#MeAndMine - A Family Portrait (February 2014)

Confession time!

You know what I'm going to say, right?

Yes. I took this photo yesterday.

On my phone.

A 'selfie'.

I know.

Epic fail!

Although I do have good reason. After the trouble we've been having with MC lately I had decided that this week (it's half term here) I was going to spoil her. I had each day planned out pretty much. Even including a day when I was just going to go out with her, have lunch, let her choose a new outfit and take her to the cinema to see the new Tinkerbell movie. A real girly day.

It all went out the window.

Matt and I were at a wedding on Saturday and MC became really poorly Saturday evening whilst staying with my parents. She didn't get any better and Monday she was even worse so her half term started with a trip to the doctors. A viral stomach bug coupled with a chest infection (needing antibiotics) which was seeing her cough uncontrollably and being so sick at the same time. I knew she was seriously poorly when she just wanted to stay in her bed in a darkened room. With the antibiotics and some TLC, I'm happy to report she's feeling much better (can't you just tell by the photo!) as of yesterday. But our half term plans have been snatched away from us and that makes me sad for my little girl.

She deserved a special time.

However, I've savoured the extra cuddles and downtime with her - I haven't savoured the sleepless nights but I've dealt with them as they are part and parcel of being a parent.

This week Matt has been working from home all week. It's been such a relief to have him here but I had planned for us all to have a couple of hours out together, as a family of four, one day. THAT was when I wanted to capture our Me and Mine photograph.

It wasn't meant to be.

As this post goes live I'll be preparing to travel to Kent with Susanne and Lisa where we'll be staying overnight. We are all attending Matilda Mae Remembers on Saturday morning.

As much as this week has been tough, I've stayed positive because I know just how lucky I am.

The Bugaboo Buffalo And The 'Bug A Boooooo'

As most of you are aware September ending up being a bit rubbish. A bad case of food poisoning wrote off a big chunk of the month.

The bug had hit me bad.

I thought I was recovered. I was back eating normally for about a week and had just finished taking a course of antibiotics. I had my strength back.

Then wham.

Out of nowhere it came back.

The first I knew about it was the early hours of Wednesday 2nd October. My stomach just didn't feel right and pain kept me awake a lot during the night.

Yummy Bugaboo cupcakes

The lovely people at Bugaboo had invited me and some other bloggers to a special event in Manchester that day between 3-6pm.

By 4/5am with very little sleep I didn't think I'd make it.

I was gutted.

But by 10am I was feeling okay, just mainly tired from lack of sleep so TC and I headed off there in the afternoon.

It was great to meet Alice and Julie. They are genuinely such lovely ladies. The Bugaboo pushchairs and products are amazing and I was totally in love. We were given a demo of the brand new Bugaboo Buffalo which was released in the U.K. in September and every one of us longed for it I think. There were cupcakes and bubbly (although I stuck to water) and it was lovely to see old friends and meet some new ones but I knew I wasn't right. I felt spaced out. I felt tired. I just knew something was going to happen.

We all filled out competition forms for the chance to win a brand new Bugaboo Buffalo. I almost didn't fill mine out as I never win competitions. As much as I wanted the Buffalo I didn't think I stood a chance of actually winning it.

TC loving pushing the new Bugaboo Buffalo

TC had a whale of a time though. He loved pushing the Bugaboo Buffalo through the showroom and he got to eat some cake too. So it was no wonder that he screamed when I put him back in his pushchair to come home.

"I think he's not happy it's not a Bugaboo" I joked.

I left early and after an exhausting 2 hour drive (it normally takes about 50 minutes!) I arrived back home and collapsed.

3 or so hours later I started to feel unwell again so I took to my bed.

By 1am the searing pain in my abdomen woke me up.

I spent the rest of the night on the sofa writhing around in pain. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I just wanted to rip out my insides. I quietly wept.

A lot.

