Wordless Wednesday 28/10/2015... Such Love!

Kimmie x

Related post... Marie's Voice... the story behind the pic

A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day)

ON MENTAL ILLNESS...

ON SPECIAL NEEDS... 

MATTERS OF THE HEART...

GRIEF... 

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES... 

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x

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This Child

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Copyright©2013kimmie All Rights Reserved

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x

Of Windmills and Woes

If we were having coffee, I'd be playing 'hide n chat' this week... blabbing (nervously) about your drink preference, how your weeks been, how long the kettle's taking to boil... windmills - I like windmills I do, lets talk about windmills, do you like windmills, come see my windmills.

Every silence would get a babble, an anxious, smiley, bubbly babble... and I'd be wishing you'd talk about you.

I'd drag you outside to see ALL the windmills, babbling the old, the sentimental, and the new... you'd be wishing by now you'd gone to star bucks...alone!

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how incredibly tough (special needs) parenting has been this week...

I wouldn't tell you how many times 'Littlie' has morphed from 'absolute Joy' into 'absolute nightmare', on a day to day (often hour to hour) basis, and how mind blowingly difficult it's been not reacting to her meltdowns with a few (there's only so much I can take) meltdowns of my own... how tough it's been keeping the 'me' that's not 'Mummy' in check.

Littlie has more than enough to deal with, none of it her fault, the last thing she needs, is the me that's not 'Mummy'... especially in response to the 'She' she can't help.

{Littlie (you may already know) is 9 years old, and was born with a chromosome disorder (Prader Willi Syndrome), which affects her both physically and mentally. She has global developmental delay, hypermobility, OCD,  and Tourettes (amongst other issues) ...I won't bore you the symptoms, the list is seemingly endless.}

If we were having coffee, I might explain her disability (if you asked), I'd even touch on how challenged/challenging she can be... but mostly, I'd tell you how funny she can be, how engaging, and affectionate she can be, what a wonderful character she is...how far she's come, how hard she tries... and how much I love her!

I couldn't love her more if I tried!

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't tell you how debilitating my own disabilities (fibromyalgia & mental illness, exacerbated by grief) have been this week... how hard it's been to think positive, speak positive, do positive...because no one likes negative, right?

I wouldn't tell you how confusing it is, to be Mum, to be wife, to be friend; just to be... in a world that chugs on...so quickly, pulling me (inwardly screaming) along with it.

If we were having coffee, I wouldn't ask you for a hug, despite needing one, desperately... because, in a hug I'd blub, lose control, spill 'ALL the things', scary things, big things; too big to blab things... I can't do that, no, I can't do that.

I prefer hugging to hugged.

If you needed a hug - if you were upset?... Oh, I could do that, yes, I could do that... I can always do that.

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If we were having coffee, and I had added my woes to my windmills, you might not believe me anyway; because I'd be wearing a smile, long sleeves, and a face full of make up - chatting about windmills, 'absolute joy', and you...

...because, it's easier (and fairer) to share 'absolute joy' than it is to share 'absolute nightmare' - easier to play 'hide n chat' than it is to play 'chat the crap' - safer to talk windmills than it is to talk woes!

Oh, and because I'd quite like you to come again... :)

If we were having coffee, I'd ask how you were, and wonder, does your "I'm okay" mimic mine!
Do you play the game too? are you playing it now? Filling silence with babble... sunshiny, smiley, bubbly babble... wishing I'd talk about me.

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Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

P.S... Littlie is currently presenting (at time of kettle boiling)... as 'absolute joy'... long may it last :)

P.P.S... I'm adding this post to the Weekend Coffee Share, linky/bloghop... the brain child of 'Part Time Monster'. You can read other Coffee Shares, and/or add your own ((HERE))

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Related posts...

It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to. 

