tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80304133334135523012024-02-06T20:45:18.592-08:00Remembering Sproggy - Losing a Child to SUDCSUDC is the Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood.
In this blog we share our experience of trying to cope with our precious son Patrick's death on January 25th 2011 and how it has impacted our lives.Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-24771735263293414822022-03-24T09:50:00.001-07:002022-03-24T09:50:35.445-07:00Peaks for Patrick 3 - Gleninchaquin Waterfall June 2021<p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html">https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html</a><br /></p><p>June 2021 finally brought us back to Kerry and to Kenmare, allowing us a magical hike up to the top of Gleninchaquin Waterfall in Gleninchaquin Park on the beautiful Beara Peninsula. All through the winter and spring lockdowns, I'd been longing for those few days away. It's a place that soothes the soul. If your batteries are low and need recharging - this is just the place for that.</p><p>The elderflower was still in full bloom and here, in this little piece of heaven, we spotted some pink elderflower which I had not seen before. It looked so pretty...and as for the delicate scent of the gorgeous little flowers...unbelievable.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh80RqUvnLYO2SJFC7oESngT_Ir2nLJ-BqmbBKvfOu-bD34p6dKbFau2_oTlMwrsodIViPtBkO4YY0Ah6t6IbIGaRBha8PSLArq4f_tJT9p6Hhdpw0h-EGnxPDQ-aNBpjmbTzEWHca5MnDQrGCB29KzpmPqH83sa0EeN6cH2vs78Kp3s8rmESrETrEI=s4000" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh80RqUvnLYO2SJFC7oESngT_Ir2nLJ-BqmbBKvfOu-bD34p6dKbFau2_oTlMwrsodIViPtBkO4YY0Ah6t6IbIGaRBha8PSLArq4f_tJT9p6Hhdpw0h-EGnxPDQ-aNBpjmbTzEWHca5MnDQrGCB29KzpmPqH83sa0EeN6cH2vs78Kp3s8rmESrETrEI=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When we hike to the top of the waterfall with the kids, we always like to take the Riverwalk up. It meanders up alongside an often wildly gushing stream of water and the only sounds you will hear will be that of the water and the sheep baaing nearby. Sheep were Patrick's favourite and he'd often come home after creche to walk over to our portable DVD player to watch a few episodes of either Timmy Time or Shaun The Sheep - happily bopping along to the theme music.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjEVNoAgmgC0vNXes3TYEWafCcQhvRqMZ3EZgy1FzdwjLpyENeOIdBcj2l4WvyhGHMlXzg1yFsm43CPZhA0yNttu-tMzcDEi3fWdgsZuvyAVEWmoN42FaAw0xyoql0ruUoxJ9K_VG1iqHk8kd542274WOyutzLQtJBSkTMtZxetdA6gqzVHdkMF9rL=s4160" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="4160" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjEVNoAgmgC0vNXes3TYEWafCcQhvRqMZ3EZgy1FzdwjLpyENeOIdBcj2l4WvyhGHMlXzg1yFsm43CPZhA0yNttu-tMzcDEi3fWdgsZuvyAVEWmoN42FaAw0xyoql0ruUoxJ9K_VG1iqHk8kd542274WOyutzLQtJBSkTMtZxetdA6gqzVHdkMF9rL=w156-h88" width="156" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZ09jMCEnWGIm1eZBjQPytK-61Q1FI5f8_R9vOCG1pnNP_dT4sAqEKjxekxIm4CkmyzveiVTlSaU_OQC1b-69igzW0E7J3r5K-tcPpqxu8vOQmALd326DYh_Kc40T2AAXXuLLoMBlAYSr5wkdhcSQBb67vLSLF9Jv6YHFLB3FnhUfInEhtw5alNygj=s4032" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZ09jMCEnWGIm1eZBjQPytK-61Q1FI5f8_R9vOCG1pnNP_dT4sAqEKjxekxIm4CkmyzveiVTlSaU_OQC1b-69igzW0E7J3r5K-tcPpqxu8vOQmALd326DYh_Kc40T2AAXXuLLoMBlAYSr5wkdhcSQBb67vLSLF9Jv6YHFLB3FnhUfInEhtw5alNygj=w113-h150" width="113" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9nrpSfhfWVKbHunhFEFLYmfSy1aUeINOQAXpyiZLlEu_GltMPs8EFWEFPGCbHk5B9iqTKeJiqDPhdbw9JKOLVXQItPrjlbsdyc0QGODSClswN5gCc71L54z9I2T3J6TQDGLGKKXrxy9mo7KNoO31boLdLCHvzhekXXw-m1YCl3RGXU2BG8HBXTB0i=s4032" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9nrpSfhfWVKbHunhFEFLYmfSy1aUeINOQAXpyiZLlEu_GltMPs8EFWEFPGCbHk5B9iqTKeJiqDPhdbw9JKOLVXQItPrjlbsdyc0QGODSClswN5gCc71L54z9I2T3J6TQDGLGKKXrxy9mo7KNoO31boLdLCHvzhekXXw-m1YCl3RGXU2BG8HBXTB0i=w107-h142" width="107" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once you clear the Riverwalk, you come up to what has to be one of the most beautiful picnic spots in the country. Views reaching far down the valley, overlooking the lakes and the amazing Uragh Stone Circle. The light constantly changes with the passing clouds casting shadows onto the ancient mountains and valley below. You could get absolutely lost in your thoughts and memories up here sipping your tea or coffee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjaS9--MOlZG458iW6vSGSmEZdgLnA7kFrEr_F37TSaj0oFQeEuhl6iUTmGVOw06lQL1MIgU4Dl_JfWMtIUuF0TPjx5dn3BRhxd2jpZOda1jDkclUY59qvubyNRHmcr6p8ICbhp38k2pV2uJ5bBrrkLIt2HzfIJ5ju_9D34XOdkhPkz1cRB1vnVVwwJ=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjaS9--MOlZG458iW6vSGSmEZdgLnA7kFrEr_F37TSaj0oFQeEuhl6iUTmGVOw06lQL1MIgU4Dl_JfWMtIUuF0TPjx5dn3BRhxd2jpZOda1jDkclUY59qvubyNRHmcr6p8ICbhp38k2pV2uJ5bBrrkLIt2HzfIJ5ju_9D34XOdkhPkz1cRB1vnVVwwJ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Next you head up some steep steps along the trail. Through gates and over stiles, past sheep and trying (and failing) to dodge sheep do. You cannot really see it from the bottom but there is a bridge right at the top of that waterfall which, actually, gets even more amazing the wetter the conditions. Head out there on a dryish day just after some heavy downpours in the days prior. You'll be blown away by the sheer force of the water coming down the cliff face - with the goats and sheep just munching away at the foot of it...completely oblivious, it seems, to the beauty before them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1bc1LFPSztrjxMFZVrfZJqpbc05LbbCMvOjxtZq6POVI0pUVSs9kTtYNjNdtremGQriUdoAvRAgCtbuJj5zEKZO7geZ6WCVnzImJunW3TH3EP2JjDsgRJjwGP25pRxGccBwSDeQ3FrhuzpTr3c_YU0Ol4ghOuBWWSWyBwiIMvki6AK9wi2JAjsThB=s4000" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1bc1LFPSztrjxMFZVrfZJqpbc05LbbCMvOjxtZq6POVI0pUVSs9kTtYNjNdtremGQriUdoAvRAgCtbuJj5zEKZO7geZ6WCVnzImJunW3TH3EP2JjDsgRJjwGP25pRxGccBwSDeQ3FrhuzpTr3c_YU0Ol4ghOuBWWSWyBwiIMvki6AK9wi2JAjsThB=w210-h158" width="210" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUhsZlNf2MzrPNQw14pGEjt_S1xA641Cgw1NmECv1RdcZoMwCrC4f0nJEIZkonRzw7qBGu7g2bJi3XneV-nwFv8KxuHbi8Io5PsZFIj-6ByoN6LuLLzRMIuwGtUl4CPpX9MaYycfHqVF-JQ2KphbQ4K9Vuqmsw5peIBpgyam2_ZQmh2GxMZJHgPN7H=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUhsZlNf2MzrPNQw14pGEjt_S1xA641Cgw1NmECv1RdcZoMwCrC4f0nJEIZkonRzw7qBGu7g2bJi3XneV-nwFv8KxuHbi8Io5PsZFIj-6ByoN6LuLLzRMIuwGtUl4CPpX9MaYycfHqVF-JQ2KphbQ4K9Vuqmsw5peIBpgyam2_ZQmh2GxMZJHgPN7H=w212-h159" width="212" /><br /></a><br /></div>From the bridge you have the most gorgeous views of entire valley. A perfect vantage point to spot the signs of human habitation in this part of the world spanning hundreds, if not thousands of years. From the time of the people who built Uragh Stone Circle to the modern day farmers who tend to their sheep.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNpdjWubPr71YEtcNlKe1UrviF5OK2RhcC6VQPruykjCw5ZZ-RlEQhTIvmR-egZXt5m72hqDtVyZncv2-PNkQk5QDZhQn66qmw8dY1kwpQSNkD5fjyKm9-Dl66A69NPt2MTI3tquzk_Ub_0ndKJT5YAepSQ658UEreEx_d7AUv2vPkg8U3mkc__gaz=s4160" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfunkjI--YOw591OAXx-7N9tmkAkMZb_J2orhMA0A0JvKn_6od1Z1J-4K2BStV60Tarxt5HkihdcoQgQ0GsW7K4MYdGbH3JA0vYQj3F2X30P_syFi1gpZqbkVFVRINMWwfCU0_Dj47rdnX7Be-jy0TWB1n5lPzFRtDUxTn2N4MUxzFNrR7qzNqvSgr=s4000" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfunkjI--YOw591OAXx-7N9tmkAkMZb_J2orhMA0A0JvKn_6od1Z1J-4K2BStV60Tarxt5HkihdcoQgQ0GsW7K4MYdGbH3JA0vYQj3F2X30P_syFi1gpZqbkVFVRINMWwfCU0_Dj47rdnX7Be-jy0TWB1n5lPzFRtDUxTn2N4MUxzFNrR7qzNqvSgr=w174-h131" width="174" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="4160" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNpdjWubPr71YEtcNlKe1UrviF5OK2RhcC6VQPruykjCw5ZZ-RlEQhTIvmR-egZXt5m72hqDtVyZncv2-PNkQk5QDZhQn66qmw8dY1kwpQSNkD5fjyKm9-Dl66A69NPt2MTI3tquzk_Ub_0ndKJT5YAepSQ658UEreEx_d7AUv2vPkg8U3mkc__gaz=w233-h131" width="233" /></div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBNgyEVkKXiuT10_DtC47erW4IQ5CLAKFENVIx21UMJ1AM9sJdyV9TbTqfJt7n-iAeYebDM9mPXFT41GnJsk8l0_64a2yV70v7Dh5HEZKoUrTvo0F0wSBxM9PEwRU-Ruixi-IoyUV-0DtR9vabQ7ndQPF640AvE_5Su5esiiuz469Um2d0PWyCDJzZ=s3975" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1450" data-original-width="3975" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBNgyEVkKXiuT10_DtC47erW4IQ5CLAKFENVIx21UMJ1AM9sJdyV9TbTqfJt7n-iAeYebDM9mPXFT41GnJsk8l0_64a2yV70v7Dh5HEZKoUrTvo0F0wSBxM9PEwRU-Ruixi-IoyUV-0DtR9vabQ7ndQPF640AvE_5Su5esiiuz469Um2d0PWyCDJzZ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The trail leads on after the bridge and down the other side towards Cummeenadillure Lough but as that's a bit tricky to navigate for smaller legs in places, we tend to walk back the way we came and stop by the bottom of the waterfall at one of the picnic benches for another break.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-trcVaL8-DnxeEaEA85wwTtRNWCC5juxsl2TebBiQlgMu3Xz7Tixqx__E9X79qc8FqQ0KkJGoBhUuPQxbkdrh3lMdSM_vVMdR89O_rcDskGDoOMhE7t4RN3syBcZ4zB9-2Y8cuPG3HSaYoDnCXiZzY--PcNscTQxlICWIOIi5fFyVXHijdmUTeskV=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-trcVaL8-DnxeEaEA85wwTtRNWCC5juxsl2TebBiQlgMu3Xz7Tixqx__E9X79qc8FqQ0KkJGoBhUuPQxbkdrh3lMdSM_vVMdR89O_rcDskGDoOMhE7t4RN3syBcZ4zB9-2Y8cuPG3HSaYoDnCXiZzY--PcNscTQxlICWIOIi5fFyVXHijdmUTeskV=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once fuelled up on sandwiches, Rich Teas and Tea, on we go to join the Heritage Trail with a short excursion up to Cummeenadillure Lough - a deep, black lake which someone living in the valley at the time once described to me as one of those Thin Places...a place where the veil between this and the next world is particularly thin; a place where one can walk in both worlds. Standing there, in this quiet, rugged and remote place, it somehow just makes sense. It truly feels other-worldly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUAc-EQUOxUmrk7Ez2Ret1UI_JD_-18BtLHrtccnANRm3ygYp1SInUv63DuvGfSUBAOKW1Sja_SBMOk6GnVaKbhDL1z3fJcwV7vDPXWOmkXlqwX6lNjYV1AtBCdRGNXZG11LkiLw9omXcHFwm3CgMjYlIcdy6_xuvnn7xfx1b6fhsSpPMG3q81BrnI=s4160" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="4160" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUAc-EQUOxUmrk7Ez2Ret1UI_JD_-18BtLHrtccnANRm3ygYp1SInUv63DuvGfSUBAOKW1Sja_SBMOk6GnVaKbhDL1z3fJcwV7vDPXWOmkXlqwX6lNjYV1AtBCdRGNXZG11LkiLw9omXcHFwm3CgMjYlIcdy6_xuvnn7xfx1b6fhsSpPMG3q81BrnI=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Along the Heritage Trail, the kids always enjoy exploring the old famine cottage while I, time and time again, feel humbled as I ponder the decimation of the valley's inhabitants in the times of the Famine. Life must have been incredibly hard in those days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcnIQfqKyI1LFbxJuisYxE2tHGykTFGmz3wT0q-UwaA-c-XAFfEA4LJw7b5pCWTEF8xoYgtGbPCtu0567AXV38MvsBBUaAxV8RYdEvdjRfwMzf6uGettJiwAe_yinP7xr3ieY16b01Kwhptwl5yYCFWieFOHsqUB5t7OB22LHVHFuYYPnyV-ALIo3v=s4160" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcnIQfqKyI1LFbxJuisYxE2tHGykTFGmz3wT0q-UwaA-c-XAFfEA4LJw7b5pCWTEF8xoYgtGbPCtu0567AXV38MvsBBUaAxV8RYdEvdjRfwMzf6uGettJiwAe_yinP7xr3ieY16b01Kwhptwl5yYCFWieFOHsqUB5t7OB22LHVHFuYYPnyV-ALIo3v=w252-h189" width="252" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The path then leads us back down and across the fields where you walk among the sheep and beside the streams back to the car park with the waterfall in perfect view all along the way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRG7qMKAjx778azMZW2q23fiqWTJ6MWN8p1S19T3c4Q972kEWqXPCt-rBM4pFT-0dEJcaFDk0l9aQ3cuyA-mNwTQwqbZxBY4LfIpLUQVIELy8BQ6b32WW16GtdxBENF8c06apjnKIHPnmhRC7c9iyZh-IcNFKqJXmxZ2cu-KhfLt-IsEvY4h-XxDUo=s4160" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="4160" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRG7qMKAjx778azMZW2q23fiqWTJ6MWN8p1S19T3c4Q972kEWqXPCt-rBM4pFT-0dEJcaFDk0l9aQ3cuyA-mNwTQwqbZxBY4LfIpLUQVIELy8BQ6b32WW16GtdxBENF8c06apjnKIHPnmhRC7c9iyZh-IcNFKqJXmxZ2cu-KhfLt-IsEvY4h-XxDUo=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Gleninchaquin, for me at least, is a little piece of heaven on earth. It's the atmosphere, the quiet (apart from the sounds of gushing water, birds and sheep) and the scenery (and so much more) that make it so special. I am sure Patrick would have loved it here and so every time I come back, I carry him close to my heart as I walk those trails and listen to the sheep baaing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div><i>Whenever it rains</i></div><div><i>I'll open up my hands</i></div><div><i>And whisper your name</i></div><div><i>Alone you stand</i></div><div><i>Though you're not coming back for you we are strong</i></div><div><i>Though you're not coming back you will live on</i></div><div><i><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Barry Murphy "Alone You Stand"</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Kudos to the kids for sticking with us up and down hills with relatively minor complaining....!</div><div> <div><p></p></div></div></div></div></div>Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-15670009749941139612022-03-02T09:11:00.002-08:002022-03-02T23:21:06.747-08:00Peaks for Patrick 2 - Kerry Way Derrycunnihy Church to Lord Brandon's Cottage 28 May 2021<p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html">https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html</a><br /></p><p>Not as much of a peak but an amazingly beautiful stretch of the stunning Kerry Way on a sunny day in May. The previous day was my birthday on which we did the Liscannor to Cliffs of Moher cliff walk...In pouring rain that (rather unsurprisingly for Ireland) got worse and worse as my mood nose dived. Soaked through to the skin, I refused to walk back to the car and insisted on a taxi which the good people at the visitor centre kindly arranged for us. Our hike the following day more than made up for it though!</p><p>Starting out at Derrycunnihy Church just before the famous Ladies View, we descended down the hill through some ancient oak woods. Over streams and along boardwalks we strolled along to the sound of the water gurgling and the birds chirping in the warm early summer sun. