I’m still feeling like a complete train wreck. Disbelief seems to be the dominant emotion, followed by rage, nausea, desperation, and then fear. Because if this can happen to Anna and Rob, the nicest of people and the best of parents, it could happen to me. Or you.
It probably won’t. It probably won’t. And probably is about as good as we’re ever going to get. And though that isn’t nearly good enough, that is all we can hope for. Acceptance, and hope. Hope that it won’t happen to us, and hope that someday Anna and Rob will have joy in their lives again.
So I am taking this opportunity to share some joy.
Five minutes after “that” phone call last night, there was another phone call, from Christine, Mark’s sister, Ella’s mum. Ella is going to have a brother or sister later in the year, and that news couldn’t have been more welcome, or more badly received – due to it coming so hot on the heels of such devastating news. We are absolutely thrilled that Inigo is going to have another cousin. Ella and he are exactly the same age, so this is as close as he will get to a little brother or sister. Unless something radical happens!
Secondly, our family has been tossing around the idea of a holiday, mum and dad, Adam and Sarah, Mark and I, and Alex and Inigo, all in some tropical island setting, with beaches and daiquiris and
pool boys relaxation. Yesterday, that became a concrete reality. Mum has booked flights to Bali, and we have 2 weeks here. More info here. It looks too good to be true. Throw in a driver and a childcare worker on top of the staff of seven, and I think I’ll be pretty happy.
And the other news? News so great that on any other day I’d be jumping up and down and shouting from the rooftops? Inigo is cured. No more reflux. No more antibiotics, no more tests, no more month visits to the expensive paediatrician. We have to see her once more when he turns two, and then probably never again.
I’m off to drink myself into a stupor. Goodnight.