Grin and Tonic

… and my universe shifts again

Posted on April 1, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

I’ve been changing nappies for nearly five years now. I can change nappies with them standing up, lying down, awake, asleep, in a car, on a floor, on a table. I can change nappies with my eyes open, my eyes closed, talking, cooking, telling a story, or just plain gazing out the window wondering if this is my two millionth or three millionth nappy. So ingrained in my every day routine, it’s on a par with breathing, drinking and eating. It’s just what I do. Occupation? Nappy changer. Hobby? Nappy changing.

So even though I’ve spent the last few months cajooling, negotiating, discussing, demonstrating, bribing, pleading and begging Poppy to consider giving up her nappies for the pleasure of pants, and been met with a definite ‘NO!’, I haven’t been able to envisage a world without them.

And then yesterday my world shifted on its axis. Poppy announced she wanted to do a wee wee on the toilet, strutted off to the loo, promptly did her business, wiped and flushed and sauntered out with that look I’ve come to know so well. The look that says “on my terms, Mummy. On my terms.” Two hours later, a poo was delivered with the same aplomb and we haven’t looked back since. And just like that I’m living in a nappy free world. I am no longer a nappy changer. (I’m well aware that in exactly 26 weeks and 3 days it’ll all start over, but I can enjoy it for a while!). I’m slightly at a loss.

I shouldn’t be surprised though at the suddeness of it all. I saw that same look when I was trying to encourage Poppy to walk. She refused. Point blank. Then one day she promptly got up and strolled into the kitchen with a backward glance to my dropped jaw that said with a wink, “Gotcha.”

I have a funny suspicion that I’m going to be gotcha’d quite a lot over the next few years.

Posted in children, nappies | 7 Comments

Retreating into Myself

Posted on March 24, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

They don’t call life a rollercoaster for nothing. You have a dip, and then suddenly before you know it, you are climbing back up the ladder of life and squealing with delight at the top of the world. Does the universe just work it’s magic sometimes without you really knowing? I really believe it does. Could I ever have imagined a year ago when I first thought up the idea for a week’s writing retreat for my 40th birthday present, that the week that I chose was probably the week in my entire life when I would need it most?

All the dips of the last year – lost babies, a medical maelstrom, chromosomal chaos – have been overtaken by the climb back up. I write this with the sun on my face (yes, the universe even chucked in some hot sun on the west coast of Ireland in March to prove it’s mystical magic). I have found a peace I don’t think I’ve felt in years. Even the six hour drive was a treat – I’d piled up the passenger seat with CDs I haven’t listened to in years, and belted out my youth as the sun shone on my road to the sea. I arrived on Sunday, and admittedly felt like the twelve year old who has arrived at boarding school. I missed home, I missed my girls, my room looked lonely and I was the new girl. But when I woke up on Monday morning in Anam Cara (Irish for Soul Friend) and pulled back the curtains, I literally stopped breathing. And I realised this place really was going to be a friend to my soul. The sort of friend who throws a blanket round your shoulders, bakes you a chocolate cake and hands you a slice with a large mug of tea. The view still takes my breath away. The desk in my room is against the window and every time I look up from my laptop I am still surprised by the beauty. The shimmering sea glistens in the crook of an arm of mountains and cliffs. I’m in the land of ancient celtic heritage. Mystical stone gatherings and folklore litter the landscape, while my own literary landscape has become as endless and textured as the mountains around me.

I write every day, and I walk, and I

talk with the other writers here. Even my belly is swelling with happiness – although more to do with the freshly collected egg breakfast every morning and warm baked blueberry muffins, rather than my busy baby. As a self-diagnosed terrible sleeper, I am shocked to find I have to prise open my eyes in the morning to break the seal of sticky sleep.

This is a very special place, and a vey special time for me to renew, regather, regenerate – to write and sleep and to think (there are so many glorious places that make you want to stop and contemplate life it’s amazing any writing gets done at all!) I needed this. So thank you universe for conspiring to make this happen, and thank you hubby for taking care of our girls for a bit so I can take care of me.