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaoIvGG559qS-oaI9Pmchoh3zcRtbS78eel6BOaDF2wdiPL9itgBYJ-nhhM775x3cUoyml0ivCRZ0zdNhTqDl4GOvT6yUicNhz5YjiiKYp1XRy9maWMJFJSbegUUehDT8FRMLzt2sNnkd_77nZr4ufXh4a_XK3kGkqFT3JrSZJWbv5_lhv3fv7WAEq=s4032" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaoIvGG559qS-oaI9Pmchoh3zcRtbS78eel6BOaDF2wdiPL9itgBYJ-nhhM775x3cUoyml0ivCRZ0zdNhTqDl4GOvT6yUicNhz5YjiiKYp1XRy9maWMJFJSbegUUehDT8FRMLzt2sNnkd_77nZr4ufXh4a_XK3kGkqFT3JrSZJWbv5_lhv3fv7WAEq=w183-h138" width="183" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhARDhrk70vI7Vks7VanvHLqdvb_aycCvCTUWRMmLUBv63EHnUQxAGeTRnqErEzplNspfaAZvaiScSOCBjhLxJim2E-NEtUMW9t-NRlXdHE17nc8xlfU4pielgg-GrW-djvAw_33ty7oPQ2lHW-xASkDzbtbKNfLUn8lVZOzIDaVlxgSSjLxLMGlf4A=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhARDhrk70vI7Vks7VanvHLqdvb_aycCvCTUWRMmLUBv63EHnUQxAGeTRnqErEzplNspfaAZvaiScSOCBjhLxJim2E-NEtUMW9t-NRlXdHE17nc8xlfU4pielgg-GrW-djvAw_33ty7oPQ2lHW-xASkDzbtbKNfLUn8lVZOzIDaVlxgSSjLxLMGlf4A=w189-h141" width="189" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>This is an out and back walk that is really enjoyable but probably tends to get muddy in places during the wetter months. The boardwalks help - as will good hiking boots. It was lovely to take our time to notice the beauty of nature around us.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTj3rioP8VV2OLJht6CzxIsh-_Zd5ZK_4u2289mRhD8TT5Wwk995uuLBHjrgqjSneRg8O9iYOVqxuPyOrAdgHC94Mvfltjm8NgwEIoRqv2VkPk0qL4f5lO702C47DTtG2h_N0hA40o4eqS5gcYQrlbSf9j2aDXsaH6RrNk7kHklrcU8N38M-y-8cfl=s4000" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTj3rioP8VV2OLJht6CzxIsh-_Zd5ZK_4u2289mRhD8TT5Wwk995uuLBHjrgqjSneRg8O9iYOVqxuPyOrAdgHC94Mvfltjm8NgwEIoRqv2VkPk0qL4f5lO702C47DTtG2h_N0hA40o4eqS5gcYQrlbSf9j2aDXsaH6RrNk7kHklrcU8N38M-y-8cfl=w259-h194" width="259" /></a></div>There were traces of the people that used to live there a long time ago. Some time, someone built this house, raised a family there maybe. The air would have been filled with children laughing and the smell of the fire going. I often ask myself: <i>Who lived there? Did they have a good life? What became of them? Why did they leave?</i> <i>Does anyone remember them still today?</i><div>The thought of people getting lost and forgotten in time is something that makes me a little sad. Knowing that eventually Patrick will be forgotten is something I struggle with even though I know it is envitable. His existence will some day be reduced to the few lines on his headstone with only occasionally someone stopping and wondering who he was and why he died so young. We do our best to keep his memory alive - hopefully these written records of us writing his name and telling his story will help our children and (please God) grand-children remember him.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Now, nature has taken back what was hers. There is a tree growing out of the wall of the cottage that strong hands built so many years ago. The people who lived there are long gone. I do hope someone in the area or even further afield remembers them. Maybe someone who traced their ancestors back to this spot. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>And what a beautiful spot it was. The walk rewarded us with stunning views of the Macgillicuddy Reeks. There were deer and streams and I wish we could have taken even more time immersing ourselves in our surroundings. Alas, we were on a deadline to be back to pick up the kids from afterschool so had to keep a beady eye on the time along our way.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTvTdG3xLGxgzXf25Z-GFkSSL3PvGOUUFcE15bmNNH3zWWDRPbA8wCxiGqDUm8zHWESp-IcBr56mMyyIuncGZXjJpOUXnYDPXbV1gpWQjm4TlADgH0gmsy-ak0CXHihSfz9g721zGypDPZjVZDw4TtPe90RN_Sx4p-YSuNjYB3njFDEepLPgDNqrHW=s4000" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTvTdG3xLGxgzXf25Z-GFkSSL3PvGOUUFcE15bmNNH3zWWDRPbA8wCxiGqDUm8zHWESp-IcBr56mMyyIuncGZXjJpOUXnYDPXbV1gpWQjm4TlADgH0gmsy-ak0CXHihSfz9g721zGypDPZjVZDw4TtPe90RN_Sx4p-YSuNjYB3njFDEepLPgDNqrHW=w182-h137" width="182" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_mOIS8bXRMNDmXv8SkEzCVFc5jEgclmHzw6EyZWhq_ngal9gPY_ah9VdG5AT23Xi4xrFR8_xAF61HvOf3jCHD8_8DedSdmVv7VoPVXm1VFxvc2HS7A3g9opehYAaYn8Pox4SRKS0IIaEXwWMcYOY4aQgPA6EojuKrBZfgAymNUfs0wJE6-Z3SqbV4=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_mOIS8bXRMNDmXv8SkEzCVFc5jEgclmHzw6EyZWhq_ngal9gPY_ah9VdG5AT23Xi4xrFR8_xAF61HvOf3jCHD8_8DedSdmVv7VoPVXm1VFxvc2HS7A3g9opehYAaYn8Pox4SRKS0IIaEXwWMcYOY4aQgPA6EojuKrBZfgAymNUfs0wJE6-Z3SqbV4=w189-h141" width="189" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We had our lunch at Lord Brandon's Cottage. Probably normally very busy with tourists from abroad, it was rather quiet given the ongoing travel restrictions. We had our pick of any of the lovely picnic benches and no queue to delay our getting a cool drink and something sweet to go with our packed lunch. The staff are very friendly and while the Cash Only policy (mainly due to the very poor internet connection) might catch some people by surprise, they are prepared for that and will seemingly often hand out self addressed envelopes for people to send the money later. A very decent thing to do and hopefully folks are honest enough to actually post what they owe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhutQdeRVvFxUzlbdIr90iYRYbhhGE0S4cb8nbSZdFwsRIb2Ibm0EobGpHfdJnj6w6TkTKbeyItZ40z14t7iLqzkKyaCY-5741qE3p9A81s6cpxY4v3pCIwSEWv7fcs--b0Tjuu72t3d61OU8lTABIw82bFCHEWAF3jNDwP7b_RcrpswflcPQQCvCnl=s4000" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhutQdeRVvFxUzlbdIr90iYRYbhhGE0S4cb8nbSZdFwsRIb2Ibm0EobGpHfdJnj6w6TkTKbeyItZ40z14t7iLqzkKyaCY-5741qE3p9A81s6cpxY4v3pCIwSEWv7fcs--b0Tjuu72t3d61OU8lTABIw82bFCHEWAF3jNDwP7b_RcrpswflcPQQCvCnl=w217-h163" width="217" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5NOFBtAbnX-6IRS43ZAMErVzRPKV8EcyNxfkD0hLstCO7h55nIsScmyg6sYT5i7_YuvkOrZjUwwEWOc5Cnr9-40TDicaDXM2JxqvWqRcOixx3a_jZ4xEyavXQAohvaU6WYnFcVAKJB-bAJCuE4eUOe7Ox2WddaXE1ujDvmArjgWoG81YMmVosg7Q7=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5NOFBtAbnX-6IRS43ZAMErVzRPKV8EcyNxfkD0hLstCO7h55nIsScmyg6sYT5i7_YuvkOrZjUwwEWOc5Cnr9-40TDicaDXM2JxqvWqRcOixx3a_jZ4xEyavXQAohvaU6WYnFcVAKJB-bAJCuE4eUOe7Ox2WddaXE1ujDvmArjgWoG81YMmVosg7Q7=w158-h211" width="158" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was enjoyable sitting there with a coffee and sandwhich for a while and watch the world go by. Some day, it might be nice to hike out there from Muckross but take the boat back across the lakes, taking in the Meeting of The Waters and Muckross Lake along the way.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-lzf12T86FAvVKGYkDOKzn7KbtHkHTY_KbAg5n969J8Qc4lXBMjrwab0Bgde8oDjkAkp7co4SaUC2y6VwkWhFCt40ZDGyx_IqHQqdQhFPs2gt9b_evNOGbCp617saWs5LLfzGuLOfgpftCcBesSlChC8W6EhH42ecLAjz0BbRKr32gzmc1ssG6as1=s4032" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-lzf12T86FAvVKGYkDOKzn7KbtHkHTY_KbAg5n969J8Qc4lXBMjrwab0Bgde8oDjkAkp7co4SaUC2y6VwkWhFCt40ZDGyx_IqHQqdQhFPs2gt9b_evNOGbCp617saWs5LLfzGuLOfgpftCcBesSlChC8W6EhH42ecLAjz0BbRKr32gzmc1ssG6as1=w152-h202" width="152" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUVETU27LeEcVQwpwST52P4DywUr4NhzNK7o3pe-NNaFLoZ-UsvwOJQzg0-S8TuqaFlQMJHVrnVtK18Mnw10BmnnizbdjotdBxiFj7GTMHwUjK3uFi8qT1KhypC4rSDiJq73uIyn-yDZ9kYCYaIecJ4CJpxgZ_xAmV-voZyWU_qjJOMeE1piakNZla=s4000" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUVETU27LeEcVQwpwST52P4DywUr4NhzNK7o3pe-NNaFLoZ-UsvwOJQzg0-S8TuqaFlQMJHVrnVtK18Mnw10BmnnizbdjotdBxiFj7GTMHwUjK3uFi8qT1KhypC4rSDiJq73uIyn-yDZ9kYCYaIecJ4CJpxgZ_xAmV-voZyWU_qjJOMeE1piakNZla=w189-h142" width="189" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sooner than we wished we needed to, we started on our way back to the car but not without stopping at the Derrycunnihy Cascade and Falls for another short break. Given the rain the previous day, the river was full and the force of the water coming down the Falls magnificient to watch. However, stand still just for a second and the midges will be upon you. Stay longer and all they will have left of you will be your gnawed-clean skeletal remains....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizh1ZTIHnZ3s0a-DOx10LRWOjEsNHfBt5QN1_3ORN_b64AT38xWSoXKE5ke9pH0O9Eyz7NrzXRKGbNDbYD7L3VIGcAHtliibhNWdh-7-zi4RI8nnKiiVPPrquMaSF8iWE7X0B00EcdKWDBUMaoc83lMxW3AHRXaPKjhsovjFVVP_ZR2Nb6Yg2G_WN5=s4000" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizh1ZTIHnZ3s0a-DOx10LRWOjEsNHfBt5QN1_3ORN_b64AT38xWSoXKE5ke9pH0O9Eyz7NrzXRKGbNDbYD7L3VIGcAHtliibhNWdh-7-zi4RI8nnKiiVPPrquMaSF8iWE7X0B00EcdKWDBUMaoc83lMxW3AHRXaPKjhsovjFVVP_ZR2Nb6Yg2G_WN5=w197-h148" width="197" /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgv2-M57LoU7h01C6-4jOE51Ld1bnobBa9GRot3Mx7sHaqwCH6K1Rw30anCRoJrOfAY9fIupgt-r4sLc1xhvIPUCKetx98bZM2omwC-_sxlKk1fhdx31_zgGeFcv-egAKS_82ux9cJzyCTr6dntc9sxlUfWGfLzu1riTj8MGM7Rmdo2bXBkdFLFDyGb=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgv2-M57LoU7h01C6-4jOE51Ld1bnobBa9GRot3Mx7sHaqwCH6K1Rw30anCRoJrOfAY9fIupgt-r4sLc1xhvIPUCKetx98bZM2omwC-_sxlKk1fhdx31_zgGeFcv-egAKS_82ux9cJzyCTr6dntc9sxlUfWGfLzu1riTj8MGM7Rmdo2bXBkdFLFDyGb=w196-h147" width="196" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>So on we went up the hill and back to the car covered in a considerable amount of midge bites....</div><div>but with even more wonderful memories in our hearts.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">Maybe you know</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">These people asleep</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">Suspended in time</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">Lying beneath.</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">Go seek the story</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">A life once known</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">Now twelve words chisled in stone</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> "Hill of Graves", Hermitage Green</i></span><br /></span></div>Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-62671667422175399982022-02-11T09:26:00.003-08:002022-02-21T04:14:11.013-08:00Peaks for Patrick -1: Maghera 25 Jan 2021<p><a href="https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html">https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html</a><br /></p><p>In 2021, we marked the 10th anniversary of Patrick's death.</p><p>10 years of birthdays and milestones. 10 years of wondering why. 10 years of miss. 10 years of memories and hoping they will never fade.</p><p>Lockdown made our usual traditions more challenging but I was determined to at least go visit his grave and sneak in a walk in his memory. </p><p>On Jan 25th 2021, some of the country was covered under a blanket of fresh snow. So, after bringing him some nice flowers, we drove up towards Maghera for a walk in a true winter wonderland.</p><p>Snow does not happen very often in Ireland which made the walk even more magical. As schools were online at that time, we got to share that day with Patrick's brother. The pristine white snow, the sound of it under our boots, the quiet, the deep blue sky and the sunshine it was just what our souls needed at that time. </p><p>It would be the first of many Peaks For Patrick in 2021 and I'll share the others in due course. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJ5V3ainl9nfLbMcb1MUeybVwTosyOGaRyddy_LjnmXusF3AZOv3wq45rxfIV9-i6zGdy0mkxHbHRLV1XI88r-h1JUiFIrDp4ALAggJb88VNk8H7CL2CzPD1A0YgGsX6kg5oR7Va4bgW6i5pFVn1QuoOy3zEYt0A8AZ2vuzjqUEaVSDkFbdtv3V5pV=s4608" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJ5V3ainl9nfLbMcb1MUeybVwTosyOGaRyddy_LjnmXusF3AZOv3wq45rxfIV9-i6zGdy0mkxHbHRLV1XI88r-h1JUiFIrDp4ALAggJb88VNk8H7CL2CzPD1A0YgGsX6kg5oR7Va4bgW6i5pFVn1QuoOy3zEYt0A8AZ2vuzjqUEaVSDkFbdtv3V5pV=w129-h172" width="129" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcVHPCI6pKTWQHmAHuV2MQea-pQfaob_SoC2t8cVN5MB0Tq-3RfGkFsp3ulXStIySZOqiqcLTL4qU40n6Az3TtVIvjGLckvE6tDhnsgktvt85baJ2a0UdST-fh1uEWZVozfBJnSkmvW8CSJ5aYWfjIe12SaTaz4Ujak8kA9EVFzUw3QiQxPaOwZC2m=s4160" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRh_HqE5xJhGYu9gFB_51D52wbrsXGmox6lhZYTUNG7vjou_ZbtaziBF3Grp1gEgGCUFb0_gpf-dk5dpI7EZ5FB1-XGYB_-YlI5Cwl6xbaZ8-9uW9nJvCA0ThDx-SAJ1aDh6BM7hDtulpiPrdQUqoyESc7v3aWyFD_0NeeRGwl4KR7CqIOI1VOvRWF=w183-h137" width="183" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #ddddee;">Now it's time for me to go</span><br style="background-color: #ddddee; box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: #ddddee;">A new dawn for my little soul</span><br style="background-color: #ddddee; box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: #ddddee;">So goodbye beloved friend</span><br style="background-color: #ddddee; box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: #ddddee;"><b>There's a life beyond, this is not the end</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #ddddee;">MPK "Home"</span></span></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-9748386129883697162020-12-29T02:12:00.000-08:002020-12-29T02:12:39.759-08:00The Heart-Shaped Puddle<p>There is a spot on the road in front of our house that, when it rains, creates a heart-shaped puddle.</p><p>When I sit in Eoghan's room, in the corner where Patrick's cot would have stood, working from home like so many people have been doing this year, I see that puddle. I see the reflection of the trees in it. I saw the colourful autumn leafs float in and dance around it as they fell. I saw nature hunkering down for another winter as a challenging year draws to a close. </p><p>Even though the presence of that puddle means it either is or has been raining, I like seeing it there. The fact that I can see it from what used to be Patrick's room, makes me feel closer to him. It's comforting. </p><p>Time has been relentlessly pushing on. In a few weeks, it will have been a decade since that day. So much has happened since but this still feels like it was only yesterday. While not as raw, that MISS is there every day - taking my breath away some days. The sense of "What just happened?" is near enough the same as then. </p><div>Over the past 10 years, there have been more losses along the way. There have been many happy times. We've welcomed Eoghan soon after Patrick died. Our rainbow, who helped me through that first year. We brought home Caoilfhionn almost 6 years later. A rainbow in her own right - a feisty one, as it turns out. We both turned 40.</div><p>This year, lock-down meant Patrick's birthday came and went without us being able visit his grave. </p><p>This year has been one of the strangest in a long time. Much of what makes our experience of life living, has been put on hold. Plans were canceled....sometimes multiple times. It's been tough. Mentally especially as a lot of what sustains my own mental health I found myself unable to do. However, I re-discovered things that I have not been able to do a lot of in the last years...I sketched, I listened to some audio-books and I found I really enjoy watching the local bird population attack our feeder and see what sort of birds we get in our garden. </p><p>January 2021 is a huge milestone. One of many. </p><p>10 years living without Patrick. 10 years of missing. 