Helen: Hold On

We walked today, my girl and I. Holding hands and but a little at a time. From one sofa to another and around the room.

Small steps. In purple leather shoes. Stripey tights and a shaky walk.

And the five year old watched. Wanting to know when his sister would run. Shout and chase and catch and fall.

By the look of things not long at all.

And I remembered a day, with this boy. 2010  - had I a time machine the last place I would go. A house with a window full of sun - some friends, their children and us. And a babe, I no longer recall which mother or name. But my son held my knees and whispered then, 'One day Mummy we shall buy a baby and he will be my friend'.

And it happened then. When blood rushes and goes to the head. When you lose your way and cry instead. And those around you stop - assuming in an instant it was something that they said.

And I wished - in that moment - that babies were trade. That someone would name me a price to pay. That I'd move on and we'd be whole again.

I can't remember now if we'd lost 4 or 5 babes then.

It worked out - in the end. In our girl. Who for a time I believed was not to come. And in a room with a consultant - a day or so from hitting the wall - I begged that something else be done.

Low dose aspirin. Increase the flow and thin the blood. Proof or placebo I frankly care not. Where others failed my daughter walks.

And lives and breathes and talks.

I grew stronger as those months went by. That which warms your heart and that which makes you cry.

'What's for you, won't go by'.

I believe not - one word of that. But rather, 'what we yearn for may yet be in our grasp'. Through perseverance - and sometimes - the questions we ask.

There is always tomorrow and there is always another door. Today my daughter held my hand and walked across the floor.

Life finds a way - when all has gone wrong.

When you can't hold on? Hold on... x

You can read more about Helen on her own blog All At Sea.