Photo credit: Sarabay Photography

Once upon a time I wrote, I painted, I made music… I created beautiful things.

How did I get from there… to here?

Where I’m afraid to pick up my guitar, because I now fumble at a language in which I was once fluent.

I no longer draw or paint, because I don’t have the time. Or so I tell myself.

Where I lived was always an expression of me. From cushions I designed and made. Jewelry stands out of recycled cardboard, fabric and beads. Curtains that everyone would admire, not knowing they’d been recycled from discarded carnival costumes.

Slowly over years, there’s been less creating, and more… functioning.

Picking up. Packing up. Straightening.

Little bits at first.

Overwhelming in the end.

Until it’s all you know, because you’ve forgotten that you were an artist once.

Until one day you’re reminded…

Come back and play with our group. We miss you.

And you smile at those decade old memories.

Until you receive a gift of a photograph, from a friend. One you’d admired but never considered hanging on your wall, because you can’t even remember when last you deliberately decorated. Left a message from your soul in a room.

Until you receive a quill from a friend. Because you are meant to write.

And you go numb.

Because you dare not cry.

Because if you start… You may not be able to stop.

So you save it til you’re alone.

And you realize… I realize… that those tears have watered a little part of my soul that had gone barren with neglect.

But there is no sadness. Because new life comes.

In this life, there are no coincidences.

On my birthday, I thank the friends who have helped me find that path again, with their laughter and kindness and faith. And with the gift of their friendship.

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Wendy Fitzwilliam can be proud to have her name associated with the Pediatrics Dept at EWMSC. Mostly.

At a time when nurses and doctors in the public healthcare system are warring with the Gov’t, the nurses and doctors dealing with the kids in the system at Mt Hope are kind, calm and professional in carrying out their duties. The rank and file workers – luck of the draw on that one.

Like the escort who showed up at 7am and “coming back in 10 minutes” because he need his “corfee dis early morning”, and NEVER returned for the 5 anxious children who had been told to get ready for 6am, and most of whom were ready WAY before that despite fitful sleep the night before… That is how pressure does build up…

Especially following the preceding 24 hours we shared.

When certain parents (Lord Jesus please bless them) decide to bring “d village” to visit, in a space where 2 parents could barely fit, and where we had previously been expressly forbidden from bringing guests.

When said parents kept telling their toddler what I can only describe as foolishness (albeit well-intended foolishness) so she learned to trust not a word they told her and instead resorted to screaming at the top of her lungs (I now know exactly what that term means) despite being given a healthy dose of sedatives to calm her down. She screamed through any effect the sedatives were supposed to have, even while other children tried to rest and recover in beds literally 2 feet away.

Lord Jesus I know it could only have been you that prevented my thoughts from becoming words when, at midnight, said parents peeped through the curtains separating us to see if I was sleeping, and looking for company and conversation despite me clearly trying to help my boy pee in a bedpan. At midnight.

And Father it could only have been you that prevented riot from the 3 parents of sleeping children who were forced into wakefulness by these same parents who succeeded in drawing their OTHER neighbour into conversation, much the same way they tried to draw me in. These children of yours proceeded for hours to discuss whey dey from, who dey know, who have how much money, and what a light to the world their little screaming bundle of joy is.

I am grateful for the efforts of the nurse who felt prompted to draw the curtains in a bid to “break up this reunion”. It didn’t work though. Without missing a beat, we then had to hear about what parts of their bodies “sleep away” and how their back and neck hurtin because the chairs too uncomfortable, and impossible to sleep in. Which we could all agree with, but which the rest of us were trying to work with anyway.

I am grateful too for nurses Marcia, Tracy, Niraj and Ayanna. There were others, but these in particular brought calm and even laughter to scared kids and made all the difference in the world. I will never forget them.

I will never forget the doctors, the anesthetists and the technicians who worked with my boy to repair the defect in his heart. I know at least 1 anesthetist has learned a little bit about Asperger’s and that there’s a hard way and an easy way (in that order). I know that hospital policy had nothing to do with how many times he checked in on Matt to see how he was doing.

I NEVER would have guessed while in Mrs Olton’s class that her son would one day be involved in operating on my son…

I will never be able to express my gratitude properly to the doctor who comes from the US to give of his time (and more) to make these operations happen for a few kids year after year.

To Ika – I hope your little boy never needs this surgery. But on the off chance that he does… I know you’ll be in good hands.

To the parents who have to return because their operations were diagnostic or needed other special equipment… I wish you luck (and better rest this time around) and your kids speedy recoveries.

To those who have never visited the JBF ward where the pediatric cancer patients are warded… you should know that the Just Because Foundation does very important work in making the lives of the kids and their parents just a little easier. If you want to be part of a solution, and don’t know what to do, do this. Check the group – donate of your time, your money, your love. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=6553807334

I never knew there were so many children left alone on the wards at Mt Hope. Infants in cribs, toddlers who are too sick to play except to climb into a lone wheelchair and maneuvre themselves around a playroom, older ones dragging their little IV stands around. No mothers to hug and soothe and watch over them. Only nurses to love and care for them, when their schedules allow them to squeeze in some mothering time.

Heartbreaking to watch mothers who cannot, for whatever reason, stay with their kids and can only come to visit. To watch them leave… and to watch little hearts break when they do… Amazing to see the love that pours out from the nurses when they do.

Amazing too to see mothers trying to make a home for themselves in a place like this – grating carrots and beets to make fresh juices for their kids “to get the blood counts up!” To hear bedtime stories and lullabies across the way. To listen to mothers who care, homeschooling right there in the hospital…

I think that mothering instinct is strong in some. Others perhaps are motivated in turn by their efforts. But I know that it must be a lot easier to let the mothering happen in a space like this – with a playroom for the kids, a tiny but clean and comfortable dining space (& kitchenette) for families, and a decent bathroom/shower for the parents.

