At 4.AM on Friday morning Maisie woke hungry. I gave her a bottle which she quickly guzzled and she drifted back off to sleep. I sat watching her for a while; her eyes shut, her mouth open, her little chest rising and falling with every breath, so peaceful and perfect. But, there on her neck, red and starting to bruise, were the small but significant marks to remind me that everything wasn't perfect. Our lives were changing and being taken in a new direction, one where we were uncertain of the final destination. And just when I thought I could not possibly cry anymore, the tears started coming, fear being released with every drop that fell from my lashes.
The surgeon came around early that morning to see how Maisie managed through the night. He said that if we were feeling up to it we could go home over the weekend as we waited for the results of the biopsy. A part of me wanted to lift Maisie from the cot right then and run and not look back but the other part of me was scared. Scared that something would happen if I did. I was so fearful of what was going on with my baby, so uncertain about this whole situation and if I'm being honest I was doubtful that I could look after her, protect her, keep her from harm. That feeling of being the worst mother in the world was hitting me hard and I couldn't shake it off.
Once I was showered and had a cup of tea we discussed that it would be better for Maisie, and us all, to be at home. The hospital staff must have seen the stress and worry on my face so they suggested that Maisie's bed could be put on suspension just in case I felt the need to come back. So Maisie got her treatment line flushed, her dressing changed, the line in her hand removed and we were pushing her out of the ward at lunch time.
When we got home I was overcome with a feeling of needing to grab hold of and make the most of every day we had together. It hit me that I left home on Tuesday morning to go to the doctors with my 'healthy' beautiful baby only to be returning home 3 days later with a possible cancer diagnoses hanging over us. How did that happen? If that's not enough to make you value every day, to make each day count, to realise that you dont know what lies ahead or what hand you are going to be dealt next, then nothing will. I intended to spend the weekend making the best memories with our little bear, to see this time we had as a gift and to live these days blissfully unaware of what lay ahead before receiving the dreaded results on Tuesday.
The sun was shining on Saturday morning and after having some family visit we went to see friends on their farm. We had been meaning to take Maisie up to the farm to see the newborn lambs but never got round to it, so today seemed like the day to do it.
To our friends, making us a bite of lunch, having a ride around the fields in the quad and sending us home with some delicious home cooked meals may not have seemed like a big deal or any trouble, but to us it was everything. The fresh air eased my mind, the pace of the day slowed my thoughts and the company made me realise how lucky we were to have the people we do in our lives. For those few hours we laughed, smiled and felt like a normal family and I will always be grateful to my friends for giving me the chance to feel that just when I needed it the most.
The weather was still holding up for us as we left the farm so we decided to continue with our day and take a trip to Ballycastle and have chips by the sea. It was glorious. To anyone who hasn't been to Ballycastle beach it is absolutely beautiful but it is very difficult to walk across as it is made up a lots of pebbles and stones. So unable to take the pram I carried Maisie in my arms and we ventured out for a little stroll just as the sun began to set. As we walked I watched her little face which was glowing from the light of the setting sun, her two little white teeth were visible through her big smile and I could feel the warmth of her body next to mine. In those moments she was not sick, she was not unwell, she did not have a tumour, she did not have 'cancer', she was just my beautiful and happy little girl. She was perfect, my everything and I did not want this time to end.
But it did. Just like the sun finally set on that day, life as we knew it did too. Just like the beach which lay open, outstretched in front us uneven and bumpy, was the path we found ourselves on a few days later. Long and uncertain, rough and unsteady and not at all carefree.
Wendy.
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