I took you to the park today, your favourite thing in the world is being outside surrounded by birds, trees, seeing planes fly over and cars drive by. You greet each car with an enthusiastic wave, a smile that could stop traffic and an emphatic identification that it is, indeed, a car.

My heart melts when you are in the sunshine, Sam. Because it is such a reflection of who you are as my child. Your joyful, playful and cheeky nature is so perfectly balanced by your sweetness and sensitivity, that when I see you in your element, face alight with joy, I am complete in that moment.

All the weight of the weeks passed, days where I’ve barely hung on to my sanity and self, days where you learn to express your will in typical two year old ways and I am the sounding board, they all evaporate and all I see is your joyful heart as you take in this big wide world with so much wonder and gratitude.

It’s bittersweet, these hours, these days. Soon our special dance will be interrupted and we will have to learn to welcome a new dance partner to our bond, when your baby sister arrives. I am so excited to introduce you to her, but I am so sad to be letting go of this phase of us: where you and I are it, and you’re my baby. My one and only. So I cherish these days, the ones where you light up with joy over the simple things we do together. And I try not to cry when out of the blue you just decide it’s time for “cuggles” with Mummy, and you hold me so tight with your little hands, as if I am your whole world and don’t let go.

I cherish the silent moments as you drift to sleep in my arms, even though my back aches and I desperately need the bathroom, or a hot shower, or all the things I haven’t had a chance to do in amongst being your mum today. And I linger these days just a little bit longer because I know our time, the time of just us is coming to an end, and although I am not ready, I know it is coming.

You will always be my baby, Sam. And I promise to always look for chances to dance in the sun with you, even when our family grows.



She caught me by surprise. I thought she was another brother for Sammy. I thought she would bring me a pregnancy of relative ease. I thought I’d be fine.

She brought with her hyperemisis Gravidarum, fatigue, but joy.

And I can’t wait to meet her.

Princess Skywalker, coming soon 🙂

Choose Kindness.

You were the time divider. Before you. After you. And my world was shifted on its axis.
Love became the depth of all of the seas combined, a force stronger than gravity, richer than all the flavours of the world.
All I see now is you.

How can I teach you that goodness and mercy are not weakness, when all the world does is scream indignation and rage?
I hope you choose love all of your days.

I hope you put your ego aside and step away from those who beat their chests in pride.
I hope you put out your hand to help another up, even if they trick you after.
I hope you hold your tongue and let love win instead of needing the last word.
I hope, when you see others hurting, you are moved to help them and not mock from your place of success.
I hope you love yourself enough not to be pushed around by those who do not deserve you, and walk away from those who are out for your ruin.

But most of all, I hope you always choose to be kind.
No one is remembered for winning arguments.
People only remember love.


The Last Word. 

We built a fire;

I, for warmth. 

We built a fire;

Yours, for scorn. 

And we built it, 

Built it with our hands

And we stoked it,

Stoked it with our plans. 

We built a fire;

I, for light. 

We built a fire;

Yours for pride. 

And you stoked it,

Stoked it with your hurt

And I stoked it

Stoked it, with my words. 

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

You can have the last word. 

We built a fire;

To start this fight. 

We built a fire;

Now it burns us alive…

You can have the last word. 

I’ll take my words as kindling,

And burn them all, a silent offering

You can have the last word. 

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

You can have the last word.

You can have the last word. 

The Ways I Miss You. 

There are a hundred thousand ways that I miss you and each of them catches me by surprise. Today it was the sunset and the colours it made, bleeding into each other in a symphony of warmth, light and beauty amongst the cold, bleak grey of winter. 

I saw it and wondered if you were a part of it, it seemed so passionate and sincere in its place amongst the darkness. 

It just was, despite everything around it. 

Just like you were. 

Some days it’s the smell of rain, or the sound it makes on a tin roof, of the way it draws the heat from the pavement. All challenges to the idea of what rain is, should be, or is expected to be; a break from the usual, a reprieve from the smug warmth of a burning hot summer day. An honest shock to the system that breathes freedom as the city exhales under the oppression of the heat. 

Your honesty was like the rain, even in its coldness. A shock to the system but a welcome one at that. I miss you every time it rains. 

Some days it’s watching my son, seeing him learn new things, experience new emotions and lessons as he grows. I watch his tiny eyes widen in wonder as he picks up a new object, or discovers a new sound he can make. His honest joy at what he can do bubbles up and over his face in squeals of delight and it reminds me of you and your gadgets. Tweaking, tuning, testing, playing. Your joy on stage and behind the scenes was never dampened even after so many years. I miss your presence. 

