It Takes A Village

I feel like I need to be honest about our life.

In the last couple of blogs, I've given you the basics on a few aspects of our life, mainly our lifestyle and a few of the hurdles we have come across recently.

I’m aware that my passion for things to be the best for Niamh and for no one to limit her, just because she’s different, makes me come across like one woman fighting the battles single-handedly. This isn’t the case, I’ve got an army behind me.

As I mentioned in my intro blog I’m a “single parent”… such a friggin’ cliché. And talk about putting people in boxes, I mean what does it even mean?

I’m actually a co-parent. Niamh’s dad (R) and I separated when she was very new.  Roughly two months, give or take. The facts behind it all are completely irrelevant so I’m not going to bore you with it. It's history. 

It’s been a bumpy old road, and that was even before realising our daughter was different. But it’s taught me a lot. Mainly about myself.

R and I are business partners, N is our business and we want her to be the most successful human she can be. It’s amazing what happens when you both agree to that. Whatever disagreements or different opinions you both have on things, you both only want the best for your child.

That was the game-changer for us. Egos were left at the door, history was left in the past and we started working on our “business”.

Now don’t get me wrong. We still argue.

The man will be late for his own funeral. 

I am a control freak.

But now we can also laugh.

Our families have dealt with the brunt of the chaos that has occurred over the last four years. Picking up the pieces, playing middlemen and supporting us as we blindly went from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment being told nothing concrete and waiting for the results to come back.

Niamh has the most fabulous relationship with all her grandparents. All of them. She lights up when she sees them.  

Niamh is the most incredible human and I have the best time with her, she is the best company you could ask for. But it’s intense. You can’t relax for a second, her dependency on you for help has you on alert at all times and quite honestly? I suffer from constant anxiety from it. So much so that I have forgotten what it feels like not to have a knot in my stomach.

I totally accept it. I know why I feel like that. It comes from a place of love and that’s ok. So be it. I do a lot to help try and reduce it and I think it would be a lot worse if I didn’t.

I'm not going to pretend it’s gone because I carry a crystal around in my pocket or because I rub some delicious smelling oils from head to toe. But I notice a remarkable difference when I do.

But also, truth be told?

If I didn’t have the support of R and our families who spend time with N… I don’t know how I’d cope.

I would be fucked without them. THANK THE LORD FOR GRANDPARENTS.

And if any of you are reading this… thank you. I know I’m a tricky fish at times. But thank you.

I’m not a “mummsy mum”. I wasn’t into doing the playgroup thing or anything like that. 

Many of my closest friends don’t have children and I genuinely feel like they’ve embraced my parenthood as much as me. Niamh has always been welcome to all dinner parties and events. It’s the whole “invite Al and Niamh comes free”, and actually if N isn’t joining in my friends are always hugely disappointed.

They have supported me in a way I have struggled to support myself. Complete acceptance. They’ve pulled up a chair and sat in the depths of chaos and pain with me, without any judgment.

They’ve all travelled this weird road with me, whilst I've been trying to work out why my daughter is different. What that means for her. What that means for me.

They’ve all jumped on numerous bandwagons with me, whilst I’ve tested out CBD oil and other alternative remedies.

It’s pretty standard for them to come through my door and have a new essential oil rubbed on their wrist. Or to have me spend a whole hour talk at them about the research I read on brainwave patterns and brain food, and not even in a calm, articulate manner. There’s usually a lot of  “this thing does this thing and I can’t remember its name but it’s amazing and I think we need to try it”.

But they also all know that underneath it all I am paddling like fuck. Trying my hardest to keep moving forward and for it all to be ok.

And there they are, paddling with me. Keeping me sane and making me feel visible and heard.

And I know, I'm like having radio 4 on in the background with the enthusiasm of Phoebe from Friends. 

They must be exhausted.

I hope everyone gets to experience friends that sit in your shit with you. They are gold. They are the lifesavers.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. And it does. It really does. And I believe that regardless of the child’s abilities.

Raising kids is tough. Especially when you realise that you don’t suddenly morph into a fully-fledged adult that has subsequently just ingested the entire contents of a parenting book. (Quite a shock for little old me).

But also it takes a village to raise you too. You never stop needing your village.

I strongly believe that. 

We aren’t here to go out single-handedly battling our demons. We are supposed to go with our village. Tackling our demons with our friends surrounding us.

Because the ones who are truly your friends aren’t scared or put off by your dark bits, they don’t care if you’re having a shit week or even a shit year. They’ll always be there cheering you on and giving you the space and encouragement you need to get you through.

I just hope I’m as good a friend to all of them as they are to me.

So here is to my village, you legendary bunch of heroes.

Life is so much better with you all in it.