10 years wondering what he would look like now. 10 years wondering what sort of kid he would be. Would he like school? What interests would he have?</p><p>10 years living with a piece of me missing. The longest 10 years gone in the blink of an eye...</p><p>So as I look out at my heart-shaped puddle, I remember my little curly haired boy and this special bond he had with the cat. Today and always.</p><p>Keeping his memory alive against the tide of time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjd2mp41tZ_q8-dblA0nkq9NcNYQeDEATZkjYammei7HL3rx-9DelC9iUkySTHMS1TGeivQijxuuvqL6Qn3aASO6dc6S0G4e1JPC-RWFdvIGTbOVIkieufI-C9pyneEeZZ6jtVptdDWkE/s2048/IMG_20201020_160813-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1112" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjd2mp41tZ_q8-dblA0nkq9NcNYQeDEATZkjYammei7HL3rx-9DelC9iUkySTHMS1TGeivQijxuuvqL6Qn3aASO6dc6S0G4e1JPC-RWFdvIGTbOVIkieufI-C9pyneEeZZ6jtVptdDWkE/s320/IMG_20201020_160813-01.jpeg" /></a></div><p>Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops.</p><p><br /></p>Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-19427738522149969352020-04-07T09:02:00.001-07:002020-04-07T12:33:42.346-07:00"Love is eternal, it never ends, it transforms."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">This card arrived in the post today from the people at SUDC UK. Sunday April 5th would have been Patrick's 11th birthday. We had plans. Pat and Eoghan were supposed to be at a family thing in Sweden for a long weekend and I had wanted to take the baby girl down to Kerry. Go for a mini stroll, visit the sheep farm, check in on Kerry and Clare and pay their adoption fee.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">2020 had other plans. Covid19 restrictions meant that we were not able to do any of those things. In fact, we were not even able to visit his grave on this birthday as it is further than 2km away from our home. Given the current situation and so many people dying without a loved one to hold their hand and family burying loved ones without the normal community support of wakes and funerals, it's what needed to be done and a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Were we sad about it? Absolutely...We like to make the day special. We asked one of Patrick's uncles to say HI to him at the graveyard and did what we always do also:</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Everybody in this house, living or dead, gets a nicely set up breakfast table. Cake, flowers, gifts, cards. We lit his candle and ate cake for breakfast. We thought of him. We downloaded both Frozen AND Frozen 2 and watched both movies. We listened to the kids singing along to the lyrics at the top of their voices. I imagined Patrick doing some eye-rolling at that type of movie as an 11 year old. Maybe a smile at his siblings's enthusiasm singing along. Most certainly his fingers in his ears as they hit (missed!) the high notes.</span></div>
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What helped in no small part to make the day even more special were the many messages of remembrance and support from friends and family. Memories of Patrick they shared and birthday wishes in heaven for him. It is so important for us to see he is remembered and missed. </div>
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💓Thank you. These messages *really* matter to us - you may never know just how much. 💓</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">2020 has been a strange year from the start. Weather warnings kept us inside for most of January and the start of February. A surprise pregnancy that we did not expect and that once more did not last past 9 weeks. Another tiny being lost and a grief to go with it that knocked me for six. Even more so when I realised our statistics in the reproductive department - having to repeat it a number of times to various doctors and nurses.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">6th pregnancy. 3 live births. 1 sudden unexplained death in childhood at 22 months. 3 miscarriages. 2 alive and well at home (thank God!).</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Why? Why not? Why us? Why not us? I don't know. All I did know what I needed time out to heal and regroup. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I am thankful I was able to do that well before all the Covid 19 restrictions came in. I was able to do what I know soothes my soul, gives me peace and helps recharge my batteries.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Hiking. I got into the car, drove somewhere I knew would make my heart sing and walked. By myself. Coffee and picnic in my backpack. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Each time, I came back refreshed and a little stronger. The solitude, time to be alone in my thoughts and in my self was hugely important in piecing myself back together. I took time to ground myself by letting my senses tell me what I could see, hear, feel and smell. The wonderful views. The wind in the trees, sound of waves or songs of birds. The sunshine on my face or wind or even hail. The wet forest ground...Being part of nature. I think I understand why "forest bathing" is something that is prescribed in some parts of the world. Getting out into nature is my best medicine. </span>Sitting on the top of Torc Mountain for a good 40 minutes taking in scenery with a cup of coffee in my hand was utter bliss. <span style="text-align: start;">I miss it now but I am grateful for the chances I got to experience it then.</span></div>
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Wherever our path leads us. Whether it is rocky or smooth or we're faced with the occasional river crossing. Whether it will bring another living member to this household or not. We walk on with hope. </div>
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"Love is eternal, it never ends, it transforms."</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><u>My Hikes</u></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Lahinch</span></div>
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Cliff Walk Cliffs of Moher</div>
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Millennium Cross</div>
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Moylussa</div>
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Knockfierna</div>
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Ballybunion Cliff Walk</div>
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Torc Mountain</div>
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Old Kenmare Road</div>
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-496134465984049142020-01-24T14:32:00.000-08:002020-01-24T14:36:15.069-08:00Dear Sproggy - 2020<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">These past 12 months have been tough. For me probably the toughest since you died. Which I find difficult to understand. Perhaps though it is not about understanding. Perhaps it is about just sitting with it. Allowing it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You have been on my mind a lot. I've been feeling that *miss* more acutely. And the hurt and confusion. Almost as strongly as the day you died.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I guess there is no rhyme or reason to the path grief takes. We just have to follow it, without you, as best we can. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today we went on a really long hike along the stunning Old Kenmare Road in the Kerry National Park. 23 km with just deer, mountain goats and birds for company for most of it. Across roads, bogs, crossing rivers and streams and admiring waterfalls. My trotters are in bits now but I really liked the solitude and being present in the sights and sounds of the place. Concentrating on where to place my foot and not topple into the bog or off the bridge into the stream.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were visited by a few little robins along the way, also. One settled down on a branch right beside Daddy. Maybe that was you saying HI to us. I'd like to think it was. Walking with us - unseen but felt in our hearts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You'd be proud of your little brother doing so well in his Christmas math test.You'd laugh at your little sisters antic and her offers of cake and tea from her toy kitchen. You'd look out for both of them, being the almost 11 year old big brother. You'd argue with them and roll your eyes at us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's still difficult to accept that all of this got taken away from you (and us). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">9 years today, our world was still intact. We were an innocent and happy little family of three. And we <i>knew</i> we were lucky - all in all. I remember saying this to Daddy. Roof over our heads, healthy little boy, jobs...things were ok for us. But oh how fickle life can be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today, we remembered you as we hiked along that Old Kenmare Road. We saw this 19th century graffiti etched into a rockface - presumably someone from a Tipperary Regiment - dated 1815. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">James O (?) Neill(?) left his mark on the world. His name won't be forgotten. We will make sure yours won't either.</span><br />
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Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops<br />
<br />
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Like this tree, we try to stand strong against the wind of adversity. For you, for us, for your brother and sister.</div>
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-82477376020717259412019-11-24T11:13:00.001-08:002019-11-24T11:13:49.757-08:00Me and My DadThis was Patrick's most favourite bed time story. Before too long, we were able to recite it without the book in front of us. I once used it to calm him on a flight to Germany - during landing.<br />
It was what we recited to him the 3 nights we had him home after he died.<br />
<br />
My Dad wakes me up<br />
Every morning like this -<br />
He tickles my nose and<br />
gives me a kiss.<br />
<br />
We go out exploring,<br />
there's so much to see.<br />
My Dad knows where all<br />
the best secrets will be!<br />
<br />
My Dad is a giant -<br />
up here so am I!<br />
If I stretch really hard<br />
I can touch the sky.<br />
<br />
We find sticky honey,<br />
our favourite snack.<br />
Watch my Dad run when the<br />
bees want it back!<br />
<br />My Dad twirls me round<br />
and the world whizzes past.<br />
My head gets all dizzy,<br />
I am spinning so fast!<br />
<br />
If loud thunder roars<br />
and the skies turn to grey,<br />
My Dad keeps me safe,<br />
Till the storm goes away.<br />
<br />
When it's raining my Dad<br />
plays a staying-dry trick -<br />
To dodge all the raindrops<br />
we have to be quick!<br />
<br />
We race to the river<br />
and Dad jumps straight in.<br />
I climb on his back<br />
and we go for a swim.<br />
<br />
My Dad is so strong,<br />
he can lift anything.<br />
I hope I'm strong too when I'm<br />
grown-up like him.<br />
<br />
When I get sleepy,<br />
Dad gives me a hug<br />
And carries me home,<br />
all cosy and snug.<br />
<br />
My Dad tells me stories<br />
as day turns to night.<br />
We cuddle up close<br />
in the twinkling light.<br />
<br />
My Dad is the best<br />
daddy bear there could be.<br />
We're together for ever -<br />
my Dad and me.<br />
<br />
Alison Ritchie<br />
<br />
It's upsetting to have had to pull out the book to take down the text now because I've forgotten a fair bit of it. It's upsetting to think we're forgetting. Forgetting these little details that meant and mean so much. And knowing he did not get enough of this - the hugs, the stories, the adventures, the ordinary - the time spent with his Daddy and me.<br />
<br />
Miss you lots - Sproggy-pops.💔<br />
<br />
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-57085047243385272222019-08-30T07:00:00.000-07:002019-08-30T07:00:02.867-07:00Unhinged Life as we knew it changed on Jan 25th 2011. We were thrown off course onto a new trajectory, a new and uncharted course. We are following this new path and with time, we learnt to live again. With the loss, the absence, the grief: the general weirdness of life with loss.<br />
<br />
I may even look like a perfectly functioning human being on the outside and am almost fooled into believing I am one myself at times...<br />
<br />
Until something small comes along; something so inconspicuous that yet somehow manages to temporarily unhinge me.<br />
<br />
These moments teach me that it sometimes really does not take much to scratch the surface and hit a nerve.<br />
<br />
Some things have become more difficult for me since Patrick's death. Some easier. Some have become more important, some less important.<br />
<br />
I am still, after 8 years, getting to know the new me.<br />
<br />
I lose patience more easily - with myself and others. Frustratingly, that also includes those nearest and dearest like Pat and the kids.<br />
It's harder to stay focused and concentrated some times. I do not have the same capacity for pressure and stress.<br />
There is an almost constant ball of anxiety in me other times, a nervous restlessness I am finding hard to describe.<br />
<br />
I try very hard to live the best life that I can for Patrick and for me...doing things with the kids and Pat, creating memories, looking after myself. But that in itself can sometimes be exhausting...to keep going, to keep pushing myself, to keep getting up, to keep making the most out of the time we have...<br />
<br />
Until something comes along that temporarily upends me and makes me want to pull the duvet over my head and ignore the world around me.<br />
<br />
I crash and burn.<br />
<br />
Over the years, I have figured out what I need to do to stay sane and know that occasionally, these needs change. So the importance of self-care is not a concept that is foreign to me.<br />
<br />
These days, my souls craves nature and the feeling of the wind and/or sun (hell, even the rain!) in my face as I am out walking somewhere, almost literally drinking in the scenery, landscape, sounds and smells around me. I crave both solitude and company; at the same time and in equal measures. I crave long chats and sitting in silence. I crave stability and a sense of belonging.<br />
<br />
That sense of belonging is something that I am struggling with, of late.<br />
<br />
I feel out of sorts and a bit lost.<br />
<br />
