Twelve months on

It’s a funny kind of anniversary for our family today. I’ve been wondering whether to write about this on my blog or not, but it is such a huge part of my life that I feel it can’t go unmarked. You see it’s exactly a year since our family life changed in such a way that you could never predict. I was at work when my husband called, asking me to come home as he was feeling unwell and was supposed to be taking our four-year-old son to nursery. By the time I got home, the curtains were still closed, our son was wearing a princess dress over his pyjamas, his pictures sellotaped to the walls, and my husband was collapsed in the hall. One 999 call later and a call to a dear friend to take our boy to nursery, and we were in an ambulance to the local hospital. It never occurred to me how long we would be there.

We later discovered my husband had suffered a thrombosis in his portal vein (right next to his liver), which led to a seven-months pregnant me being told he had a 50-50 chance of survival. Emergency surgery followed, as did two weeks in intensive care, a lot of uncertainty, tears and sleepless nights. Nine weeks later our daughter was born, but it would be more than eight months before my husband was allowed to come back and live at home. Since then, he has been on a drip each night as he waits for another operation to hopefully let his body heal for good.

So… What a year it’s been. I certainly didn’t know this maternity leave would turn out like this that’s for sure. But I feel I can say now, one year on, we are coming to the end of this awful phase of our lives, going towards the next hurdle of this next operation. I’m trying not to dwell on things too much today, just want to keep moving forwards and not back. Today of all days, I’m feeling thankful for the love and support of my wonderful family and friends, and the strength we have found to help each other through. Next May, maybe we’ll all be lying on a beach somewhere, cracking open the champagne. Let’s hope so.