Miss Lilly's Birthday!

My dearest Lilly.

It's hard to believe a whole year has passed since the first time we stared into each other eyes. You were so tiny and needy, I became your protector, comforter, teacher, playmate & biggest fan. Your Mummy. This is the biggest, most rewarding and best position I have ever held and will ever hold for the rest of my life.

(yes, that is a midwives hand between my legs.. this was only seconds after Lilly was born.)

Over the course of the last year we have developed a bond stronger then anything else I have ever experienced. We know each other better then we know ourselves. You have taught me things I could never have learnt on my own. I have learnt to be patient and at the same time I have learnt what true frustration feels like.

I know what real, honest, unwavering love feels like.
I know what it means to be needed.

You continue to amaze me every single day. Your beauty is incredible, I love you more then any words will ever explain properly. Every smile, every giggle, every tear makes my heart swell inside my chest. We have shared alot this past year, endless fun and poopy nappies. Failed feeding attempts and plenty of crying (from both sides). I have grown from a 19 year old girl into a strong independent & reliable woman. There is no doubt that you have played a huge part in that growth.

You also have the cutest baby butt I've ever seen.

Thank you for allowing me to be the best person I feel I can be. You, in such a short amount of time have brought me an immeasurable amount of joy and wonderful memories that I will keep with me forever. I feel intense excitement about the future and what it holds for our family. I love you with every inch of my being, you are my reason.

Your beautiful smile lights up the whole world.

My sweet, sweet girl. You make my heart sing happy songs & I cherish every moment we spend together. You are wonderful.

I love you to the moon and back.. twice!

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL!

Breastfeeding, or lack of.

So, here is my contribution to the (Breast)Feeding Carnival over at SarcasticMom. Hooray!

I was pregnant for a long time. No longer then anyone else but it felt like a long time. I watched a million births on TV and saw the worst that could happen during labor & delivery. I spent time preparing myself for any scenario I could possibly face. I sat and thought hard about pain relief options and how I would handle situations that were out of my control. What if I needed a c-section? A forceps delivery? Baby might be sick. I felt confident that I was prepared for ANYTHING.

My mum breastfed both myself & my younger brother for as long as we wanted it. I breastfed for the last time at ten months, Mum continued to offer it but I refused and never nursed again. Not being able to breastfeed never crossed my mind, I assumed it was a natural process. Someone would show me how to do it and it would just happen. And this little person and I would bond and share amazingly intimate moments for many many months. I was wrong.

Lilly’s birth was amazing. She was immediately handed to me and began nuzzling my chest instantly. For weeks before her birth I would wake numerous times through the night saturated in colostrum and so during those first few minutes she nursed contentedly. For the next 48 hours she demanded to be fed constantly. I went to the bathroom with her attached to my breast, when I showered she had toddler-like meltdowns over the 10 minute wait for her boobies to return. But she was always so hungry and I wasn’t satisfying her at all. I gave in on the second day and sent my Mum to buy a dummy. The hospital frowned on this and initially refused to sterilize it for me. Eventually after some choice words from Mum they did it. This thankfully gave me at least a few short rests in between nursing.

By the time we arrived home from hospital Lilly spend 90% of the time crying, she was obviously in some kind of discomfort. The nurses and lactation consultant said she was just a normal newborn. My breasts were still soft, I had no pain, none of the full feeling that everyone told me about and when I told the nurses they said don’t worry, your milk will come through. It didn’t.

By day seven I knew something was wrong and went to see a different lactation consultant. She showed me again how to get a correct latch. I had a correct latch from day one. My baby was not the problem, I was the problem. I spent a lot of time crying or frustrated. I punched the shower walls and screamed. I was angry with myself, what kind of a mother can’t feed her own child? I hated my body; my wonderful body that had created this beautiful human being was the target of all my anger. I resented other nursing mothers including my own.

The nurses told me how horrible it would be for me to give Lilly top up formula feeds and how she would have nipple confusion. How I would jeopardize my chance of feeding her at all & that it would make my milk even less likely to come through. On day 10 Lilly had lost weight, I was exhausted and we gave her a bottle of formula. I cried during the entire feed, I was devastated that I had failed my child.

At this stage Lilly was feeding about every two hours. She would spend 30 minutes on each breast and after getting no milk would give up. I’d then give her a bottle, put her down and pump 10 minutes each side to stimulate my let down. I spent days laying in bed with skin to skin contact with Lilly feeding constantly. Nothing helped, it didn’t work. Not once did a nurse, lactation consultant or doctor tell me it was ok to stop trying. The kept pushing and telling me to persevere. I was exhausted, I was miserable and by day twenty I couldn’t do it anymore. I gave up.