After a big-ish birthday earlier this year, the realisation is creeping in that our daughter is very likely the last baby of my own I will have held. Life is exhausting and busy so for the most part, I am perfectly ok with that but I think a part of me is grieving the end of that stage of our lives and knowing there should be three.<br />
<br />
Back to school time can be difficult too. Some years I am OK but others I find harder. Patrick would be 10 this year and as we saw Eoghan off into 2nd class today, I could not help but to also feel Patrick's absence with all the what-could-have-been's that come with it.<br />
<br />
Lately, curiosity has sent me off trying to find out more about my side of the family. Names, dates, places of the people that came before me. Who were they. What were they like? How did my great-grandparents feel about seeing not one but two world wars in their life time? Most of those questions I will never have answers to but I want to make sure that our kids have some idea of where they came from before more of those details get lost in time.<br />
<br />
I have spent more time living here than in Germany and as much as I call my house here in Limerick my home, my roots are my family home in Germany. It's the house my great-grandfather built and that our family have lived in for the past 100 years. I have not lived there in 22 years but sometimes, I feel lost between those two places. Home and home-home.<br />
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Not really truly belonging to either.<br />
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At the start of this week, I picked up a book I was loaned. The first one in ages. <a href="https://dreditheger.com/the-choice/" target="_blank">"The Choice"</a> by Edith Eger. A highly recommended read, actually. One of the quotes that stood out for me, is this one:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">“Sometimes our pain pushes us, and sometimes our hope pulls us.” </span><br />
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I believe sometimes our pain and our hope work hand in hand and so we stumble along...to the best of our ability.<br />
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<span id="goog_1156901518"></span><span id="goog_1156901519"></span><br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-19250484629641046462019-03-22T08:40:00.002-07:002019-03-22T08:40:46.337-07:002019 Great Limerick Run - Milestones ...It is a year of big birthdays all around in the extended family and friends. We have 30th, 40th, 50th, 70th and should be having a 10th.<br />
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On April 5th, Patrick would be turning 10. As we have done for the past 8 years, it will be us blowing out the candle on a cake he will not be able to taste himself.<br />
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In honour and in memory of his older brother, Eoghan will be walking the <b>10km</b> stretch of the <b>Great Limerick Run</b> with me this year. 1km for each one of the 10 years that will have passed since Patrick was born.<br />
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This year, we dedicate the<b> Stroll For Sproggy </b>to the <a href="https://www.childrensgriefcentre.ie/" target="_blank">The Children's Grief Centre</a>, a Limerick based charity that offers support for children and teenagers who experience grief through death, separation or divorce. We feel it is a hugely important and worthwhile service as children's grief can often be overlooked while at the same time being quite complex. Children sometimes need help in learning to navigate their feelings surrounding their grief and receiving compassionate one on one support can be of immeasurable help to them.<br />
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Eoghan's sense of loss must feel quite strange to him as he is grieving for something and someone he never had in his life. He feels genuine upset and loss for not having his big brother around but at the same time feels genuine love and affection for someone he has never met. How confusing must that be for someone so young.<br />
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Being only 7, we think he is showing great determination in committing to walking the whole 10km.<br />
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How challenging it must occasionally be for him to be "the rainbow".<br />
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He is a little brother with none of the big brother protection, banter and fighting that other kids have.<br />
He is an odd kind of middle child.<br />
He is a big brother.<br />
<br />
He is the most amazing big brother our daughter could ever wish for. He <i>will</i> have her back and takes her bossing him around in his stride.<br />
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I hope we are doing him justice by raising him in a way that is not making him feel like he is existing in the shadow of this person who came before him and who died in such a sudden, unexplained way. That is <i>our </i>challenge.<br />
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Though we tell him often, I hope one day he reads this and truly realises just how wonderful he is.<br />
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And I hope we can help him raise some funds for this amazing charity.<br />
<br />
Please consider visiting our fundraising page here: <a href="https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11375859_a-stroll-for-sproggy---in-aid-of-children-s-grief-centre.html" target="_blank">https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11375859_a-stroll-for-sproggy---in-aid-of-children-s-grief-centre.html</a><br />
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-86742808868512349242019-01-25T07:14:00.000-08:002019-01-25T07:14:45.956-08:00Walk With MeDear Sproggy,<br />
<br />
Can I share something with you?<br />
I've always somewhat envied those who can say with such certainty that they can feel their loved ones around them wherever they are. Those, who say they get 'signs' or have even more tangible experiences.<br />
<br />
Sure, there are those special visiting robins that make me think you are coming to say hello but I have had very few times where I can truly say that I could feel your presence.<br />
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I remember the first time, probably during the first year after your died. We were in the car on the way back from Corbally and just about coming up to the graveyard. You used to have a certain way of putting your little head on my lap when I was sitting on the couch and sitting in the car's passenger seat, I could almost feel the weight of it in that familiar spot.<br />
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I suppose it made me quite sad at the time. The loss was so recent and raw and I remember wishing that I could reach down and feel those curls or reach behind me to tickle those chubby legs dangling off the car seat.<br />
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Now, 8 years have passed almost in the blink of an eye. The loss is not as recent but as raw as ever when I stop and think, <i>really</i>, think about it all. It feels as surreal, as nightmare-ish. No amount of time can ever heal that kind of trauma - though we have learnt to live with it in our lives.<br />
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Our lives; our crazy busy, rich lives; full of memories; of happy and of sad times. All throughout you are remembered and you are missed. Eoghan misses his big brother, though he never got to meet you. I can hear him telling Caoilfhionn about you to make sure she knows all about her big brother, too.<br />
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Along the way, I suppose I accepted that those kinds of special experiences are perhaps not meant for me and that was OK, too.<br />
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It was such a special feeling so, when, as I was out walking a few weeks back, I suddenly sensed you pulling up beside me and walk with me. Not your little 22 month old self, but an older version. Blonde curls, almost shoulder height to me, lanky and lively, in an odd way. You stayed with me for a good stretch of my walk, in a kind of a silent conversations, and your presence seemed to be really reassuring even though I wasn't able to make out the details of your face.<br />
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It was a surprise, too, because it happened so out of the blue, so randomly, on a bog-standard, ordinary, grey evening. Not on a special mountain-top or beside the vast roaring sea. Just along the Dooradoyle Road with cars driving past. A walking route, that, perhaps, was very familiar to you and I both.<br />
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Or maybe my subconscious just really needed your quiet reassurance. I don't know.<br />
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Not long after this, I got a strong sense of your presence again. I was trying to rest or sleep and that time, you definitely had been on my mind. And I was sad. But just then I felt as though you were there beside me again; your older self; resting your hand on my shoulder.<br />
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Those are the only times so far that I can truly say I really felt you there with me. Perhaps it was all in my head - but do you know what?<br />
<br />
It gave me a huge sense of peace and something I never thought I would get: A tiny imagined glimpse of an older you.<br />
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So, walk with me. Anytime. Anywhere. Walk by my side.<br />
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-56174205142054656312019-01-24T09:54:00.006-08:002019-01-24T09:54:48.640-08:00The Lonely Years That FollowJust a little over 7 years ago, I wrote about how <a href="https://rememberingsproggy.blogspot.com/2012/01/time-flies.html" target="_blank">Time Flew</a> coming up to Patrick's first anniversary.<br />
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It was scary, how quickly that first year went by. Reading back, I had a lot of worries about the passage of time and forgetting.<br />
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It is crazy how fast the years have gone by. We will soon be looking at a full decade here. 10 frigging years! How is that even possible?<br />
<br />
So what is it like 7 years on from that post?<br />
<br />
Well, I recently came across an article on on Facebook (Mitchell's Journey) in which a dad shared his thoughts on grieving and bereavement following the death of his son Mitchell. This below paragraph absolutely resonated with me.<br />
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<i>"I’ve said this often: death is the easy part, it’s the aftermath that’s hardest. So, when you see someone who's lost someone – know that they’ll need your love, compassion, and empathy gently at the funeral and the months to come – but more profoundly in the lonely years that follow.</i><br />
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<i>I’ll repeat the last part: they’ll need your love more profoundly in the lonely years that follow."</i><br />
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<b>The lonely years that follow.</b><br />
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Everybody moves forward with their lives. Including oneself. Slowly, you learn to live with the trauma, the memories, the flashbacks, the triggers, the <i>miss</i>. You return to being a pretty well-functioning human - at least most of the time. Needs must and all of that. This process can be exhausting and lonely though.<br />
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As the years tick by, there are two dates in our calendar that become so, so important. Birthday and anniversary. People remembering those and <i>telling you about it</i> can literally be a life-line. A reassurance that he is not fading from memory but remembered no matter how many years have passed. I love hearing little stories people remember or how his name still comes up in conversation with some of my friends' children. It is lovely to know their parents are keeping Patrick alive in their lives, answering question and recounting memories. It is humbling to think that even though they are little themselves, Patrick means something to them - perhaps in a slightly abstract way but all the same.<br />
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Over the years, grief, ever-lurking on the sidelines, often strikes unexpectedly and manages to take your breath away all over again. Anytime, anywhere. Whenever you may find yourself believing you have become a seasoned pro at this grief-lark, it pounces; ready to teach you a lesson. But you keep fighting and living and loving.<br />
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The love for your child does not change because they died. It remains as strong as the first and last time you held them.<br />
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You will never stop grieving for them just as you will never stop loving them.<br />
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-79613518470292588802018-11-22T08:18:00.003-08:002018-11-22T08:50:08.617-08:00Peekaboo - I miss you<br />
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When Patrick was about 16 months old and walking
comfortably, he loved walking back and forth at the foot-end of our bed,
peeking through the wooden bars that were just about the right height for him,
grinning his cheeky, dimple-y grin. I have a very vivid memory of him doing this
often. I recall the curly tuft of hair on top of his head, his eyes, twinkly
and bright and his smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He took great delight in playing this little game of
peekaboo. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It has been one of those things I have missed most over the
years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, quite out of the blue the other evening, Caoilfhionn,
who had been cuddled up beside me on the bed drinking her milk, turned over on
her tummy, slid of the bed and started pottering back and forth around the
room. As she passed the foot-end of the bed, she spotted me through the bars,
stopped and turned to press her little face right up to them…<o:p></o:p></div>
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…And for a moment it felt like Patrick was looking back at
