Daddy, battle begins..

My fathers cancer has come back.

The battle begins.

Daddy had his first round of chemo on Friday. I am glad to say that this time round he has not had a bad reaction to it and seems to be doing well.

I know the road a head is long and we don't know what it holds but am here with you ever step of the way. Am so proud of you Daddy and I love you very much. xxxx

xx Daddy xx

In 2006 my Dad was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

For the last two years my Dad has been in remission. Now there is a lump and daddy has to go in for biopsy on Wednesday.

My aunt died of this cancer and I am scared that this time it will be worse....

I was on my laptop just trying to anything to keep my mind occupied so I would not sit here and just think about Dad, trying not to think the worse, that his cancer is back and that this time he won't win the fight. When this suddenly started to play..

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold

I was so shocked and looked around wondering how my laptop was now playing this song. Out of my whole itunes library, why this song??

Am not sure I believe in signs and if so is it preparing me for the worse?? Have had a good cry perhaps that is what I needed.

(It was Humph, he had found my remote to my laptop but still of all the songs it could have played....)

Love you Daddy, so much xxxx

A moment in my arms, forever in my heart.

Although this blog is about my life in general and my son Bob is mentioned and always a part of it. I would like to share with you now in more detail my little prince, my shining star in heavens sky, Bob.

On the 17th of December 2006, our beautiful little boy Bob was born. Tears rolled down my face and those of my husband, as we held our precious son. Sadly they where not tears of joy, but the cries of the broken hearted, as Bob never opened his eyes to see the absolute love that was wrapped around him. Robert Vesma, our Baby Bob, was born sleeping (stillborn).

My pregnancy had been “normal” and trouble free. The previous months around that time had been a bit stressful as I had been living separately from my husband due to the fact that my father has been diagnosed with cancer and wanted to be close to help and be a support. That had all passed and we were all together again. As a family we where looking forward to moving into our new home in the New Year. At the time we where living in a rented cottage, not ideal but after being apart for so long, it was just lovely to be together. My dad was recovering well and soon our family would have a new addition soon. Dan, Corbu (our son, 2 years and a bit at the time) and I were happy; life seemed to be going well.

Then late one afternoon something in me knew something wasn’t right. I knew Bob had less space now to move, but movement had seemed unusually still over the last few hours. I decided to go and have a bath. Bob always loved bath time and would always wake up and kick like mad while I soaked in the tub. Corbu was with me, playing over the side in the water as he usually did, but this time he was the only one. Bob remained quite. My husband came home, to find me in floods of tears, something is wrong with Bob I told him, he’s not kicking.

In a matter of moments we were on the way to the small local hospital. We were seen by the on call doctor, after 15 minutes of being unable to find a heartbeat, she called in a colleague, who was also unable to find it. The doctor referred us to another hospital, so we could have a scan. I remember her saying not to worry, that sometimes a Doppler can make mistakes. On the way to Gloucestershire Royal I managed to phone my sister and tell her what was happening. I hoped, I prayed for the best but deep down I knew our little one was gone.

Within the hour, the consultant confirmed what we already knew. Our precious little Bob has passed away.

The next few days are a blur. I remember lying in bed while I waited for the pill they gave me to work and to go into hospital to give birth. I just lay there curled up, numb. While we were in hospital, we had one midwife; she looked after us from the beginning to the end. I will forever be grateful to her, she treated us with such kindness and when Bob was born, dealt with our son with such dignity and respect.

I held my son. I cried. I treasured up every moment. A lifetime of memories in the few hours we were together. My husband took photos and together we bathed and dressed Bob. It was the most heartbreaking and touching time of my life.

I don’t know how I managed to get through it all but I know that when I looked at my husband. His eyes where filled with such love and raw honesty, that it gave me courage.
We said good-bye and then the long journey of learning to live life without Bob began.
Bob is always with us, he might not be here to hold and kiss, but his mark is stamped in every step I take in life. A little life not a little loss and I am a better person for having known my son.

I will always love you, my precious little Bob. X

A day that should be but isn't.....

I don' t think this is going to be a very long blog today but I could not let this day pass without writing something.

As I dropped of my oldest at his first day back at school today, I walked passed our village playgroup. My heart sunk, I felt a bolt of ache and sadness. My little boy Bob if he was still here with us, he should have been starting playgroup today. A day that should be but isn't.....

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of Bob but there are still times, places and events that can hit you and leave you breathless, the ache, the missing just amplified so much you physically hurt.

Today was one of those days.

I knew it was coming and yet it still surprised me. I know there are more coming but I have no doubt that knowing that they are there, that they are coming will not take the sting out when the day does arrive.

