Post-op

My darling Hame's surgery went beautifully, and my little one is one astounding human.

We had to wake up very early on Wednesday morning to get to the hospital by 6am for surgery at 8am. He was nil-by-mouth, so I was really worried he was going to be hungry and miserable for the two hours we were waiting around. [I would have been!]

But he wasn't- not even a bit. He was a little ray of sunshine. Smiling and laughing at all the nurses and hospital staff. Running up and down the corridors of his ward giggling and waving at everyone he passed. Bouncing up and down on his bed.

The anaesthetist came by about an hour before his scheduled surgery time to explain to us what he was going to do, and told us that most babies are really very upset when they come out of the anaesthetic and get quite distressed with the gas used to put them to sleep. So we were prepared for lots of tears.

I went into the theatre with him, anxiously wondering how it was going to go. I wasn't sure how well I would hold it together if he started thrashing around and really crying. But do you know what that little darling boy did? He just sing-songed and smiled at every one until his long eyelashed fluttered closed against his perfect little cheeks.

I didn't cry. There was no need. He was perfectly fine. I did get a very sore lump in my throat as I left the theatre though - as unlikely as it was, I couldn't get rid of that paralysing fear in the very dark depths of my mind that something could go horribly wrong while he was under the anaesthetic and that last kiss I placed on his soft little cheek might have been the last one ever.

But of course he was fine. And when he came out of his anaesthetic he was astonishing. Still smiling. And snuggling. T and I both got some fabulous, long baby snuggles because he was still so sleepy, and we cherished every last minute. We don't get enough of those long warm snuggles these days.

He is so remarkable. If it wasn't for the bandages, you'd never know he had an operation yesterday. While still in hospital, still pretty groggy, he was hiding behind the curtain and playing 'boo' - just to see us smile. As if to say "don't worry about me mama, I'm better than ever".

He still hasn't cried. Not in pain. Not when he overbalanced and fell onto his arms. Not when he and Lach collided and he fell. Not when he can't pick up his sipper cup, or his food, or his toys, or turn the pages of his book.

He is his usual smiley, laughing, singing, happy self. I've never been so proud of him.

We are so lucky to have such an angelic, happy baby boy.

Darling Hamish, tomorrow is a big day

Hello Hamish, my darling one.

I've just peeked in on you, tucked up in bed asleep, looking like the peaceful angel that you are. Did you know you even look like you're smiling while you're sleeping? Well, you do.

Tomorrow is the day you are having your surgery. You hit the 10kg mark, and so the time has come.

Daddy and I are sure you will face this challenge with your usual smiles and laughter. And before you know it, you will be back to normal, only better :)

We love you angel - you darling, divine, boy.

All the love in the universe
Your mamaxxxxxxx

Floods

Well, it's a new year and this is my first post.

Things have been catastrophic here in Brisbane. It's been truly horrifying. So many lives lost. Homes, possessions, memories, and safety; gone in almost the blink of an eye.

Tim has been out today for more than 12 hours already helping with the clean up and they've only made it to two homes. And neither of them are anywhere near cleaned up. It is going to literally take months. It will take years for things to be fully rectified, and even then, it won't be as it was. So many people are going to be homeless for a very long time.Thousands of homes will have to be completely demolished. It's incredibly sad.

What is it they say about tragedy bringing out the best in people? It has. But there are also the vultures - too many incidents of looting - what unfeeling, selfish,utter bastards. But gloriously there have been tens of thousands of everyday people getting out into suburban streets with their brooms, mops, hoses, pressure cleaners and mucking in wherever they can. It gives you faith that everything will somehow be ok.

I feel impotent in many ways. I wish I could do more. But with two babies it is hard. I have packed up lots of baby clothes and toys. A friend-of-a-friend is 37 weeks pregnant and lost absolutely everything when their house in Chelmer was consumed by the river. Every single thing in her home is gone. Everything they had bought in preparation for the arrival of their first baby. I've packed up lots of stuff for her.

I have been glued to the television for days. Tears streaming down my face. It's almost more than I can bear, but I can't tear my eyes away. The stories of babies and children being torn from their parents' arms by violent waters breaks my heart. I don't think I could go on. But they do. People can show extraordinary strength in the most hideous of circumstances, and I suppose, have done since time began.

Everyday heroes. My heroes.

Some photos of my beautiful devastated city.