Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Fancy Fresco, Shame About The Food
Not that Lily minded about the food. She just spent her time trying to consume as much cold, processed sugar as possible. When attempting to put my fork into the hard lump of grey Beef Stroganoff (I could lift it off my plate in one lump), I looked over and saw her in five-year-old culinary bliss. She had an ice-block in one hand, a spoon of custard in the other and opened containers of jelly and ice ice-cream lined up in front of her. Seeing that she had just had her throat knifed, I thought that her dinner choices were completely legit.
I'd forced a smile on my face, when my girl reached out for Twiggy as we rolled her up to theatre away from him.
I'd distracted her from her fear, when she gripped my hand tight as we entered the operating theatre.
I'd held her tiny body, when they put her to sleep and she convulsed, her eyes staring terrified into mine.
I'd held back my tears and stroked her hair and whispered how much I loved her.
But when they ushered me out of the room and into the lift, crying and disorientated, I forced myself to remember why we were putting her through such a scary time. I thought of the photos I took of her on the weekend, the ones I tried to Instagram away her dark rings under her eyes.
Thanks so much for all your amazing kindness over the past few days,
Thanks so much for your comments. I really love that you're taking the time to tell me what you think x