New Year's Eve. What does it mean to you? A chance to plan to melt off your fat by drinking wheat grass mixed with ass? An opportunity to do kind deeds until you realise you don't like anyone? Or the year to make your dreams come true? Well for me New Year's Eve has always just been the passing of time. The sliding of one hand over the other, something that happens numerous times a day, every day. The strike of a clock.
Facebook was, as per usual, flooded with updates on 2015 being the best year ever or the biggest pile of shit possible. Good riddance vs good to have met you.
How do I sum up 2015? Well it would read like a heart monitor.
July - fucking awesome. We moved back to Bristol
August - the stratosphere of immenseness and shock. Baby number 3 is on the way!!!
September - shock and fear - I have an extremely aggressive and rare cancer
September - relief. I can keep my baby as long as I'm aware of the risks to my health.
October - sheer excitement. Baby is growing well and is a girl!!!
November - fear again. Baby must come now or there's an extremely high chance none of you children will have a mother
December - elation. Ally's is here and she's fine!! She's doing so well. My little beacon of light is here.
December - utter utter heart break and devastation. Ally has died.
If I'd written a Facebook post about 2015 it would have gone something like this "fuck you 2015. You were the worst year of my life. You brought me cancer, gave me a death sentence and you took my daughter. I fucking hate you. You absolute cunt. Cunt cunt cunt CUNT!!!!!!!!
Then the clock struck 12 and what happened? I felt exactly same.
As I sit here having these drugs pumped into my arm I feel exactly the same. These are the drugs Ally was born early in order for me to have. Every Time I hear the word Herceptin I want to scream. I should still be pregnant and counting the weeks down until March. Feeling her acrobatics in my tummy. Or I should be going from chemo to cuddles with Ally. She had over 90 % chance of survival at 28 weeks. If I'd waited another 3 weeks for treatment my cancer had a really good chance of spreading. In which case I would no longer have a cure just a preventative care package. I'd then be facing saying goodbye to my three children.
I honestly believed in my heart of hearts that she would be fine. I thought there's no way someone can have so much shit happen to them in one go. She was born healthy and doing so incredibly well.
Everyday I went back and fourth from NICU to see my baby I passed a wall that contained loads of pictures of premature babies and how they are doing now. All I kept thinking was I cant wait to put Ally's photo up there.
Then I went home for the first night and Ally became unwell. One day I'll tell you more but right now I can't.
A few days after Ally left us a CT scan revealed I have nodules on my lungs too. We will know more about what these are around March time but it's not what we needed to hear.
All anyone can say about this situation is how incredibly cruel it is and I really have to agree but there's one thing that I'm sure people find hard to digest in some ways which is that I don't regret keeping her. I got to meet her. She was a little person with a personality and the memories we have of her live on and on.
If you believe in God, then you'll also be thinking that I will see her again. This is something I have come to believe. Is it a desperate mother clutching on to any ounce of hope she can or has the loss of Ally made me confront my beliefs head on? I didn't know I had any beliefs until now but I do know that when I was told Ally would die I smashed my hands together and prayed like a warrior.
I'm sorry that this isn't upbeat and funny but I can say that I think I'm getting a grip of myself and that all of me is not lost.
As you know I love an analogy, so here's another for you.
I can almost see myself swimming in the wake of a ship wreck. The rescue boat is up ahead and I'm making my way towards it. As I drag myself through the icy dark waters I see some of my possessions scattered around me, I grab onto as much of it as I can carry under one arm while I paddle with the other. I feel exhausted and feel that I'm fighting an impossible battle as wave after wave forces me back. Sometimes it occurs to me that if I just gave in and slipped below the water then this would all be over and I could rest. Then Ally's pink hat floats by and I grab that piece of fabric like its a fucking life raft. I look to the rescue boat and I see Taits little hand waving at me and Noah shouting "come on mummy, you can do it".
Then there's the Scouse one who projects absolute calm but the trained eye can see the lump in his throat as he shouts "keep going".
I look even closer and I can see the boat is rammed full of people all shouting my name. My friends, my family members, the Drs, people from my town and complete strangers and there, right at the front in the most beautiful white dress, is Ally.
"Come on mummy. We love you. Don't give up."
Sometimes I really want to but I just focus on the boat and I swim.