(http://www.anamacararetreat.com/)

Thanks to Susan partridge for your photo!)

Posted in writing, writing retreat | 9 Comments

TV is good for kids!

Posted on March 16, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Now before you all report me to the PC Police, let me explain my New Found, U-Turned philosophy. Before I had children I was one of those Pre-Parents who arrogantly (it has to be said) and confidently announced that no child of mine would ever be plonked in front of the evil box. Not that I had anything against TV per se – there was and is nothing more I love than curlng up of an evening with a glass of vino and Grey’s Anatomy. It’s just I figured that TV would have absolutely nothing to offer a child that would be so entertained and taught and enlightened by moi!

How preposterous us pre-parents were! Actually I was fairly strict at the beginning and the TV was never put on before Daisy went to bed for her first 18 months. And then I needed to feed my new baby which Daisy took great exception to and suddenly Dora became my new best friend.

Now four years on, I still have some issues with TV – I only let them watch taped stuff so they don’t get exposed to adverts. They get half an hour at lunchtime (although I have to confess in my pregnancy fog of late, that might have been extended to an hour when that sofa gets a bit too comfy for my weary self), and half an hour at bedtime.

So admittedly we all know TV is good for us parents – a little in-house babysitting so we can send an email or make the tea. But I also think it does have value for them too. At least, my girls’ current addiciton is. Who’d have thought a little pink pig called Peppa would make parenting so much easier? She’s fiesty (but polite), curious (and smart), sociable (and kind), loving (and funny). Her family are a little madcap but they also do lots of everyday things – Peppa goes to school, she loves her friends (and falls out with them), her family go on outings, they talk about stuff, they have lots and lots of fun…. and they teach my girls quite a lot! Now I’m able to say things like “well Peppa always eats her dinner”, and Daisy says things like “Peppa goes to the museum, can we go?” We even dealt with riding a bicycle the other day because Peppa had finally managed it!

Now everything I need to explain I can use Peppa as our perfect example. Admittedly English hubby is less enamoured and I’m secretely delighted that Mummy Pig is rather fantastic and Daddy Pig is a bit of a bumbling idiot……. but, his payback is that my little Irish girls now talk with a perfect English accents! Ah, how I eat my pre-parenting words as I curl up on the sofa with the girls. TV is good. Now, where’s the damn remote.

Posted in children, Peppa Pig, TV | 3 Comments

Fabulous Forty – Part 2

Posted on March 8, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Sorry – that was a long intermission. The nausea fog is clearing, but the clouds of exhaustion still hang low…. anyway, back to my list. My Forty Fabulous Things I Love about Life (in no particular order) Part 2:

The colour purple
The way Poppy looks at me when she is naughty
Lists – making them, colour coding them, crossing them off
Planning and organising…. it’s an affliction I know…
The crackle of a fire and the heat from the blaze on a cold windy night
A heartbeat at that first scan
When a little hand reaches up into mine when I’m walking down the road
My husband’s laugh
Daisy’s goodnight kisses
Stepping off a plane on holiday and feeling a foreign sun welcome me
Green chicken curry
Sunday’s at home, pottering in a sunny garden with the girls running round throwing sand on the lawn.
Disappearing into a book and feeling like I live there on the pages
Every single thing about Christmas
Driving in the car (alone) and listening to music (other than the Wheels on the Bus) very very loudly
Colin Firth as Mr Darcy jumping into the lake
Saturday morning cuddles in bed with the girls, all warm and entangled
My family – and the fact that 40 years on I still want to spend time with my mum, dad and brother
The knowledge that the first half was great, and the second half will be even better because I will get to watch the best show on earth – my girls growing up
The thought that I’m going to spend the next 40 years of my life with him and them

So there we are. The celebrations are over, the presents unwrapped, the balloons burst. Back to getting on with this 40 year old life…. and just so I don’t get carried away with all the love and affection I’ve received the last week, my girls know just how to keep me grounded. When I told Daisy I was forty last week, she was quiet for a moment and then looked at me forlornly – “That’s old. Are you going to die?”

