault of their parents, not a mental health issue but the choice of these killers to inflict injury or death on someone they don’t always know. Sickening. Horrible, unbelievable but sadly, we all know, true.

I have also been told this past week, of a pony being stolen by 2 young, tied up and killed. What for! Who knows, but these young men, we know it was 2 young men from CCTV images,could be future killers of people if not caught. I have read of sheep being stolen and a pregnant ewe being beaten and killed, all for monetary gain. Horrible incidents in my own home county. No respect for life, no thought for the animals pain and fear. All done with no respect and out of choice.

In all of what I have written, the common factor missing, the lack of something, that even I, in my dysfunctional family, learned, is the lack of this thing called Respect. Some say it should begin at home. I agree. I taught my children to respect others, the elderly, etc. To respect  their parents, although I think I somehow failed in that one with my eldest. But not for the want of trying. Respect for authority, for other people’s opinions, way of life and creed. I was taught to respect all life, human and animal life, not by my parents but by my church. Although not very religious now, church and school were my sanctuaries and I listened and learned a great deal.

Without this, without thinking of the consequences of our actions, without showing respect to others, to life itself and to the truth, I fear the way the world is going.The decisions we make, whether based on respect or not, are our choices. It is our choice to either throw away the old phone or get it repaired. It is our choice to shut people out of our lives instead of giving and showing enough respect, to try to put things right. It is our choice whether to hurt another purposely, physically or emotionally. Our choice alone. Every action we make, everything we do , we are responsible for the actions and the results and we need to remember this. Respecting others should be the ‘norm’ for all of us. Sadly it isn’t. Everyone needs to acknowledge that life doesn’t just happen, most of what does happen, apart from illness and disease, is down to our choices and we are responsible for the consequences.Not society. Not our circumstances.Not our parents. Not our family. Us!

But the biggest choice in todays’ society, as all who see the news will know; in today’s youth, is the choice to carry a knife and whether to choose to use it to hurt someone. This needs to be addressed at the very highest level. As parents and grand parents we can try to educate our youngsters, let them read of the horrors inflicted by people using knives, the pain and heartache each family goes through, not only the family of the victim but also the family and friends of the attacker. If they choose to carry a knife, they may not mean to use it but as we can see, some do and the consequences of that choice, the lack of respect for life, has been driven home this past week in the most horrific manner. 

I suppose I am feeling this more today and I have had to think about those I have lost in the past year. My beloved brother hung on to life for so much longer than the doctors thought possible. We have lost many members of my PC groups, many have lost their husband’s/partners and some are clinging to precious life with every fibre of their being. We hang on to life,because life is precious.So reading of the unnecessary futile deaths of young people, lives taken by senseless murder, has stirred so much for me as I ma sure it has for many. Life is hard for some. Life can be painful and scary and I currently have loved ones, fighting to maintain their lives, clinging on to this precious thing we all should value and respect. Life. So please pardon me if this post is a bit harsh. 

Until we start showing respect. Until we educate our young people to make different choices, people will die. Youngsters will be put in prison. All for the wrong choices being made and the lack of respect for human life. For people to be able to show this to others, they firstly have to respect themselves. Being kind, being thoughtful, showing love and tolerance to others, makes you a better person. Let’s all do this. Let us allow others their own opinions, allow them to share their feelings  and fears without judging them or without making comments that could hurt them. If someone posts something that you disagree with, let it go. It is their post, their right. Show them enough respect by allowing what they say. We are all different yet all the same. We may live by different creeds, different beliefs but we are all born the same and will all leave this world the same. So let’s respect that in every one we meet. Make life better and we may show those who think differently, those thinking about hurting others, that respecting yourself enough to allow others to express their feelings, share their beliefs and thoughts, without a come back,shows total self-respect. Well worth having.Showing  others respect in this way, you show the same to yourself. Your actions reflect you as a person.

