I had no idea that I would ever be asked to be part of any media let alone National Radio, twice in a week! Surprised is an understatement shocked is the the reality.
The power of Instagram really came into its own this time because it was through this that I was contacted firstly by Radio5live for a phone in about premature babies and then BBC Asian Network to discuss my blog and caring for Arjun and premature babies.
Radio5live was relatively easy to be honest, not very glamorous, no trips to a studio or mics, I was sitting in my lounge on the telephone with a mug of my favourite brew! The call lasted about 10min hardly enough time to take it all in!
However, BBC Asian Network was very different. As a child I grew up listening to the channel, and often thought how do you actually get on the radio? The irony is that when I went to Uni to study English, it was with a view to being a journalist, but my parents did not approve, journalism in any form wasn’t on the approved jobs list, so I became a teacher. If Im honest, my heart still lies with broadcast journalism and after my brush with radio I think I missed an opportunity.Continue reading →
Ok so many of you who follow me on Instagram (@mommaupnorth) or on here will know that I am a great one for charity, to point that I am a founding Trustee of The Rainbow Fun, Harrogate Children’s Charity, so when I was asked once again to speak at the Variety, The Children’s Charity Crystal Ball Event I was both excited but very nervous too.
When you spend most of your time questioning what you, why you do it and if you are actually any good at it, standing up and speaking from your heart about personal matters in front of 500 people it is pretty daunting. So, why you may ask did I agree ( again) but this time on my own, well this is why; compassion, passion and humility.Continue reading →
I know it has been a while since I have blogged but the past few months have been pretty horrific; my Instagram @mommaupnorth has documented the majority of our journey.
It was only a few months ago that I sat with Arjun in hospital after he had been rushed in from school; vomiting blood, the medical term being ‘coffee granules’. Why? Because when there is a bleed in the stomach, the acid works its’ chemical magic to solidify the blood to resemble percolated coffee granules. In layman terms ‘congealed blood’. This was not the most alarming event, it was the sudden hyperthermia, his temperature had dramatically dropped to 33 degrees, which in essence meant that his brain was shutting down, therefore triggering a shut down in his vital organs.
In a recent post of mine I tried to dispel some of the myths surrounding Palliative Care, its definitions and of course the impact of these on family life. This time I must admit writing this article seems easier however more traumatic, you see the path to palliative care has not been easy, for the most it has been tough. Why? Largely due to some of emotional highs and ‘official loop holes’.
It was when Arjun was around four that we first were introduced to Martin House Children’s Hospice. It was a shock to say the least. Our first reaction I that of disbelief ‘our son’ would need to go to a ‘hospice’. Understandably, when you hear the words ‘hospice’ our reaction are of death, of end of life, sadness, suffering and general solace. This is a myth, these are the emotions and preconception we have of adult hospices, I’m not going to lie, these were our misconceptions too. Children’s hospices have quite a different feeling. They are about empowering families to deal with anything that they will face on their journey through palliative care and ultimately end of life.Continue reading →
It’s not all about religion or culture but also about personal opinion.
I remember the days we had our children, much like most mothers. It was filled with mixed emotions. It seemed that motherhood and parenting were about to alter your inner soul without warning or forgiveness and that now you were no longer the name you were given. Your birth name is no longer your identity but instead you are ‘Mum’ ‘mummy’ ‘Ma’ or ‘so and so’s Mum’. Or in my case ‘carer’. Culturally, I was labelled as ‘the poor mum with a disabled son’ or ‘the poor mum who went onto have daughters’. ‘The mum who should’ve waited before conceiving another daughter’. Continue reading →
There are occasions in everyones lives where you are forced to take difficult decisions, knowing that either choice maybe wrong and will leave a scar; neither choice is suitable.
We have been forced to make heart breaking decisions about Arjun’s care from Do Not Resuscitate Orders to Limitation of Treatment Agreements, why ? Largely to prevent there being difficult decisions being made when we are at our most vulnerable, emotionally aggrieved and mentally exhausted.
A letter for my brother
The last 8 days have been terrifyingly heartbreaking. I have watched Arjun writhing in extreme pain and my girls crying with fear of not understanding what is happening to their brother. However,It was not until I was looking through the girls writing pads that I stumbled across this to truly understand what they had been feeling; a letter to their brother.
I love you more than anything else in the world. I like it when you are laughing and giggling because it makes me laugh and everybody else too. You’re my best brother and no-one can replace you ever. Continue reading →
Bringing Arjun home was so frightening. We were allowed to take hime home on a ‘phased’ return. This is when you bring your baby home for SCBU intermittently so that you and baby can acclimatise to being home especially of your baby is on oxygen, tube fed or has had come other medical concerns.
When we brought Arjun home on this ‘phased’ return he had still got the NG tube in his nose. It was so scary. We were taught how to feed him via a syringe, held at a certain height above Arjun so that gravity would move the milk directly into his stomach. You had to be really careful, hold the syringe too low and the feed would not work; too high and you void drown his stomach which would result in him vomiting (he suffered from reflex anyway). Arjun’s feeds had to be thickened with a special thickening agent called ‘Tick and Easy’. It was like wall paper paste by the time you had added it to his feed. Continue reading →
Winston Churchill talked about his black dog. The way it would sit in the corner of his room quietly staring at him until one day out of nowhere it would pounce on him and sit on his shoulder or at his heels, refusing to move. The black dog, cloud, void whatever you want to label it, it is depression. A deep down pain that consumes your every breathing moment, seeps into your muscles, grinds at your bones and steals your appetite. Depression kills your soul from within. No one sees it, no one can heal it and at times no one believes it.
The world around you spins at its normal pace but your world slows down, similar to a black and white movie where everything becomes silent and only your inner-mind consumes you. You become deaf to everything positive. Every time you blink a tears seeps through and stings your heart.