Posted in forty, parenting | 5 Comments

40 and fabulous – Part 1

Posted on February 25, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Yes, it’s been quite a week. An extra heartbeat and an extra decade – I’ve finally left my 30’s behind. I don’t actually mind getting older, and despite what we’re going through at the moment, I believe my life is pretty amazing. So that is what I’m going to focus on. Here is Part 1 of my Fabulous 40 Things I Love about Life (in no particular order).

1. The smell of my husband’s skin, especially on his neck
2. The sound of Poppy’s laughter, and Daisy’s giggles
3. The feel of the sun on my face
4. The way the first sip of Gin & Tonic tastes after a long day
5. The way I feel when I write something good (like standing on top of a mountain)
6. Standing on top of a mountain
7. The smell of M&S chocolate chip cookies as they are taken out of the oven
8. The possibilities of life
9. The purr of my cat at my ear
10. Baking
11. Looking at my babies in the dead of the night, their faces perfect in sleep
12. The smell of bread
13. The surprising sound of birdsong when I realise winter is over
14. The smell of tropical sea
15. The memories, so many, so varied, so intrinsic
16. The smell of the pages of a new book (and even better, the smell of an old book)
17. My mum
18. My girls, my oh so funny, smart, loving, beautiful, astonishing, wondrous girls
19. My girlfriends, without whom life would be a mere shadow of what it is
20. Colour coding, lists, and planning – I’m salivating at the mere thought of it.

I could go on, but this burst of bustling energy is slowly fizzling out as the fog of nausea returns, like a curtain announcing the end of the play. Time to retire until they open again. I might just drag my forty year old ass upstairs and look at my girls as they sleep. Always good to do something we love.

Posted in forty, love, pregnancy | 6 Comments

First hurdle

Posted on February 23, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

A heartbeat. A glorious, furious, tiny, fragile little heartbeat. We have reached 8 weeks (is it only 8 weeks?? I feel I’ve been pregnant for 8 months!) and our early scan showed a beautiful beating baby. I know it’s still so early. I know we have a long way to go before I can breath a sigh of relief (about 18 years I suspect) but it’s a start. A baby step. A baby heartbeat.

And while a little heartbeat wildly beats alongside mine, my other wild hearts continue to run riot amid my nausea fog. Today it was my make-up drawer. The sight of my Benefit liquid rouge spilt all over my bedroom, mixed madly with my mascara and nailvarnish would normally have me hitting the roof. But today, I sat on the floor, and laughed. A hearty, heartbeating laugh.

Posted in pregnancy, scan | 11 Comments

Wild at Heart

Posted on February 16, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

I’ve been to the dark side – and emersed myself in some of the realities I might have to face over the coming weeks and months. But I didn’t like it there, so didn’t dwell, deciding for now that it is better for me, the girls and my baby to focus on the positive and take this rocky road one step at a time.

I’m having a good hour, so I’ve rushed to the laptop. (I should probably be rushing to do the ironing, hoovering, stocking the freezer and all those other neglected jobs but hey, I’m not feeling THAT well). Despite this being my 6th pregnancy, I had STILL forgotten how debilitating the tiredness is and how devastating the nausea. I must lie on the floor at least 6 hours a day, and then go to bed at 8pm. The girls have taken to talking to me with their heads tilted to the side, since they rarely get me in a position where they have to look up to me anymore. I groan a lot too. Not sure it’s as affective as the ginger tea, but I do it all the same. And as I lounge (groaning) on the sofa, the girls are running a little wild. Yesterday, as I hugged the floor they floated into the kitchen. How much harm could they do? Quite a lot it seems. They decided to do the washing up (sad indictment of my lack of energy these day that my four and two year olds feel they need to take things into their own hands….) I finally dragged myself into the kitchen at the sound of shattering glass…. it looked like the early stages of the sinking of the Titanic, everything within a little arm’s radius of the sink had been submerged in suds – including my radio.