me. Very similar roguish expression, mischievous twinkle in her eyes, dimple-y
grin. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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It was one of those bittersweet moments. It felt good to
play this game again, yet it accentuated a miss that is just beyond compare. <o:p></o:p></div>
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She spent the next few minutes running back and forth,
stopping every time to press her little face right up to the bars and flash a
big toothy grin complete with dimples on either side. Seems to me that she has
the same sort of devilment about her than Patrick did and occasionally, I feel
for her long suffering older brother who will most likely end up drawing the
short straw against this little force of nature on many occasions, yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As much as this short game brought back some precious
memories that made me smile, it made my heart feel heavy at the very same time.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Almost 8 years on, triggers can still lurk everywhere…in
simple, unexpected and everyday things. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Emotions remain close to the surface…Irrespective of how
many years have passed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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With time, I think I have learnt to acknowledge the emotions
that are triggered. I grant them a nod, afford them their place in my life and
park them as I need to, to continue going about my daily life, busy as it is
once more. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Despite us feeling tired and rushed off our feet week after
week right now, I will never forget the day that our world screeched to a halt.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The sudden loss of meaning in life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The feeling of going from so incredibly busy to just not
knowing what to do with all this time once more. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The loss of identity after losing a first born. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The confusion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The pain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The never-ending miss.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Life keeps us busy enough so that my head does not get a
chance to visit that place all too often but when it does, the emotions as raw
now as they were then.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The Miss is real. The longing for the mischievous, curly
haired little tot with the dimply grin who has his face pressed against the
bars of our bed playing a game of peekaboo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-23239550191820384342018-08-29T10:05:00.002-07:002018-08-29T13:54:17.704-07:00Making Memories in Thin Places The Celts believed that the physical and spiritual world are never more than 3 feet apart. Thin places then are places where the veil between the physical and spiritual world is even thinner that that. Those are places where a person can sense the spiritual in a most powerful way.<br />
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Eoghan, Caoilfhionn and I recently spent a couple of nights in Gleninchaquin...a picturesque and very remote valley on the Beara Peninsula. Almost right at the foot of a huge waterfall, we spent two nights falling asleep to the sound of gushing water and sheep baaing.<br />
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No internet, no phone reception. The perfect get-away from the busy world for a while. We were glamping there with friends and the kids had such a great time exploring and running around in the great outdoors; feeding sheep, playing shepherds to them, chasing them, roasting (no, not sheep! 😉) marshmallows and making smors. Their imagination could run wild as we set off on a few walks along and across streams and up steep hills.<br />
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There was something so very peaceful and calming about that place, that it is very hard to actually describe as words just won't do it justice.<br />
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Eoghan loves his little collection of gem stones from the Rock Shop near Liscannor and he shared two of them with his friends as they made up stories of their special powers along one of our walks up to a hidden lake that is entirely invisible from the bottom of the valley. The lady owner of our glamping site had mentioned this lake to me and told me how the locals say it was a special place, a quiet place; a thin place within this ancient landscape that has remained virtually unchanged for the past 70000 years since it was formed by the last ice age. Even early settlers to the valley, I suppose, recognised the significance of this place judging by the existence of the Uragh Stone Circle which seems to perfectly align with the waterfall at the end of the valley.<br />
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Off we went so, to discover this lake and it was well worth the steep hike up the path to it. Secluded and tranquil, dark and mysterious. Perhaps it was because I had been told about how special a place this is supposed to be but I did get a sense of the energy of all those people who once filled this valley in pre-famine times and throughout the centuries before that. Due to the recent rain, the mountainside around the lake had many little waterfalls running off and feeding into it. They glistened in the ever-changing light. It felt very calming and special to be standing there and taking in the atmosphere...That was until the dark gemstone, an onyx, slipped from a little hand and dropped onto dark rocks within the dark waters of the dark lake...<br />
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Despite having a fair idea where it had dropped, we had virtually no chance of finding it. Eoghan was inconsolable and it took a lot of time to coax him away and stop him from trying to run back and potentially topple into the lake himself trying to retrieve his stone. So I told him the story about this being a special, a thin place. I told him about the meaning and that I believed in the existence of such places...Places where we are much closer to those we have loved and lost. I told him I would like to think that Patrick and Norma were looking after his stone on the other side. I told him I was certain that they know how much it meant to him and that they would treasure it...knowing what a sacrifice he had made by leaving it behind.<br />
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He was perhaps not fully convinced right away but I think it planted a seed in his head and he bravely let go...believing his "spirit guide" (as he refers to Patrick as of late) and aunty will look after it.<br />
<br />
We were later told that seemingly this lake has a habit of pulling things into it. People seem to lose things there a lot...Maybe just a story but where would we be without them...<br />
<br />
Who knows...but I know I did feel a sense of peace in this place that I had not felt in such a long time. A sense of happiness and at the same time a sense of wanting to burst out crying at the sheer beauty of it and the mad emotions it evoked in me. A strong sense of being close to our little Sproggy.<br />
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I cannot wait to bring Pat there and maybe then he will understand why I have been rattling on about how special this spot is ever since I got back.<br />
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-71130878521831918272018-04-25T14:22:00.002-07:002018-04-29T03:00:50.764-07:00Down The Rabbit HoleThe first week in May will be maternal mental health week. It is a week to maybe check in with someone you know.<br />
<br />
A new mum.<br />
A not so new mum.<br />
A seemingly seasoned veteran mum.<br />
A bereaved mum.<br />
Someone who so very much would love to be a mum.<br />
<br />
For no matter how wanted and loved our children are, becoming a parent or trying to become one is tough. And if we are lucky enough to already be parents, it does not make us ungrateful to put up our hands and admit just how tough it can be. Perhaps even more so for those of us who belong to the undesirable club of bereaved parents.<br />
<br />
Postnatal anxiety and depression do not discriminate. They do not care how long you've been yearning to become a mum or have another child, whether it's your first or 6th, whether you've experienced loss or are lucky not to have.<br />
<br />
Anxiety and depression may still slowly creep into your mind and life and temporarily cripple you. It's a lonely, isolated place to be. Feeling you ought to be happy and making the most of those precious first months with baby but struggling to find the motivation to get out of bed and figure out what to cook for dinner. Simple stuff becoming insurmountable obstacles and sources of panic: shopping lists, nct's, getting your dryer fixed, organising bills, not having made it to your son's grave since his would have been 9th birthday, being short of patience due to the stress of it all and months of interrupted sleep and wondering will the unthinkable happen again.<br />
<br />
Constant worry and panic about nothing and everything all at the same time and yet perhaps sometimes not really being able to put your finger on what exactly it is that causes the anxiety.<br />
<br />
How can you talk about it when it is confusing and impossible to verbalise?<br />
<br />
It's easier (yet far more damaging) not to.<br />
<br />
I'm very grateful to be mammy to all of my children.<br />
I miss Patrick more than I could ever put into words. The passing of time makes his absence even more difficult to come to terms with.<br />
<br />
Eoghan was a blessing at a most difficult time. He's growing into such a wonderful little man-boy and protective big brother.<br />
<br />
I feel blessed that we were lucky enough to have our little girl last year... after so much heartache.<br />
<br />
Yet...<br />
Yet... I'm still not feeling myself. That doesn't mean I'm not acutely aware of all our blessings. I am. It's just something I still cannot shake and it is affecting me, maybe not daily, but a lot more than I would like it to.<br />
<br />
Self care is, I believe, hugely important. For all of us of course, but particularly for any new mum. It's so easy to loose your identity among the sleepless nights, nappies, feeding and being in mammy mode. We still need to be able to have an outlet, time to ourselves.<br />
<br />
I know what self care means to me and what impact not getting to practise it has on me. Even still, I often miss my body's and mind's cues until I'm well down the rabbit hole.<br />
<br />
Self care for me is running, being in nature (preferably by the sea) and writing. Writing is nigh impossible at home at the moment which is why I am sat here, in my local, post walk, with a sneaky G&T, tapping away furiously at my phone.<br />
<br />
I suppose it's time to head back... Back to the most important people in my world... Ever patient Pat (who contacted me to enquire where I put the baby monitor but didn't press any further as to where I had disappeared off to), Eoghan, Squealy-Caoily and our little star in the night sky.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My happy place </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, self care does not always include a G&T... But it sometimes can. #drinkresponsibly . 😉</td></tr>
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-72112164710267554922018-01-22T16:10:00.002-08:002018-01-22T16:10:56.647-08:00Dear Sproggy - 20187 years since I last held you.<br />
7 years since our first time parent innocence was shattered in an instant and our confidence crushed along with it.<br />
7 years of missing you<br />
<br />
I always remember walking around the block with you in your buggy. Snoozing, chatting or watching the birdies. Our usual route by the hospital, down towards the crescent and passing St. Paul's nursing home on the way.<br />
<br />
Many times on those walks, we said hello to an elderly gentleman sitting at the bus stop. He wasn't waiting for a bus. Maybe he lived in the nursing home, maybe not. He sat there watching the world go by. Smiling at us as we passed and said hello or the odd "Lovely day today." His legs, I imagined, tired from a lifetime of walking. His eyes twinkly all the same. I often wondered what those eyes had seen. Where those legs had been.<br />
<br />
After you died, I continued going on my walks and I remember the first time afterwards that I saw him. He hadn't been sitting at the bus stop in a while... Probably because it was the height of winter and too cold. But when I saw him and continued to see him many times after, I found myself thinking how strange life is. I thought:<br />
<br />
'There you are sitting in your spot at the bus stop... Very elderly and alive... And my little boy is dead.'<br />
<br />
I thought this without malice or bitterness. To me, it was just one of life's bizarre moments. The old man outlives the young child. This was against the natural order of things... At least in my book.<br />
<br />
I sometimes wondered whether he ever wondered where the buggy and its little passenger had gone. Not that we had ever had a real conversation apart from greeting each other as he sat and I passed.<br />
<br />
Part of me wanted to tell him you died. That you had lived. I never did but I kept an eye out for him and said hello if he was there.<br />
<br />
At some point I realised I had not seen him in a while. I am sure he eventually passed away himself and his spot at that bus stop remains vacant... Apart from the occasional bus passenger or forgotten tub of coleslaw and cook-it-yourself pizza.<br />
<br />
It is strange, the way people are here one second and gone the next. They are ripped from life often quickly and unexpectedly, leaving behind unfinished but mostly mundane, everyday sort of business like a pile of ironing or unopened letters from the bank.<br />
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With time, their memory begins to fade but I like to believe that part of their energy remains in the places that were most meaningful to them.<br />
<br />
I kind of wish I had struck up a real conversation with this man some time. Before I knew it, it was too late.<br />
<br />
