January 1, 2009

Hi everybody, and a happy new year to you all!
We've had a really nice day - a lazy morning, and then Nanny and Grandpa came over for New Year's Day tea!
We all ate far too much in anticipation of normal healthy eating resuming tomorrow, and then passed a happy hour playing Charlie's new Junior Monopoly game (thanks, Claire and Richard - fab present!)
I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself, because I've sussed out another feature on Blogger - scheduling posts to publish ahead of time! I'm not sure how often I'll use it, but it was handy because I could schedule Charlie's 'Happy New Year' message to publish just after midnight this morning, without having to stay up to do it!
As it was, Pete and I stayed up to see the new year in, but I have to admit we both felt pretty mixed about it, to be honest. As the clock ticked over into 2009, it really felt like there's now nothing at all between us and Charlie's Fontan surgery.
And that is a very scary thought.
At the risk of sounding very melancholy, all we could do was sit and watch the fireworks on the TV, and hope and pray that we are all still here, unscathed, this time next year.
I appreciate this may sound a little melodramatic, but those heart parents - or parents with children with other major health issues - who read Charlie's blog, will understand what I mean.
There really are two sides to this coin of living with a child who has a life-threatening medical condition (particularly when there is major surgery looming in the near future).
On one hand, you are grateful for every day, and you appreciate every milestone, every new achievement... every everything, more than you would ever think possible.
But then on the other hand, every new year, every wonderful new achievement, every perfect, golden day, is slightly tainted with a bittersweetness, a nagging fear (which, I must admit, sometimes escalates to total blind panic) that it could be the last one.
This is just the way life is. You can't think about it too hard or you really would go totally mad and spend every day crying in a corner... and that would be a criminal waste of all those precious, wonderful moments which are there for the taking.
Yes, at times it is a difficult road to walk - and in saying that, we appreciate that we are very, very fortunate that Charlie has been so wonderfully well thus far - but it is a journey that is so worth every bit of worry and fear.
Thoughtful ramblings over for the time being - I'm off to sit by the bed of my sleeping son for a while, to watch him breathing and be grateful for yet another wonderful year we once thought we might never see.

We love you so much Charlie-boy. Thank you for making our life so amazing.

Here's to a happy, healthy and peace-filled new year.