When you become a parent you accept that some things will never be the same again. The laundry pile will be bottomless, your handbag will hold a range of random ‘what the….’ items alongside a comprehensive ‘its ok Mama has one’ stash of useful stuff. You have to modify your menu to accommodate laments of ‘but I don’t like it’ despite having eaten it with no problem multiple times and bath time is no longer ‘me time’ and usually involves a small person joining you.
One thing I took for granted a lot pre parenthood was silence. The sheer bliss of nothing. Or the luxury of putting on headphones and getting lost in a piece of music without worrying what you might be missing while you aren’t listening.
It’s 11pm – and (yes I know lucky cow) The Bear and The Bug are both fast asleep. So far since bedtime we’ve been subjected to the nightly ritual cacophony of nebuliser, feeding pump, suction, sats machine and video monitor all emitting their own white (or not so white!) noise. The buzzing rings in my head, an endless barrage of sound that makes winding down harder than it is already, and masks the sweet snuffling of sleeping children.
It follows us wherever we go – like a siren to the public ‘look at us we’re different’ – but better still look at us and see a family that is strong, that has learned how to look after their own, that has adapted and overcome issues and to triumph in finding a new normal.
But I shan’t complain about the noise – it means that he’s still here, still fighting, kept safe. Because one day the house will fall silent – and that just doesn’t bear thinking about.
The Bear and The Bug 