Letting go

Do you ever have days when the only thing that keeps you going is your kids? Even on their grumpiest, stickiest, naughtiest days, my kids still manage to make me smile...most of the time. This morning, one very short phone call made me exceptionally upset, and I am working very hard to lift my mood even now. Without going into gruesome detail, in February this year we experienced a frightening home invasion. There were weapons involved, and Jack witnessed things a three-year-old shouldn't see. The police did not respond appropriately and the men involved were still in our local community, so we sold our house and moved, simply to feel safe again. I have spent a great deal of time this year feeling angry about being displaced from my home, and all of the changes that were forced upon us as a result of leaving a town we had lived in for nearly three years. Looking on the positive side of life, we will eventually (when the builders decide to finish a 6-month-long smoko) have a house in a beautiful area, somewhere we have always dreamed of living. We have graduated from counselling, the nightmares have subsided, and my children remind me every day of what is truly important. Most significantly, I have wonderful family and friends who have kept me focused and grounded, and I know that this will one day be a blip in an otherwise very fortunate life.

To be perfectly honest, the only times I get jumpy these days is when I hear men shouting in the street, so I thought I had recovered pretty well from the whole incident. However, this morning we were told by our lawyer that as far as the police were concerned, no offence had occurred at our home (other than a broken pot plant) and therefore we were not eligible to be considered as 'victims of crime'. I'm sorry, but what exactly constitutes a victim of crime? Was it not enough to have our home forcibly entered and be witnesses to acts of violence? Was is not enough that my child needed therapy to recover from the actions of these stupid men? Should we have been hurt more extensively? I was never concerned about receiving financial compensation, but rather I wanted the police who failed to protect and support us to be held accountable. So today's phone call shook me considerably because it suddenly became very apparent that our experience was to be swept under the rug. Although I am still upset by this news, I realise how lucky my family to have walked away from this situation. So I spent some time today thinking about all that I have to be thankful for, and as usual my children provided me with a lesson or two!

Due to Jack's ordeal in February, he has developed an extraordinary repertoire of stories about getting rid of "baddies". After several sessions with our lovely psychologist, Jack learned some coping mechanisms to deal with the nightmares he was having. He can now make up the most fabulous tales about how he fought the bad men, and won - usually accompanied by the contruction of some magic sword or another. I love the fact that his sense of humour has won out, and that he has shown incredible strength of character in the face of a pretty awful situation. From Jack, I have learned that all I need to do is envisage myself as the strong person in the scenario and the battle will be mine. I suppose I could win any stoush if it meant defending my children!

Phoebe slept through that night, and was relatively unaffected by it all. But she still had to cope with stressed parents and moving away from the only home she'd ever known. Thankfully, she is a happy and funny little girl who manages to make us laugh every day. Simply by putting her shoes on every morning she manages to make me smile - she always, without fail, puts her shoes on the wrong feet. I never correct her, as it is one of the tiny things she does that makes her Phoebe. She also makes up little songs throughout the day, usually without a tune, or any rhythm, but always with a sweet little message about someone she loves. From Phoebe, I have learned to live in the moment, and simply enjoy the company of my family without worrying about what tomorrow may bring.

Maisie was only five weeks old when all of this happened, and she worked exceptionally hard to bring my milk supply back when it almost dried up through stress. My darling baby girl has never known anything other than the gypsy lifestyle, as we had packed up and sold our home before she was 12 weeks old, and have been living out of boxes ever since. In the next few weeks we will move into a rental home, and will probably not be in our new house before Maisie turns 18 months old. Throughout all of this upheaval, the one constant Maisie requires to be happy is her mummy's arms. She is definitely a mumma's girl, and gives me delicious wet kisses by sucking on my face with glee, pulls back to laugh at me, and then lunges in again to suck the other cheek. At nearly nine months old, she is growing perfectly and learning more every day. Tonight, she learned how to kick both of her chubby little legs simultaneously, in order to create the biggest splash possible in the bath. From Maisie, I have learned that children do not need anything more than the love of their family. It does not matter whether the roof over your head is your own, or a rental, or your parents-in-law's; it does not matter if all your carefully-laid plans have to go out the window; all that is important is that your family is safe, and your children have the love and security of their parent's arms.

I need to thank my children for teaching me what is important. I want to thank my husband for doing whatever was necessary to make me feel safe. I hope to walk across the threshold of my new home sometime in the next twelve months, and forget that I was ever without a home to call my own. I need to let go of the feelings of anger and hopelessness that have engulfed me today, and embrace the strength, and happiness, and love that my children embody. And I hope that in return, I might be a source of comfort, warmth and security for my children and husband when they need it, wherever our multitudes of boxes and belongings may finally find a place to be unpacked.