She hath wings

Monday marks the anniversary of the day we saw a great unravelling in our family. The most disturbing news came to us piece by piece, in relatively quick succession. I held a newborn baby in my arms in the early hours of the morning, when the trauma turned to disbelief and shock and temporary almost- paralysis in my limbs. I was meant to be putting baby back to the bassinet after a feed, but I couldn’t move.  Later that day I would make a spontaneous request of a close friend to drive me some distance to say another goodbye, stuck in a nightmare I still, to this day, can hardly believe. She selflessly minded my one month old with a bottle while I sat in a room and waited with others. I hadn’t barely processed watching my own father pass away; I couldn’t bear to watch the final minutes, no matter how much I wanted to be be strong enough this time. Later, I passed my beautiful baby around to those who needed tangible solace. What a gift on such a dark, dark day.

The next day, the family needed to get out and to have some sunshine, so we went to one of our familiar haunts. The playground was closed, the car engine wouldn’t start and moods slumped further. Roadside assistance came and we were back on our way, with Mum taking the older two to a different park near our house. More ominous news came and I decided I did not want to be alone at night with three kids including a newborn at that time. I packed some things with hubby’s help, then got in the car before dusk with baby, heading to Mum’s where I stayed the night. By the time I went to sleep, it was all over. So began one of the darkest, life-altering chapters our family will ever go through.