Letting Go

 

Letting Go

In the beginning there was just you and me

But I stand in a world I want you to see.

I’ll take you to places and show you other things,

To hopefully let go, so you use your own wings.

You can come back and tell me what you’ve done.

My only question will be, did you have fun?

Mama Grace

 

As I watch her grow, each stage seems to be about letting go. Letting go of her being in our room, holding me for stability, holding her cup and taking time out to let her have her independence.

It reminds me of working with young people with behavioural and special needs, especially those who needed to be restrained; the 1:1 support and systems we put in place all worked but the ultimate goal is for them to have complete independence and feel their power to control their lives.

I hope that I keep letting go, so that she navigates her way through life feeling fully confident and having fun. This is a poem I wrote for her to find her own way.

This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com

Pleasure of Padstow

 

The pleasure of Padstow, as a family,
Is in the countryside, costal paths and the sea.
Who’d have thought dolphins would ride alongside our boat
And a farm shop stocking ten Cornish gins. Arrgh don’t!
Too much excitement for the food, Cornish cheese!
And freshly caught oysters that brought us to our knees.
We love our seafood, Nathan Outlaw was divine
But Prawn on the Lawn, Oh my! Try it some time.
The many Michelin star restaurants don’t take babies
But Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen, accept the little monkeys.
We were wood fire warm in Bodhi’s Air bnb
A small high spec beach hut, perfect for you, dad and me.
A hot shell massage was the perfect mummy treat
And wine from Cornish vineyards, made for a long receipt.
You see Padstow isn’t all about Rick Stein,
Though he shouldn’t be missed and neither should the wine.
The best beaches are to be found outside of town
And linked by costal paths, whose views didn’t let us down.
Our favourite walk was Carnewas at Bedruthan,
Ending up back at their café, was the best plan.
So the pleasure of Padstow’s in the nature you see
And the local food you can fit in your tummy.

Mama Grace

 

This Bard Review is independent. I have received nothing in exchange.

A Moment with Grandma

It’s lovely watching the grandparents get so much joy from their grandchildren and how those moments echo the meaning and spirit of life. The moment I loved recently was my little one ‘helping’ grandma with the gardening. It was full to the brim of an exchange between the open, curious and inexperienced G and the wise and openly loving Grandma.

When I kneel down by your side,
I’ve no idea of the pride,
You feel watching little me
Do something completely silly.
I put the world in my mouth,
You watch and feel in good health;
Knowing I’ve got a life long
Of marvel between right and wrong.
Of course there’s no wrong in your eyes,
You’ll nurture, not criticize.
You’re happy watching me explore,
That recipe doesn’t need more.
You give me your patience and time,
To learn how to make the world mine.
I see how you love to play,
But can’t manage everyday.
So you watch me and skip inside,
With your heart powered by pride.
Looking down with love for me,
This moment is all it could be.

Mama Grace

 

Burned Alive

Had a block! This was going round and round in my head. Now I can write children’s poetry again. I hope the 5 million helps the people but does not steer them from their path for justice and that criminal proceedings against those responsible takes place. No whitewash please.

We got burned
Alive
After the election

Politics
In smoke
Killing generations

Apathy
Made way
For greed to move right in

Media
Covered
Horror but not in

Daily
Hardships
The same fire burns thick

Vulnerable
Are we
Till we change politics

Mama Grace

 

Rainbow Baby

My daughter is a ‘Rainbow Baby’; born after a miscarriage. I only heard of this metaphor recently but it got me thinking so much I had to write. In truth, I will catch myself thinking about my miscarriage for many reasons: I still get these emails ‘you and your X month old’, though less frequently (I signed up when I found out I was pregnant to track my progress and never seemed to be able to get off). It’s so common, it will happen to somebody you know and it resonates in me every time. Also my curious mind wonders, what would they be like?

I miscarried just before Mothers Day and my niece brought me some flowers and wished me a happy Mothers Day. I replied that I wasn’t a mother but my sister argued that I was. I have held on to this and I know motherhood takes many forms but physically the baby was in me and it’s DNA was in my blood stream, that fascinates me. So when I think of miscarriage, that baby has to exit your system (which perhaps they never do completely) and when I think of how many children I have, I have one but I had another and I want to acknowledge that. I have a ‘Rainbow Baby’ and am extremely grateful to have a healthy and happy daughter, but like many this does not replace the baby I lost and who I account for.

As time passes I still wonder and I don’t know if this will ever change. I’m glad to those women that shared their experiences with me, their words helped. The thought of having a ‘Rainbow Baby’ is a positive one and I felt that there were many women/mothers around me that helped me look towards life whilst honoring our feelings for the death of our babies.

Rainbow Baby

You’re my rainbow baby but there’s no pot of gold,

There is a reserved space for a story untold.

An empty derelict home that nobody claims.

Only I remember, the deed’s in my name.

Sometimes I go back, knowing no work can be done,

Helplessly drawn to view because I was their mum.