Later, after I’d cleared up, I let them go upstairs to dress up, thinking “I’ll just lie down….” When I eventually called them for dinner, I misinterpreted their sheepish grins – their outfits were a tad Vivienne Westwood. It was only when I dragged them upstairs for bed almost dead on my feet I discovered their secret. Their floor had disappeared. Completely. In it’s place was a sea of clothes. Every single item of clothing from their two chest of drawers, their wardwrobe, their bedding, the (extremely full) laundry basket and anything else they could get their hands on. It was almost too tempting to just lie down on it, but I resisted and it took me 45 minutes to refold and put everything away. My pregnancy fog clouded my anger, and I had to even suppress a smile.

It’s like they’ve been let off the leash, their imagination no longer constrained by my boundaries and presence. My good hour is up, I feel the wall of nausea wrap itself around me so I am off to lie (groaning) on the sofa. And they can run a little wild. I’d say it’s good for us all.

Posted in pregnancy | 10 Comments

Swirling and Whirling

Posted on February 8, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Firstly I have to say thank you. Thank you to all my on-line friends for your words of love and support. And thank you to my off-line friends for all your hugs, emails, and endless cups of tea.

This has been one of the most difficult weeks of my life. The Geneticist threw up more questions than answers. My head is swirling and every time I try to think of something else, I eventually come crashing back down to this dark unknown road all over again. As those of you who know me by now, know I’m a type A, list-upon-list, micro-managing, uber organising kinda gal. Having what I deem the most important parts of my life out of my control is like not being able to wake up from a nightmare.

It’s not just that I have a rare chromosomal disorder anymore. In between getting the tests done and being called in urgently for the results, I found out I was pregnant. Delirious and determined, I absolutely believed this baby would stay. Three miscarriages was just bad luck, and my luck was going to change. And then the shocking news that it wasn’t bad luck at all. It was bad chromosomes.

So now this doesn’t just affect my beautiful girls, it also affects my unborn child – my dream third baby that I have fought and grieved so hard over. And this is what I know. I have a 40% chance of losing it. If I don’t (and these days tick by slower than purgatory as I try and notch up enough weeks to make it more and more viable) I have a 50% chance of having a healthy girl or boy (with my good X chromosome). But I have a 50% chance of having a baby with my defected X chromosome. If a girl, she (and my two girls who we have not tested yet) have a 10% chance of having fertility and ovarian dysfunction. This ranges from the pretty bad (what I have) to the bloody devastatingly awful (no eggs, no ovaries and no prospect of natural puberty). I can’t even take my head there. If it’s a boy, because of where the chromosome break is, they suspect he would have significant learning (and possible physical) disabilities. I don’t even know where to begin trying to figure out what I even think about all this. All day nausea (a good sign, right?) is draining me pretty low, not leaving much for this, the biggest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.

I write this because A) it helps to get it out, and if I repeat it enough it might start to make sense to me, and B) because I might be a bit distracted over the coming weeks and withdraw a lttle from my beloved writing world and women.

While I don’t want this to take over my life – I have two beautiful girls to raise and an unborn child to nuture – I need to take time and space to work through this. So please forgive my silence while I try and deal with this. The other possibility of course, is you’ll have to forgive my endless witterings – I don’t know which way it will go yet.

So thank you again, to all my virtual and physical friends – I couldn’t do this without you.

Posted in Uncategorized | 12 Comments

My Own Personal X-Factor

Posted on January 31, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Sometimes when you ask a question, you get a different answer. I think every person in the world hopes they are unique, standing out a little from the crowd. But now I wish I was a little more like every one else. This week, results came back from the various tests I had done to try and discover why I have had three miscarriages. Because I have had two healthy girls, they didn’t expect to find anything. But they did. Oh yes indeed. (Excuse my slightly manic upbeatness – it keeps me off the windowledge). I have been diagnosed with a phenomenally rare chromosome disorder. To be precise (and if I repeat this enough, it might eventually make sense to me) I have a pericentric inversion of my X chromosome. This means part of my chromosome detached itself, rotated 180 degrees, and reattached itself and is present in that twisted way in every cell of my body. Two days ago I knew nothing about chromosomes other than they sound like hormones and we all know how much trouble THEY cause. Now, I’m an internet expert, and still know virtually nothing.

