I originally wrote this story for My Mummy Daze‘s “Stories of Me” writing challenge. It turns out the timing is impeccable as it is the 4 year “Annie”versary of me blowing the aneurysm (aka “ultimate brain-fart”). It happened the day before Black Saturday in 2009 and a friend of ours lost both his sisters in those fires. I would have completely forgotten about both the aneurysm and Black Saturday had it not been for him updating Facebook with a photo of his sisters. I never met the girls but my heart broke for him and his family.
If you are new to this blog, perhaps start with the story of “Hurricane Annie” then come back for a little chaser, like.
Love Story
When my first daughter was born, I knew she was magical.
She was feisty, bossy and possessive. But her capacity for love was, is, enormous.
When I was in hospital in 2009, Scout had just turned 3. Too young to know what was really wrong with mummy. Too young to know that sometimes things go wrong inside our bodies. It’s not anyone’s fault, it just happens, sometimes when we least expect it. When she first saw me, the day after surgery, my head wound tightly in a bright white bandage, the right side of my face swollen and bruised like I’d had the sh*t kicked out of me, she said simply, “Who did that to mummy“?
She didn’t cry when she was by my bedside. She cried when she had to leave. I cried. Big, pointless tears. Sadness. Relief. Relief that I was still alive and around to see that beautiful girl crying for me.
How could you not smile with this little champion beside you?
When I came home, I spent 3 long months on the couch in a semi-permanent fog of Oxycontin and Panadeine Forte.
Scout was too young to know that my brain had literally exploded one steamy February day. But I think something inside her knew. Every day she would crawl up to me, stroke me on the cheek and nestle into me like she literally wanted to live inside me (yeah, did it once, don’t need to go back there thanks all the same). She seemed to understand I was in pain even though she was too young to know this kind of pain. She knew I needed her there, that with the simplest of gestures she could colour in the missing chunks of the vital mum she once knew.
And she was funny. I would laugh at her peculiar brand of off-the-wall humour even though my head hurt like a bastard each time my mouth cracked a drug-trembled smile. I knew she was doing it for me. I found in her comfort in a halo of hellish discomfort.
I knew I loved her, adored her, when she was born, but the love I felt from her during this time was the only clear thing for me in a flurry of pain chatter.
Love is looking into the eyes of something to live for.
That is such a lovely follow up and I can just imagine how hard it must have been for you to hold your shit together for your baby! What an amazing mumma and woman you are – RESPECT! Em x
Thanks Em. I think when you’re in THAT much pain, you internalise so much. One foot in front of the other – quite literally some days. I look back on that time and do wonder how I made it out. I cried a lot. I still do, actually, but that’s probably both sleep deprivation and the realisation that I’ve run out of gin. Kx
I can picture those tears of relief. I’m pleased this love story has a happy ending Kimberley.
Happy Anniversary. Congrats on putting four years between you and your brain fart! x
It’s always important to put years between you and a brain fart! Kx
What a beautiful story! Thank you for sharing. x
Thank you Zanni! Kx
What a beautiful thing to take away from something so horrible.
I guess you’ve just got to look at the positives. This whole shebang also taught me who my real friends were (of course, most of my closest friends these days didn’t even know who I was then!) Kx
That last line is perfect (I wish I had a better word to describe it)
There is a depth of emotion and enormous capacity in this post
I think it will be replaying in my mind for the rest of the day xx
Awwww thanks Josefa – writing is such a powerful way to express the stuff in our heads isn’t it? So glad we blog! Kx
What an amazing child you have!! Beautiful post!
Hi Carla – she is pretty damn awesome can I tell you. She’s 7 now and going through a mid-childhood crisis, but still has that remarkable capacity to love. She told me the other day “Mum, I love EVERYBODY.” I hugged her and told her that it was really hard to love everybody in the world, and she looked up and said “Not for me!” Kx
Wow. Beautiful post. I can’t even imagine going through that, especially as a Mum, what a crazy time it must have been. Kids pick up on so much more than they get credit for, such a beautiful story, I am sure she will cherish it when she is older too. x Karen
Hi Karen – I did ask her whether it was OK that I posted this story and she hugged me and stroked my cheek and I had my answer. Love that kid. Kx
What a beautiful story. What a strong woman you are for coming through something so major – anything is possible when presented with an amazing love story like that though!
I’m not even sure it’s a matter of strength – it’s just survival. When something like that happens you just put one foot in front of the other and hope to god everything works out. It helps when something magical pops out to give you that boost though! Kx
This story is absolutely wonderful. Thank you for sharing. =]
Thanks Amanda! It was easy to write, to tell the truth! Kx
Awe, very sweet story.
Sometimes kids just know! I imagine the same with my dog, when I am sick or sad or depressed, he calms down, stops being a pain in the rear, and is a snuggly awesome cuddler!
WOW! Amazing. A friend of mine has a mother who also survived an aneurism. You are an inspiration. And what an amazing story! x
Beautiful! I can imagine that it would be heart stabbing to see your baby girl cry when she had to leave you. Geez, lady. You don’t do things in halves, do you? That’s one major brain fart!
NAH! I also GO HARD AT KARAOKE. So, just watch out OK. Kx
What a ordeal for you to endure. But how lucky you were to survive! I’m so glad you have your little poppet by your side and that she could comfort you as you recovered. Saying goodbye each day in hospital would have been awful! Thanks for sharing your love story hun xxx Fi
A pleasure Fi! Still haven’t finished my latest “Story of Me” (too many things happened to me in 1985 – difficult to narrow it down!). Thank god you keep the linky open for so long! Kx