You know where the kettle is #WeekendCoffeeShare

You know where the kettle is :o) #WeekendCoffeeShare

If we were having coffee I'd point you in the direction of the kettle and the cappuccino cupboard, and ask you to make me one while you're at it... Don't look at me like that...It's been a long day ;o)

If we were having coffee I'd tell you how grateful I was when my Mum and her partner picked 'Littlie' up, and took her to Church with them this morning... I'd tell you (perhaps you already know) that today was the first Fathers Day I've had to get through without my Dad... I'd tell you how tough it's been, how achingly Dadless I've felt, how hard it's been to do the 'Mum thing' today........how much I needed those couple of child free hours this morning.

I'd tell you that my 'Littlie' had a fab time with the Nannies, and that by the time she came home this afternoon I was needing the 'Mum thing', just as desperately as I'd needed a break from it this morning.
I'd tell you how welcome her distracting chatter was, how much I enjoyed (albeit sleepily) reading to her this afternoon, and again this evening... and how grateful I am for Enid Blyton's imagination... I'd tell you that it's impossible to grieve when you're up 'The Faraway Tree'... and that while up there, we were...FREE!

If we were having coffee I'd ask you to nip out and turn the sprinkler off for me, and if you happen to spot any dog poo while you're out there, be a love and pick it up... bags are in the draw... no, not that draw, the one next to the microwave ;)

If we were having coffee we'd need a top up around now... you know where the kettle is ;)
While waiting for the kettle, we'd stand at the back door and I'd point out all of the little solar lights that are now doted around the garden; in memory of Dad.
Coloured fairy lights in the trees, hanging baskets and bushes... solar cubes, dragonflies, and stakes in the beds...the crystal balls that are hanging from the fence, like diamonds in sunlight-colour changing at night.
I'd tell you that later tonight (when I wake her up to change her pad), I'll take Little through to my room where the window overlooks the garden, we'll climb onto my bed, cuddle up, pull back the curtain, and... 'Christmas in June' will light up her eyes.

I'd tell you how Iv'e tried (and failed) to capture the lights on camera, how much I'd love to share the magic on the blog, and I'd ask you if you have any idea how to photograph fairy lights at night.

If we were having coffee, I'd tell you how proud I am of Littlie this week, she (you may already know) is almost ten years old, and is disabled... she struggles (greatly) with tasks that would usually come easy for a child her age.
Well, this afternoon (for the second time this week) she managed to get the washing from the line. It took her an incredibly long time, and her legs gave way before she could finish, but... she did it...reached up, manipulated pegs (or, yanked when all else failed) and loaded the laundry bag... :)
She was so chuffed with herself... "all by my own self'".

If we were having coffee, we'd take our drinks, the biscuit tin (and in my case cigs) out to the patio now, I'd puff, you'd dunk, (or puff, or both) and we'd talk about you for a while.

How's life treating you?

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Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

P.S... Who's turn is it to put the kettle on? ;o) 

P.P.S,,, Weekend Coffee share is the brain child of Part-Time Monster Click here to go to the link up

Related post: Of windmills and woes

A love Letter... A Thank you... & some recycling. (a #1000speak post)

I wanted to (tried to) write something new for #1000speak this month, it's a stunning movement, and one I feel incredibly proud to be a part of; but (as some of you already know) my Dad passed away a few weeks ago, and with Fathers Day just around the corner and my head still so full of missing/wanting/needing Dad; I'm finding it hard to think about (or write about) much else.

However, I did find (whilst surfing 'compassion' on the net, hoping for inspiration) a beautiful 'Love Letter to the World, so beautiful, that I thought (rather than cop out altogether this month) I'd share it with you, dear reader...along with a 'Thank you' (I'll get to that in a bit), and a couple of *Compassion I wrote earlier* links... in case you missed them...:o)

'Love Letter to the World' was originally written by Kate Swoboda and is free to download Here

Enjoy :o)

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Before I get on to the recycling... I'd like to take a moment to say a huge, and heartfelt *Thank you* to all the gorgeous souls who supported me through Dads illness (Cancer), and who've continued to support me over the past few weeks since he passed away.