And nurses and doctors who seem truly interested in the patients in their care.

Thanks again to everyone who sent love and prayers and support. My phone battery was completely losing its charge within 2-3 hrs and I kept having to sneak a charge where I could (I’m amazed nobody boof mih). It was clearly allergic to the hospital because Tuesday night’s charge is still holding.

Matt is catching up on rest and being back in his surroundings and we’re taking it one day at a time.

Seriously. Please check out the Just Because Foundation and see how you can help, even in some small way. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=6553807334

                                                       One day you’ll be old enough to see this.

                                                       One day I know that you will read this.

                                                       And on that day

                                                      I hope

                                                      that your heart will know that these words are true.

                                                       Without a doubt.

                           You are perfect.

                                                       I pray

                                                      that we have lived so that

                                                       despite life’s inevitable ups and downs

                                                      and the lines this mother has had to hold firm

                                                       that my passion

                                                       for you

                                                       my love

                                                      for you

                                                       has never been lost

                                                       on you.

                           You are my heart.

                                                      I hope that you never doubt

                                                      that This Tiger

                                                      is always at your side.

                                                      I cannot protect you from every hurt.

                                                       But I hope I can help you learn to transcend that hurt

                                                       and fly again.

                                                      Because my children, each of you is meant to soar.

                                                       You are perfect.

                                                       I could never ask for more.

There was snow and it was cold, I got that.

Things froze. Things got slippery. There was ice.

The first time I stepped onto frozen ground I understood and accepted that I didn’t know one thing about winter.

The silence of fields blanketed in snow, the blinding reflection of the distant sun off fresh snow and ice, the bite of winter air.

Frozen eyelashes, beyond-numb-til-they-hurt ears. Completely new experiences for me.

Learning lessons New England toddlers learn. Except this 21 yr old didn’t have toddlerhood to cushion my pride.

Take me back home to the “winters” I’m used to.

Where things are always growing. And green.

And not frozen.

From Party Food & Entertainment, to Paint & Renovations, Footwear & Accessories and Jewelry – we’ve got the gift ideas for Trini shoppers this season!

Even better, many of the businesses listed have offered great discounts to the Macaroni Kid Trinidad community!

If you’re in Trinidad and Tobago, and you’re looking for family-friendly activities around the country, (and great deals on Christmas shopping to boot!) then check out our little community at:

http://trinidad.macaronikid.com/

Check out the complete Christmas Directory below!

There’s a funny thing about blogging – it can be totally impersonal, and completely intimate, all at the same time.

When I started this blog in August 2009, it was a way to express a bit of bottled-up creativity. Blogger’s “push-button publishing” was the perfect way for to get ideas out of my head and heart, and get them “on paper”.

Of course it was such an emotional process to deliver each post, that I didn’t dare associate my name with my writing in this impersonal world of blogging.

Or so I thought. I quickly found that it is indeed possible to make connections in BlogLand, and I slowly transitioned from signing my posts as “When did I become my Mom” to the more personal “Nicole”.

It was not a quick process, and for a long time, only the connections that I developed via email were privy to my real identity. I would feel real panic when someone entrusted with that identity publicly “outed” me on Twitter or elsewhere, truly afraid that I’d be found out and I’d lose my voice in this private-public space.

But after a while, receiving emails addressed “Dear When did I become my Mom” seemed really absurd to me,

Truth be told I really was less concerned about the mainly American audience that visited my blog. My main concern was that I’d be outed in this little country, and that my affairs would be “in d road” (as we say) for all to see.

At the time there really wasn’t much of a public appreciation for blogs locally. Or for much social networking outside of Facebook.

But that’s rapidly changing.

So much so that 8 months ago, I signed up with Macaroni Kid as the Publisher for Trinidad & Tobago. I’ve described it as my:

“Venture in using social media to support the institution of Family in Trinidad and Tobago, with a view to strengthening our society starting literally in the home.

In its current form it is a website and weekly e-newsletter dedicated to parents and guardians across Trinidad and Tobago. Facebook and Twitter are additional tools we use to engage busy, plugged-in parents and to foster community centered on family values.”

While Macaroni Kid in its purest form is about listing family friendly events in communities across the US (and Trinidad), I’ve used my articles to engage parents in my community.

And I write as me.

It’s really taken off, but it’s been next to impossible to try to keep my two writing worlds separate.

That hasn’t affected my MacKid at all, but it’s wreaked havoc on my blog.

The fear of this new potential audience introduced a sort of identity crisis, and for a long time stifled my voice.

But there’s been something very liberating about the growth of MacKid Trinidad. I’ve stood my ground and raised my voice in support of women and mothers who, for too long, have been ignored by a mainstream that’s been obsessed with courting the 30-something single crowd.

I’ve followed my personal passion for family, and am repeatedly taken aback to find that there are people who take action based on my recommendations. I’ve found community in a whole new way.

And now I’m here.

Same passion. Two identities. One voice.

Where does the journey go from here?

Personally I welcome change to the Twitter.com interface. I use HootSuite because it allows me to schedule tweets, post to Facebook, and monitor different Twitter accounts, and this #newtwitter doesn’t seem to be handling that just yet.

But easier viewing of Twitter profiles, embedding of multimedia… definitely steps in the right direction (as long as the infrastructure can support, without causing an increase in the number of big blue whales we see!)

That’s what’s supposed to be in the cards for #NewTwitter – launched 9/14 for select users, and presumably being rolled out to the rest of us soon afterward.

Check it out…

If you’re ever in Trinidad, I definitely recommend a visit to The Aripo Cottage Eco Resort!

Let’s travel the world together!