It had been one of those weekends. The kids were at each other's throats. They were at mine. I was at their's. It's almost the end of term and we're all tired. Tired of the constant pressure of homework and commitments, tired of work, tired of changes in routine and circumstance, just plain old tired.
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Waking up to another week, another grey and cloudy Monday, I noticed a yellow balloon on the grass in the backyard, bright and colourful amongst all this shade.
Now balloons will always fascinate children, no matter what their age, and my daughter braved the drizzle and went outside to collect it. Maybe there's a message on it, she said, hopeful, as she opened the back door and let in the cold morning air. Who doesn't, still, believe that one day a mysterious message will appear, in a bottle, on a balloon, connecting you with someone on the other side of the world? I know we all do.
And as she came back in, she was excited – for there was a message on it. Read it, we said. And she did.
Happy 1st Birthday
To my precious daughter and angel Lucy. I love and miss you with all my heart. Now and always ♥ Mum.
PS Take care of your brother xxxx
I started to cry.
Of course the kids wanted to know why their mother had spontaneously burst into tears. And so I explained the idea of angel babies and balloons and my heart went out to this mother, whoever she may be. This mother who releases balloons to her angels on their birthdays.
I want her to know that I've kept that balloon. As soon as we brought it inside it started to float again. (Probably more as a consequence of science and air temperature changes.) But the fact that it started floating again brought me hope.
Brought me hope and restored some joy amongst all the tiredness and the grey.
For as much as the kids annoy me, as much sometimes as I want to escape from them, as much as they irritate each other, as much as they're struggling through all their own turmoils, my angel babies are with me here on earth.
And I should be grateful for that every minute of the day.
You do take them for granted. The very fact that you managed to even conceive such wondrous human beings. The whole idea of a different little sperm, a different little egg, would have been a different little person. It is a miracle really. Let alone that you've kept them alive for 15 or so years.
It took me, us, a little while to have Blossie (and I haven't called her that for ages). I thought she would never come. But she did. And she's perfect. Monster (and he still is) took me, us, by surprise. He still does. He's perfect too.
I can't imagine not having them. I can't imagine losing them. Even though at times I wish they would get lost.
I have no idea what this mother must go through, what she went through. Nor any of the other hundreds of women who lose their babies one way or the other, lose them before they even have them, lose them just as they are getting to know them, lose them through no fault of their own at whatever stage of their lives. My heart goes out to each and every one of you.
So I've decided, in honour of little Lucy, that I shall try harder to be a better parent. That I shall spend more time just being with my babies. That rather than nag them about clothes left on the bathroom floor or dishes left on the kitchen bench, I shall respectfully point things out that perhaps they should think about. But no more raising my voice and getting all huffy and cross. I'm tired but I can be a better person.
Not that I'm going to go all soft, because the kids can learn something from that balloon as well. They need to understand how lucky they are to be given a shot at this thing called life while many children are not. They can do better as well.
Lucy wasn't given that chance. Who knows, she might have been a terrible baby, all tears and screams, a bad sleeper. As a toddler maybe she would have been a great tantrum thrower, a handful. Maybe she would have found it hard to make friends, always in trouble at school. As a teenager she might have been all sullen and sulky, withdrawn. We'll never know. And even if she was all things things she would have been perfect in her mother's eyes. Her angel here on earth.
So we've kept that balloon inside. And it's still floating around the house like a little ray of sunshine. Thank you Lucy. Thank you Lucy's mother for, in all your sorrow, bringing just a little piece of joy into our hearts this week.