Bob, darling, I miss you so very much and I will spend a lifetime missing you, loving you, always. xxx

Poems for Bob

Today I have been busy doing some work on the Swindon Sands website. It is my local support group of the Stillbirth and Neonatal death charity. I am the secretary and a befriender for it. As I do it always makes me feel closer to my son Bob.

Today I was making a page called the Book of Remembrance, a place where we can put up a dedication in remembrance of our little one's. It got me thinking about the poems that are special to me and here are two of them:

Love in Every Tear

O precious, tiny, sweet little one
You will always be to me.
So perfect, pure, and innocent
Just as you were meant to be.
We dreamed of you and of your life
And all that it would be.
We waited and longed for you to come.
And join our family.
We never had the chance to play,
To laugh, to rock, to wiggle.
We long to hold you, touch you now
And listen to you giggle.
I'll always be your mother,
He'll always be your dad.
You will always be our child,
The child that we had.
But now you're gone...but yet you're here
We'll sense you everywhere.
You are our sorrow and our joy,
There's love in every tear.
Just know our love goes deep and strong
We'll forget you never--
The child we had, but never had
And yet will have forever!

By:Unknown

Remember

Remember me when I am gone away,   

Gone far away into the silent land;  

When you can no more hold me by the hand,  

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.   

Remember me when no more day by day 

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:  

Only remember me; you understand 

It will be late to counsel then or pray. 

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave  

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,  

Better by far you should forget and smile  

Than that you should remember and be sad. 

By: Christina Rossetti

My brother counts

Our little boy Bob was born sleeping on the 17th of December 2006. And this is the conversation I had with my eldest son last night...

We where sitting around the table having dinner when my five year old son was telling us how there are more boys than girls in the family.

Mummy, Hannah and Cricket the kitten, so that is three girls. Daddy, Corbu, Bob, Humphrey and Monty the cat (apparently Phil the hamster doesn't count)  so that makes five. The boys win.

Bob still counts. Yes he does. It is so sad that Bob died. Yes it is sweetie, we all love him and miss him very much. How old is Bob? He never ages sweetie, because he died before he was born. O' so he is zero years old. Humphrey is zero. I bet Bob would have made a good little brother. (Trying hard not cry.) Yes, I am sure he would have and you are a very good older brother to all your siblings. I love all my family, even when I get my own family. Thank you sweetie, we will all love you forever. I won't forget Bob because he still part of our family. Yes he is and always will be. Yes, I miss him......A (thoughtful pause) There are more boys, so we defiantly win.

The raw innocent honesty of a child.

It made me cry but it made me smile too. As time has passed friends and family don't speak of him and always refer to us as having 3 kids. There are so many times I want to shout to people that Bob was here, don't forget him, he does count. It makes my heart ache with sadness but Corbu said it all, Bob does count, he is still part of our family, if a five year old can see that...... there is still hope.

When I grow up, I want to be.......

Think back to when you where a child, even a teenager. Do you remember what you wanted to be/do when you grew up??

I am not talking about the silly things you wanted to do and changed your mind by the end of the day when you saw something better. I mean your first real ambition, that first dream, when you felt you could be anything and it was all still possible.

When I was little I remember how when most little girls played tea part with there stuffed toys, I had mine lines up ready to go to court. Trials and tales of trickery and misdeeds that only I could solve.I was the worlds best lawyer/detective, the Perry Mason of my world. To be honest I don't think I ever truly wanted to study law but I think it was where my true dream revealed itself. I could spin a good tale. I had imagination and by the time I was nine years old I had my heart set on being a writer.

My mind and heart never wavered from that ambition. While in most classes I made little or no effort, in English I excelled. Although grammer was (still is) the thorn in my side. I read and read and read. I would delve into books from all genres, authors and time periods. How would one know what type of writer one hoped to be or what clicked with you if you did not have a good background into all the different types of books out there. My friends would be reading Sweet Valley High and I would too but along with Mark Twain, Dickens etc.

Then when I was in my teens I had the fortune or misfortune depending on how you look at it on meeting a young man who shared my passion. We swapped books and discussed our likes and dislikes, shared our poetry and short stories. Till this moment in time I always thought I had talent, our styles where poles a part but I had my own special spark. It was stamped out.

Sadly being constantly that your friend is brilliant and not so much as a word about you can get very discouraging. This although at times hard to bare I could deal with. It was when my own family told me that my work was sort of good (sort of, hurt more than if they just told me that it stunk) but your not as good as......now he has talent.....

My heart broke. My pen fell to the floor never to be picked up again.

I have tried, the blank page just stares at me and any ideas that do pop in my head I squelch as not being any good. I still feel after all these years that the pen doesn't belong in my hand and I am too scared to find out if it is true.

Perhaps the memory of a dream lost is better than actually finding out it was never going to come true anyway.

When I grow up, I want to be........

Well I am only 30. I still have time to find out.