When Matt came downstairs at 7am he went mad telling me how I should've woken him. I didn't want to though as I knew one of us would need to function the next day and he's dreadful if he misses a little bit of sleep. I think it's a man thing.

He rang the doctor at 8am.

Appointment for 10.30am.

By 11.30am we'd been told to pack a bag and get to hospital to check it wasn't anything more sinister.

Double drip

A drip of fluids and painkillers for the afternoon and I was sent home later that evening with some strong co-codamol to manage the pain. They, through blood tests had ruled out an inflamed appendix and diverticulosis thankfully.

Home.

Dosed up.

I still didn't sleep well.

Although the pain had lessened it still kept me awake.

Friday.

A new day.

I was out of it on painkillers and slept on and off most of the morning. There was a missed call on my mobile about 10am. No message.

I didn't ring it back.

I spent the day like a zombie.

5pm. My phone rings again. Same number.

"Ignore it" said Matt "You're not well".

I answered it.

It was Alice from Bugaboo.

She had news!

I had only gone and won the Bugaboo Buffalo!

There may have been a few tears in my eyes when I heard her tell me. I never really win anything and to win after the up and down few weeks I'd had was amazing.

I am absolutely thrilled and we can't wait to get it. They are in huge demand at the moment so we have to wait a few weeks but just knowing that it will be ours is fabulous! I will let you know what we think when we test drive it for the first time.

As for the 'bug'.... Well, about 2 hours or so after Alice rang me I ended up back at hospital on another drip as the pain came back worse than ever but thoughts of the Bugaboo got me through ;-) *

I don't want to talk illness anymore I just want to dream lovely Bugaboo dreams.

Isn't she beautiful?




* I'm actually feeling much better and at the time of posting this I've been painkiller free for over 38 hours and today I'm going to try eating some normal food. Thank you to all of you who sent well wishes. I will catch up on your comments and blogs this week, I promise.

#MeAndMine - A Family Portrait (September)

September has been an up and down month.

I haven't really got much to report so I fear this months Me & Mine is quite poor.

For those who don't know, I had a serious case of food poisoning which, in total, took me almost 2 weeks to recover from. This has meant that a lot of our plans for this month have been pushed back.  Matt was amazing whilst I was ill. He took good care of me and looked after the children whilst still working - which wouldn't have been possible without the help of my parents.

It was Matt's 37th birthday on the 12th but he was away with work so we planned on celebrating when he got back which, incidentally, was the day before I fell ill.  We had plans for fun filled weekends which had to be cancelled and then we found ourselves at the end of the month with very little to show for September.

Thankfully the weather was kind to us this weekend just gone (I'd totally missed the weekend previously which was warm and sunny being laid up in bed) and yesterday we headed out on a family adventure exploring the fields at the back of our new house. It was just nice for me to get out of the house as a family of 4 and be able to enjoy the fresh air for a while.

My Nikon camera seems to have stopped working (yes, I'm slightly angry but that's another story) so this was a capture on my iPhone whilst we were out exploring. You'll notice we have an extra family member this time. Del The Welsh Dragon. She was visiting us for the weekend from MC's school so we've had to take pictures of our weekend adventures and MC and I are going to sit and write and draw about the weekend in 'Del's Diary'.

This weekend was also TC's 18 month birthday. I can't believe how time is flying. It doesn't seem all that long ago since he turned 1 and now, here he is half way to being 2. I'm forever thankful for each day that he's here with me.

It's my birthday in less than 2 weeks and we also have a Day Out With Thomas planned in October so hopefully next month will be a good one.

Head over to Lucy's lovely blog and check out more Me & Mine posts...

#SilentSunday 90

#SilentSunday 82

Inspired by...

#SilentSunday 79

Inspired by...

"It's Viral"

It's been one of THOSE weeks.

They seem to be happening on a regular basis at the moment.

Mini Cheddar has been ill.

Again.

