Tuesday 8 January 2013

Family tree

There is an heirloom tablecloth that Grandma would bring out on special occasions. At birthday parties, Christmas and Boxing Day dinners, any gathering that required two tables to be pushed together: the tablecloth would be brought out and take pride of place.

Originally a bed sheet, from when Grandad was in the Royal Navy, the cloth is good-quality cotton and has been laundered many times. After Grandad left the Navy and became a Coastguard, Grandma re-purposed the sheet as a tablecloth and embroidered her family onto it. Ma and Freddy (her parents, my great-grandparents) are at the centre and spiralling out from them are three generations of names - their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There are some place names too, around the edge of the cloth, indicating how the family has spread across the globe, from Canada to Australia.

After Grandma died, my mother sorted through all her possessions and passed the tablecloth to me. I think she wanted me to continue updating the family tree but I've never felt able to - I wouldn't want to spoil it by not stitching as neatly as Grandma did. Besides, there are so many names to add now (the next generation is growing rapidly!) that it would take a lot of research for me to gather all the missing data. Finally, Grandma would unpick the names of people who died and re-stitch them in white and I can't bring myself to do that to her name. So, the tablecloth is wrapped in blue tissue paper and stored in my 'treasure box' in the bottom of my wardrobe.

I have been thinking about Ma quite a bit recently. She died when I was about a year old. There are a couple of photos of me, sitting on her knee. Her name was Mary Annie Giles. She married my great-grandad, Frederick Smith, and they had nine babies. There were 18 years between their eldest and youngest children! Six children survived to adulthood. Leonard and twins, Donald and Florence Mary, were the babies who never grew up. I wonder how Ma coped with the loss of three newborns? I wonder how she found the strength to go on to have more children? I wonder how she coped, years later, with the loss of a grandchild, Annette, who also died in early infancy?

I find it comforting that, within living memory, I'm not the only person in the family to lose a baby. I am glad that Leonard, Donald and Florence Mary, who were born more than 80 years ago, are not forgotten. I want the same remembrance for Monty, which is why his photo is on the windowsill, why I talk about him often, and why I will make sure my daughter knows about her brother. I have a memory box with photos, hand and footprints and a lock of my baby's hair - did Ma have keepsake mementoes of her babies, too?

Perhaps, one day, I'll feel ready to update the tablecloth and include the names of my children and nephews and fill in the rest of the gaps? Until then, the cloth will remain frozen in time, as it was nine years ago, when it was passed from Grandma to me...

(Pictured above: Ma, Grandma, my mother and me on my christening day)

Tuesday 1 January 2013

The best laid plans...

I'm one of life's planners. I'm organised and always have been. I used to be embarrassed about this (as a child, my family teased me for setting lots of rules for the games we played) but I now see my planning skills as a huge advantage and I try to exploit them to maximal benefit at work and at home. I'm ESTJ and proud!

The disadvantage of being a planner is that I find it hard to deal with chaos and spontaneity. I prepared, before going on maternity leave with my daughter, so that I wouldn't expect too much of myself. It was hard to let go of my routines but I positively embraced the freedom of my year as a SAHM and learned a lot from the experience. My mantra was: any day on which we all get dressed and eat is a good day!

The last two months have challenged me in many different ways. I'm dealing with the emotional response to bereavement and my physical recovery from giving birth. I have felt alarmingly unsettled, to the point that I haven't known how to think about the future. The baby I longed for, planned to conceive and carefully gestated was stillborn and we may never know why. The coming year was supposed to be a second year at home with my young family.

It has only been 8 weeks since my son was born, which isn't very long, but I've had a nagging feeling that I should be doing something. I have imagined a question mark hanging over me - who am I now and where do I go from here? The bereavement pack we were given at the hospital contained some excellent advice: don't make any big decisions for at least a year. However, I need focus and cerebral challenge, I can't just sit at home all day, watching daytime TV, knitting and convalescing. My GP is right - I need to get out of the house and find social things to do to fill my time until I am fit to return to work.

Thankfully, over the last couple of days, I have started to feel calmer and less panicky. Perhaps that is the benefit of finally getting a good night's sleep? I can still work towards some of my goals but more flexibly and in a different order. I can make new plans; some of them may come to fruition. Most importantly, I don't have to rush into anything. I'm suppressing my J.

Although I don't make New Year resolutions, I am resolved to give myself a bit of a break this year. I need to adjust to the 'new me' and take time to enjoy the family I have.