RED NOSE DAY

As a mother, there is nothing that petrifies me more than S.I.D.S

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Just writing it hurts my heart.

When I was 7, the reverend of our church and his wife, dear friends of my parents, lost their 9 1/2 week old son, James, to S.I.D.S.

It was heartbreaking.

James himself I don't remember, thought I'm sure I met him. You don't think to memorise babies "just in case".

But.

I remember the screaming silence of their house. I remember the "Please do not Disturb" sign on their front door. I remember my mother, devastated... she had loaned them the bassinette James was sleeping in.

I remember Alice... their three year old daughter. So very blonde...

And I remember when Elizabeth was born afterwards... and the machines they had hooked up to her cot that would go off if she didn't draw breath for a certain time frame. I remember the heaviness of unmentioned fear.

Paul Arnott, four years after the death of his only son James, wrote a book to help other parents who have to walk this horrific time. It sits on my bookshelf... a constant reminder of this dear little boy my family knew.

Two decades later, I heard about Angie's nephew Luke, who died at 10 weeks... only 7 weeks after sweet Audrey went to Jesus.

I hate how there is no human reason for these children to die. They just do. And it terrifies me.

Everyday, when I head to the cradle of my babe, I have to ignore the niggle of maybe this time. I know I and my children are not immune to the possibility.

No child is.

And that's why it sucks.

And that is also why there are foundations that are raising money to fund research.

Here in Australia, it's Sids and Kids. Since their conception, and the way they have raised awareness to certain contributing factors to 'cot death', the number of deaths has plummeted.

Awesome.

Their main way of raising money for this research is Red Nose Day. Every year, the last Friday in June is the day you go around looking like a dork with a clown nose on your face. Or on your car. Or, even, as they did a couple of years ago, on your house.

I am not making this up.

Since I don't leave my house very much, I chose not to buy a red nose. However, for the last three years, I have purchased magnets for my car, write James' and Luke's names on them, and leave them on my car all year. By the time the next June rolls around it's just in time... by then they have faded completely :)

It's becoming a tradition for us as a family... the yearly swapping of the noses, explaining again why sometimes babies die, but this is how we remember them and taking photos.


I like it.

For information on agencies and foundations in your area that work in the field of infant death research, click HERE.

Death in the Family

I've held off for a couple of days writing this, hoping that my thoughts and emotions would sort themselves out into something coherent. They haven't as yet, but I shall write anyway.

It's not your usual death. However, it grieves me greatly. My life will forever be missing someone. Whenever I think of it, and the circumstances surrounding it, my chest constricts in a way I've never known, and I weep, not only for myself, but for Adam, for my children, for my parents.

But most of all, for my devastated dearest brother, who's first child was aborted by his ex-girlfriend at 11 weeks.

If I'm honest, and I'm so glad I can be here, I'm angry. Furious even. I loved that precious little life. I'd never met his girlfriend. But I adore my brother, and he was so overjoyed to become a father. It's all he's ever wanted. I'm angry because Rob didn't want her to. I'm angry because, as in his words, "But what could I do? She didn't want it."

And he's right. She left him, and decided she didn't want it after all. He's in the navy. He's at sea the larger chunk of the year. He couldn't have contested it. He wouldn't have stood a chance.

And you know what? I'm angry because we didn't get a say. The aunts and the uncles, who were so excited, for the grandparents who never got to see the first son of their first son. For the cousins, who, while they don't understand, I'm sure will feel the undercurrent for years.

I'm angry for the baby. I've never known my heart and arms could ache so much for a child not of my own womb. I'm angry that we couldn't save him. I'm angry that even if we'd offered to have the baby, which we would of, without a second thought, it wouldn't have changed the outcome.

I'm angry there's no grave. I'm angry he'll never be spoken about. I'm angry he'll never be acknowledged. I'm angry. I'm ANGRY.

I never met him. I never held him. I never breathed him in. In fact, I don't even know if it was a boy. But it's what comes naturally, and I believe the Lord it impressing it upon me.

And yet, I feel the compulsion to reach out to find him. To cuddle him close, and tell him is loved, that he was wanted, and is the sweetest little smidgen to ever grace my life.

Babies were made to be cuddled... it is incomprehensible to me that he never was... by choice.

I can't write any more. I just want to thump the keyboard and swear. Loudly.

Rest safe in the arms of Jesus, precious, beloved, sweet baby.

Being a Responsible Pet Owner SUX

The other day, our 6 year old dog killed a cat; her second in as many months. Calcifer was the first. This second cat, we don't know who it belongs to.

Adam and I made the painful decision to have her put down before it became a very big problem, with disasterous results.

We consulted our vet on the matter, as it is only a very newly aquired behaviour. It seems that the dog we took on taught her to chase, and while it couldn't catch the cats, Ruby could.

She never ate them, and so the vet seems to thinks that Ruby was just playing with them and thus killing them by being too rough, or infact, she may have been brining them to us as presents. It is unclear wether or not it was intentional for the cats to die, however, unfortunately, it was the result.

As a result she has aqcuired 'the taste', the vet said, and it would only get worse. She caustioned us that if we decided not to have her put down, we would need to watch her closely around other pets and small children. While both Adam and I believe she would never, ever hurt a child, we decided that it was safer not to play the maybe game.

Adam took her on his own, and he said to the vet that he felt awful, because she wasn't sick, she wasn't really old... there was nothing wrong with her. She was very understanding and supportive of our decision. While she couldn't flat out say 'yes, you need to put her down', one got the impression she felt it the right move. She told Adam that 6 years for a big dog is actually a really good life. It didn't make him feel any better though.

So, if you have a moment, think of Adam, who has felt this very deeply, she was such a pretty, placid dog, and he loved her very, very much. The kids took it hard, but over it already, the way kids are wont to do. I miss her, and I cried my eyes out yesterday to the point they were itchy when I wasn't weeping. We feel guilty, but conflicted in that guilt.

We are grieving.

Grief.

Please be in Prayer for Pastor Greg Laurie and his family. His son Christopher has been killed in a car accident. He's only 33. His wife is due with their second child in November.

You han leave condolence messages here