My nurse told me what a “terrible mistake” I was making my stopping breastfeeding while my baby was so young. I wanted to slap her, I probably should have.

It wasn’t until Lilly was almost six months old that I came to terms with the fact that this was not my fault and that this one minor setback did not mean I was a bad mother or a failure.

If I could go back and do it over I wouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I hated the first few weeks of Lilly’s life and secretly wished it wasn’t happening. I felt so terrible about myself I couldn’t stand to be in my own presence.

Breast is not always best & things don’t always happen the way we planned. In the end it never made a difference to our bond. She loves me just the same & isnt that all that matters?

MIA

Ok, I know I've been MIA for over a month now. Lazy, busy, whatever. I will post something at a later date. Tomorrow is Miss Lilly's birthday. *cry*

The foulest..

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "foul". For most people this would foster thoughts of disgusting smells or messes. For me the first word that popped into my head was cancer. It is a foul, tragic and painful disease to suffer from and an even more terrible disease to die from. It is malicious, angry and dangerous. We can transmit our writings to the entire world through the Internet, travel to the moon and back, cure multiple ailments and diseases, control electricity and water for our own benefit and yet we are powerless when it comes to cancer. Cancer is foul, cancer fills me with rage.

In 1956 a young couple and their three children traveled across the world in search of a better future. The journey from a cold Dutch winter to a sweltering Australian summer was long and especially frightening for the youngest of the children, a beautiful blonde three year old called Judy. Many years later, I would know her as Mum.

The family consisted of Harry & Lydia and their children Matilda, Louise and Judy. On their arrival they began living in an immigration hostel inside large semi-circle shaped corrugated iron sheds. The heat was unbearable and as soon as Harry & Lydia had jobs they moved into a small run down apartment in a poor area of Melbourne where they stayed for many years.

Harry & Lydia had been children during the Second World War. They had experience severe hardship and despair during the early years of their lives. They had met as young teens and Harry had stood Lydia up for their first date due to falling asleep in his armchair. They married only a year after meeting and began having their children not long after.

A mechanic by trade, Harry found it difficult to find work with his heavy accent and strained English. Eventually though, through lots of perseverance and hard work Harry & Lydia opened their own Petrol Station. Lydia worked on the cash register, Harry used his Mechanic skills to run the workshop and their now teenaged daughters manned the fuel pumps.

Many years later and after become grandparents five times over Harry & Lydia settled down to enjoy their lives together. In the early 90's Harry was diagnosed with bladder cancer and a few years later with prostate cancer. Though these incidents were frightening for all involved he recovered from his treatment well and continued his life. Harry & Lydia traveled and did alot of camping together and with their grandchildren.

In late 2001 Harry was diagnosed with lung cancer. His doctors & family had doubts about his prognosis but he pulled through once again and went on to enjoy another fourteen healthy months of life. In 2002 Harry was sadly diagnosed with a secondary cancer of the brain, he endured a six hour operation and two rounds of chemotherapy only to have the cancer return in another area of the brain months later. Subsequent operations followed and again the cancer had returned.

Harry endured alot of suffering during his final years. He lost his independence and his ability to use his hands to build and create the beautiful dolls houses and other children’s toys he loved so much, there was no more traveling with his wife and family and eventually became bed ridden with nausea and pain.

During his final year he refused to stay in the hospital for fear of dying away from home. Hospice nurses visited regularly and his youngest daughter, Judy, spend many nights and days by his bedside. In the beginning she helped him to the toilet, soon after she had to hold him upright while sitting and eventually she changed his nappies.

I was heavily pregnant. At the end of October, 2006 I visited Harry at his home. He sat in his armchair and we spoke about my impending arrival and I showed him pictures from my latest scan, he told me he thought we were having a little boy. Exactly one week later I went to visit him again. My dear grandpa was nothing but a shell of the full of life and loving person he once was. I sat by him and held his hand, he never looked at me, he wouldn’t squeeze my hand, I'm not sure he even knew who we were anymore. He was thin and had started refusing all liquids, the thought of that last image of him haunts me, it was as if the life had been drained from him. That night, Harry passed away quietly in the arms of his life long partner Lydia. Do not be confused; his passing was not as peaceful as it may sound. It was excruciatingly painful and his last days were unimaginably horrible.