I suppose that is something I take from all of this. Don't delay. You never know what is up ahead. Don't look back at a lifetime of missed opportunities. Strike up that conversation. Tell people what they mean to you.<br />
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So at this time of the year, during which breathtakingly painful flashbacks can hit us full force, we try to hold on to the good memories we have with you.<br />
<br />
Our walks.<br />
The way you peered through the wooden foot end of the bed frame... Grinning your rogue-ish, dimple-y grin.<br />
The way your hair looked.<br />
The way your initial preferred method of getting to where you wanted was rolling instead of crawling.<br />
The way Debbie had to pull you out from under the radiator in the crèche loads of times.<br />
The messy way you ate your spaghetti.<br />
The many Munster rugby pictures we have of you.<br />
The early morning trips to the crescent on a Sunday so you could roll and wobble through the empty mall.<br />
The way you loved sheep and Tipoki above anything else in the world.<br />
<br />
Still, as grateful as I am for them, 21 months wasn't enough.<br />
Love you lots, my Sproggy-pops.<br />
<br />
<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-32965823383443380692018-01-09T01:32:00.001-08:002018-01-09T01:38:04.222-08:00The 2017 Children's Hospice Advert had me in tears. It tackles the difficulty of one of the many firsts the bereaved encounter in the first year of their loved one dying...the first Christmas. If you have not seen it, you might consider looking at it <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Bly0iAOB6w" target="_blank">here</a>. It is beyond powerful and poignant and allows a glimpse at just how difficult special occasions such as Christmas can be.<br />
<br />
While certainly the first Christmas is the hardest, I find that random ones that follow can feel as difficult...if not even more so. Perhaps it is Christmas also marking the coming to an end of another year that make it a painful reminder of how time whizzes past. 2017 was our 7th festive season without Patrick. It seems so long and yet I wonder how time went by so quickly.<br />
<br />
I am not sure what made that year seem harder than previous ones for me. All I know is that I seemed to feel his absence stronger. I remember our last Christmas together - him opening his presents and us taking a picture together Christmas morning. Precisely one month later he was gone.<br />
<br />
I hope that people facing into their first Christmas without a loved one this festive season got through it as gently as possible. One day at a time. And I hope holding onto the good memories helped.<br />
<br />
<br />
We made it through ourselves and are now once more facing into another January. Another anniversary looming large in just a couple of weeks. Still we wonder just how we ended up *here*. No matter how much time passes, it never feels 100% real.<br />
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Miss you, my little dude.<br />
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-49066666798659912182017-11-17T12:55:00.000-08:002017-11-23T04:09:28.288-08:00Just Doing The Best We Can<br />
The other day, someone commented on an article I did on loosing Patrick and life after for <a href="http://www.alustforlife.com/personal-stories/how-did-we-get-here-the-loss-of-a-child-to-sudc-and-subsequent-parenthood" target="_blank">"A Lust For Life"</a>. They said they felt what business did they have feeling depressed when they had friends like us who went through something so horrible. And that made me think.<br />
<br />
You know what? This persons situation is as real to them as mine is to me. Their feelings matter just as much as mine. Different circumstances, yes, but exactly that: <i>Different</i>. Not "worse" (me/us) and "not so bad by comparison" (them). I don't think it is possible to truly compare "lots" when talking about depression/post traumatic stress and/or mental health.<br />
<br />
Indeed, if you were to look at it that way, then what business do <b>I</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>have feeling low and sad after all we went through to get this little rainbow? Should I not count my lucky stars, be grateful and stop complaining?<br />
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So by extension, it is probably ok also for me to acknowledge my struggle to bond and my feelings as real, valid and ok right now. Because as much as she is a much longed-for baby, it can be tough and I guess we don't really get a say in when things and life can all just add up and become too much. It need not always make sense either. But our feelings and struggles remain real.<br />
<br />
Trying to get to know each other, me and this little alien that crashed-landed into my world.<br />
Feeling very overwhelmed by the normal day to day stuff looking after a household, bills, washing, cleaning and so on and so on...On top of caring for her and her proud big brother.<br />
Days when a letter from school about head lice or something as simple as running out of bread again could make me want to curl up in the fetal position and switch myself off from adulting for a while.<br />
<br />
People often say that we are brave and strong. Us. People like us. But I think what it boils down to is that we just try doing the best we can with the hand we were dealt. Sometimes we succeed, sometimes we struggle. Occasionally we fail miserably and quite spectacularly.<br />
<br />
So I think I lost myself a little these last weeks. And admitting all of this (out loud to my GP) was a little daunting. But there it was. I needed a little help to find myself again. And I am getting there.<br />
<br />
Knowing what worked in the past should hopefully help along the way. So I will give that a shot.<br />
<br />
Running is my mindfulness and my practicing "being present".<br />
<br />
Listening to music while running helps me deal with emotions and anxieties bubbling below the surface... Either the music or the lyrics help draw them out and the run just leaves me feeling like I've had lots of hugs and ten counselling sessions one after the other... Releasing that tension.<br />
<br />
And counseling. It just works for me: This talking to someone. Venting. Saying stuff I can't say to others. Getting help in finding ways to verbalise and perhaps even make sense of what is going on in my head and heart.<br />
<br />
With two sessions down and having restarted the running and the writing, I am already feeling better.<br />
<br />
Doing the best I can. Despite the huge MISS in my life.<br />
<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-12127583025548529882017-11-17T04:30:00.000-08:002017-11-17T04:30:02.576-08:00Chasing the Rainbow She is here. Our daughter and our second rainbow arrived in July, 7 pounds even; not waiting for anyone - least of all her dad who had popped out for food expecting a lengthy enough wait. And I have been trying to catch up with her ever since.<br />
<br />
She is cute. She has dimples just like Patrick. She is the apple of her brothers eye and we feel very much blessed to have her.<br />
<br />
Yet, in those early weeks, I often found myself looking at this tiny human in my arms searching for a connection that I could not find. One, that I thought would (again) come naturally when I'd hold her -finally knowing that she was really here and OK.<br />
<br />
Truthfully, I never did start bonding with her throughout the pregnancy like I did with the boys. Instead, I continued feeling too worried that something might still happen. Another early miscarriage, a late miscarriage, still birth, something happening at birth...I just assumed this would resolve itself after she was born.<br />
<br />
It did not. At least not easily. In your head you know this can be normal but it catches you out all the same.<br />
<br />
I felt that I ought to have been blissfully happy.. Instead, I was not feeling myself at all. I smiled and nodded when people said I must be over the moon. Well, I was of course, but it wasn't that simple and oh: I didn't know how to talk to anyone about it because this was not how I was <i>supposed </i>to be feeling (<i>especially </i>given our history).<br />
<br />
That I sometimes looked at my child and felt like I am looking at a stranger.<br />
That I often felt sad.<br />
That I felt so helpless and stressed early on when the baby was crying and I could not make her stop.<br />
That I worried what my temporary lack of patience and tendency to snap at small things in times of stress would do to my relationship with Eoghan.<br />
That I sometimes still feel entirely useless as a parent and partner.<br />
That the amount of things on my to do list sometimes overwhelm me beyond reason.<br />
That the way I am feeling occasionally is making me withdraw and become absent minded.<br />
That it felt like I am becoming invisible.<br />
<br />
Of course I know there is a <i>lot</i> going on because let's face it: Birth and life with a newborn <i>is</i> hard in itself even if you take out the day to day stuff, siblings and a history like ours.<br />
<br />
Post-natal hormones, anxiety, other health hiccups, the specter of the previous miscarriages and having the anniversary of the latest miscarriage, her birth and the would-have-been due date of the first miscarriage all arrive within the same 2-3 weeks were probably all adding up in the beginning.<br />
<br />
On a subconscious level I think I might also be scared to get too close after losing Patrick to something so unpredictable like SUDC. Strangely, I did not have that issue so much with Eoghan as a newborn but he did arrive very quickly after Patrick died - while we were still processing everything that had happened. In any case, my brain just never went <i>there </i>that time but for some reason seems to have sprinted there <i>now </i>putting distressing thoughts into my head: "Will she be waking up from this nap?" "What other horrible thing might happen to her?"<br />
<br />
And MISSING Patrick. The MISS can be overpowering at times these last weeks. Almost raw and fresh again. Quite possibly because she reminds me so much of him.<br />
<br />
I don't know.<br />
<br />
Although Caoilfhionn and me have fortunately bonded well by now, one dimply gummy smile at a time, I still don't really feel like my normal self.<br />
<br />
I guess I continue playing catch up with our little rainbow until I do. She and her big brother certainly will keep me on my toes.Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-79243740856901880602017-03-09T10:10:00.000-08:002017-03-09T10:13:47.886-08:00Expecting a Rainbow - AgainA rainbow baby is one that comes along after a loss - irrespective as to what stage of pregnancy or life that loss happened.<br />
<br />
I guess you could call the pregnancy a Rainbow Pregnancy. Sounds peaceful, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
It's also <i>very </i>strange.<br />
<br />
On your first baby, if all goes well, you pass through those 9 months largely blissfully ignorant of all those dangers nobody really speaks about openly. If you are lucky (and thankfully most people are) you never know the pain of an early or later miscarriage, still birth or neonatal death. You look ahead to the birth with a mixture of innocence and dread and generally try to surround yourself with those other mums who tell you the nice stories...<br />
<br />
When you are going through a rainbow pregnancy however, you tend to be more acutely aware of what might go wrong along the way depending on your history and in addition to the generally increased awareness one acquires after the first.<br />
<br />
On Eoghan, I was happy to be expecting again so soon after Patrick passed. I could not wait to tell the world. It gave me some good news to tell. Especially to those people we bumped into who would almost immediately want to dissolve into a puddle of tears at the mere sight of us. We were a walking reminder of the worst thing that could happen to a parent. It was hard on us as well as them, but in ways possibly harder on <i>them</i>.<br />
<br />
Imagining the worst is quite possibly more difficult than living it, IMO. When you are living it, it is hard, yes. But you do not get a choice. This <i>is</i> happening to <i>you</i> and <i>you </i>have got to learn to deal with it somehow. Eventually, you do learn to live with the loss. When you <i>imagine</i> it, your brain tortures you on a totally different level.<br />
<br />
Perhaps this does not make sense but take these often used phrases as an example:<br />
"I just don't know how you get up in the mornings. You are so brave. I could not do it."<br />
This person imagines what happened to you to happen to their own. Their mind tortures them with images and scenarios and how they think they will react.<br />
<br />
Whereas when it actually happens, it just happens. There is no choice on the matter. There is a before and there is an after. You are no longer the same person but yes, you do get up. No, you will not feel all that brave. Yes, you <i>too</i> could do it because you won't have a choice.<br />
<br />
While expecting Eoghan, the husband was more than reluctant to tell anyone. I firmly believe he felt that telling people in and around that baby's first day in school would be more than sufficient. There was a lot of talk about counting and chickens and hatching around that time if I remember well. Understandably, he wanted to be sure to be sure that everything was really fine.<br />
<br />
What happened to Patrick is a 1 in 100000 chance. Yet he was that 1. You have higher chances of miscarriage, still birth, something else being seriously wrong...So I suppose it must have felt like tempting fate to become too excited too soon to him.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I probably did not understand it then but I do now.<br />
<br />
Two early miscarriages and difficulty conceiving later, I have been <i>extremely</i> hesitant to tell anyone since that illusive second line appeared on my test back in early November. I even waited before attending my GP to confirm the pregnancy and send the letter off to our consultant for fear I might put a jinx on it. Aside from Pat, our GP and my acupuncture folks I was physically unable to tell anyone else for weeks.<br />
<br />
This time, the husband is the polar opposite. He is delighted to share our news after month upon month of disappointment.<br />
<br />
First I needed to wait until our first consultant scan. Then I needed to wait until the 12 week nuchal translucency scan (geriatric mother, after all!). Then I needed to wait until the 16 week scan. Then the 20 week scan.<br />
