HAPPY  BIRTHDAY  BABY  ANGEL

I  WILL  ALWAYS  LOVE  YOU  AND  WILL  NEVER  FORGET  YOU  MY  DARLING;

 

LOVE  FROM  YOUR  MUM

FOR ANGEL

I wrote this poem on the day that the baby I miscarried was due to be born.

FOR ANGEL

Today was the day I was due to give birth,

But you were never meant for this earth.

Today is the day you were due to be born,

And I mourn your loss, oh God, how I mourn.

 

When I knew I was carrying you I was filled with such pride,

Such happiness and joy, but then you just died.

They call it a miscarriage which will heal in time

But you were OUR BABY, your Daddy’s and mine.

 

The pain of your loss is a pain like no other,

A pain that can only be felt by a mother.

The emptiness and loss I felt at your death

Seemed to choke me with every intake of breath.

 

Oh yes, that pain has started to heal,

But today is different, and again it’s so real.

Why did you leave us? Why did you go?

But the answer to those questions, is that nobody knows.

 

You can never, ever be replaced,

Though I’ll never hold or kiss you or see your face,

You will live in my memory as well as my heart,

So we’ll always be together, and never apart.

 

I’m pregnant again with your little sister or brother,

So I’ve the chance once more of being a new mother.

I love this little baby who has put a smile on my face,

But believe me, it will never, ever take your place.

 

You were one of a kind, though never to be ,

You were only inside me for 10 very short weeks,

But you gave me such happiness during that time

And I thank you my Darling for that gift so fine.

 

I love you so much though you are no longer inside me,

But I know your spirit is always beside me,

Helping me through life, encouraging me each day,

And I have felt that help in so many different ways.

 

You’re my Angel in Heaven looking down from above,

My beautiful baby guiding me with love.

Today is the day you should be alive,

This 16^th of April, 1995.

 

 

***********************

MY BABY

I was 38 years old when I had my first baby. When I held my beautiful daughter in my arms for the first time I thought my heart would burst with love for her. I could hardly believe I was a Mum at last. I had given up all hope of ever having children when I fell pregnant with her, and my joy knew no bounds when I realised I was going to have a baby. I had a wonderful pregnancy with her, I blossomed and bloomed, and never had a day’s sickness. She is now 16 years old, on the threshold of adulthood, and has grown up into a beautiful young woman. When she was just over a year old, much to my great surprise and joy I became pregnant again. Wow, all of a sudden getting pregnant was easy. And it meant that our beautiful daughter wouldn’t grow up an only child, which we didn’t want. I was tired from the beginning. This pregnancy was different.

 

After only 10 weeks, I woke up one morning to discover I had passed blood during the night. I had difficulty phoning the hospital as my hands shook so much. They of course told me to go in immediately. I was brought for a scan straight away, and there on the screen was my baby. My wonderful little baby . Everything must be OK if it filled the screen, perfectly shaped, mustn’t it? But the one vital thing was missing. There was no heartbeat. My baby’s heart wasn’t beating, it had stopped. The doctor attending me just didn’t know what to say, so I said it for her, “My baby is dead”. Then the flood gates opened and I cried and cried. The doctor held me as if she would never let go, and I really felt her sorrow for me. It is a date I will never forget, the 19^th September 1994.

 

Two days later in the hospital I miscarried my baby, and the kindness of the staff made it almost bearable. They made me feel as if I was the only woman who had lost a baby, and their attention was staggering. I was advised that if I want another baby, I should wait three months, then start trying again. Three months later I felt in my heart that the time was right, and immediately knew a new life was beginning. I had an even better pregnancy than my first one, I had so much energy, and I felt so well. I gave birth to my second beautiful daughter on the 19^th September, 1995, a year to the day that my other precious baby had died. It turned what would have been a sad anniversary into a joyful occasion, and still remains so.

 

But my beautiful second daughter would not be here with us today if I carried my lost baby to full term. We cannot imagine life without her, but I often wonder what my other baby would have been like, what colour eyes it would have had, what kind of personality it would have shared with us, would it have taken after me or its Dad? The hospital couldn’t give me a reason why it died, except that it must have been very ill. The pain of its loss never goes away, but at least I can live with it now. How my arms ached though knowing I would never be able to hold and cuddle it, my lips ached knowing I could never kiss it. I would never be able to breath in that lovely baby smell from it, nor would I be able to watch it grow up, laugh, run, jump and play.

 

I didn’t even know if it was a little girl or a boy, but when my second daughter was a year old I became pregnant again and had a very troublesome and difficult pregnancy. At six and a half months I haemorrhaged, and for a while the hospital was able to calm things, but at seven months I haemorrhaged again, massively, as the placenta was rapidly disintegrating, and had to have an emergency Caesarean to save both my baby’s life and my own. If I hadn’t actually been in the hospital when this occurred, and they were able to act on it within minutes, it doesn’t bear thinking about what the outcome would have been. My baby, a gorgeous, tiny little boy was thankfully perfect and healthy, and after only a two week stay in hospital where he thrived beyond all expectations, we brought him home, six weeks before he should have even been born! He is now almost 12 years old and is a fantastic boy, full of energy, always hungry, and has the biggest and best appetite of all the family.

