Love is...

sitting on the sofa with my two boys.

I love you both, more than words can say.

My little man is off for a 3 day school trip tomorrow. Raft building, canoeing, abseiling and the like. He's excited and I'm pleased that he is going. I'll miss him enormously.

We've had a bit of a pensive evening in a lot of respects. I composed an email this evening to his biological father to express my despair at his lack of contact. James read it, because he was here with me, and I didn't want to write anything about how he was feeling without him knowing I was writing it. It gnaws away at me that this man is absent from James' life, with no rhyme or reason to it. If I'd been unreasonable, uncommunicative, unwilling to 'allow access' - maybe I could rationalise it, for me and on James' behalf. But I, we, have done everything we can. It's only for the fact that my sister saw him a couple of weeks ago, in a restaurant that we actually know he is alive. 5 months - nothing. Prior to that, 2 visits in 6 months.

How can that be?

Anyway, his absence ultimately is his loss.

The Dad shaped hole that is left is filled by a strong relationship between James and Corin, and I hope upon hope, that will be enough to ensure that resentment and anger do not turn this wonderful young man into someone he doesn't want to be.

As for me, the prodding and poking occurred this morning. Awaiting outcomes. Scan in 10 days. That will add to outcomes. In the meantime I have to keep a pain diary. I kid you not that this evening I have written 7 separate entries over the space of two hours.

Thank you for reading if you got this far - apologies for having an emotional rant.