Friday, August 5, 2011

You don't realise how much you love someone, until you realise.

I was planning a post for my three year wedding anniversary two weeks ago. I never got around to it.

Hubby and I celebrated three years of marriage with Christmas shopping for the Kidlets, and ended the day with him tattooing me. It was a run of the mill day, with occasional 'can you believe it's been three years already?'.

On the 27th of July, 2008, I donned the prettiest dress I'll ever own and said 'I will' when asked if I promised to love Hubby forever and not bonk the neighbour when he pisses me off.

We always said we'd been to hell and back together, but we hadn't. Until the early morning after our anniversary, when I can say, we did. We've had our highs and lows, but it's dawned on me recently, that when it comes to crunch time, regardless of things we've said, done or thought, in the past, I would be fucked without Hubby. I really would.


I thank God everyday for my children.
Getting up in the morning is easier with them by my side.
I knew I loved them.
But you never realise how much, until you realise.

Miss E had her immunisations on the 25th of July.
As a result, she felt a bit yucky.
She had a fever, but otherwise nothing Panadol and TLC couldn't fix.
So, on the wee hours of the 28th of July, when she wouldn't settle, I gave her a cuddle and a feed, whispering reassurances to both of us that she'll be okay.

She stopped mid-feed making a gagging noise.
'Oh God, here we go, spew', I thought.
Hubby was beside me on the couch, as I sat her up, all the while she was gagging, and nothing was coming out.
I'm rubbing her back, saying her name, her eyes are rolling back in her head, no response.
She's breathing, but can't hear me.
Wave my hand in front of her eyes. Doesn't blink.
I pass her to Hubby, 'help her, please help her'.
He's white.
She's vacant.
Her lips are turning blue.
I'm shrieking, shaking, 'her lips are blue, HELP HER, PLEASE! I don't know what to do!'


Hubby's out the door with Miss E.
I'm on the phone.
Screaming for someone to answer.
Master S wanders around dishevelled after being woken.
My brother's coming to stay with him.
I can barely speak on the phone.
The five minute drive to get here seems like forever.
I'm on my hands and knees.
Screaming for someone watching over me to help.
I can barely breathe.
Master S is beside me.
Quiet. Concerned.
His eyes light up when he see's my brother.
Can't find my keys. My shoes. Anything.
Fuck them, I'm out the door.


Make it to the hospital.
Mum drove, trying to calm me down on the way.
I walk in to find her back to normal.
Lethargic, but responding.
Questions like 'how long was she seizing for?' are asked.
Who watches the clock when their baby's lips are blue? Hubby.

Mum mentioned febrile convulsions on the phone before picking me up, after breaking through my hysterical screaming.
Calm down, she'll be okay.
All the while I'm shaken, making a fucking scene.
The doctor and paediatrician are ridiculously calm. I wanted to punch them for being so slow and not concerned.
She had a febrile convulsion.
High temperatures can cause seizures.
All this was explained to me.
It didn't sink in.
It shook me.
I sleep with one eye open.
Always wanting to be the level-headed one.
Not the useless, crying hysterically mother who has no shoes and couldn't even drive to the hospital.


I asked Hubby that night, hours later, he never left her side, even when I calmed down and she slept on my chest, 'are you okay?'
His eyes welled up.
'No. You never know how much you love someone...'


We came home to Master S and my brother asleep as the sun was coming up.

Her life wasn't in danger.
She's doing okay now.
She was fine the next day.
We, besides exhaustion, were okay, too.
But I am glad Hubby was home, and it didn't happen when he was at work.
We've been to hell and back.
It made me realise how much I needed him,
and my God,
how much I need my kids.


  1. How incredibly frightening Tara. I'm so sorry that you had to go through this, and so glad that you have a happy ending xx

  2. Oh Tara wow! I am so glad Miss E is okay, nothing could be more frightening.

    One of the things I love the most about my Irishman is how he holds me together when I fall apart, you sound just as lucky as me.

    Hugs for you all xx

  3. Your poor things! what a horrible horrible thing for your poor little one to go through, and that you as her mum had to go through too. I'm so glad she is ok! x