I am not arrogant and don’t have the answers but I do know that things need to change in order for us all to live a better, safer life. So let’s begin by mending that old radio, taking needle and thread to that old shirt and most of all, to repair relationships damaged and try hard to prevent others from being damaged. Yes we are all finding life hard at times but can make our little part of the world a better place, by having enough self-respect to show this to others.

Thank you for reading x

 

Before this week’s blog I want to thank everyone who commented, ‘liked’ or pm’d me re last weeks blog entry. Thank you all and I am glad it touched some, enough to have them contact me. I am as always, very grateful.

I have been researching, for a new book I am writing and have been overcome with my inability to have seen, what has been happening to me over the past 6 years. If I had been my own client, I would have seen it, but I didn’t. During the work for this book, I have been able to recognise symptoms and behaviours in myself, that show the effects, of  finding out David had Prostate cancer and how this affected me. As you know, this blog is from my perspective, not David’s and I know, often resonates with other wives/partners of men on the same journey as me.

Over the past few years, my mind would flip between ruminating over events since diagnosis, David’s diagnosis of Prostate cancer, and trying to ground myself, to be able to cope with my conflicting, sometimes over whelming emotions. I would find myself re living the day we were told, the devastation I felt, the ‘normality’ of my husbands mood. As those who read my blogs  regularly, you will know how my mind becomes transfixed  on the ‘what ifs’. How the fear can show as abject panic, taking over my blog, my posts and my life. Yes the ‘F’ world would have a field day. I would pre- empt every situation as negative, scary. I would wane between depression and anxiety, showing very little of the strong woman I knew I was before all of this.My sleep was affected, I would be sad, then angry, find it hard to concentrate, have negative thoughts all the time, my whole personality changed. The shock of a nasty hoax, 2012,the horrid time of losing my publishing contract, through nasty lies by family: losing my daughter and my grandchildren whom I love,and then PC barging into our lives, all being shocks of the worst kind and leaving me traumatised by their effects.We don’t only grieve for those who have died, we can grieve for the living, grieve for the life we used to have,grieve for the loss and changes in our men and in our lives. Grief can bring trauma, sometimes unrecognised. and almost always un acknowledged.

A few years ago, some will remember from earlier postings, I was involved in a nasty hoax that brought back my horrific childhood, in a very damaging manner. The nightmares returned, the heightened startle reflex, jumping at every sound, locking doors, panic attacks, catastrophising situations. All the things I had fought so hard to heal myself from, came flooding back. Even after the perpetrator was taken to court and punished, these nasty legacies from my childhood abuse, didn’t leave me. I had to work very hard to get myself strong enough to banish them. I thought I had done a good job, the symptoms of trauma relented a bit but what followed at the hands of family, rendered me back where I began. Feeling bullied, inadequate, vulnerable and half the woman I was before these events. Then before I had the chance to deal with all of that David had Prostate cancer. All the symptoms of trauma were still very close to the surface and I now realise, were triggered again by events out of my control.Control is very important in survivors of abuse and I had none over the family ‘stuff’ or David’s illness.Trauma can change you, change your personality and if not acknowledged and dealt with, can leave legacies that can cause lasting damage. 

Over the past years, during all of the events above, I have allowed myself to be dictated to, bullied and maligned. The Carol Ann before everything that had happened, leading up to PC, even though stress and worry were already there, would have behaved with restraint. Handled all the ‘nasties’ in a very different manner. She would have confronted those hurting her, lying about her and made things right. She would have been strong and dignified in response to these events and would have responded and not reacted. But the Carol Ann after PC couldn’t do that. Everything became too much and she was back, in her mind, as she had been as a little girl. Vulnerable, scared and hurt.Her self confidence, being battered by a different kind of abuse over the Internet, shattered her self belief, self-esteem and she became a victim. Some of you on here would have seen that and all I can do is apologise. I should have seen this happening, I know how trauma can do all of this but didn’t see it  in myself.How did I not see this? Well that is what trauma does. It blurs the mind to the sensible, the positive and the real.