My dearest Grandpa,
It's been over a year Oompa. We miss you.
All my love. x

Henrikus van Susteren.
1929 - 2006

Weekly Winners.

January 20th - January 26th.

Oh, I think she likes me!



My bestfriends.



I am ignoring you Mummy.



Because doing it myself is so much more fun!


You can view other Weekly Winners at SarcasticMom.

What has this shown me? Yeah, I need to upgrade my camera!

Family.

I'm not quite sure how to interpret this weeks Sunday Scribblings prompt: Miscellaneous. For starters, I can hardly spell it. So, I've decided to write about my family, not my new immediate family but the family I grew up knowing.. and not knowing.

My parents had been married for almost two years when I was born. My Mum was a microbiologist and qualified high school teacher. My Father was a carpenter by trade but worked as a salesman for timber companies. After my arrival my Mother chose not to return to work rather to be a full time Mum. She was an avid photographer, there are fifteen photo albums of my first few years of life. Four days before my third birthday, mum gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He became the light of my little life, my Grandmother has repeatedly told me the story of the first time she saw him at hospital. As she entered the room I took her had and led her to the sleeping blue bundle. This is Aaron I said, he is my brother and I am his sister!

When my Father was nineteen years old he married a girl who was pregnant with his child. They married in November and Dad had left by the following February, leaving the young woman alone with baby Justin for the next eighteen years. Justin & Dad made contact and kept in touch after his eighteenth birthday, when I was born, people who saw Justin holding me assumed I was his daughter, we were so alike. Shortly before Justin's twenty first birthday and my first he passed away. His death is still shrouded in secrecy for me and I do not know the full details. The main idea I got was he had been drinking and took sleeping pills to end the night, this combination had killed him and stolen a young life, I have no memory of Justin.

Throughout the course of my early childhood my parents started their own small business which is now a multimillion dollar company. In the beginning Mum worked from home doing book-keeping and Dad travelled interstate often to make big sales. As the company expanded they purchased land, built a warehouse and employed other family members. They both still work together running this company.

I loved my brother, more then anything really. As a little boy he was very clingy and couldn't bear to be away from Mum. When he started school I felt an immense need to protect him and would enlist my older friends to fend off five and six year olds. He spent many nights sleeping on the floor in my bedroom due to his fear of the dark and many nights afterwards with our family dog curled up beside him in his own room. Although I loved him dearly he was annoying, ridiculously, terribly annoying. Over my birthday weekend Dad would take him and some friends away so "the girls" could spend time celebrating. These days, we have nothing in common and we very rarely speak. I miss him.

When I was sixteen my parents, after many unhappy years, separated and eventually divorced. Aaron and I stayed with Mum and while all looked good, my world gradually fell apart. I feel this is the time my relationship with Dad went downhill, I dropped out of school, broke up with my boyfriend and was just plain miserable. I then had the added stress of feeling compelled to protect Aaron from the emotion of it all. One night he came to me and asked if the divorce was his fault, I was shattered. The thought of his face that night still causes tears to well in my eyes.

During the divorce I found out alot of "secrets". It came to light that I also had two other brothers, born not too long after Justin, neither of which my Dad kept contact with. To this day I still have had no success in finding these men who would be in their late thirties now. It's been almost a year since I spoke to my father and as I said before Aaron and I haven't spoken in months. The relationship I have with Mum remains one of the closest, most important and most grounding relationships in my life.

Once upon a time we were a family unit, we were one and I felt we had a loving, happy household. Now we are just a miscellaneous group of people bound together only by past and fleeting memories of the way it used to be.

The country that I love.

"I love a sun burnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!"
~ Dorothea Mackellar

Now, don't get me wrong: I certainly don't have the patriotic attitude typically stereotyped to Americans but I do love my country. Australia is an infinity beautiful place, we have the best of everything in our own backyards. I love our "fair go" mentality, the idea that all people deserve the same opportunities as everyone else. I hate that we don't always follow through with this Australian value we are all so proud of. I hate that our indigenous population are so and have been so poorly treated and we, as a country have still failed to not only fix the problems in their community but to say sorry for our part in it, weather direct or not.