 

When I was expecting the girls I felt so well and sailed through the pregnancies, but I never felt well during the seven months I carried my son. That makes me certain that the baby I lost was also a boy.

 

Had my baby lived, it would have been 14 this month. It was due on the 16^th April, so this is always a special date in my heart.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY my little Angel.

Natasha Richardson

It is with profound sadness that I have just learned of the death of Natasha Richardson.   Such a simple accident, yet it has had such devastating consequences.  

Being Irish, of course I am extremely proud of her husband Liam Neeson.   We lived in Dublin when he was making the film “Michael Collins” and he used to cycle past our door on the bicycle he used in the film.   I was pregnant at the time with our second daughter, and Natasha was pregnant with their first son.   She gave birth to Michael a couple of weeks before I gave birth to our daughter, in the same hospital.   That gorgeous boy, and his brother Daniel have now to cope with the horrifying loss of  their mum, and Liam his beloved wife.

My thoughts are with all of them – Liam, Michael and Daniel, plus the Richardson/Redgrave family.   I just hope the press and public alike will leave them alone to grieve in private.

BLINKY !!!!!

When we moved here first, almost 2 years ago, I was amazed by the number of wild cats in the area, and more notably around the rubbish containers at the end of our road.   Being a cat lover, I wanted to bring them all home, feed them all and adopt all of them, but of course I couldn’t.   We already had a dog and 2 cats as part of our household, and well…….One wild cat in particular caught my eye, a small black cat with a white chin white whiskers and four white paws.   Due to its size I assumed it was a female, and my heart melted each time I saw her.   She only had one eye, and appeared to be a bit deaf too.   Her unseeing eye was just a white slit, but her disability didn’t seem to bother her and she went about her business as did the other strays.   Slowly over time the number of cats diminished, but “Blinky” as I began to call her was always there.   I learned from a woman who lived not far from the containers that the local animal refuge made visits rounding up stray cats from time to time, would arrange to have them neutered, and would find homes for them.   I also noticed that this same woman was also looking after the few remaining cats as best she could be feeding them.   I thought, how kind, at least they are getting to eat some nourishment instead of constant scraps, rodents and who knows what else to survive.   A number of times I tried to approach “Blinky”, but she would never let me near her.   She may have been partly deaf, but she certainly sensed when anyone approached and always ran away.

 

One morning last week, I opened our back door to let our Duke, dog out, and sitting just outside it was “Blinky”!     Duke just ran past her as he obviously knew her from his walks, and “Blinky” just ignored him.   Instead she just looked at me nervously with her one eye.   I put some cat food into a bowl for her and brought it out.   She was definitely hungry and immediately ran over to the bowl, meowing at me as she did so as if to say thanks.   But the poor thing must also have a problem with her voice box as she only managed a very feeble squeak!   She devoured the food and looked up for more, which I duly went and got for her.   I decided to take the risk of touching her as she ate, and she arched her back, put her head into my hand, and let me stroke under her ear.   Then I saw that she isn’t a she at all, but a small, male.  

Since then, Blinky has come to visit often, sometimes two or three times a day, sometimes we may not see him for a few days, but when he does come to visit, he will sit patiently waiting for someone to notice him and bring him food.   He will now let all of the family stroke him, he has happily played with the children, and will even allow me to pick him up and cuddle him.   And boy, does he need cuddles!   He loves them!   He is a very interactive cat, and obviously, given the right circumstances, would have made a wonderful house pet.   He is affectionate, and shows his gratitude for the food by rubbing off us, then rolling over to have his tummy rubbed.    Strangely enough, our 2 cats don’t seem to mind him at all.

 

He obviously originally noticed that 2 cats live in our house, so very intelligently figured out that there would be food here, and took the chance there might be a bit going spare for him as well.   It was a chance well rewarded, and for as long as he wants to visit, he is very welcome.   I am under no illusion that he wants to make our home his, he is afer all a male, used to fighting for each scrap of food he gets, used to his own independence, but he has brought us a lot of pleasure by visiting and showing his trust in us.    He still hangs around the containers, and I won’t approach him there now as that is his territory, but my heart still melts when I see him.   However now it melts in a different way, because I have been given the chance to cuddle and hug him.   He is gorgeous.  

THE MESSY BEDROOM

Hello everyone

I wrote this poem when my two daughers were small and shared a bedoom.

They are now 16 and 13 years of age, they each have their own bedroom and while sometimes they can sill be a bit messy, they have improved since they were younger!

Enjoy it.

THE  MESSY  BEDROOM

 

 

Toys, toys everywhere

And the girls don’t really seem to care

If their toys get walked on, broken or cracked,

Or their lovely tea set ends up smashed.