I know I shouldn't moan as there are people who have children with long-term illness or special needs etc. but I need to vent a minor frustration.

Also, before I start, I would just like to point out that I have every respect for the NHS and it's staff. I think it's fantastic and, as a country we should celebrate it.

I also want to say that I totally respect working mums and how difficult it must be to cope with a sick child when you have to work etc. I really don't know how I would cope if I wasn't able to work from home when I choose.

But here goes...

MC was ill with a severe cough the other weekend. I kept her away from ballet class and off school for the Monday as she hadn't slept well the night before and, even though she wasn't running a fever, I knew a day off would do her good. She seemed to fight it off quickly and was back at school the next day and all that week. She went to ballet and a birthday party and everything was fine. At ballet class there was a little girl who was clearly very poorly. She looked so ill. She actually looked like she would pass out. She had a streaming cold and was coughing badly every 20 seconds. It was awful. She was coughing all over the other children and I cringed every time they were all holding hands.

2 days later MC suddenly started coughing severely. She was running a fever, looked dreadful and was off her food - not like her!

Great.

Her cough became so bad so quickly that Matt took her straight to the out of hours GP.

"It's viral", the doctor said after a quick check over "There's a lot of it about at the moment".

Those two words. IT'S VIRAL. Urgh!

A very pale MC in the doctors surgery

We knew that this is what we would be told as we've been here before. Knowing that there was nothing the doctor would do or prescribe for her we just did our best to 'cope' at home. Coping is difficult when you have a child that coughs every 10 seconds (and that is no exaggeration!). Coughing so badly she was screaming in agony and being sick.

She was off school and Matt was heading up to Durham overnight leaving me to cope with MC and TC. Thankfully TC is still (teething aside) the most chilled out and laziest baby ever *crosses EVERYTHING and touches wood a million times*.

A second night of no sleep followed but this time it was without a husband to split the nursing hours.

The next day MC didn't seem so bad as she managed to get a decent block of sleep early on in the morning while I was up giving TC his breakfast. She was still coughing badly but she showed glimmers of her normal happy self between the coughing fits.

That afternoon we tried to get a nap when TC went for his usual sleep. MC couldn't stop coughing. It got worse. She started being sick again and went downhill fast. Matt returned home mid-afternoon and I rang the GP to book an emergency appointment at our usual surgery.

The doctor had heard MC coughing from his room.

The problem with emergency appointments is you have to wait a long time and by the time we were seen she was burning up again.

He said "It sounds a bit like whooping cough and there's a lot of that around at the moment. An awful lot" and raised his eyebrows.

"But she was vaccinated against that as a baby" I replied.

He checked her records "Yup, you're right, she was".

Looking in her throat he said it looked swollen and nasty. Her tonsils were swollen too (although no white spots).

"She needs a dose of antibiotics" he said "I'll prescribe her Erythromycin which is what we would prescribe for whooping cough. She needs to take it every 6 hours".

23 hours after her first dose she started to come back to life.

I'm so glad because that night, just after that very first dose she was in a state. So much so that Matt started to say we should take her to A&E.

She's still coughing now but not anywhere near as often and she was able to sleep much better last night. Today she's been happily playing and her appetite has started to return too.

I know that dishing out antibiotics isn't healthy and people are building up resistances to them but sometimes they are needed. I seriously believe that sometimes doctors hold back unnecessarily because they don't want to be seen to be giving out drugs willy nilly. Having a severe cough when you are an adult is bad enough, nevermind when you're only 3 years old!

Also, to the little girl who was at ballet. I have a question for her parents. Why didn't you keep her at home? I get that she probably wanted to go to ballet. The other week MC was poorly. She still wanted to go to class but we kept her home. There were a few tears but it was for the best.

Only last week I was stood in the school yard waiting for the nursery door to open at 8.30am and the amount of children that were coughing constantly was terrible. There's so much of it about.

