School run mums

When dropping my son off at school I notice there are quite a few different types of mums doing drop off pick up.

There are the working mums looking all smart that just want to drop and run. They seem to be most frustrated if their child needs an extra cuddle.

There are the mums who plan on going back to bed as soon as they get home as they have stayed in their pyjamas with their bed head hair do’s.

There are the mums who have the younger children who need to be restrained but are allowed to run riot. These mums don’t give a monkeys about their toddler who is eating sand or painting over some other child’s masterpiece. Sometimes these other children are screaming and shouting and the mums just don’t care.

There are the mummy cliques that drop their voices if a non member pass by or they just get in the way chatting in their little group. They are the ones who are always picking each others kids up or going on play dates, which are always talked about loudly the day after.

There is always a loner mum who stands on the outskirts of everyone. She either looks like she wants to join in but is afraid or she stands there with a scowl on her face because no one is including her.

You have the mums who are always the last through the door. They rush in and scream at their child because they are dragging their heels. They also seem to forget something. That thing is usually a different item each week.

There is also the ‘normal’ mums who chat to most other mums and take care of their younger children while dropping off their school age child. They are rarely late and only occasionally forget things.

I watch all these different mums and see how they all interact, or don’t with everyone around them and I see that most don’t realise that they are so lucky to have a child to take to/collect from school. I know my Milo wouldn’t have gone to a mainstream school at all but I wonder about what type of mum I would be if I had to do his drop off. I would probably be rushing around after getting my eldest to his school first.


The Royal Baby

First I want to say congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge on the birth of their daughter. I can’t wait to find out what they are calling her.

I have watched the coverage of the birth through the veil of being an angel mummy. I wasn’t bothered by the gender of the baby but more by the fact that he/she would be well and they would get to take a healthy baby home. Seeing the royal couple with their new daughter didn’t hurt me, it didn’t make me miss my Milo more or wish I had done that.

Having spoken to others in the baby loss community it seems I am almost alone in feeling like that. Most angels mums are full of jealousy/resentment that they have brought a baby from the hospital in a car seat rather than a coffin. Most have cried over the amount of interest in this baby whereas their own seems to be forgotten by their family.

I wish the new princess and her parents all the well in the in world and I hope they are able to enjoy these first few days without feeling the intrusion too badly.

parenting communities

I am a member of many parenting communities or birth boards on social media. I love them and I find them great to chat to mums who have babies who are around the same age. I may never meet these women but I feel like some of them are my best friends.

One particular group saw me through the worst time in my life. They were, and still are invaluable for me. They kept me going, they helped by listening when I needed a rant or if I was having a down day. They did a kitty so that I could get to my Milo when my husband couldn’t drive me and the extra went towards presents that made my eldest sons life easier when mummy and daddy were away for many days at a time. They even sent flowers for my Milo’s funeral.

Some people think these groups shouldn’t exist or just want to bring them down. Those people have never experienced the love you can feel through the words someone posts. Yes, they can also go the other way and bring you down but then you just step away from the keyboard until another day.

There can be times where these groups fall out and go onto form splinter groups. These groups are great to keep in contact with people who have left the original group but I wish they didn’t have to happen. My life would be so much easier if there was just one group for each of my children. As it is, I have 3 children and 5 communities. Lots of members overlap but others don’t and they are usually the ones who are important to me.

The London Marathon

Just been watching The London Marathon on the telly. It is so inspirational to see those thousands of people out there running for charities that are so close to their hearts.

I have been quite emotional watching it. Some of the stories are heart breaking, just like my own. Those mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles and grandparents running for their lost child family members has had me tearing up a lot of the morning.

I wish I had the fitness level to be able to do the same next year. I would raise money for the hospital that helped my Milo so much in his short life. The nurses were fantastic and they loved him so much. I didn’t feel like I was leaving him with strangers, he was with his extended family if I couldn’t be there.

I want to help them so much. I want the parents journey to be made easier. I want the nurses to have everything they need to help them care for other children like my Milo was cared for.

I guess I will put my name down for a place on bank holidy monday and wait to see.

Soft play parties

Yesterday I took my eldest to my version of hell, a soft play party.

The place we went to was rammed to the gills with screaming children, most seemed to be dripping with some bodily fluid and all were very excited that it was the weekend.