Losing Dad has been the hardest thing (to date) Iv'e ever had to bear, and you (you all know who you are), have been a Godsend...your kindness, friendship and *compassion*.has helped me (is helping me) to muddle through it.

..  

Thank you X

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The Recycling... 

Somebody's Son

{Excerpt}... Across the street, now sleeping 

somebody's son dreams hungers dream

Of Yorkshire pud, fish and chips

and mint choc chip ice-cream

Marie's Voice

{Excerpt}... There were no toys in the pram room for the little girl to play with, no cushions for her to snuggle into when she napped fell into an exhausted (scream worn) sleep - no padding to protect her, when out of fear, abandonment, desperation, she smashed her head against the floor... over and over again!

There were no hearers of responders to her screams, no wipes for her tear stained (often blood stained) cheeks, no cuddles for calm.... no attention, no love ...no compassion.

I sit down next to her, and imagining that she can see me/hear me, as I can her; I say, "It's okay darling... everything's gonna be okay... Compassion is on her way."
"She'll be here soon - she'll be your voice, and one day (though she doesn't yet know it herself) she'll be your mum.
She will fight for you, care for you, love you....and she'll be with you - always."

If you'd like to read the above Compassion posts in full just click on the titles and whoosh, you'll be gone...................................no wait, come back, there's more... ;o)

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This post is my (I've a muddled mind, but my hearts in the right place) contribution to June's 'One Thousand Voices for compassion' movement - a monthly event to promote and encourage good in the world.

On the 20th of each month bloggers and video-makers from all over the world come together to speak for compassion, in the hope of making a difference. 

#1000speak is a beautiful movement and one I'm proud to be a part of.  :o)

"Let ourselves care about strangers, act on behalf of those who are helpless, and encourage everyone we know to do the same." ~ Lizzi Rogers

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

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Thank you as always for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

P.S Check this one out... not one of my rambles, but definitely worth a read... because, well... *sugar-mousiness*... what's not to like :o) Sometimes the village needs a little sugar

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MARIE'S VOICE... #1000speak

Once upon a time (1970 to be exact) in a children's home in England, run by an order of nuns called 'The Poor Sisters Of Nazareth'... there lived a very 'special' little girl.

She was a tiny little dot, who had short cropped hair, and the bluest of blue eyes.

Her beauty (often overlooked) was breathtaking!

Like all children, the child had needs; the need to be kept fed and safe if she were to survive, and the need of attention, love, and compassion if she were to thrive, but (as mentioned before) she was a 'special' little girl, and as such her needs far outweighed those of the other children who lived at the orphanage.

At five years old (such as she was) she was unable to feed herself, she couldn't walk, she couldn't talk, her understanding of the world around her was extremely limited... and her behaviour would have tried the patience of a saint (or nun, as the case may be!).

The child had 'special' needs. She needed 'special' care.

And so it was, that the Nuns (in order to best manage their 'special' little charge), had devised an extraordinary care plan.

The child was fed on 'special' food - wickedly small portions of Librium laced cereal!

She was given a 'special' bed... a cot cage on the nursery floor, away from children her own age, which was tied to the wall with rope... to keep her safe contained!

And, she was given her own 'special' play room prison - The pram storage room, which contained, well, prams!

There were no toys in the pram room for the little girl to play with, no cushions for her to snuggle into when she napped fell into an exhausted (scream worn) sleep - no padding to protect her when out of fear, abandonment, desperation, she smashed her head against the floor... over and over again!

There were no hearers of responders to her screams, no wipes for her tear stained (often blood stained) cheeks, no cuddles for calm.... no attention - no love - no compassion.

If she wasn't trapped in a cot or squeezed into a high chair, she was allowed to forced to use her 'special' room (unattended) for most of the day.

Her only companion - the frightened little girl in the mirror!

The little girls name was Marie; she was born profoundly disabled, with severe learning disability, cerebral Palsy, mobility problems and epilepsy.

She was placed into Nazareth house children's home when she was six weeks old.