I love Milo & Vegemite on toast. Tim-tams, Kangaroo's, Koalas & the rest of our beautiful and very different native animals. Stubbies, tank tops & thongs. VB - the best beer there is, BBQ's and ridiculously hot & dry summers. AFL Football. I love the vast differences in the environment & our incredible multicultural society. Our health care & education systems, both of which will not deny anyone medical care or a decent education just because they can not afford it. Most of all, I love that John Howard is no longer our Prime Minister and although Kevin Rudd will probably end up being as much of a Dick as Howard was, at least we wont have George W's ass kisser dragging us into things we'd rather stay out of! I am lucky to have been born in such an incredibly beautiful country and I plan to do everything I can to keep it this way for my children and their children.

Happy Australia Day Mate!

Creative Frustration.

I consider myself a creative person. I enjoy designing and making random art and craft projects. I lovingly hand made invitations for Lilly's birthday party at the start of the month.. her birthday isn't until March. I measured and cut and glued and printed. I loved every second of it. I feel very unfulfilled, I realise that in theory I am doing a very important job, not only am I raising my own daughter I also have a very important part in someone else's daughters lives. But I want more, I want to feel useful but more importantly I want to do something that I love. I want to create. To create for people, make something that you will want and can use. I bounce a million ideas around my head everyday but I am yet to find my niche and with the lack of money flow through our household at the moment, I do not have the means to experiment.

The frustration is steadily building, looking at etsy.com makes matters worse! All these clever people. So, I'm still thinking. I need something to do that I love, that I can feel proud of, something for me

Fellow Travellers.

I do not know the exact date that my fellow traveller joined me on our journey. I had no expectation of her presence and so I did not search for her, but she searched for me, she held on tightly and our journey began.

I floated uncomfortably in the tub, trying to submerge as much of my body as possible. The nausea was almost unbearable and as I recovered from another surge of pain my mind floated back to the beginning. Then too, I lay in a tub, trying my best to deal with the unexplained nausea I was experiencing. Something I ate? I clung to this idea, afraid of the other possibility. Mr.W was nowhere near as afraid and he knew immediately. Another rush of pain, I returned to reality. I glanced uneasily in his direction, the helplessness in his eyes clearly visable.

Time passed slowly, minutes seemed like hours and hours like days. My pain wore on through the weekend, Saturday & Sunday came and went, leaving in their wake exhaustion and a enormous amount of anticipation. For 282 days I held my fellow traveller closer then I ever will again, I felt every move, every hick-up. Together we experienced nausea, mood swings, all manners of aches, pains and many other complaints.

Arriving at the hospital, we were ushered into our room. My own bathroom, a double bed, not so bad. I sudden rush of relief flooded over me as I made my way into the shower. I emerged after what seemed a very short time with an overpowering sensation, I had no power to control or fight it, my body knew what to do and I was at the mercy of nature. At 10:56pm my fellow traveller made her way from my body into the bright lights of our hospital room. We had experienced so much together, but it was only the beginning. This was the day that our real journey began.

Post inspired by Sunday Scribblings "Fellow Travellers" prompt.

Bye for now.

Friday morning Lilly & I will be on a plane to Melbourne, while it's only a 2 hour flight, to be honest I'm dreading it. Since we last flew together in October she's become mobile & now I'm not sure how I'll deal with a squirming baby on my lap in my ridiculously small seat, my knees pressed against the seat in front, my elbow touching the stranger next to me and a large nappy bag stuffed under my feet. Yeah, this is not going to be fun. However I am so ready to leave, I miss my Mum & regret not being able to spend Christmas with my family. Unfortunately my brother already made plans and won't be around for the whole weekend, I will see him at his birthday in March though. I will catch up with a few friends & indulge in a couple of glasses of champagne with Mum, hopefully not totally blowing my diet out of the water.

I've been lacking topics to write about lately and so hopefully I come home on Monday with some inspiration and things to write about. I should write a list of all the things we need to take with us, it was so much easier just packing for myself but Lilly needs a years worth of things just on the plane, that is nothing in comparison to what I'll pack in our bag for her. She needs all her pretty clothes you know, Mummy needs to show her off! So.. bye for now. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it!

I love you because..

You make my heart sing happy songs.



You were the sweetest surprise.



You give me reason for everything I do.



Your love is complete, unconditional & unquestioning.



I see the beauty in your eyes.



You are perfect, even at the worst of times.



You can make the worst situation seem alright.



You bring me more joy then anything this world has to offer.



I love you because you are the best part of me.



You are mine & I am yours.
I love you more then you will ever know.
My sweet girl - 12.03.07

It could've been me.

