Forgotten Baby

I read an article today on “forgotten baby syndrome”. It made me reflect on moments in my life as a parent. THEN I read the comments to that very article! THAT made me feel so incredibly pissed off! So many bullies sitting behind their computer screens riding their high horses about how could anyone ever forget their child! Quite possibly, to many women and men out there, this may be a completely compatible thought with your own. But let me tell you what sleep, or the lack thereof, stresses of being a half yearly single parent, trying to provide for everyone financially, physically, emotionally and mentally can do for a persons judgement and massive lack of it. We are all busy. Too busy and I can, honestly, tell you I have driven many times and had a thunderbolt of panic hit straight through my chest wall as I’ve not been able to remember if I had put my son in the car. Only to turn around with utter relief to see his beautiful face sitting there sleeping like an angel, something he doesn’t do at night. I have, bravely, admitted this to friends at times who have all said the same thing has happened to them, completely without judgement and with 100% compassion to the guilt and horror you are feeling.

On my sons first birthday (my fifth child – not an excuse but an explanation of sorts) I had driven back and forth to the park where his party was being held. I went down to set up. I came home picked up the cold food and took it back. I forgot something, went home, grabbed it and took it back. Then I went home for the final time to get the hot food and the birthday boy who was fast asleep in his cot. He had been minded the whole time by his 16 year old sister, just in case you are wondering. I was flustered, frantic and on auto-stressed-as-fuck-pilot. With something under both arms I jumped in the car with one of my older sons, I gave him the hot food, threw a bag of stuff in the back and drove off. The park is literally 400m up the road. I pulled into the carpark and that bloody thunderbolt hit me straight through the chest wall again except this time when I turned around he wasn’t there! No beautiful little angelic face. It was a terrifying moment and the most frantic 400m drive home.

But I’m lucky. I’m lucky that my daughter was still home, although she was unaware he was still in his cot sleeping. I’m lucky my house didn’t burn down. I’m lucky that this isn’t a tragic personal story about my forgotten baby. Whether its a syndrome or not is not for discussion here all I know is that I can totally see that this is possible. I can. Its awful I know and to those who don’t understand it sounds downright insane, mean, unloving and selfish. What kind of parent, right? Thats what you’re thinking. Well I’m that kind of parent. But you wouldn’t know that because you see me as a mother who nurtures my kids, who brings them up in a loving home. You see me as a normal everyday mum food shopping, dropping kids to school, out on the weekends to sporting activities but I am here to tell you Superwoman or not there are moments in time, moments in my life where I have had a serious wake up call and that article could have been about me. Those judgements you’re passing could be about someone so innocent and pained and broken and having to live with the most heart shattering consequences for the rest of their life. A baby died. There is no justice. No happy ending. There may or may not be such a thing as “forgotten baby syndrome” but tragically and ironically that baby will never be forgotten now.

Be kind


One love
DRK xxx

Play. STOP. Rewind

So I’m driving along the other day and I have my favourite song profoundly and loudly on repeat. I am listening to it over and over again because I am trying to remember the lyrics. I desperately want to be able to sing along to it – covertly and in private behind the steering wheel where I know I am really, really good!!! …. Good like Brittany not Adele. Realistically, I do know that I am not driving a bullet proof, sound proof, idiot proof FWD. Realistically, I know people have ears, can hear me and will either be dying from laughter or dying from the deadly noise coming from inside the piece of metal that I just drove past in! I’m pretty certain the neighbourhood dogs bark every time I beatbox it down the street but hey, they’re only barking coz they can’t hit the high notes like me!

Anyway …

I’m driving along. I’m getting frustrated coz I just can’t seem to sing all the words right – most definitely not frustrated because of not being able to hit a few of the bigger notes! So I hatched a foolproof plan which I undertook the minute I stepped in the door. GOOGLE! Yep, that was the plan! Google those damn lyrics and memorise every last fucken word. Words are important when you are trying to harmonise and sing like Beyonce! Words are even more important when you are trying to convey a message! Quite like the message from my childhood experience that I can’t seem to shake. One that brings great tears of joy to the members of my family and its of me singing along to my one of my Dads favourite songs by Paul Young – of course while we were all in the car on our way somewhere very far, far away. So the song went a little like this “Every time you go away…. You take a piece of me with you.” Pretty simple hey?! My version though? Sing it with me, please, if you know the tune … “Every time you go away…. You take a piece of meat with you.” Clearly I was pretty on to it even back then …. And clearly I was pretty freaking hungry! Pass the girl a steak burger … Puh-lease!!!!

Back to the story ….. Googling…… Paloma Faith – ‘Only love can hurt like this’

So with super speed wi-fi I’ve got the words on my Macbook screen before I even had time to get the song playing out of my iPhone and through to my wireless Bose speaker. But and its a big but … it doesn’t work! Well the technological stuff did but the screen-sing-along-system did not work for me! And then I remembered! Play. Stop. Rewind….. Do you remember before the iPhone, bloody Google and the super quick wi-fi even existed there was a much more difficult yet totally committed way to find out what the hell your favourite songs were truly singing about!

Yes the old Play. Stop. Rewind! To get the privilege of those three actions you had to devote yourself to sitting by the stereo with your cassette already rewound and waiting for the Top 40 countdown. No wee breaks, no leaving to eat your tea or put out the fire your brother started because if you did – sure enough the song you had been waiting for would be aired, you’d miss hitting ‘Record’ and would have to wait til next Friday nights countdown! So you’re waiting… Waiting… Waiting… You have a few false alarms of songs that start alike and then … BAM…. IT’S ON!!! You press record! You sing along, poorly but with confidence because you know it’s only a matter of time before you would have those lyrics sussed. Once that song finished playing you got to work. Pen and paper in hand. Play ….. STOP ….. Rewind …. Play ….. STOP ….. Rewind… Over and over and over again until you had worked out that ‘meat’ was indeed ‘me’ and that actually probably made way more sense! You’ve been through the song a billion times by then and have firmly ingrained every line of the song so when you finally get to the end you know it like you had written the lyrics yourself! Now that is commitment! And that is why Google didn’t work for me.

Someone get me a pen and paper! Get me a stereo! And get me my favourite song please!!!

One love,
DRK xxx