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In my minds eye

The room is just as I imagined it to be; empty, aside from a row of old fashioned prams and a long mirror on the wall. The main door to the room is closed. The doors to the veranda are locked.

The child is sat with her back to me in front of the mirror; head down, torso slumped, and she is crying... body-wracking-sobs.

Another lonely day; voiceless, trapped, afraid. Hopelessness surrounds her.

She lifts her head, and (through the rain) looks despairingly at her mirrored self; the expression in the eyes reflected back at her is one of pleading... the child is in such pain.

There are no words for the emotion that almost explodes from my heart. It hurts to look, and just for a moment, I turn away.

I want to reach out and touch her; lift her onto my lap, cuddle her calm and tell her I love her.

I want to take wipes from my bag; wipe the blood from her forehead and the tears from her cheeks.

I want to hold her to me, stroke her hair, kiss her perfect little face and tickle her into giggles.

I sit down next to her, and imagining that she can see/hear me as I can her, I say, "It's okay darling... everything's gonna be okay... compassion is on her way.

She'll be here soon - she'll be your voice, and one day (though she doesn't yet know it herself) she'll be your mum.

She will fight for you, care for you, love you... and she'll be with you always."

Just before I opened my eyes (and headed back to my laptop) the child shuffled forward, and (still gulping down sobs) she reached out toward the mirror, lifted her gaze above and to the right of her reflection, and smiled... I smiled back.

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MARIE'S VOICE

Michelle Daly was just under 17 years old when, after taking on the role of housemother at Nazareth house children's home in Bristol, England, she first met Marie. Marie had just turned 5.

On that first meeting Marie was in a cot on the nursery floor which was tied to a pipe with rope. She was incredibly thin, of pale complexion, and had a large lump on her forehead. Michelle was told that the child screamed for hours on end and bashed her head on the floor or against the side of her cot.

"I looked at the child's pale face; her eyes were like glass. I thought how strange it was that we stood so close and she didn't reach out to be picked up, as though she was used to being looked at, but not touched" ~ Michelle Daly

The following day Michelle was horrified to learn that not only was Marie dosed up on Librium three times a day (to keep her calm) but also that she was locked in a storage room (and left there alone) for hours on end each day (to keep her out of the way). Staff couldn't possibly be expected to watch over such a challenging child and get the floors shining (priorities! o_O), and the nuns couldn't abide the way Marie (who was unable to walk) dragged her feet over their beautiful polished floors.

Marie was placed on the floor in the pram store room, the door was closed on her and she was left there alone for hours.

Her screams could be heard all over the house, until she either exhausted herself or knocked herself unconscious! She was bought out at meal times and fed a small potion of Librium laced cereal, then returned to the pram room or put in her cot.

Michelle couldn't bear it; she soon found ways to sneak Marie out of the store room and very quickly formed a strong bond with 'her little friend'.

"Come on!" I said, picking her up, "You'll get me shot!" I ran down the stairs with her. She laughed; glad to be rescued. I sat her on the table in the empty Laundry basket while I emptied the drier. For a bit of fun I put the hot nappies over her and she laughed again; she loved to get the attention. I turned my back on her to fill the washing machine, and when I looked around again she was fast asleep; her little face still wet from crying." ~ Michelle Daly

Toward the end of 1970 Nazareth house was condemned and the home office closed it down. Marie was given a bed in a hospital in Taunton for the mentally handicapped; 17 year old Michelle followed her, taking a job in the same hospital and visiting her little friend whenever she could.

"Working in the hospital was like stepping into another world; a world where human beings with over-whelming qualities were classed as sub-normal" ~ Michelle Daly

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Within a few months Michelle knew she couldn't continue working at the hospital. She also knew she couldn't leave Marie behind. She was getting out, and she was getting Marie out too! 

To cut a very long story, a lot of opposition, and much heartache short; Michelle traced Marie's birth mother who agreed to sign over legal guardianship papers, and (eventually) Michelle was able to take Marie home. 