So why am I writing this today? Well today, after researching how trauma, shock can affect us, I began to acknowledge, how being told you or someone you love has a life threatening illness, can cause us to change.Can traumatise a person. How this was not acknowledged, not recognised and so not helped or talked about. We need to do this, acknowledge these symptoms for what they are. They are real and can affect all of us after suffering  a life threatening diagnosis, that leaves shock. Leaves us facing mortality and sometimes change us drastically. Trauma is personal, we are all different in how we deal with situations we find ourselves in. Shock often gets in the way of facts. Our thoughts can run away with us.They become distorted and I am not saying everyone reacts in this way, but I have read posts where I see this. Spoken with others who are obviously struggling and often feel bad about doing. As though they shouldn’t be feeling that way. One of the best things I did after or rather just before diagnosis of cancer with a little ‘c’ was, join the groups on here, for support. How glad I am that I did this. It has been invaluable.

Accepting the shock element of diagnosis, is so important, life changes, the world keeps turning but our life doesn’t seem the same anymore. We often allow it in our men, the changes in those having the illness but not for ourselves. We need to accept and acknowledge what this shock does to us and tell ourselves that it is normal to have these fears and feelings. That it is normal after a shock.For me it was like being on the outside looking in. Reluctantly looking in, An unreal, unwanting to be real feeling.

Well, as a Psychotherapist, leaving Carol Ann to one side for a moment, reacting this way is normal. It is understandable. It’s okay. It is allowed. You have permission.There are things you can do. Please forgive me if you find any of this patronising or me being pushy of my own teachings, just trying to offer some practical tips.

As you know, I write , I write everything, sometimes in the  past, some would say, me included,too much, but writing helps me offload, process and sometimes make sense of things that make no sense. If you can do this, it can alleviate some of the stress.

Learn to tummy breath so that at times when your mind runs away from you and you feel terrified, panicky, you can gain back control .Relaxing your breathing, Yoga type breathing, can stop the panic and calm you.

Face things you have avoided, tell yourself, that facing your fears will make them easier, they won’t go away,sometime you will have to face them, so face them now. Get whatever you fear out of the way. Avoidance never helps, it just puts off the inevitable.

Share your fears, a ‘problem shared…..’ Talk to someone, yes the groups are helpful but if possible, talk to a friend, a family member, feel okay about your fears and if appropriate, ask for a hug. Physical contact when you are scared and lost, can be so good and comforting.

What is the worst that can happen? You will cry? Yes and that’s okay. That’s good. That’s healing x

Nightmares are sometimes too hard to brush off, to rid yourself of how they leave you feeling. Again, write them down, read them back and then, when they feel easier, when you can convince yourself they are not real, destroy the paper used. The same with intrusive thoughts. Write them down. Look at them and tell yourself, that is all they are. A thought. Can a thought hurt you? No. Again destroy the paper. 

Don’t jump ahead, throw the ‘what ifs’ out in the trash. They are not needed and not helpful. Only face one day at a time. Ask yourself, ‘where am I today?’ Look around you, see the familiar and hold on to that. That is the reality, the moment you are in and nothing further.

Reality test your negative, scary  thoughts. Find a more balanced thought. Use this to tackle the task you are doing.Changing  the negative to positive is hard but can be done and will help you feel better.

For those who have lost a loved one, suffered the worst outcome and  are now grieving, some of what I have said might help. Grief, loss are both huge shocks. Leaving a person traumatised. I don’t need to tell you that. Even if you expect someone to leave you, as I did with my brother Tony, of whom I wrote extensively about last year, it is still a shock. So please look after yourself, be kind to you. Allow the anger, the fear, the loss, to be felt and then, I hope, you will be able to move past it. Not move on and ‘get over it’, I don’t believe that happens. Life is not going to be the same, it never is after any shock any loss but hopefully you will survive and one day live a life free from the pain. 

Good therapy, CBT for instance, can be very useful and helpful. You will be told the things  I have mentioned above, in sessions and be able to talk to someone who is non judgmental and good at listening. Give it a try.

I hope no one objects to this weeks blog, just wanted to give a little bit of help where it might be needed.

Thank you for reading x