April is upon us. Three birthdays are rapidly approaching. My three sons. I remember previous Aprils being spent in last trimester pregnancies. Trying to stay cool. Feeling like a beached whale. Abject terror being present during the entirety of two of those pregnancies. Increasing monitoring as the days passed. Weighing up when to deliver them as opposed to leaving them for as long as possible in utero. And for my eldest son and me, travelling a journey from his birth in April until his death forty-eight days later.
Alex's birthday is first on 11 April. He will be turning thirty-one. My amazing Man Child has overcome so many obstacles that life decided to throw at him. Diagnosed with Tricuspid Atresia (a complex heart defect) when I was twenty-one weeks pregnant, he underwent his first cardiac surgery in Perth at the age of eight weeks. Then came further cardiac surgery when he was seventeen months old and three years three months, both at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne.
He has endured over twenty procedures. Due to narrowing of all the tubes in his head, he underwent four tear duct probes, five sets of grommets, three eardrum reconstructions, two cardiac catheters, two sleep studies, dental surgeries and apparatus, nasal surgery, adenoids and tonsils removal and of course one closed heart surgery and two open heart surgeries.
At four, he was diagnosed with Autism, having ticked the required boxes. He also exhibited symptoms of epilepsy but the single EEG he received as a child proved nothing. His comprehension and retention of language was uneven. Yet, he learnt. Using Discrete Trial Training techniques, he transformed from being non-verbal, withdrawn and unable to connect with others to a social, inquisitive child who always wanted to please. He reminded me of a flower opening from a tiny bud.
The last few months have turned all I understand about Alex on its head. Fortunately, he is still Alex - a young man determined to do his best, loving his job as a café attendant and finding his tribe through his friends. He is also calculating, sarcastic and understands irony, which could be unusual in somebody like him. And he has consistently displayed discomfort around some people who also have Autism.
Then has come the bombshell. Alex has been diagnosed with an Acquired Brain Injury, caused by trauma. This injury occurred long ago. His GP has likened his injury as being in a serious car accident. Another neurology practitioner has described the injury as though he has been severely beaten up. I believe that Alex met with a catastrophic incident at some stage during his first cardiac surgery in Melbourne. There is no point in pursuing this scenario, although I am furious about what I believed happened to him.
So, we wait for his neurology appointment and an assessment. In the meantime, he has also been diagnosed with keratoconus, an eye disorder of his corneas. Luckily, his Dad is an optometrist and for the first time in quite a while, I am wholeheartedly grateful for his help. Rather refreshing...
Callum turns thirty-three on 14 April. He has been a joy from his birth, a panacea for my grief and loss. He arrived just over two years after his brother Christopher and fifteen months after his sisters Zoe and Melanie. He was an easy baby and delightful toddler, an incredibly social and confident preschooler, a stoic child, and a resilient teenager surviving years of bullying. Academic, bright, witty, talented, empathetic and loving, Cal is married to the lovely Bronwyn and Daddy to our divine granddaughter Immy.
He juggled karate and ballroom dancing as his sanity savers throughout high school. He chose to continue with his dancing and still teaches a student on Tuesday evenings. They recently won all their dances in a local competition. His other passions include Bunnings. firepits, camping and being within Bron and Immy's orbit. He is thoughtful enough to ring me about once a week, just to ask how we are. What a guy!
Both these boys of mine adore Michael and have rebuilt a good relationship with their Dad. Callum has also been Alex's unofficial carer all his life. We have shared a bond of connection and reliability and love for the last three decades. And both of them provide me with glimpses of what their brother might have been.
Christopher was born on 18 April 1987. I was almost thirty-two weeks pregnant. Deteriorating on the third day of his life, he was diagnosed with a very complex heart defect, premature lungs, a metabolic disorder and Noonan's Syndrome. He endured a bowel infection common to premature babies. He was unable to cope being weaned off his ventilator and gradually his body shut down. He was a cranky red-haired little boy who fought for his life for so long. On his last day, he opened his eyes and watched the world until just before his death. He died on the cold and wet evening of 5 June 1987, having had enough of pain and suffering.
He remains in a special compartment in my heart, along with his sisters, Zoe and Melanie, who were stillborn on 19 January 1988. Getting pregnant was never an issue. Having a live baby after Vanessa consumed my life.
Which leads me to disruption within families. Death is death. My babies are gone, cremated and placed at Pinnaroo. Even if I wished with all my heart, they are not coming back. I have my beloved boys as recompense and I are eternally grateful for their lives. But I can't change the grief. That remains, forever.
Michael has also lived with grief, that continues to be unresolved. His older daughters are now forty-one and thirty-nine and have previously refused to consider healing the rift that dates from their childhood. Yes, he assaulted their mother in anger. Yes, he decided to discontinue contact because of the bad blood between him and their mother. Yes, he refused to pay child support until they returned from Holland after seven years away. Yes, he made mistakes, some which he regrets on a daily basis.
His younger children are now thirty-one and twenty-nine. He and his son attempted to resuscitate their wife and mother back in November 2008. She died three days later. That could have created a bond between them for the rest of their lives. There has never been this bond. These younger children rejected him when he dared to start a relationship with me because he was lonely. I wish I knew his youngest daughter's thoughts now she is a wife and mother.
I hope there is still time. He has five biological grandchildren. Much are he loves Miss Imogen Ivy and she loves him, Immy is not of his blood. We wonder if his name or existence will ever be mentioned to his children's children.
With death, there can be no reversal. Death is final. My wish every day is that Michael's children give him a chance and discover that he is not a monster or a demon. Every other person he knows believes he has worth. He has saved my sanity on more than one occasion, never doubting me, always loving me.
This is the story of my boys.
I have chosen not to share any photos of Christopher.
My beloved Michael
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