Due to someone not keeping their infectious child at home I've had to suffer having just 6 hours sleep in 60 and a daughter so poorly it's been heartbreaking at times. She's also been off school for the week missing out on her singing practice for her school nativity.

As Matt and I were poorly last Christmas I'm determined to have a happy and healthy one this year. If I could lock my children away for the next month to keep them germ free, I would but I fear this isn't the last time we'll be told "It's viral".

To Continue To Breastfeed Or Not To Continue To Breastfeed...

...that is the question I've had to wrestle with over the past week or so.

It's not been an easy decision to make.

Not in the slightest.

Those of you who read my post last week will know I got the dreaded mastitis. To say I was ill was a bit of an understatement - I felt horrendous. The antibiotics and the anti-imflammotories, although perfectly safe in breastfeeding, caused Tiny Ched to be seriously sickly. He couldn't hold any of my milk down so I was advised by the doctor to take a break from breastfeeding whilst on the tablets for a week.

I was heartbroken.

I'd breastfed TC for 7 months. In fact, it was the day before he turned 7 months that he started throwing up violently.

28th March 2012
A newly born TC
I can't tell you how much I love this little man
and I will always do the best for him

I think as soon as I realised I'd have to take a break that it would ultimately be the end.

Anyone who's breastfed and stopped, be it through choice or through force, it's quite an emotional roller coaster. I remember being extremely teary when I stopped breastfeeding Mini Cheddar 3 years ago - even though it was my choice to stop. My hormones were all over the place.

This hasn't been my choice though.

I know the mastitis wasn't my fault but I'm still beating myself up about it. A teething TC caused a cut on my nipple and that's how the bacteria got in. Couldn't be helped. It got hold of me in the night so the real damage was done by the time the excruciating pain woke me at 5.30am.

Anyway, before I ramble on and on, I've decided not to continue to breastfeed after this break.

There, I said it.

I've absolutely loved breastfeeding TC - my breastfeeding experience (mastitis aside) has been wonderful and so it's been a really hard decision to stop. I'm okay when my mind is taken off of it but when I'm alone, tired or just having cuddles with TC my heart aches (as well as my boobs!).

I could try and re-establish breastfeeding but I've chosen not to for the following reasons:

* I don't think I want to go through the hormonal effect of stopping again
* I'm scared to crap that I'm going to get mastitis again (it's nasty!)
* TC is teething sooo badly again. I see him tearing up the bottle teats and I'm so thankful it's not my nipple
* After TC flatly refusing the bottle for 7 months he's taken to it brilliantly
* I'm scared of being rejected
* I've done 7 months. I call that quite good going!
* I can drink copious amounts wine, eat spicy curry and baked beans*

I could become a 'pumping mummy' but I don't want to go down that road. Some completely pro-breastfeeding people (I'm talking about the extreme breast feeders) may think I'm being slightly selfish but I don't see it like this.

I'm not against formula milk in the slightest. What works best for mum and baby is what matters - there is no use trying to breastfeed or re-establish breastfeeding if it's going to make one of you (or both) unhappy.

Many women try and fail to breastfeed - good for them for trying. Many women choose not to even try for various reasons - this is their decision and if it works for them then good for them too.

Although I'm upset about stopping, I'm happy in my choice not to continue if that makes sense? Yes, I would liked to have carried on but I think I can forgive myself and pat myself on the back and the same time too...although I'm not sure that's physically possible?

Thanks to all those who offered their support on here, Email. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, G+ - you lovely people rock!

Right, where's that bottle of wine?





* I'm obviously joking with this one! "hic"

Mastitis - You Bitch!

Despite exclusively breastfeeding Mini Cheddar, 3 years ago, I never suffered with mastitis.

I now count myself very lucky.

Tiny Ched turned 7 months yesterday and on Friday the most incredible pain in my right breast woke me at 5.30am. I couldn't touch it. The pain started in my armpit and went all the way down to my nipple (ooh there's a word I've never used on my blog before!).