We lived together, sharing everything inside,

Then they split everything, when from inside they died.

A baby died in me, leaving a dirty red.

I remember this but face the rainbow instead.

Mama Grace

This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com

Magpie Child

There you are randomly pecking away.
It’s my Magpie Child, sorting her prey.
Bottle top, wrapper, something out of place,
Nothing’s unimportant, junk’s to your taste.
Spotting the out of ordinary.
Tasting it, eugh, is that necessary?
Try and really think about what you do,
Are you eating all sorts of animal pooh?

Watching you look at the bits that you find,
It’s see-through joy, it’s a shame we’ve become blind.
All your finds you clearly treat like pure gold.
If I were your toys, I think I would be sold.
Seeing all this pleasure your gold can give,
I’ll save some things from the bin, let them live.
You do bring life to everything you touch,
It’s one of the reasons we love you so much.

Mama Grace

Medela Nipple Shield

Medela nipple shield you’ve allowed me to feed,
Pulling my flat nipples to meet my baby’s need.
I nearly gave up hope until you came along,
She’s now sat at them, for hours, for a year long.
My breastfeeding journey hasn’t been a simple one
But without you, I’m so sure my milk would’ve gone.
The little yellow box contains her brilliant straw
And now she, sweetly, goes for it when she wants more.

For the year, surprisingly, I only needed two.
A blissful year seeing my milk, as they’re see-through.
If you have inverted nipples you can still nurse,
These shields made my days better, when I feared the worse.
Her latch was always good and so I thought I’d lost
But I’m so glad I tried these, it was well worth the cost.
She’s taken my immunity, thrived in a year.
To the best yellow box, that made my milk appear.

Mama Grace

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This Bard Review is independent. I have received nothing in exchange.

 

My First Party Bag

My little girl is one and we’ve had a lovely year of singing, reading and walking. We’ve tried to get out and walk each day and our walks have become a big part of our day. We talk (well I do but you can see her taking it all in) and walk and stop frequently to pick flowers or notice something.

 On some of our walks we collected stones and these became the stimulus for a special gift in ‘My First Party Bag’. The stones are worthless but that’s the point, they have been made precious by what they symbolize to us. Having discussed the idea with Lora Leedham, the designer, she suggested that the idea lent itself to keeping the stones as raw and natural as they are. Today we gave them as gifts to the grandmas and aunties, along with a poem and I’m over the moon with them.

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Stone

 

Here, to you I give a small stone.

A stone?

A stone. Yes, here, from where I’ve roamed.

This worthless stone is very blessed,

It’s where we walked and took a rest.

Around the world they can be found,

This one, The Land of Origins ground.

 

So think of me when you touch the ground,

I’m the other side and around.

Around the world I may go

But touch this stone and please know,

I think of you everyday

And that’s the way it shall stay.

 

Mama Grace

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The Silent Partner

My husband is off again and will be away. For me it means doing everything and for him missing out on our daughter. The Silent Partner here happens to be my husband but it could just as easily be me. I love his support and what he does for our family and even though he’s not always here, I want our daughter to understand what he’s doing and why he’s doing it.

The Silent Partner

Someone special puts the silent time in,

A rock to this family, the underpin.

Like a mouse they’ll work without being seen

And repeat a travel, work, travel routine.

This may tire them but when they get in,

They hold you and swing you, their boutique gym.

They don’t always see you but they’ll smile,

The thought of you makes everything worthwhile.

Their goal is for your happiness to spread

And be back in time to put you to bed.

Mama Grace

 

This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com

Little Girl Blue

I’m saddened by the reactions and comments we get if my little girl is in blue or not in a dress. It’s the seed of something deeper and very damaging for me. She does wear dresses but she also wears trousers, tracksuits, jeans, shorts and sometimes nothing at all! Her wardrobe consists of many colours and lots of hand me downs. People say, ‘I have some boys clothes do you mind’? And I don’t because most of the time the only thing that seems to make them boys clothes are because they are blue or green or have a picture of a car or train. I don’t know if she likes any of this or not and at the moment I dress her, so when she chooses, I hope she will take that choice freely and be able to navigate her choices without the restrictions and impressions (including mine) floating around consciously or subconsciously in her head. I wrote this after many, many comments.

Little Girl Blue

I smile watching my little girl blue
And dream of a glass ceiling removed for you
But take a breath and I know it’s up there.
The why’s she not wearing? It all starts here.
The trapped stereotypes engraved in us
But right now I watch you playing in blue, oblivious
The pleasure to be a palette of free;
You’re the artist of what you want to be.

I can’t but watch my little girl blue
And think of the challenges you’ll go through.
Colour is just one thing that blocks you in,
You’ll see many pretty ugly patterns for women.
You’ll have to keep trying to slip out of the mould.
I’m telling you to ignore what you’re told.
In this case it’s not to benefit you.
Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do.

Mama Grace