There's this girl. Woman I should say, we're women now. I've known her a long time, since Primary School. I don't remember exactly how and when we met but I do have alot of wonderful & fun memories that involve her. I remember one morning in Grade 3, age 7, giving her half of a best-friend charm necklace behind the portable classrooms of our school. She is beautiful & is a wonderfully kind soul, I can not remember ever having any kind of argument or disagreement with her, we just grew apart and not just once either. Through most of Primary School we were friends, she was in a year lower then me, I actually knew her brother first. They're born less then 18 months apart and he was in my class. After Grade 6 I went to high school & unfortunately the next year she chose a different school and we didn't speak for a period of time.

I chose my school badly & had a terrible time at High School. During this time we got back in contact and I started spending time with her, her brother and their group of friends. Every night we'd ride our bikes or walk to each others houses and do a whole lot of nothing. They were the only friends I had. She had a boyfriend, I didn't & I liked him. Secretly I was jealous of her but I still loved, cared & admired her immensely. During year 8 I changed schools & began attending the same school as my friends. They were not the 'cool kids' and being a silly teenage girl I immediately joined in with the 'popular' group. My old friends & I didn't speak much & now I honestly don't remember the last time I spoke to her.

Today I received a phone call from my mum. My mum is a giver, she gives to her friends, her family & complete strangers. Today was no different, she was giving blood. The nurse that helped her is the mother of another girl we knew from Primary School. This girl is still in contact with my old friend and my mum was given some terrible news.

My friend has Ovarian Cancer. She is currently undergoing chemo but nothing is certain at this stage. What got me most is that she is only 19 years old, with her whole life ahead of her. She may never have children of her own, she may not even survive to try. Such a beautiful person should never have to suffer the pain of such a diagnosis, especially at such a young age. I watched my Grandpa suffer a long battle with many different types of cancers before it finally took him away in November '05. I miss him everyday, but he was an old man & while it doesn't make it easier, he lived his life. She may never get this opportunity and it makes me sick to my stomach. I am angry, at nothing, at everything, at myself. How could I be so swept up in my own life and selfish high school decisions that I never even knew, I was not there to offer support, love, a shoulder to cry on. I was not there even though she was a huge support for me during so many things.

So much time wasted & I must make up for it. This weekend, I'll be down visiting my mum & I fully intend to meet up with this old friend and let her know we're thinking of her and that I'm sorry. Life is too short not to take notice, we have to remember those that are important, they could be gone much sooner then we expect.

Modern Cloth.

Tonight I am shopping. I am addicted to love online shopping. I am currently researching MCN's (Modern Cloth Nappies). What Flic? You're lazy butt is willing to wipe poop off, soak, wash, hang out & bring in cloth nappies?! Yeah, you heard right. I'm so over spending ridiculous amounts of money on nappies & making the ceo's of Huggies multi-billionaires. And if I continue the way I am, we'll need our own nappy landfill to hold all the dirty stinky nappies that will take the next two million years to break down. Ok so it costs me $21 for a pack of 32 nappies, we go through this in about 6 days. It's been 306 days since I first put a nappy on the cutest butt in the world.

306 / 6 = 51
51 x $20 = $1020

All she does is poop in them & we've spent $1020 in less then a year, that is insane. Well, I'm off because I've already wasted enough shopping time with my complicated mathematic problems, my brain aches. Staying home, watching wiggles & building block towers all day will make all simple school subjects much more difficult, they should put warnings like that on babies. Like the ones they put on cigarette packets.

These are not my plans.

All of my thoughts lately seem to be filled with a deep desire to revisit the past. I feel as though I lost gave up on, all my plans for myself when I met Mr.W. It happened so gradually though that I never really noticed, it wasn't a concious decision, but retrospect is always 20-20. I see it so clearly now. The day I decided to pack my life into the boot of a Honda Civic & drive 22 hours across the country, to move in with a man I'd known for only a couple of months, in a garage on his parents property, I gave up the things I wanted for me. Don't get me wrong, I love my life & my family but if I could go back, would I change anything? Yes. I would have finished school, met someone & taken the relationship slowly. But we rushed into alot and now I find myself feeling compelled to stay. For the sake of our daughter.