I also felt dreadful. I was aching and shivery.

Bollocks.

Even though I'd never had mastitis before I was totally aware of the symptoms.

I got worse.

A lot worse.

An hour later I felt so awful I started crying which woke Matt up.

"I think I've got mastitis" I wailed.

He passed me some painkillers and lay there with me until 8am when we could phone the doctor. Both kids were still sleeping soundly. Isn't it just typical that the first day of half term, the first day with no alarm call or school run, I get woken by an achy tit with the sparrows fart?

Sod's law with bells on!

I was too ill to feel angry though.

I phoned the doctor and managed to get an appointment at 8.50am. Thankfully the painkillers had kicked in and I was able (just about) to drive myself down to the doctors while Matt looked after the children.

The doctor confirmed it.

"You're lucky you've caught it fairly early" she said prodding (as gently as she could) my, now red, boob as I winced in agony "It really is quite horrendous if it gets really severe. You did the right thing coming down straight away".

This was early? Man alive what must the pain feel like if its really severe then? I honestly could have passed out it was that bad when it woke me.

I was aching all over and shivering too. I felt 10 times worse than having full-blown flu.

Mastitis is more common in the first few weeks of breast feeding so I stupidly thought I was pretty safe. How wrong I was. Apparently it was TC clamping down on me during feeds because of his severe teething (that's a whole other post in itself!) that has caused the problem. Thankfully my doctor was well aware of it having breastfed her child for 2.5 years!

I'm not alone in my sufferings with mastitis. The mere mention of it on Twitter and a fair few of my lovely followers told me horror tales of hospitalisation, pain worse than labour and so on.

The doctor gave me a high (but safe in breastfeeding) dosage of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told me if I didn't start to see improvement by the morning to get myself to the emergency doctor or A&E - apparently she was concerned about it being an abscess. Nasty.

To cut a painfully long story short, I spent the rest of Friday in bed. At one point I was wearing pyjamas, socks, 2 (yes 2!) dressing gowns and under a 13.5 tog duvet with a blanket and I was still shivering. I couldn't sleep. Although I was tired I felt too ill to even sleep.

I tried to feed TC through it but he started to develop diaorreah on Friday afternoon and by Saturday, even though the drugs were starting to make me feel better, they had upset his stomach and he couldn't keep any feed down at all.

I had no choice (after consulting the doctor again) to stop breastfeeding him and switch to formula.

Sat 27th Oct - possibly the last breastfeeding
picture I will ever take :( It must be fate I took this.

I've mentioned before that Tiny Ched wouldn't take a bottle. Well, it seems he now loves the bottle all of a sudden. The taste of my drug-filled milk has turned him away from my bosom.

I'm heartbroken.

Yes my boobs are aching and I hate expressing and throwing my contaminated milk down the sink but the pain of not being able to feed my little boy is more upsetting. I wanted to stop breastfeeding when I was ready, not when some nasty-assed inflammation decided it was time.

I'm still hopeful I can re-establish a bit of feeding with him once the drugs are out of my system but something tells me this may be an abrupt end to the breast bond with my boy.

So, to anyone who's breastfeeding or about to breastfeed, heed my warning. If you suspect mastitis (although the bitch got me whilst I slept) go straight to your doctor, do not pass go and do not collect £200! It's pretty serious.

Also, if you're a cow, my friend has some prevention medicine*






*Obviously cows don't read my blog....as if they'd be interested in my moooooosings! Yup, I'll get my coat.

Things Can Only Get Better

I almost didn't post a Silent Sunday picture last week.

Why?

Because the picture I posted didn't sum up my week at all. That picture says I had a lovely week enjoying the sunshine with my daughter when, in reality, this wasn't the case.

However, I didn't have a picture of sick, snot, phlegm, coughing, crying, tantrums, house looking like it had been burgled and me looking like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

That was my week...and that was the week before too.