<br />
I suppose by 16 weeks I was ok with people knowing but still found it hard to do the telling. Only now, after the 20 week anomaly scan, I am getting more comfortable telling yet part of me is still scared and probably will continue to be until this little one is born and safely in our arms.<br />
<br />
Then the SUDC parent anxiety will take over...<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, we remain cautiously optimistic while Eoghan is delighted to be getting a sibling. We will have to put aside time to make sure he understands that he will not be able to carry his sister around in the same manner as he does the cat right now...😰<br />
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As for the discussion about names....Oh well. That's a whole different story.<br />
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-90327214424775196332017-01-20T13:23:00.001-08:002017-01-20T13:23:54.830-08:00Long-term Aftercare<div class="MsoNormal">
Bereavement and grief truly are strange beasts. You do
eventually get used to living with the weirdness of the situation – or so you want to think. You find a rhythm when it comes to important dates. And just when you
think you have it all sussed, <i>things</i>
change.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We have taken to making sure we both have our son’s
anniversary off each year. We do stuff that feels right on the day – hill
walking, taking it easy, releasing balloons; whatever it may be. I cannot
envisage us ever working that day again. For the first number of years, this
was definitely the way to go – and it still is but in an odd shift over the
last couple of years I have begun finding the lead up to the day a lot worse
than the day itself. <o:p></o:p></div>
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More annoyingly still, there is no predicting when it will
hit. I suppose it starts with reduced levels of patience overall, trouble
concentrating, feeling overwhelmed by every day have-to’s, flash backs and
memories back to the few days before. What we did, where we went. That last
shopping trip to Tesco and buying the Andrex loo roll because of the
“puppies!”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Eventually, for me, it will culminate in a few hours spent
listening to music that I know will bring out the feelings that are lurking –
the sadness, the frustration, the MISS. And often it is a weird and wonderful mix of
soft stuff that will tug at the heartstrings with some Linkin Park or other shouty songs thrown in. The only way
is through….<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes I wonder if Eoghan notices this time of year is
harder for us. I guess, he is wrapped up in his own bubble of
ignorant childhood bliss most of the time and that is the way it should be.
Despite that, we know Patrick does play a role in his little 5-year-old life.
Of late, he features in Eoghan’s play-pretend adventures along with Plainty,
the imaginary friend and "the other Patrick what didn't die". He is also included in family pictures Eoghan draws –
little stick people representing me, daddy, Eoghan, Patrick and the cat that
make my heart sing because I know Patrick is remembered and loved – albeit in a
rather odd and abstract sort of way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I guess, overall we manage to navigate our feelings well
enough. We’ve gotten pretty good at this – and gotten bad at other things we
were previously good at (Christmas cards being my more recent case in point).
We will always have our wobbly days though – we just cannot predict when they
will come.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And so, especially as time continues to rumble on, there are
<i>some </i>ways to continue to help us through this:</div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Try and take note of the important dates in our
lives – their birthday and anniversary – and try to let us know you are
thinking of us and them. Nothing fancy; a simple message will do to let us know
they are not forgotten.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">If you happen to think of them randomly, share that with
us. Nothing makes us happier than you sharing a memory. You might think of them
often but every now and then it is nice to be told about it, too.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">If it is coming up to an anniversary or
birthday, you might consider getting in touch to see if we fancy a
coffee/drink/meet-up for sorts; to remember or to forget – whatever may be
needed at the time.</span></li>
</ul>
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It is kind of a “Long-term Aftercare For the Bereaved”, because,
you see, as the years pass, it gets a lot quieter than in the first weeks, months
or even couple of years. It will be the small occasional gestures that will help so much in alleviating our
(often unspoken) fear that these people, our children, will slip from life’s
canvas into oblivion. Yet the seemingly smallest gesture will bring our
hearts an immeasurable amount of solace and peace as we face into another
milestone without them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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P.S. Mammy is biggest in the picture because Mammy is the boss not because Christmas has gotten the better of her! 😂</div>
Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-77341165350737469202016-07-28T10:32:00.005-07:002016-07-28T10:32:46.647-07:0013 Miles of Reflection - Run Killarney Half MarathonThis past Saturday, we got to take part in the Killarney Half Marathon which takes you from Molls Gap down to Killarney with stunning views along the way.<br />
<br />
We have always had a strong connection to this part of the world but even more so ever since we adopted our first sheep in Patrick's memory back on Easter Sunday 2011. Sproggy the sheep died from pneumonia this spring and we ended up adopting two more and last we heard both Kerry and Clare are thriving.<br />
<br />
The day started early and wet but conditions improved and the route down the mountain was absolutely stunning. Having driven this road so many times before, it was a privilege to run/walk it and get to appreciate its amazing scenery.<br />
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13 Miles turned out to be a long time. Time to get lost in ones thoughts as well as take in the views and curse the midges. I thought about Patrick, the blessing that is Eoghan, our Kerry sheep and the loss of now two babies in early pregnancy. Every time I look at a positive pregnancy test I cannot help but immediately figure out the estimated due date and from there it snowballs. A spring baby; will it be a boy or a girl; wonder who he/she will look like; Eoghan will be so happy to become a big brother; cannot wait to tell him.<br />
<br />
All these random thoughts start entering your head and you find yourself mapping out this potential little life. Then, without much ado, the universe decides otherwise. God only knows why. Is it you? Are your eggs past their sell by date? Is it a another fluke? Natures screw-up? Who knows. I know this was just a cluster of cells trying to become something but to us it was our baby; right from the moment that second line appeared. A baby with a million possibilities ahead of him or her.<br />
<br />
Baby loss is a funny thing. It continues to be rarely spoken about and the phrase "I'm sorry for loss." is still one that few will be offered in that situation. I choose to speak up - because I feel these little beings deserve to be remembered and their parents loss likewise deserves to be acknowledged. They did exist, no matter how briefly. Their loss is felt by us, their parents. We are strong. We won't need constant minding or hand-holding or will cry into our Cheerios morning after morning for the rest of our lives. We carry on living and enjoying life but will always hold a special place in our hearts for all our children; those here on earth and those who shine as stars.<br />
<br />
It does not take much to acknowledge such a loss... A card, a bunch of flowers, an offer to babysit so the couple can have some alone time, a simple "I am sorry, this sucks." or suggestion to go out and get absolutely (umn, responsibly) pickled. Simple things but things that make a couple feel cared about and less alone at a lonely time. Even if some cannot find words, their actions will help and be much appreciated.<br />
<br />
We're grateful to have people around us who made us feel that way. We know nobody can fix these things for us but all the little gestures of compassion and care we have received have made us feel a million times better.<br />
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I am also grateful that I was able to go through with the run as it had only been a week since we lost that little bean. It was a welcome change of scenery and a good way of acknowledging him/her as well as our loss. A time for Pat and I to reflect, spend time together and heal (with a little help from the Irish Whiskey Experience in Killarney!). <br />
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I guess there are less tiring ways of doing that than a half marathon down a Kerry mountain but where is the challenge in that? :)<br />
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-48866183440825716912016-04-28T09:24:00.002-07:002016-04-28T09:24:36.204-07:00Thanatology - Death Cafes - And Compassionate CitiesFour months ago, I embarked on a new journey. I packed my backpack, pen and notepad and headed over to Milford Hospice to attend the introductory evening for a 14 week pilot program called:<br />
<br />
<b>Thanatology - an Introduction. The study of death, dying and grief.</b><br />
<br />
I am sure some of those who heard about this were wondering what in the name of God I would be doing a course like that for. Sure, isn't it all a bit morbid? (Actually, no, it is not really. :))<br />
<br />
Well, I guess my initial reasons for signing up was that I might learn some more about what I have been through and may still be going through in my own personal grieving process. Knowledge is power and being better equipped might help me deal with more difficult times still ahead.<br />
<br />
In the end, I got so much more than that. Yes, I learnt a lot about myself, about death, dying, grieving and how different cultures deal(t) with these things throughout time. I learnt about the wonderful work hospices do, about palliative care, the Compassionate Communities and Death Cafe movements and the importance of thinking ahead; to have those conversations about what our preferences are when it comes to end of life care or in the event we can no longer decide for ourselves and to have them in a relaxed setting, when there is no urgency.<br />
<br />
The lectures were informative and <i><b>very</b></i> thought-provoking and the discussions passionate.<br />
<br />
Above all though I feel extremely privileged to have been allowed to spend the last weeks with an incredible group of people - as diverse as they come, each with their own story. We laughed together, we shed tears at some of each others stories and we grew together during those Wednesday nights.<br />
<br />
Last nights presentations, which formed part of the course work, displayed an incredible level of talent and depth of thought. We were allowed to catch yet another glimpse of each others true selves and saw strength, vulnerability, faith, happiness, sadness and much, much more.<br />
<br />
Thanatology - an Introduction...It has taught me <i><b>as much</b></i> about life and living<i> </i>as it has about death, dying and grief.<br />
<br />
Death is inevitable and part of life. Not discussing it won't make it go away. Discussing it, accepting it and connecting with it, helps us combat our fears and draw out our own wishes and preferences. We grow comfortable enough to open this conversation with our loved ones. I believe that this ultimately will make us better at making decisions with confidence when the time comes. It means we <i><b>know </b></i>that our own wishes are known and will be taken into account. It will make us better at offering compassion and support when someone we know goes through loss (of any kind) and or critical/terminal illness because we will have a better understanding of what to do or say.<br />
<br />
The course made me also appreciate that loss comes in many guises aside from the obvious.<br />
<br />
Loss of a relationship<br />
Loss of a job<br />
Loss of a friendship<br />
Loss of ones faculties/body parts through illness<br />
Miscarriage<br />
Infertility<br />
...<br />
<br />
Each requires its own grieving process and we, as a society, can do so much more to support each other through these experiences, removing stigma and improving somebody's quality of life as a result. That is why I am supporting Limerick's bid to become the world's 3rd Compassionate City.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #6c6c6c; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 25.92px;"><i><b>"A Compassionate City is one in which citizens can feel supported in the face of illness and loss – in schools, workplaces, cultural and spiritual forums so that the personal and social costs of these issues – such as loneliness, depression, anxiety and physical illness can be reduced." </b></i></span><br />
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I am grateful to have been given the opportunity to do this course and to have been introduced to so many new experiences and wonderful people.<br />
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"Love the life you live. Live the life you love." - Bob Marley</div>
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-32025189219500299342016-04-16T12:01:00.000-07:002016-04-17T07:59:31.372-07:00Campaign for Separate Baby Loss Facility at UMHL - Our Experience of Pregnancy Loss at UMHL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We're no strangers to loss. We lost our first born to SUDC when he was only 22 months old. We were lucky enough to have our second a mere 9 months after that horrific day. He brightens our darker moments, he lights up our lives and he sometimes drives us to insanity and back but we will be eternally grateful to have him.</div>
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In November 2014 we were delighted to find out we were expecting again, a little brother or sister for our second born, a living sibling. I was confident and happy, ready to tell the world...Sure, what could possibly go wrong? We'd done this before.</div>