Last week, during an argument with Mr.W, I tried to explain the stupid little girl dreams I had for my life. I had imagined myself finishing school, working a good job. Meeting a perfect man who worked hard and was romantic, bringing me flowers and doing little things he knew I'd appreciate. We'd move in together, he'd help with the housework, everything shared 50/50 between us. Eventually, we'd marry & have children. Two, maybe three and our lives would be the epitimy of happiness. That was going to be me! Yeah. Right. Where I got these ideas abotu family from, I have no idea because my family was nothing like this. While there was never much fighting infront of us there was no romance between Mum & Dad & he certainly did not help with the housework.

Mr.W is not the man of my dreams. He is a quiet person when faced with the annoyance of people. He is angry, not so much anymore, but while he was working full-time, he was a miserable, angry man. And I was a miserable, depressed first time mum with a fussy newborn. This is where our relationship began to crumble. At this point I am still unable to let go of the anger and resentment I have for him, stemming from Lilly's arriaval and even further back into the beginning of my pregnancy. There were nights I sat in the nursery and cried, for reasons I cant remember but I can remember being alone and him asleep in the next room, it infuriated me that he "didnt care". But logically, how was he supposed to know I was struggling? I never told him, he had no idea how I felt. And for the first few weeks of Lilly's life while he had time off work to be with us, not once did he get up during the night and feed his child. I had high expectations of a man who had never in his life held a baby, let alone a fragile newborn. He was terrified of her & it took weeks for him to summon the courage to pick her up from her crib, but I expected his help. It was unfair for me to harbor these ideals and be so angry at him for not upholding my dreams, dreams that he didnt even know existed until last week. And it is even more unfair for me to continue to be angry at him for it, but I just cant help it.

While I am not living the fairytale that I'd planned, I am living my life. This is it & it will be what I make of it. I plan to return to school in winter, i plan to be the best fiancee & mother I can possibly be without continuing to disregard my own feelings and needs. I love these two people that somehow I became stuck with, the strong and stable presence of Mr.W and the crazyness that Lilly brings to our household. In the end, these really are my dreams, they have to be & everyday I remind myself to be thankful. They love me unconditionally, and there's not much more I can ask for.

Christmas Past.

So, I was so right. Well partly. I didn't forget about my blog I just avoided posting.

We spent Christmas at my 'In-Laws' home. I desperately wanted to be at home, at the beach, on top of Mount Everest for all I cared. Anywhere but there would have been wonderful, I would have even strapped Lilly on my back and carried her all the way up there just to escape. Unfortunately I'm not quite fit enough & decided against it. Honestly I wanted to be in Melbourne, with people that I love. My mum, my brother & cousins. The people that I have memories of Christmas with. I can remember when all the boys would want those 'super soaker' water guns for Christmas. One year my brother chased and squirted my cousin so much he was in tears for hours. My brother broke his arm one year, it was so hot. I can still remember watching the heat rise from the asphalt of the road on the drive to the hospital with him in the backseat recounting his fall from the neighbours hammock over and over, reminding us of how hilarious it was.

And the food, oh god, my Mum can cook & on Christmas, cook she did. Not the traditional food you'd expect, but delicious fresh crayfish from my Dad's home town. We used to drive down, just the two of us. Daddy and me, the week before Christmas and collect our dozen Crayfish fresh from the boats as the came into port. Then we'd spend the next day at our neighbours the kids all playing & our dads cooking crays and drinking beer in the garage. Then we'd have cold chicken & an array of salads, chocolates, plum pudding & mince pies. I miss my family terribly.

Mum would always let Aaron & myself decorate the tree but the next day all the ornaments would be rearranged by the time we got up. She was anal about our beautiful tree. It was color co-ordinated with green, red & gold. Mum handmade dozens of perfect gold bows and beaded strings, the presents were always perfectly wrapped & tagged and arranged symmetrically under the perfect tree. It was beautiful & I love her for creating this wonderful picture that is stuck in my mind.

We were very lucky, Aaron & I. Mum & Dad owned their own business & so we always had too many presents. We had our own heshen bags, no stockings at our house. With felt pictures stuck to the fronts. On Christmas morning, not only did we have presents from Mum & Dad & Santa but our stockings were full of pencils & c.d's and other bits and pieces.

These days I feel a million miles away from what my life used to be, from what I had planned for myself. I never thought that on my twentieth Christmas I would be celebrating my child's First and I never planned on being across the country from the ones I love. But I'm grown up now with a little family of my own, perfectly planned or not and it is now my time to create beautiful memories for Lilly, so that in twenty years she can look back and wish to be back in her childhood, just like I do.

If I can create just half of the wonderful Christmas memories for my own family that I have myself, then I will have done well.