Sweden 2016. The air was as crisp as the fiery autumn leaves which had begun to fall. The smell of smoke filled the late September days.  My family and I were in the midst of the adventure of a lifetime. (Also the name of the Coldplay album which became the soundtrack to our trip.) We had bought a motorhome and were traveling around Scandanavia. Everything was perfect. I had my family around me, everyone was healthy, and each day was filled with magical experiences. 

And yet I felt fractious, irritable, sad, restless. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with me, so I sat down with my journal. As I wrote down the date, it became clear to me what was going on. It was late in September. I realised that this was not the first time I had felt this way. For me, the run up to early October is full of memories. On the 2nd of October 2009 I lost my mom to cancer. Exactly five years and 3 days later, on the 5 October 2014, I gave birth to my first child. An event that was...

To the mom next to her child’s hospital bed, 

I see you sitting there, your eyes fixed on the tracing lines, your back aching from leaning over the cot,  your ears buzzing with the incessant beeps of the monitors. I know what its like to be unable to pick up your child because there are tubes and needles everywhere you look. I know what its like to be transfixed by oxygen saturation levels and heart rates and the tempo of his breathing. 

Maybe this is your first time in hospital. Maybe you have a newborn baby and nothing went to plan and you find yourself in the NICU; or maybe you are a veteran, a mom who has done this many times before. Maybe this will be a brief stay, or maybe you will be here for a long time. 

I have spent more days than I care to remember in hospital with my little boy. My first two Mother’s days and my first two Easters as a mom were spent beside his ICU bed. In fact, as I write this I’m sitting next to yet another...