Freewheeling in Johannesburg

I'm anxiously getting ready for a trip.  This is the second time in as many weeks that I've been away from Leo, but it's a trip that I've masterminded and one that has to be done.  It's another trip to try to fix what's broken.  A trip that will hopefully make right what's wrong.  I'm as hopeful as I can be considering its like a game of Russian roulette and we're playing with fire.  Five weeks back, encouraged by a bottle of sweet Dutch Courage, I emailed the consultant in Johannesburg who 3 years before had carefully freed my uterus from Asherman's Syndrome and which in turn gave us Leo.  I told him about my recent pregnancy history, my lack of period, my concern for the recurring scar tissue and my hope that he was still in the surgery driving seat.  His response was immediate, 'lovely to hear from you Georgie, get on a plane, we will sort this.  I am still doing hysteroscopy's and will be for many years to come.'

Shortly afterwards I booked a flight and then packed my bag for the 5 day trip - the longest I have ever been apart from Leo.  Chris logistically managed the day to day work/life routine as though his life depended on it, which it did, and typically they both had a ball living on sausages and ice-cream.  Fast forward a few hours and when the plane landed in J'burg I left the arrivals hall with purpose (which is pretty much what happens when you light the litmus paper) and climbed into my friend's waiting car before we tore off down the highway.  The following day I visited the clinic.  I had a series of routine bloods taken whilst the x-ray, dye test and subsequent scans confirmed the Asherman's was back.  In a way I was relieved, but it was over-shadowed with disappointment to learn that I was post ovulation so the surgery couldn't be done then, instead I'd have to return in two weeks time.

Two weeks later and I board a plane tomorrow morning.  Where is my head right now?  I guess all over the show.  I'm returning again solo because for all of us to fly is financially impossible and as a city, well J'burg CBD doesn't have a lot going for a 2 year old.  Plus I physically know the drill.  I know what to expect and I know the procedure and this time it should be a quick 3 day turn around.  But.... but emotionally it's a long haul, it's a narrow tunnel and I'm not sure whether a light remains at the end of it.  But in my attempt to find the light I need facts.  I need to know what is, or isn't possible regarding any future pregnancy.  I want to know if it's safe to try again.  I want details of my fertility and I want to be told whether it's worth another gamble.  Give me the facts and I can make a plan, because without them I'm navigating this leaky ship blind.

But I also now acknowledge that to mentally get through this I need to feel the security of being able to move forward without the terror of letting go of the past.  All three previous efforts to release my tragic pregnancy history into the ears of a professional have never got further than a sticky phone call, so it was with pure relief that I researched a counsellor in J'burg who allowed me to empty my heart in her office, only stemming the flow of tears with the offer of more tissues.  I have found someone qualified in the line of pregnancy trauma to help me carefully unlock the key to the inner chamber of my heart and to guide me through the painful debris of the last 4.5 years.  I have finally given myself the chance of healing a part of my soul that has forever been changed by what was and by what is my life, and with technology this can be done via Skype and phone calls day or night.  I just need to remind myself that it's OK to do it.

I don't know what will be uncovered in South Africa this week, I only hope that when I land back in Uganda on Thursday night it's with more purpose for the journey ahead than I've had in a long time. But I'm not brave, so a big hug from the little guy will help make the ending right no matter what.

Nearly two baby

Our office floor is full of inflated red and yellow balloons bobbing along like a line of fat ducks.  Out of breath and feeling light headed Chris and I are sat in chairs sipping on rum and cokes recalling how one so little has changed our life.

Tomorrow Leo turns two and my heart is fit to burst with love for the young Viking.  He fills each day with explosive noise, animated dancing, a bad arm slapping habit, chubby neck hugs, incredible words, daft sentences, exhausting 5th gear action and constant wide-eyed world wonder.

His hair remains dirty blond and twists in soft curls at the nape of his neck and those eyes, defiant in their 'ask a million questions' and 'demand a million answers' haunt me.  We squeeze him into t-shirts that now fall over his less-than-before Buddha tummy and hold our breath as he screams around the veranda on his wonky scooter bare foot and bare chested.

Leo Phoenix Higginson you are a force to be reckoned with - the fire in our soul, the roar of rain that comes before the storm, the forever changing landscape of the African plains and the burning sun that seals its mark on tender hearts.  You are life in the truest sense of the word and the most beautiful boy to ever rock our world.

Happy Birthday you warrior.

We love you, simply, purely and completely.