Hold Your Breath

I look back now and I see my childhood in a bright light. It wasn’t uncomplicated, but I was mostly happy, I played outside and on the surface it was normal. 

For a long time, it’s as if myself and those around me were swimming beneath the surface waiting to run out of breath, forcing us to swim up for air. 

I thought that’s how my life would always be, holding my breath, day by day, until the day I was forced to come up for air and my childhood evolved into the inevitable. 

I was a lucky child, so spoilt with love and always entertained. I didn’t realise just how lucky at the time. 

Mum and Dad split at a very early age, I might have been 2 years old. From then on, until I turned around 12 years old, I would visit Dad every second weekend. 

If I could describe the personalities of both my parents in two words - absolute firecrackers. 

Dad was the type of bloke who was always “just going to see a man about a dog” and would be back real soon. He left you guessing that’s for sure. 

He went from one extreme to the next - the most classic stories that are still laughed about today, are those that involved Dad. 

Maybe it was one those extremes that ended him up in jail for a few months. 

I was maybe 3 or 4 years old at the time. Dad’s favourite ice cream was a Splice. Creamy ice-cream in the middle covered in lime icy pole on the outside. 

If I went to visit Dad in jail, I was told we were just going to take him a Splice. It was only for a few months and as a toddler I was none the wiser. In that moment, at that age it didn’t effect me. 

Looking back now, maybe it became part of the person I viewed my Dad to be. 

Mum was always a rebellious child from a very young age which has carried her through to her adult life. She has an absolute heart of gold, but always distracted or under the influence of people with bad intentions. 

One year after I was born, Mum lost baby James, a still born. If that wasn’t enough, she then lost baby Demi some years later. Demi was born so premature, but survived for 12 days. After getting an infection she couldn’t fight any longer. 

This is something I remember. I carry the feeling of this experience with me today. It might be something that shaped me into the person I am today. I was so young, that I didn’t really know how to comfort Mum in those times. But, she knew how to get me through despite how devastating it was for her and our family. Her strength is undeniable and anyone that knows her would agree. 

I knew the real reason why Mum was in hospital and why there were tiny, knitted beanies that lay on the bench following her hospital stay. I knew why Mum had a baby in her tummy yet didn’t bring one home with her. 

I wasn’t pushed away from what was happening right in front of me and I feel I’ll be forever grateful for it. I wasn’t pushed away by my family in fear that it would

damage me from these events so commonly experienced in families across the world. Miscarriages, still births and child deaths. 

I was allowed the time process it, in my own time. I was able to interpret the different faces of grief and sadness without anyone telling me how to feel. I was treated as a child, but as a child who mattered and who was very much involved. 

In the years following, Mum became an advocate and representative for the Bonnie Babes. A foundation raising awareness and funds for medical research and to counsel families following the loss of a baby. 

This demonstrates how determined and passionate Mum was during this time. She was quite the community person. She often appeared in the local paper for her good work in fundraising with me pictured alongside her. I thought this was the coolest just quietly. 

I’m now at a time in my life where I’m able to look back on these times and they truly make me smile. I smile with pure happiness, but partly with sadness knowing those times lasted only a short while. 

Stay strong and stay grounded x