The serene picture you see of MC was taken on Saturday afternoon on a meet up with the inlaws. I can assure you the scene off camera wasn't the same but I'll blog about that another day.

I shouldn't be moaning.

I know so many people who have a tough time constantly. People with really poorly children, people with children with special needs and others. I know I'm lucky. I have two (usually) healthy kids, a nice house, a fantastic husband and so on.

Yes, I have a lot to be thankful for.

I'm the first to admit that.

However, things just got on top of me.

Even though TC is an amazing sleeper for someone who only turned 2 months old on Monday it has been MC who had been keeping us awake.

Last week we ended up at the local hospital with her at 10.30pm one night as she was that bad with her coughing.

I have to admit, whilst she was ill I crumbled. Lack of sleep and her constant demands because of how poorly she was got to me.

Since I had TC I've been quite strong - only having a touch of baby blues on day 5 after the birth. Last week I think it all caught up with me.

I fell behind with my freelance work and I started to panic.

I felt like I was sinking.

The sun was shining and I couldn't get out in it because of the kids. Everyone seemed to be out and about and I was stuck in feeling pretty miserable.

I neglected my blog, I neglected my blogging friends, I neglected my work, I neglected the housework, I neglected my friends.

More importantly I neglected ME.

I think as mother's we always put our families above everything else but if we aren't functioning properly then our families actually suffer more.

This week both kids are fit and healthy (although MC is still coughing at night a bit), I've managed to catch up a little with my freelance work, I have plans to catch up with friends and I've taken a few hours out to go and get my hair done and sit out in the sun a little.

This week is like night and day compared to last.

So next time I feel like I'm sinking I'm going to make sure I try and get some time to myself and remember that things can only get better.

Taken 30th May 2012

Silent Sunday #62

Inspired by...

Mini Cheddar's 3rd Birthday

On Monday I put some pictures up on a post showing Mini Cheddar on the same day each year from 11th March 2009 to 11 March 2012. 3 years. 3 whole years. I honestly don't know where they have gone.

As I sit here waiting for the arrival of baby number 2 my mind is cast back to the birth of MC.

3 years ago.

3 years!

My little girl has grown and blossomed so much in those 3 years. She's a right little chatterbox and comes out with some corkers. She's definitely got a great sense of humour.

Sadly she was ill over her birthday. She started with a bad cold on the Friday night but thankfully by the Sunday she was that excited it was her birthday that she just got on with it.

As my due date is so close we decided not to organise a big party for her. Can you imagine if I went into labour and we had to cancel? We just decided to invite family over to ours and then we all went out for a meal at lunch time. I had organised a cake for her and the restaurant (and my Sister) decorated the table with balloons, streamers and glitter.

Perfect. No cleaning or washing up involved!

Sunday night, Matt and I had planned a 'Minnie Mouse' themed tea party for just the 3 of us. Trying our best to capture the small amount of time we have left with just MC before we become a 4. Unfortunately MC took a turn for the worse and was sick mid tea party. So we had to abandon it and it was an early night for all of us in the end.

She's still not right bless her.  My mind flicks back to her birthday week last year that ended up with her in hospital.

I'm hoping her 4th birthday will be a more healthier occasion and she will also have a little sibling to share it with.

I still can't believe my baby girl is 3 years old. I was fighting back the tears as we sang Happy Birthday to her and she blew out her candles.

Here are the photo's of us celebrating her birthday with her...

The scene in our lounge the night before

First ride on her new Minnie Mouse bike

Cheeeeeeese!

A quick wash 'n blow dry straight and she looks even older

Enjoying her birthday lunch out

I'll always love this photo of her

Me 'n my gal

A kiss for Daddy

Balloons thanks to her Aunty Sharon

Ice cream - om nom nom

This may end up being the last photo of us as a 3

Lunch was clearly exhausting

Feeling poorly but always time for balloon fun

Just before she took a turn for the worse and threw up

Illness kicks in and it's an early night

Silent Sunday #36

Silent Sunday #30

Silent Sunday #10

C is for...Cancer

Photo credit: jscreationzs

When most people are asked what their biggest fear is you often hear them say things like spiders or flying.  Not me.

