Tonic Water Day...

Have you ever had those days where you feel like you have drank to much tonic water and now things seem off. You cant quite put your finger on what it is but you just know that “all is not well”.

The 17^th of January was the 10^th anniversary of my daughter Faith Abigail’s death. Yes the day was hard but it now also brings a certain amount of peace with it, in knowing that my life has traveled on but that her memory remains.

Well kind of... For me it is about what was missing. Every year on that day I would hear from my dad. It was a check in day. He would have a chat and just “make sure” I was doing ok. In essence he was my superman. I know feel like my safety barrier is gone or perhaps like I know live life without a net.

It feels surreal or like “tonic water” to me because I know that I wont ever have that again. You see Dad was killed in a motorcycle accident on the 10^/10/2010.

Like anybody I have had my good and my bad days dealing with it but one thing that has shone through over this last week for me is that – I need to be there for my kids. And I mean really be there, not just the buy them stuff enroll them in sports be there.

I mean out for coffee and a chat, answer questions on the couch, watch a movie with, challenge, motivate and support them. Until two days ago I don’t know that I fully appreciated just how much my father was still, until his dying day trying to do that for me.

Don’t get me wrong I make an effort with my kids and I like to think I’m doing a reasonable job but this past week has left me asking myself “what can I do better to have a healthy, strong relationship with my kids?” So that when they are out there in the world they will still wont one with me?

A NEW HOME FOR CHARLIE

Charlie is the newest member of our family. She is a 3 month old border collie, chocolate and white. A week or so ago the kids and I got together and decided we would help Charlie get her groove on :) So we took the old dog kennel and combined it with some aerosol paint and the result now reminds me of something out of Bear in the Big Blue House...

FROM THERE TO HERE

Faith Abigail Brown was my daughter. She impacted on my life so completely and deeply that even sitting here writing this feels like the equivalent of running my hand over an old scar,that twinges and spasms every now and again. No one else notices, but one that I can still feel.

I still remember even now getting the phone call from the hospital asking me to bring Petra straight in as they had gotten some alarming test results and later the doctor demanding that my wife be given more of the labor inducing drug, and yeah I guess I remember threatening to remove that doctor from the room with force. I still remember the absolute silence of Faith coming into this world before hearing the shouts of "code blue", and then passing out after watching my baby turn purple - not blue but purple.

I can remember the physical pain it caused me to hear that my wife had torn out her own drips and tried to make it to the special care nursery as she hadn't even seen her baby girl yet.

I remember everyone saying that they would work out what was wrong. She couldn't swallow, regulate her own body temp, would have an apnoea where her heart rate would drop to nearly nothing (several times we said our goodbyes only to have her soldier on and fight back), and she would turn blue. Later on we found out she lived in a constant state of seizures and was also blind.

I can remember the many "battles" we had within the day to day pains of our normal lives. The world didn't stop and I can recall thinking how could this world be so cruel and surely I must buckle under the pressure. Nine months of testing, no answers (to this day her condition has remained undiagnosed) and endless doctors and specialist visits. I remember a terrible lonesomeness as my "awkward" situation drove my "friends" away. 

The horrific pain of having her die in my arms (which sometimes revisits me in nightmares even now). I was 23 when I buried my daughter, I had failed. Everything about the role of a father is to provide, protect, nurture and to help grow. I had done none of these things in my mind - none.

My son John for weeks after would ask if we could go and "dig her up now?" and that we could use his tonka tractor. Eb's made play-dough cookies and drawings for Faith for a long time.

So the weeks turned into months and the months years. Here I sit writing this. But let me tell you what else I remember. I remember that Faith used to become very still and restful whenever she laid on my belly when I watched tv, Petra used to dance with Faith in the candle light, Johnno accidentally stepped on her once in his haste to play and include her in his games... Reading her stories, Faith loved baths (although we had to make sure we didn't get her nasogastric tube in the water).

I look at my family now, the journey we have taken together and the roads we have traveled. I think of the memories we have made and the adventures we have had. not all good adventures I admit. But the older I get the more I begin to realise that the scars on the outside are proof that we are not afraid to live, the scars on the inside are proof that we aren't afraid to love...