ALF

82 - An open letter to A.L.F

Friday, April 01, 2016



Dearest A.L.F,

This year you would be eight (you are eight? I still struggle knowing what to do with that). I don't think about you every day any longer, but you are always in my heart and in everything I do.

I hope that I am doing you proud with Alfie's Studio - today I saw photos of work being featured in a book, I cried a little. When we used to visit you in the early days I would bring new plants and tell you about them, do you remember? The book is about flowers (sort of). I'm sorry we haven't visited for some time, I stopped needing to so much because I realised you were in my heart rather than at that place and it just made me too sad. It doesn't mean we don't care, it means we care too much.

The sight of daffodils doesn't seem to make me as sad as it used to (I took a picture the other day of some at your grandma's house and thought of you). I have yet to see the first lamb of the season so can't comment on them yet. I still don't like April Fools very much, April 1st is not and probably never will be my friend.

Your brother and sister know of you. I don't think they quite understand or can really comprehend, but they will, one day. They will know that you were courageous and funny, taught me how to love fiercely, how to protect them. You taught me resilience and strength, to never give up hope and to enjoy every little thing and moment, for it really is true that you don't know how many more you will have (the saddest and hardest lesson I've learnt so far).

I still can't quite stand it when they call me "mummy" instead of "mama" (they think it's funny to see me cross at them about it). I am and always will be your mummy and no one else's.

I'm not sure on religion but I often wonder if there is a heaven and you are there. If there is, what is it like? Do you have school? Are the schools taught by walruses in waistcoats and lions in bow ties? Have you met your great nana and great granddad? Great doesn't quite cover them, they were AWESOME and I miss them very much too. Is he Top Ten Angler in the Angling Times up there? Is she still cross about the varnishing of the dining table while she was in hospital? That would never have happened in her heaven...

Another year further from you, my sweet thing. Perhaps another year closer to finally getting to play on the beach with you or chase you through the woods?

I will love you, always.

Mummy x

82 - An open letter to A.L.F

Friday, April 01, 2016

66 - Spring

Thursday, April 02, 2015

Alfies Studio - Daffodils

I've had it in my mind for some time now that I wanted to write a very specific post today. Something profound that would touch you, maybe even move you to donate some of your hard earned money to a charity that really deserves a lot more publicity than it gets (Sands), or help other stillbirth survivors finding this post through the magic of google. Somehow, the fire and passion to do that just isn't there. It seems to have relinquished its power and turned to barely glowing embers.

At this point seven years ago I was sitting in a stuffy and overcrowded antenatal clinic, waiting for an ultrasound scan to see if my baby was breech. The Mr reading his Stephen King book and I daydreaming (probably about getting to bathe little toes in a week or so with the baby being due in a few days). I had no idea that my life was about to change in a completely incomprehensible way forever.

All these years later, the birds have begun to sing again. I think they stopped as I watched a Robin gather food in the hospital garden while we were waiting. Life left me in lots of ways that day, but somehow, it seems it's finally spring.

66 - Spring

Thursday, April 02, 2015

29 - How Alfies Studio came to be...

Tuesday, April 02, 2013

No Matter What by Debi Gliori
Image taken from "No Matter What" by Debi Gliori (found on notsupermum.com)
I often find that when networking and meeting new people when I mention what I do and I introduce Alfies Studio I am often asked "Why Alfies Studio?". They want to know where the name came from or (correctly) assume that it is the name of one of my children. Here is the story of Alfies Studio.

I have been self employed (sometimes whilst also having a "day job") since 2004 (nearly ten years, yikes!) and never really had a business name until a life changing event forced me to get serious about life, love, business, all of it, in 2008.

We were expecting our first baby, due date 7th April. We kept joking about the stork and Parcel Force and damaged goods and all of that, our stork must have been clumsier than we could ever have imagined. After a few issues for the baby being breech we had a scan on the 2nd April. The scan was to see which way around the baby was and if I may have to book in for a c-section as the consultant was not keen on the idea of delivering a breech baby. I was a little concerned about having felt a lack of movement the previous day too (after being out with a friend for lunch and a wander around Bath I thought my 39 weeks pregnant self was just tired out and hadn't noticed any kicks because of that) so they were to check on that also. After a Registrar, and another Registrar (worried at this point), and a Consultant (terrified and certain) and finally a Sonographer (white knuckles holding on to the bed and wanting to be sick with revelation of what was happening) tried frantically to find a visual of the baby's heartbeat I knew, before anyone even opened their mouth to tell us. Our baby had died. 

If I'm completely honest my memories from then on seem to be in the third person, as if watching myself. I have some views of my own, of sitting in the hospital garden watching a Robin whilst waiting for the induction medication to do its thing, of the Tiffin that we bought and shared in the hospital canteen (too sick to eat but just needing something) of being given an overnight room reserved for cases like ours away from the main labour areas full of new life (which we now "affectionately" refer to as "The Room of Doom"). I remember that this time five years ago we had a corned beef sandwich (all that was left from the dinner rounds) and were watching the new Dan Cruickshank series on the wall-mounted t.v which we had been looking forward to for weeks. I remember a haze of gas and air and contractions that would not progress during the night, Pethidine around 1pm which knocked me out completely as they had super-sized my dosage and being assigned our own midwife around 3 in the afternoon to help us through things. By 6pm I had gone through the only physical "birth" process I would ever go through (Dominic and Evelyn both being c-sections for being breech too). I was empty both physically and mentally. That night we drove home having left around quarter to ten, not with-child in any sense. I vaguely remember that there were flowers waiting for us from my good friend Sarah (these could have come the next day, I don't really remember) and the next morning I woke up and was so tired that for a second (only a second) I had forgotten what had happened in the previous two days. Then I realised and looked over at the crib in the corner of the room, already made up with boxes of clothes and nappies laundered and ready to be used in boxes underneath. The moments following, the next weeks (months) are all a bit of a haze. We moved across the country to the new home that we had bought for our new family. Our hamsters jumped ship too and died around the same time. It seemed like such a lonely place for just the two of us.

When I finally started to get it together again I decided not to go back to working for someone else full time (I always wondered a little bit if the stress and long hours in the final few months had contributed to what happened, no reason was ever found) and to throw everything in to making a real business of my own that I could call the shots with and could grow around a one day (hopefully) growing family. I felt like I owed it to our A.L.F (so called because the first time we ever saw a hand sweep across my stomach it looked like a little Alien Life Form) to achieve the greatness that they would never be able to achieve and so my business has been since then, and always will be, Alfies Studio.

Stillbirths happen ten times more frequently than cot deaths. I had heard of cot death and taken measures to prevent it such as a ventilated mattress and bedding and cellular blankets etc but knew nothing of stillbirths or that it could happen to us.
For more information go to http://www.why17.org/About-Sands.html or http://www.justgiving.com/why17 to donate to the research of Sands.

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29 - How Alfies Studio came to be...

Tuesday, April 02, 2013

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