Except this. When my dodgy X chromosone meets my husbands (perfectly good) Y chromosone when we conceive, we produce a fetus that is incompatible with life. And that is what they were. Three pregnancies incompatible with life. Which is funny, in that heart-breakingly awful sort of way, because I thought they were wonderful beginnings of life. We are seeing a Geneticist on Wednesday to try and find out what implications my ‘disorder’ (thanks, like my chromosomes are guilty of disorderly conduct) have on my girls, me and our chances of having another much-wanted baby.

So on one hand, I now know why I have lost three babies and there is some comfort in that. Not enough to take away my grief, but enough to know I hadn’t done something wrong. On the other hand, a whole scary vista of not knowing has opened up before me. And there may not be any answers. Out of 7500 people on the UK’s Rare Chromosome Disorder Support Group database, only 7 have a pericentric inversion of their X chromosome, and none have what I have. None. My consultant has never come across this in 20 years. When my husband said I was one in a million, it seems he was being very conservative.

And my chances of having another baby? My head is hurting from the swirling odds, and statistics and percentages that actually tell me nothing. But all I know is this. Somehow, in the chaos of my chromosomal catastrophe, two miracle girls emerged in a statistically sinister environment where the odds were not stacked in their favour. I have been incredibly, incredibly lucky….. and that, more than anything else in the last few days, is what has turned my world upside down.

Posted in chromosome disorders, pericentric inversion, X Chromosome | 13 Comments

The Green Eyed Monster

Posted on January 25, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Following on from my last post, I’ve moved on from Swine envy to child envy – from Mummy Pig to the Green Eyed Monster. Maybe because my 40th birthday is breathing down my neck like a dirty old man on a crowded tube, but I’ve been having weird thoughts about my eldest daughter recently. Up until now, I have firmly been the mother, and she has firmly been the child. I am the boss, and she is the bossed around. I have all the wit and wisdom, and she has all the innocence and ignorance.

But once or twice recently I’ve caught myself looking at her and feeling a little off colour. It’s not that my rose tinted glasses have slipped off – she is as dynamic and dazzling as ever. It’s just that there has been the hint of a haze of green that clouds my eyes. I’ve actually been feeling a twinge of jealousy. Is that awful?

Her life sprawls before her like a long lazy summer’s day, while I feel a chill in the air as I enter the autumn of my life. Is this normal? I think of all the life and loves she has yet to experience, all the excitement and energy she has yet to enjoy. Her life is like a beautiful map – a chaotic ramble of roads and avenues unknown and unexplored. Mine resembles a shopping list – things to get before I run out.

But then as I snuggle her up at the end of a long day of shared moments together (making collages) and shared moments apart (like this one, where I ‘do important work on the computer’ at the kitchen table and they play beside me lost in their imaginary world of Peppa Pig figures – life imitating art more and more!) and she asks me to tell her a story. As I rack my brains, she prompts me to tell her about when I was a little girl. And I sit on the floor beside her, stroking her long hair and I tell her about my eating so much chocolate one Easter, I threw up. I tell her about my rabbit who nearly bit my dad’s finger off. I tell her about the elephant that chased us in Africa. “You were chased by an elephant mummy?” I was. And many, many, many other adventures and excitements and experiences, many in far away lands, that have made my life incredible. And in telling her, I suppose I will relive them again. And I realise that while she has her whole life ahead of her, I have half of mine behind me and it is a map littered with roads and avenues explored and enjoyed. And hopefully I have another half yet to live, more paths to travel, unknown and unexplored, and the difference is now her footsteps will walk alongside mine.

And so I embrace that smidgen of envy and mix it up with large dollops of pride…it will keep me reminded that I must keep making my life – and now hers – extraordinary.