The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Wednesday, 30 June 2010

And we came back. We did this well over a week ago, so you're probably wondering, Little One, what I could be doing that kept me from writing to you. Well, let's just leave it to say that the hits just keep on coming.

We left on a Thursday night. This would normally have been smooth sailing. I would have packed a scrummy dinner to be eaten on the ferry. I might have even tissue-wrapped your father's shirts. Stranger things have happened. Instead, all of my good intentions flew out the window with a bit of scalding hot coffee and a trip to the emergency room. Result: a 10-inch long, varyingly wide burn that ran from the bendy in my waist to my upper thigh.

New rule: No emptying the washing machine near freshly made coffee.

Reminder: Large McDonald's arches on the fridge. Why? Because coffee is hot and your mama should know better.

So we get home, I finish packing in a very nice haze of painkillers. We drive to the ferry. We crash out on the sofas and a few hours later I wake up to realize OUCH! The large protective blister has popped! And the layer of skin that was a blister, well, it has come off. Which leads to an infection, which leads to numerous trips to Prague 6 from our hideway in Skalice.

We have a brilliant time. Your Uncle Mix pulled out all the stops and made us most welcome in his country manor. And he's expecting a baby with his paramour, which is most exciting news.

In Prague, we eat, we wander, we laugh, we argue, and I love being there but don't long to live there, if you know what I mean. It is nice to know I can live in parallel to the city, dropping in as and when. And then we retreat to the country for long walks, reading, naps, and - in your father's case - World Cup Football.

From Skalice we drive west then south to Neuchatel, where your Uncle C and Auntie J live near the Lake. We spend two days eating and drinking (your father rediscovers his appreciation for Tequila/vodka/Redbull and pays dearly). We arrive at the ferry just shy of the 8pm and bicker over who is at fault: Human Error or Technology.

On the ferry, your father gets a text: your Great Aunt has died. This makes my heart hurt so much, I can't help but cry. She was amazing. The only thing that cheers me is that she'll be able to join the ranks of fab people keeping pace with you.

At home, the world spins and spins. Work is crazy busy, Uncle M has a stroke, Auntie P and Uncle CR get hitched at Eton Chapel and really, all I want to do is have some fun then sleep for an eternity. Things slow down by Tuesday - and really, how could they help but slow?

In all of this, I have to say, we had our 1st genetics appointment, which was basically another session of 'Hmmm. Well We think you're good to go, but let's wait for the metabolic tests. And yeah, we don't really know what caused the hydrops.' But the brain damage, little one, that's just cause you didn't really get a chance to breathe deep. And my heart cracks a bit more before it can heal.

And almost everywhere I go, people offer up commiserations. It is touching and yet doubly painful. What I notice is that people want to comfort more that we let them, your papa and I. And when they can't comfort him, they come to me because, well, I guess I'm just a wee bit more cuddly. When I'm not setting things on fire.

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