Love Conquers All. Blogtober 27th.

My Grandmother—my kind, gentle Grandmother—has Dementia. There’s nothing smile worthy about that. It’s awful. It’s cruel and it’s quick.

Although she is physically still here, I have lost such a large part of my precious Nan. I have lost the shine in her eyes as she recounts the moment of my birth. I have lost the songs that she used to sing in the kitchen. I have lost my biggest fan.

And it cuts deeper than I care to admit.

But then there was today when I smiled my most glorious smile.

I asked my Grandfather how he was feeling about it all and, as usual, he lamented the facts. The love of his life was missing most of the time. Tragic. Unfair. Confusing.

I asked him if he needed some time away. I told him he should take some time away.

‘I won’t leave your Grandmother,’ he said, firmly. ‘I can’t leave her.’

I looked down at my joyous baby boy who played on his colourful mat, oblivious to the pain.

I can’t believe this.

Is it really possible for the human spirit to shine through this awful disease?

Is love really that strong?


It turns out, love really is that strong.

And don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

If they do, you tell them this story.

Tell them about the smile you once heard of.

Tell them about that sweet old man who refused to leave the woman he loved, even for an hour, because he loved her.

Love really is that beautiful.

It really, really is.



Goodnight, Sweetheart. Blogtober 26th.

An over tired baby.

He twists and stretches in my arms.

 I sing to him, softly.

I hold him close.

I kiss his forehead.

He smiles.

I’m wide awake, Mummy.

I keep singing.

I rock from side to side.

I gently place him down in his cot.

I wait for the protest.




A sleeping angel.

Good night, sweetheart.

Mummy will miss you while you sleep.



The Things I Loved Today. Blogtober 24th.

Today I loved these tiny toes.

My body made those toes.

Don’t you think that is just amazing?


Today I loved the weather. It was hot.

Singlet and nappy kinda hot.

Clothes dry in ten minutes kinda hot.


Today I loved my ‘Mummy Time’. And this espresso.

Yes. Those are little splodges of chocolate.

I know, right?


Today I loved this serving platter.

I know what you’re thinking.

Woman. It’s a serving platter.

But don’t you think it looks so beautiful bathing in the afternoon Sun?


Today I loved that my Husband bought our Son a pink bib.

I also loved that I caught the very cheeky baby in action.

See here for more on that.


Today I loved that so many things made me smile.

So many loves.

So many sweet smiles.


To Mummy and Daddy

I have an apology to make. To every parent I ever judged, before I became a Mummy.

I’m sorry.

I used to roll my eyes when you were late and I was bang on time. I thought: sure, it takes longer to get the car packed with a baby and all its stuff. So get ready to leave ten minutes earlier. Be more organised. It’s not that hard.

I am sorry. I didn’t know you were feeding your baby on demand, and when baby is hungry, baby is hungry. I didn’t consider you might have been attempting to problem solve on the fly. Baby vomited all over themselves just as you put them in the car? Back into the house for you. With that heavy baby capsule.

I used to judge you for being over protective and maybe a little too soft. Just leave your baby at the childcare centre and walk away. Easy, said me, who looked on and wondered why on earth it was so hard for you just to say goodbye as your baby cried in the arms of a stranger. She is a friendly stranger. And she is good at her job.

I am so sorry. I had no idea. Your little angel was crying out for their Mummy. Their Mummy.

I used to wonder why you were so worried about getting your kid home to bed right on time. Really. It is one night. Deal with it.

Again. Sorry. I had the luxury of knowing that every night I could relax with my husband and just be us, without fail. I didn’t know that you were petrified about changing baby’s daily routine, even for just one night. What if that one change meant that the next night and the night after, you would have to say goodbye to those precious baby free hours you craved. The ones where you’d finally get to really look at your partner and marvel at the beautiful person that once was your whole entire world.

I am sorry. I was pompous and naïve. And I suppose, I was a little cruel. Because you were just doing what you needed to do. And I was looking at you thinking you were doing it all wrong.

I now know that there is no wrong when it comes to parenting. We all do what we need to do to get through each day with a smile, just as we did before our beautiful babies came along.

We are Mummy and Daddy, now. How could that not have changed everything? Now when I see your child in pain, I think of my own child and my heart cries for you. Now when I see your child throwing a tantrum in the supermarket I smile and I-just-know.

Of course, if you are one of the many Mummy’s or Daddy’s reading this apology, meant just for you, you also know that I have to cut this apology short. And you know why. Because there is a small person in my house—the one that has my husband’s beautiful long lashes and my soft pink cheeks— who has just woken from his nap.

And he needs his Mummy.


Modern Day Mama

Imagine a world without the internet. Now imagine you’re living in it…and trying to conceive.

It’s a crazy thought, and one that deserves some time. How did the lovely ladies of the past get the job done? I can’t imagine the encyclopaedia going into great detail about what fertile cervical mucus (cm) looks like.

Last week, my Mum came to stay at my house for a few days. Now, as you all know, Mister C and I are keeping our baby making fairly quiet. People know it’s going to be soon, they just don’t know when. But this is my Mum we’re talking about. There is no point in trying to pull the wool over her eyes; she knows me too well.  So, I jumped at the chance to get her take on everything.

On her visit, I asked her how she had approached the art of baby making. Did she monitor her cm and ovulation dates? Four kids later, I figured she’d be a pro on all this stuff.

Her response:

She sometimes tracked ovulation dates and, well, shagged.

So, you see? There was no internet cm instruction manual. No frantic googling of two week wait symptoms. There also wasn’t much exposure to the realities of miscarriage and infertility.

Part of me envies her for that. The other part of me feels sorry that she missed out on all the beautiful things you can find on the internet, the things that excite you about the possibility of becoming a mother.

One of my favourite parts of this journey to babyland is reading all the inter-blogs. I can’t get enough of them. Really, that’s why I started writing my own. I love reading birth stories; being able to share in the moments that changed someone’s life forever. They really are beautiful.

I mean, I suppose there were books for that sort of stuff back in the day. I’m just not sure it would have occurred to me to actually go buy a book of birth stories though.

Nowadays, modern technology is king. This is the world we live in. And I am grateful. But I do always like to look back at where we’ve come from. It’s nice to know that without all this awesome modern stuff—like the internet—we’d still be okay.