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Then, at 8 weeks, Thursday before Christmas 2014 and a week after seeing a tiny heart beating, I began to experience spotting while home minding our Chickenpox-y 3 year old. Concerned, I went to our GP who tried to reassure me that spotting can be very normal in a pregnancy. She nonetheless called the EPU at UMHL for a scan. The first available appointment was Tuesday afternoon - pretty much 5 days later. I went home and continued to keep an eye on things.</div>
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Unfortunately, by Friday afternoon it had gotten worse and I called Admissions at UMHL. They were very kind and told me to try and hurry in before everyone in the scan department would be gone home for the weekend so I called my husband, we bundled our son into the car and drove over as fast as we could. My husband dropped me off and went back to home to wait for a friend to mind our son before coming in again. </div>
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Meanwhile, I was in Admissions and was asked to provide a urine sample before being taken down to the scan department. The lady scanning me was incredibly kind but told me what I knew in my gut...I could see the little bean but whereas the week prior there was the distinct flicker of a teeny heart, the screen was still. </div>
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In a daze I went back up to Admissions and waited for my husband - bawling my eyes out. Why? Why us? Had we not had enough heartache already? But I guess, why not us?</div>
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My husband was allowed to come into Admissions with me and we were led into one of the rooms just in Admissions to have some privacy while waiting for the doctor. Our chart had the picture of a snowdrop stuck to it. </div>
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The doctor came and he was very kind, offering his condolences. He said we would need to come back Monday for another scan to confirm...just in case...but told me to come in fasting in preparation for possible medical intervention. He explained what to expect, in what event to call and we were sent home with a pamphlet for information.</div>
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The weekend came and went with cramping and bleeding. The small hot water bottle a friend had given me as a Secret Santa gift came in very handy those few days. I felt sad, in shock, gutted.</div>
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Monday morning another friend came over early to mind our son whilst we headed in. Our experience that morning was quite different:</div>
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In Admissions they were puzzled as to why I would be coming in fasting even though the doctor Friday eve had told us to do so. My husband was not allowed into Admissions with me but accompanied me down for the confirmation scan. There was nobody in the scan waiting area and nobody behind the hatch. Confused we thought perhaps we had to go via the Ante-natal clinic to get some attention. As I walked in, I spotted someone we knew and backed out as fast as I could. </div>
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Running into someone we knew was the last thing I wanted at that time.</div>
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We went back to the scan waiting area and eventually got someone's attention and a second scan. The lady scanning me said it looked like I had miscarried completely myself already and there probably would not be any need for medical intervention.</div>
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I had watched everything like a hawk the entire weekend and it felt a bit like a blow that I should have missed my baby miscarrying! I know I was only 8 weeks but it still felt so wrong. </div>
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We went back up to Admissions and were told to wait in the main waiting area outside until the doctor could see us. </div>
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And we waited...and we watched the telly with infomercial about UMHL with smiling couples and tiny babies...and we waited...and we watched people leave with the newborns....and we waited....and we watched women in labour coming in....and we waited...and we watched women with big bumps heading out for a smoke...and we waited some more...all the while trying to keep our heads down in case there was someone we knew.</div>
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Eventually, I went back into Admissions to see if the doctor would see us soon just to be told that he had just gotten there and to hop onto one of the beds so he could have a word with me. There was no time to get my husband. I felt vulnerable and alone there without him. The doctor came in, not too much in terms compassion as I can recall, perhaps a little unsure how to deal with a totally emotional woman who had just lost her baby. He explained how long I could expect to bleeding for and said I could go home alright when I asked him. Then he looked over my chart and became very interested in my blood pressure readings. I get extremely anxious at the best of times, so those were never going to be great at <i>that</i> particular time. At that point he said I would have to stay in hospital for as long as I was bleeding.</div>
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What now? Had he not just told me that I could go home as there was no need for me to stay? Tired of having to explain myself all over again, I asked him to ring my consultant who could confirm my story re the BP. I overheard the midwife outside telling him too that she had seen my home readings (because of what BP is capable of in doctors offices and hospital surroundings, I always come prepared!). I do understand that he wanted to cover himself but it really felt, at that moment, that my loss and total heartache was completely secondary to a number on a chart. </div>
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In any event, he spoke to my consultant and said I could go home. Home is where I wanted and needed to be - especially in light of not needing any medical intervention.</div>
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I went back out to a husband who had wondered where I had disappeared to for that long as after all I had just gone in to get an idea of <i>when</i> we would be seen. He told me the person we knew had left with her mum and not seen him...for which we are glad.</div>
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We left UMHL sad, grieving and without much information regarding aftercare or contact information for someone to talk to.</div>
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I guess I did not know how to deal with this type of loss for a long time. Society deals with it so differently than the previous type of loss we had. The support is not the same. There is a reluctance to talk and listen.</div>
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My way of dealing with it all was to put all my effort into trying again. 2015 went in a bit of a blur of cycle after cycle...without success to date.</div>
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As much as we wish for a living sibling for our second born, we do not want to put all our lives on hold in pursuit of something that may or may not happen. I am not trying to be negative or give the impression that I am giving up. I simply need to get to a point where I am at peace with either possibility because life is too short and precious to not be lived to its fullest</div>
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Over a year later I am now seeing a counselor and joined Pauline Gannon's Facebook Group of ladies who have gone through pregnancy and baby loss also. Counseling will help me deal with the unresolved grief surrounding this little bean. I am hoping that it will also help me make my peace with our current issues conceiving again and both possible outcomes of that.</div>
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Pauline has done amazing work in getting this campaign off the ground. UMHL desperately needs a separate unit/rooms for baby loss/scares. Whilst ours was not one of the worse experiences in UMHL, I fully support this campaign for separate facilities:</div>
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You do <i>not</i> want to sit in the main waiting area of the maternity when you are experiencing a scare or pregnancy loss.</div>
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You do <i>not</i> want to see the hospital ad playing on the TV in that waiting area showing off newborns and happy parents whilst trying to hide in case anyone walks in whom you might know.</div>
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You most certainly do <i>not</i> want to lie in the admissions room listening to the sound of other babies hearts beating away when you know or suspect your baby's has stopped.</div>
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You <i>do</i> need your husband/partner with you at all times. In fact, he will want to be there and not be left out!</div>
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You <i>do </i>need privacy.</div>
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You <i>do </i>need compassion and acknowledgment of your loss. </div>
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Common it may be for those who work there but for you and the dad common it is not. </div>
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Baby and pregnancy loss is a sad and traumatic experience for both (!) parents and deserves to be treated with the utmost compassion and care. </div>
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Please show your support for a separate baby loss facility at our local maternity hospital. </div>
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<a href="https://www.change.org/p/pauline-thedynamicdoula-com-campaign-for-separate-baby-loss-facility-at-umhl?recruiter=297735913&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=share_for_starters_page&utm_term=des-lg-no_src-no_msg" target="_blank">https://www.change.org/p/pauline-thedynamicdoula-com-campaign-for-separate-baby-loss-facility-at-umhl?recruiter=297735913&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=share_for_starters_page&utm_term=des-lg-no_src-no_msg</a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoYNaaIPIWnekRfTK05TRHEhw1nA_41MSLjk6lMTmihtibgCFHtLCDnk_8oH-_TbAaVO7WEsA0afVkthNE6g_ZzuZ3uCGvvid-69-frR_QbVF1ZjcPFjTsitK9KLDEmNz-USO2eWALJk/s1600/il_fullxfull.788582441_bx09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoYNaaIPIWnekRfTK05TRHEhw1nA_41MSLjk6lMTmihtibgCFHtLCDnk_8oH-_TbAaVO7WEsA0afVkthNE6g_ZzuZ3uCGvvid-69-frR_QbVF1ZjcPFjTsitK9KLDEmNz-USO2eWALJk/s320/il_fullxfull.788582441_bx09.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-24999104380138757322016-03-16T03:36:00.003-07:002016-04-17T11:50:38.126-07:00St. Patrick's DayConversation with your little brother this morning:<br />
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Me: "Do you know what day it is tomorrow?"<br />
Eoghan: "Yes." takes another spoon of cereal and responds in a muffled fashion: "St. Patrick's Day."<br />
Me: "And do you know what St. Patrick's Day is about?"<br />
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(Expecting to hear about what he learnt at pre-school.)<br />
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Eoghan: "Of course. It's about my (brother) Patrick!"<br />
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It certainly is a day that you are even more in our thoughts, Sproggy-pops. For Daddy, Eoghan and me, St. Patrick's day has become a day that Saint Patrick gets to share with you. Isn't he one lucky saint!? Not many get to do that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT9Ad_rgZJ6W8rYpVrwbXRqcOaWmPdhBHYRED4LPqTNZq18MtpyWupuw3ppFHkEuvrnp5aPPtIEy9jpePZNmV3BgvbCSy_evA2KipVNiqmyf6cPHzyyjyKohxuTdcyeZE6GASlqSLP-0/s1600/240px-Kilbennan_St._Benin%2527s_Church_Window_St._Patrick_Detail_2010_09_16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT9Ad_rgZJ6W8rYpVrwbXRqcOaWmPdhBHYRED4LPqTNZq18MtpyWupuw3ppFHkEuvrnp5aPPtIEy9jpePZNmV3BgvbCSy_evA2KipVNiqmyf6cPHzyyjyKohxuTdcyeZE6GASlqSLP-0/s320/240px-Kilbennan_St._Benin%2527s_Church_Window_St._Patrick_Detail_2010_09_16.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030413333413552301.post-23406390358512774762016-03-14T10:09:00.000-07:002016-03-14T10:41:47.458-07:00Hello SunshineThe days are getting longer and nature seems to slowly awaken from its Winter slumber; giving way to Spring. I love this time of year. There is new life all around us...And plenty of little lambs. Very important, that!<br />
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Today was one of <i>those</i> days:<br />
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Blue skies, gentle breeze, birds singing and SUNSHINE.<br />
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It felt warm and gentle against my face as I was walking at lunchtime. The warmth of the sun reminds me a bit of special Sproggy-hugs and the mild breeze feels like sloppy kisses blown from above.<br />
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These little moments are bitter-sweet but I treasure them because they make me feel closer to our little boy.<br />
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I really just love the way the Spring sun feels on my face and soak up that feeling as much as I can - out in nature; walking; just me, the sun and "the birdies" I carry Patrick in my heart.<br />
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As the saying goes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwstCCLTPuL2ZikIJ0FXxM5tUIPwBCAkjuQjF5AoHFfCMZ38pTjp_s_9OsPjRF3vsn6UUj7yincQglUyFO1NTcBWRQ8ZWmUj47yRR7gH4cbEH9Je3Z0WzoRG0GO5J2m-DjSGqpul-Jr4/s1600/spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwstCCLTPuL2ZikIJ0FXxM5tUIPwBCAkjuQjF5AoHFfCMZ38pTjp_s_9OsPjRF3vsn6UUj7yincQglUyFO1NTcBWRQ8ZWmUj47yRR7gH4cbEH9Je3Z0WzoRG0GO5J2m-DjSGqpul-Jr4/s320/spring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Turn your face to the sun and you will leave the shadows behind you."</div>
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<br />Stephhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05887942538401017578noreply@blogger.com