Remembering Pollyanna - life in the wake of Neo-natal death

Yesterday was Pollyanna's birthday. Today is the 3rd anniversary of her death

We should be celebrating. Instead I can hear wifey upstairs bathing Harriet and as her voice chuckles down the stairs, I'm reminded again of a future that's could have been.

On average, 17 neonatal babies die every day in the UK. Today, 17 families were ripped apart. And tomorrow so will another 17. almost one every 90 minutes. To many of you, these are just numbers. I hope its a burden you never have to carry.

Today, I pondered over those agonising moments again in the delivery room. We were advised our baby had a genetic fault that was 100% fatal.

Of course 10 months later we found out that Pollyanna didn't have the genetic fault that was 100% fatal. So she could have lived. We were advised that she were she to have lived, she would have been severely physically and mentally disabled and so the choice we made was the right one. But I don't agree.

If I were told there was any chance of Pollyanna living, I would have taken that opportunity. Yes it would have been incredibly hard work and would have meant huge changes to our lives, but the alternative, to sanction euthanasia based on some feeble notion of kindness or sparing any suffering is fundamentally flawed. You only have to sit in the light sensory rooms at Center Parcs to understand that our notion of quality of life does not necessary apply to those with mental and physical disability. When I looked into those deep blue eyes just before she was whipped away to intensive neonatal care - I saw life.

I have spent 3 years wondering whether I could call for a case investigation. What I should have been thinking was whether I should.

For Polly - with Love

DIY Couch - the sequel

The time has come to unveil my masterpiece that is my DIY couch.

Its taken 3 months and has kept me variously entertained as well as keeping Tesco’s in profit with all the plasters I have had to buy.  

 

So now I have a knuckle that I cannot bend, a manly scar and another amusing anecdote for my Grandchildren on long wintery evenings by the fire.

 

And I have a sofa! Rock on! Y’know -  I'm pretty pleased with this. I always had in my mind what it would look like and its turned out exactly as I imagined. The only time I wobbled was when I decided at the last minute to re-purpose some Laura Ashley drawers and put them under the sofa for extra storage.

This sofa stands as testament that anyone armed with a ‘Can do’ attitude, some screws and a hammer can eventually, can with some agile thinking, come up with something resembling a sofa. And it actually looks and feels rather good.

Being from a testing background, I've Load tested it (my fat ass) and  it is still holding together.  This moment of success should not be noted lightly - marks a turning point: With the pergola last summer, that represents a DIY success rate of 2/2. Yes.....gone are the Homer Simpson-esque DIY efforts – Im approaching a modicum of DIY ability.

 

So I was feted with a banquet of Sainsburys 'taste the difference' grapes an a small  parade in my honour before being quickly reminded that the downstairs loo needs "sorting out".

Harriet loves it and took all of 10 minutes to figure out how to unlock the drawers. Watch out for those babies, they’re a lot smarter than they look....