Sure, I don't really like spiders but the thing I'm afraid of most is cancer.

I'd heard of cancer when I was younger and didn't really think much of it.  It was something I read about in the news from time to time. something that didn't register with me much.  It wasn't until my early 20's when it really started to have an impact on my life.

My friend rang me "R**'s Mum has been taken into hospital really poorly, we are waiting for confirmation on tests but they think it could be bowel cancer".   I was in shock.  Not long before this my friend and I had been out with her mother-in-law in the local pub watching a tacky 'Chippendales' type tribute act and getting stupidly drunk and falling about laughing together.  3 weeks after this phone call she died.  She was 50.  She was young at heart and fun-loving woman with a heart of gold.

As I stood in the crematorium singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" (Liverpool FC was her family passion) I couldn't believe what had happened.  How had something like this taken her so quickly?

It was not long after that first moment that cancer impacted on my life that I heard more about it through friends who had other friends or family members who had cancer.  Then the worst happened....my parents turned up on my doorstep one the evening.  I knew straight away something was wrong.  "I've been diagnosed with breast cancer" Mum said, the words ringing in my ears.  I held it together as best I could until they left then I broke down.  My husband said to me "She'll be fine, it's only breast cancer - it's not like it's the worst kind".  He didn't even hug me, he just shrugged it off and walked away.  I could have punched him right there.  I grabbed my coat and drove to my friends house who gave me the hugs and words of support I needed. Needless to say, that husband is now my ex-husband.

Mum had to have a mastectomy and it was hard-going but she got through it.  She was told that if the cancer hadn't returned within 5 years she would be given the all clear.  4 and half years later it was back and she had to have another mastectomy.  That was 4 years ago now.  She still goes for her regular checks and I just hope it's completely gone.

In 2007, just before Matt (my lovely husband I'm married to now) were due to wed my Nan became really poorly.  She was unable to travel up from Luton to the ceremony.  I knew it was something serious.  Just after the wedding we were told she had pancreatic cancer.  It hit us all hard.  My Nan had always been so full of life and active.  Even though I was doing a 126 mile commute each day I still made the 400 mile round trip journey to Luton and back to visit my Nan every weekend for the 2 months she was ill.  Watching this disease take hold of her and waste her away was heart-breaking.  I'll never forget my sister and I having to help her onto the commode. I'll never forget her not knowing who we were toward the end apart from the odd smile. I so wish she'd been around to witness the birth of my baby girl.  My Nan passed away in October 2007.

Then a couple of years ago one of my closest friends Mum was diagnosed with cancer.  I was a massive support for her through a really dark time in her life.  Her Mum died in October 2008.  I remember being pregnant and emotional at the funeral as my heart was aching for my friend and the memory of my Nan was all too raw.

Exactly a year later another one of my closest friends Mums died from cancer.  Another year, another funeral to go to.  Another cancer victim.

It was all too much...3 years, 3 Octobers, 3 cancer victims, 3 deaths, 3 funerals.

Out of my 6 closest friends in my life, 3 of them have lost their mums to cancer.

Now I have a male friend who is currently battling prostate cancer at the age of 50 and a friend who has a cousin battling ovarian cancer at the age of 42.  Last week I read in the news that 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer - shocking stats.

Cancer is evil, cancer is disgusting.  It rips through families and causes so much heartache.  It's the one thing in life I fear the most.

I give a small amount of money to Cancer Research and to MacMillan each month.  I've been donating since cancer first hit my life.   I'm not a religious person but I do pray that one day they find a cure.

Sorry this is a deep and dark post but, if you've got this far, thank you for reading.

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