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I hate who I have become inside this life. Resentful. Unhappy. Unhinged. I hate the way I react to my children simply being children. The way I plead with them, and with my husband, for the chaos to soften. For the noise to quieten. For life to feel a little more manageable. And then comes

This one comes to you from the toilet cubicle at the beach cafe. I’ve been up all night. We had another hospital visit at 2am this morning. Josh came at 8 to give me a breather, so I brought the kids to the beach for some peace. What I found was more chaos. Maybe that’s

Any parent who has spent an extended amount of time in The Heart Centre for Children with a “cardiac kid ” will be familiar with the Heart Beads. They are a collection. A timeline. A story. Each bead represents a different moment in a child’s cardiac journey. The big black beads for the really dark

It’s like a nightmare I’ve had many times before. I know what happens next. We are admitted to the paediatric ward, and hesitantly I take my seat beside his hospital bed, not knowing how long i’ll have to man my post this time. I can tell from the room we’ve been given, and the whispers

I must be a mermaid: Choosing depth over surface I’ve always had a thing for mermaids. I love the quote: I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depth, and a great fear of shallow living (It may have even been my msn username back in 2005 -iykyk) Deep, mermaid-hued colours like emerald

I paced the NICU corridors, baby swaddled in one arm, trolley of cords and beeping machines in the other. I wanted to take him and run. Honestly, I might have – if he weren’t connected to the place. Sleep-deprived, my nervous system frayed, I clung to him and whispered on repeat: We are taking you