Usually my son hates these places so we get to leave early as he just stands there with his hands over his ears but not yesterday. He decided that it was the best place on earth to be and he was joining in with the screaming. While I was there I did manage to have a nice time chatting with the other mums and watching for my son in the giant cage like arena.

I did notice quite a few things with the other parents/children.

  • So many parents were ignoring their babies
  • Two of the kids got into a full on fist fight in the ball pool and no staff intervened. One walked right past and looked at them and left them to it. It took myself and another parent yelling at them from the outside to stop it.
  • Big kids were in the little ones area
  • Little ones were in the big area, with no supervision
  • A pair of dads were having fun with their kids in the sandpit but they stopped all other kids joining in as they would glare at the other kids.
  • So many of the kids were barefoot, vile and awful. So glad my son hates to be barefoot.

Once we went upstairs for the party section it was like monkeys were running the show. Each child had been asked what they wanted for food when they entered and this was written down on both a sheet and on the wrist band each child has to wear. They had successfully ignored both and made way too many chicken nuggets and no where near enough of everything else. Why offer a certain option if you don’t have enough of it to serve to those who want it? I managed to grab my son what he wanted but other kids weren’t so lucky.

They then did party songs, 3 party songs. The staff had no idea of the proper moves to Superman and kept looking at each other and giggling. Us parents did a better job with them, but then Superman is a classic song.

Then the dreaded giant headed figure came out. One kid went nuclear and started screaming in a pitch that only dogs could hear. She attempted to climb her mother to get away but the dozy twat kept coming closer and closer to her. The mother had to push past her so she could get her daughter to safety.

The final moment of the torture was the cake/party bags and balloons at the end of the party. It was a free for all. Kids were stropping because they didn’t want to leave, parents were stressed because there was no order and the staff were overwhelmed by all the kids clamouring for stuff. I stayed back and watched the drama unfold. Parents were grabbing cake before it had been put in the bags, kids were grabbing the bags and digging into them before they should have and the staff were swearing under their breath. They hadn’t blown up enough balloons either so there was tears and fights over them. The staff then refused to blow more balloons up as they had done one for each party guest. Totally fair but they should have said that before handing them out to all and sundry as some people had brought siblings and they had taken balloons for them.
While my eldest now enjoys the parties and my youngest might come to like them I can’t help thinking that my Milo will never get to experience them. I wonder if he would have been like his brother, scared at first and needing someone to climb around with him but then more independent. I see 3 year olds running around and it just reminds me of what I am missing.

Symbols and signs

I have many symbols and signs that I take comfort in.

If I see a red kite (the bird not an actual kite) then I see that my Milo is popping by for a visit. I also like to get a donkey if possible as his toy was Dexter the donkey. He was also buried with a soft donkey, not Dexter though. I needed him.

These signs are very personal to me and mean a lot but I do not own these signs. If another angel mummy also sees their angel being close if a red kite flies past then brilliant. Anything that helps someone on their journey is fantastic.

Some angel mummies believe they own certain things and that because something rare is attributed to their angels memory then another angel mummy should not use that sign. This is total crap. Our lives are hard enough without anger and jealousy.

I hope that an angel mummy can find comfort in the long days and nights ahead. These symbols can bring light and warmth to the darkest coldest places of our existence. They are for sharing and caring not hiding and fighting.

To my Milo

My smallest son,

I am so sorry that I couldn’t keep you. I wanted you to come home so much. It hurt me every time I had to walk out of the door. I’m sorry I didn’t do more when you were still inside me. I should have pushed more and got them to get you out sooner. I was there every day but I trusted them that everything was ok when I should have trusted my instincts and knew you were struggling.

I’m sorry I didn’t hold you whenever you needed me too. I couldn’t be there but you were in my thoughts all the time and I wished you were closer.

I’m sorry I couldn’t make you better. I tried and pleaded and beg with the doctors to allow me to get to take you home but it wasn’t going to happen. The day they told me I wouldn’t get to keep you in my arms was one of the worst of my life.

I wanted to do you better but I couldn’t. I wanted to be your mum but I wasn’t allowed. I needed you, like you needed me but it wasn’t to be.

I wish you were closer to me but I needed you to be where you are resting. You are with family and hopefully they are caring for you until I can.

I love you my little man,

I think of you always and always will.