A Blog a Day in May

Rainy Days

The Sun once told me not to run from the rain.

It told me to seek it.

To cherish it.

To never forget that, without the rain,

beauty misses out on its chance to grow.

Now, when the rain comes, I get my coat.

And I sit.

And I wait.

I wait until I am certain

that happily ever after

has begun again.

long exposure photography of water drop
Photo by Fabiano Rodrigues on Pexels.com

 

 

Inspiration, Life

A Simple Wish

I used to think that I was like the most beautiful bird.

That I could spread my wings

and fly anywhere I wanted.

Anywhere the wind blew.

It was silly of me to think that.

Now that I really think about it.

Photo by Djalma Paiva Armelin from Pexels

I used to think that magic lived inside of me.

That everywhere I went that same magic would shine,

that it would light up the world around me and make everything beautiful.

Well. 

Now I know.

I was wrong to think such a thing.

Photo by Leo Cardelli from Pexels

I used to think that If I closed my eyes and wished hard enough…

whatever I wished for might find me, and change-my-life.

For the better.

Then I grew up.

And grown ups really shouldn’t think such fanciful things.

Should they?

But my world has changed.

Because now I know life is best when I spread my wings and leap into the blue of it all.

I know magic comes to those who believe, and that wishes really do come true.

You’re here aren’t you?

Gifting me your time. Sharing with me your moment.

It’s my simple wish, fulfilled.

And it’s turned you and me into the loveliest of things:

Us.

Photo by Hillary Fox from Pexels

xx Brooke

Life

Lemons and Life

When life gives you lemons, turn them into lemonade.

It’s a lovely saying, isn’t it? And it’s right up my alley in terms of the positivity it tosses in the face of life and it’s silly business.

***

I want to tell you a story. It’s a sad one, most would say. But to me, this story is one of my greatest sources of light in this world—and all because I’ve come to see the beauty of the lemons that were dealt to me.

I will say here, at this point, that this story involves the topic of pregnancy loss so, please—If you are going through a loss of your own and feel you are not ready to delve into the sadness of it all— know that you have my absolute blessing to skip the rest of this post. For the rest of you…let’s do this. Together.

In 2015, I experienced five miscarriages while trying to conceive my second child. There was varying degrees of trauma involved— emotional and physical— but the most devastating loss, perhaps, was the little muffin that lasted eleven weeks (as opposed to the six weeks which had been the average of the rest of the bunch.)

Anyway. Lemons. Probably the biggest, most bitter lemons of my entire life. This particular little muffin had me at the emergency department, and, given we already had a little one to look after at home…I’d be going this alone until the babysitter arrived. Ugh. Lemons.

After an hour or so of feeling like a hollow egg in a waiting room, my husband joined me and, at last, there was some comfort to fill me—he’d been relieved by our beloved brother in law, and knowing our little man was sleeping soundly in his cot, I breathed a sigh of relief. If he was to wake, my baby was in kind and gentle hands.

***

I often wonder who I’d be If not for those lemons. I’ll never be the girl I was ever again, that’s for sure. But now I’m this girl; this perfectly imperfect girl, who loves and laughs harder. Who falls and cries louder.

This girl— the joyously broken version of me—considers the lemons of this life and thinks thank bloody goodness for them. Thank goodness for the gifts those lemons brought me (and there were many on my miscarriage journey, despite all the bitterness. Some of them because of all the bitterness.)

Perhaps the most profound gift for me involved that night in the emergency room: the night that, at the time, I figured to be the most awful of my life. Well. As it turned out…it was one of the greatest.

Because as I sat in the emergency room, sucking on that great big ugly lemon, my little boy—chubby cheeked and two years old—woke from his sleep and realised Mummy wasn’t there. Daddy wasn’t there, either.

But someone wonderful was: his super fun uncle.

So, in the dark of my little boy’s room, comforted by the gentle sway of the flower rocking chair, uncle and nephew snuggled, heart to heart. And there was peace and there was joy and there was love.

And, though I had no idea at the time, while I was in hospital cursing the bitter taste of my lemons…those same lemons were building something beautiful. At home. In the shape of two of my most wonderful people melting into the hearts of each other.

How’s about them lemons, hey?

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