Why it is that no matter what I say

They won’t clean up at the end of each day?

I’ve even tried bribery to get them to tidy

By promising them pocket money on Friday!!

 

 

My hours of cleaning always end up in ruin

Five minutes after they enter their room.

All my hard work of sorting their toys

In five minutes flat is totally destroyed.

No one is responsible; they each blame the other,

And then they blame their baby brother!

It seems we’re afflicted with something most tragic,

The mess in their bedroom seems to happen by magic!!

 

 

I’m sick of their room resembling a tip,

When I go in I’m always afraid I’ll trip

Over dolls, blocks, crayons or pencils,

Books, cuddly toys, balls or stencils.

I try to teach them respect for their toys

But all that happens is me getting annoyed.

What I say goes in one ear and out the other,

Oh, the joys of being a mother!!

 

 

They are only children playing in their make believe world,

Two beautiful, wonderful, lively little girls

Who will quickly grown up and then leave home

To start their own lives in homes of their own.

They are my beautiful daughters whom I love so dearly,

And I know if I sit down and think it through clearly

When they are gone I’m sure I will have to confess

That I’d give anything to again have their room in a mess!!

B L I S S!!!!!

B L I S S!!!!!

 

When it comes to evening and I start to tire

There is nothing better than a big roaring fire,

I relax in front of it and watch the flames

Dancing around as if playing games.

 

It heats the house on a freezing day

And keeps the cold of winter at bay.

It’s warmth and comfort seems to fill each room

And takes away that chilly gloom.

 

An open fire is like a best friend,

It’s great to relax with at the day’s end.

When the children are in bed, the fire is mine!

And I curl up in front of it with a glass of wine.

 

Central heating is all well and fine,

It can go on and off by setting the time,

It isn’t really company as the day draws to a close,

But it’s very good though for airing the clothes!

 

No, you can’t beat an open fire in your home,

Its comfort makes you feel you’re never alone.

It can also set the mood for a bit of romance,

Soft music in the background, and a smoochy dance!

 

The only light is that of the flames

Throwing shadows on our bodies as we start our love games,

Enjoying the pleasure is what it’s all about,

And it’s time now to let the fire go out!

 

But the one thing about a fire which I hate,

It’s the awful job of cleaning the grate.

I try to avoid it as much as I can

And leave that messy job up to my man!

 

~~~~

NINE MONTHS OF WAITING

At the ripe old age of 37 I gave birth for the first time, after having given up on the idea of ever having children.     I couldn’t believe it when I first realised I was pregnant.   On the 17^th December, 1992 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who arrived 3 days before she was due.   In September 1994 I sadly lost my second baby, but in September 1995 I gave birth to another beautiful baby girl.    And in June 1997 my life was complete with the birth of my gorgeous son.  

 

I wrote poems to all of my children that I will post over the next while.    However below is one I wrote as I started to go into labour with my first baby.

NINE  MONTHS  OF  WAITING

 

Nine months of waiting, the time has almost come

Then I’ll know if I’m carrying a daughter or a son.

I’m excited, as well as being filled with fright,

Worrying if my baby will be alright.

 

Nine months of waiting, full of worry, full of hope,

I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to cope.

Our very first baby, to fill our lives with joy,

Oh, what is it, a girl or a boy?

 

Nine months of waiting as my body adjusts,

My goodness, I can’t believe I’ve such a big bust!

And my hair seems to have taken a new life of its own,

As a result of being pregnant, it really has grown!

 

Nine months of waiting, of carrying new life,

They say the pain of giving birth hurts like a knife,

I hope I can stand it, well, I’ve really no choice,

And at the end of it I’ll have every reason to rejoice.

 

Nine months of waiting which I’ll always remember,

Nine months until the 20^th of December.

That’s when they say that my baby is due,

It’s the 17^th now, so the days left are few.

 

Nine months of waiting, just three days to go,

I bet the days left will really go slow.

A baby for Christmas, oh what perfect joy,

A present of a beautiful baby girl or boy.

 

Nine months of waiting, I hope it’s not late,

I’m so excited, I just can’t wait,

The last nine months have really gone fast,

Oh wait… it feels like my baby is coming at last………………….

 

Written on the 17^th December 1992.

 

 

 

 

Limerick

Bonjour all,

Here is another one of my daft Limericks.

I have a plant in the hall

Which looks like it’s going to fall,

I’ll do what I ought to

And give it some water,

Then I’ll put it up against the wall!

 

Let me know how much you love my poetic genius!!!

Cheers,  

Niamh

 

 

Limerick

As I come from Limerick in Ireland, here is one of my own “limericks”.

 

There once was a lass called Miss Sickle

Who was in a bit of a pickle,

She said “I’ve been bad

And I know it’s the cad

Who enticed me to play slap and tickle”.

 

But what about Aengus MacPhicle

Who trifled with poor young Miss Sickle?

He said “I’m not glad

At being a dad

Oh why did I show her my dickle!”