Mother's Day in Ireland

03/17/2012

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Mother's Day is always bittersweet for me. I am so grateful to be a Mom to two daughters who are alive and well. I watch them growing, becoming their own people and I learn so much from them. 

But I am also an invisible Mom. My daughter Hannah died in 2004. Hannah died just before birth as a result of what is called a cord accident. These are such innocous words for such a shocking, shocking death. Hannah is one of millions of invisible babies dying every day in our world in spite of modern medicine. On Monday, Hannah's heart was beating strong and clear. On Friday, her heart had stopped. 

Research into the causes of stillbirth is so low down on the funding agenda that it barely gets a look in. It is far more common than what used to be called Cot Death. As many as one in 30 babies in the developing world die just before or at birth. In Australia alone, stillbirth, is the third largest cause of death. Ground breaking research is taking place see  International Stillbirth Alliance  but even doctors and midwives are unaware of the research. 

We live in a world of invisible babies..and invisible mothers. 
If today you are an invisible mother through failed fertility treatment, miscarriage, stillbirth or forced adoption, my heart goes out to you. I will be thinking of Hannah and I will be thinking of you. If you are an adult who has been prevented from finding your mother, I will be thinking of you. 

Today with my whole heart and every fibre of my being, I ask this of you. 
If you can help a mother and child to be reunited by giving information to someone PLEASE do it.  
If you care for expectant mothers, PLEASE, find out all you can about the prevention of stillbirth. 
If your friend is an invisible mother, PLEASE find a way to acknowledge her and her baby today. Visit, text, write a letter or a card. People think they are upsetting us by 'reminding' us of our babies. 

I will tell you a secret. 
We NEVER forget our babies. We think of them every day. We walk around every day carrying the absence of our babies. Every birthday, every Christmas, every Mother's Day and Father's Day we think of them. We think how old they would be now if they were still with us. We wonder would they have been quiet or boisterous. We wonder would they have liked Barney or Bear in the Big Blue House. 
We NEVER EVER forget. 
This is OUR Truth.
 
Support for bereaved parents is available at  Feileacain 
Support for people who survived Irish Institutions Justice for Magdalenes


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To dye or not to dye

01/19/2012

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Today brings me a dilemma known to all women of a certain age. Will I continue to dye my hair or will I go grey? You see I am fifty this year. There I have said it. I. Am. Fifty. This. Year. And I want to know how this happened. Truly. I feel as though I went to bed aged thirty seven and woke up aged fifty. Almost. Thirty seven was a great age for me. I was in the process of renovating my house, and my life after a disastrous marriage. I was fit from all the physical work I needed to do on my house. I was enjoying all the learning about plumbing and floorboards, tiling and etc. I was beginning to discover my true self having given up so much of me in vain attempts to keep a wrong marriage going. Every day felt like an adventure. I had the curiosity of a child and the power of a mature adult. Myself and the bank had bought my little house against all the odds and 'I told you so's.' I WAS ON A ROLL!
Now I am almost fifty. A new marriage, a new house and two new daughters later! I love my life. I have made my peace with the past. I continue to learn and grow. I know now I will carry on doing that until the day comes when I am pushing up daisies. 
But here is that knotty question again. Do I accept my years gracefully by going grey? Or do I stay young by dyeing my hair again? Will I be giving up by giving into the grey? Or, will I be saying, this is me, like it or lump it? 
For my mother and grandmother, fifty was old. They were both grandmothers at my age. My granny went grey, my mother went blond. My granny saw her middle years as a rest and a reward after the hard times. My mother fought her age and regretted the lost years. I think my choice will be different from both of them. For now, I think I'll just take that childlike curiosity and that adult power and see where the road leads... it hasn't let me down yet.
I would love to hear what choice you made, comment below or explore your beliefs and choices more by joining the conversation Your Irish Identity, Gifts and Shadows 

     
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Becoming aware of the threads

01/03/2012

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As I trace my family tree, one thread is clearly obvious. My Granny went to America in the 1920's, my mother went to London in the late 1950's and I went to London in the mid 80's. We all went looking for work. None of us left in search of a big adventure or to explore the world. Each one of us left because of necessity and the lack of opportunity at home. When I left home I was deeply aware of being one of a long line of women (and men) who, in spite of their fear, embraced a whole new life and way of living. 'Taking the boat' was made easier for me by the knowledge that I was not the first and would probably not be the last. My mother and grandmother had been able to come back home and maybe I would too. My mother and grandmother had survived a world of strangers and so would I. 
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