Michelle was just 19 years old when she took Marie (who was eight by this time) home. Nineteen! A bit of a lass, with her whole life ahead of her, and she chose to take Marie along for the ride. 

It's been one hell of a ride hasn't it 'M'?!  (At this point Michelle is nodding :O)) 

Ask me to define compassion... and I'll answer 'Michelle'. 

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Marie is 50 years old now, a year older than me. I'll avoid a virtual slap by leaving you, Dear reader, to work Michelle's age out for yourself.

Marie has not always found life easy... but she has lived! 

She is still profoundly disabled, but there are things she can do; is encouraged to do. She especially loves playing with her building blocks and colouring books. 

She still needs full time care, and she still struggles (terribly so) on the rare occasions that she has to go in to respite. These occasions aside; she is happy. 

She still has extremely limited speech and understanding, but she understands love... and my word is she loved! 

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Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie X

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If you'd like to read more about Michelle and Marie's life together you can find her book here
Follow her blog here >>  http://michelledaly.blogspot.co.uk/
And find her on Twitter here >>  @michelledalyliv

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1000 Voices for Compassion is such a beautiful movement.... there have been so many fabulous contributions (from all over the world). I would encourage you to check them out if you get a chance.

You can do that by following @1000speak #1000speak on Twitter, or by checking out the FaceBook page here

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Christmas Eve 'Magic'

This'll be a quickie, it's unplanned, and unedited because Iv'e still got loads of Christmas prep to get through before tomorrow, but something magical happened this evening, and I couldn't resist sharing it with you all. 

'The Body Guard' (that's hubs to the newbies) and I took 'Littlie' to the Church at the top of our road this evening for the crib service, on the way back, 'Littlie' looked up from her wheelchair and suddenly began squealing - "look, it's Santa, it's Santa!" 

We looked up, and on seeing a group of twinkling lights moving across the sky immediately began squealing along with her, "Oh my God Littlie", says I - "you're right, it is Santa, it really is.. eeeek!"

Hubs and I went along with the magic of the moment, egged on by 'Littlies' amazement, and then.. "Oh no" said Littlie in earnest, attempting to take over the wheelchair wheels - "hurry mummy, hurry, I'm not gonna make it, he's nearly to our house, and I'm still awake!" 

Laughing, I explained that Santa was still incredibly high up, and had lots of other children to visit before getting to us, and the three of us, clothed in magic, continued back down the road to home, squealing all the way!

When we reached home 'Littlie' asked if Santa would see her if she waved to him.. "Oh yes Littlie", said I, "he's too high up for you to see him, but he will see you", and with eyes lit up like a childs eyes should be, she waved to the (sleigh) lights in the sky.

Oh! How I wish you all could of seen the joy in her eyes! - Her expression, and incredulous laughter bought tears of joy to mine. 

Of course, the moving 'sleigh shaped' lights in the dark sky this evening where probably an aeroplane..but my 'Littlie' firmly believes that we have just seen the man in red, and has gone to bed happier than Iv'e ever seen her!

I have never witnessed such joy on any of my kids faces - it was truly magical - the stuff Christmas movies are made of! 

Without a doubt, the best moments of my life so far :O) 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie X 

Update: - Iv'e just been told, by a friend on facebook, that what we actually saw tonight was probably ISS (International space station) which was due over Britain at around 5.30 - so there you go..mystery solved - our secret though....Littlie must never know ;o) 

We Love You Littlie

My child

Taken from arms

Tubed, tested, incubated

Disabled

languid in arms

Weak, floppy, fading

beautiful 

loved in arms

praying - can we keep you

Special care

 Special needs

Just special 

Brighter

Strengthened in arms 

Fighting 

breathing

Being

Home

safe in arms

Enduring

Growing

Learning

You did it
you did it all 

 First smile 

first word 

First everything

A bit late

(very late)

 but you did it!

Stunningly beautiful, wonderful child

you're so loved 

by us 

By all who know you

Proud of you darling x

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie X 

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved 

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