And some days it’s the music. Oh god, it’s the music. You’re in every guitar sound, every masterful production, every loop, every great song. The elation, the sorrow, the release, the peace, just like your personality in all its forms. You were always the music. You still are. I miss it. And I miss you. 

Of the hundreds of thousands of ways I miss you, the one that hurts the most is every single day my life goes on without you. Even though I know you wanted that for me. I try and imagine who we’d be by now. How you’d fit. Where you’d stand. What you’d say. But it’s fading, and that weighs my heart full with sorrow. Because with each day you become less vivid. Less present in my ear. Less frequent in my dreams. 

And that then begins a whole new way to miss you. 

And it still catches me by surprise. 

The Best One Yet.

Dear Sam,

Tomorrow I finally return to work after taking just over a year off for Maternity leave. I’ve had to push it back a few times now due to some health issues, and while tomorrow is looming and I am not looking forward to rising at 5:30am, (you golden child, you very rarely wake this early!) it’s been a good year and I’ve been reflecting on how wonderful my life has become now that you are a part of it.

Where do I start? I guess with you, Sam. I can’t ever have imagined a life so rich, so full and so hectic as the one we now have. Everything I thought about parenting has been re-thought, re-imagined and re-discovered with every passing month of my time with you. I’ve found levels of strength, determination, patience, grit and passion I actually didn’t know I had within me, and I’ve valued every learning curve, no matter how sharp it has been.

I don’t regret taking the full year to be with you, even though you did start at daycare before I ended up returning to work. Every day we spend together, no matter how tiring is one where my heart sings; a rich melody laced with every possible emotion one can feel. I feel fierce protection toward you, that in the blink of an eye can flip over and become uncontrollable gratitude, ugly crying and all. Although financially it may not have been the wisest choice, those months are months I will never get back with you, and I will store them in my deepest memories as cherished, precious and beautiful.

Watching you grow has been breath-taking. Your personality unfolds like a flower every day, and every new phase we enter I think to myself “This is the best one yet.” My heart is ever-expanding, ever-renewing, ever-learning to love you.

We’ve made so many amazing friends in this year, from friends we already knew and grew closer to, to the strangers who we grew to love, as they went through this journey with us hand in hand – our mother’s group. It has been such an enriching experience to do life with those women. I pray many years from now we are all still hanging out, you laughing as you do with Tom, and the others climbing all over you as you hang patiently with them all. I could not have made it through this year without these people. My village. We were blessed, little man. So blessed.

You are so, so loved, baby Bear. I know you feel it, because your face lights up every time those who love you are around. You sleep like a dream, your temperament quiets my busy mind. You have radically changed my heart in the most irreversible way possible.

So as I go back to work, a job my heart isn’t really in, I will carry your picture with me to remind me of what I’m working for; our future as a family, our home as we build it, literally and metaphorically, and you. You are the best reason I’ve ever had to work hard. And you are the best one yet.

Thank you for this past year Sam. It has been everything I could have hoped it would be. It was truly the best one yet.

Here’s to our new chapter as a family. I do everything for you.


I’m Not Ready. 

My Dear Sam, 

Tomorrow you start daycare. I go back to work soon and I know it’s important for my peace of mind to be close by as you embark on this new stage of your little life, so I am starting you a few weeks early.  

I’m not ready to let you go. 

I’m not ready to not be the one raising you, teaching you, holding you. But I know you are ready to learn new things and have new horizons open before you. 

I can’t believe you’re 10 months old. When I remember the haze of love and newness that surrounded me when you were born it feels like it was a lifetime ago but only just yesterday. I remember the overwhelming journey in front of me, of keeping you safe and happy and healthy. Now it feels like second nature because I know what I’m doing now. We have been dance partners learning the steps together and we’ve taught each other along the way. But now it’s time for someone else to cut in on our dance. 

I am not ready. 

I will never be ready to let you go on ahead without me in this life. But I know you’ll be cared for and safe and that you’re about to have your little mind opened up and taught so many new things and I am excited for you. 

I wish I could be your sole teacher during the days. But I am building our house as a family by returning to work, creating a future for you where you can be and do anything you desire and always have a safe home to return to. 

As much as it is up to me and your Father, you will not want for anything. 

So my darling little bear, tomorrow will be a day of firsts for both of us, but I sense not the last of heartbreak only a mother can feel when her little one steps one more step in the direction of growing up. 

I’m going to miss you so deeply. But I know it will teach me to treasure our moments together even more so. So treasure them I shall. 

I miss you already.