One January I found myself in a medical walk-in clinic, at midnight, in my pyjamas. Again.
With a baby under one arm needing feeding and a three-year-old hanging off the other needing help to breath, I had to explain to the on-duty locum that our son Ben, was a bit more than tired. He had slept through only eight nights, ever, and he lived on a diet of drugs more than food. He was profoundly deaf in one ear and hearing impaired in the other, and he had related learning difficulties.
I was told our lives would be like this for a decade or more and I couldn’t accept that … at least not without a fight.
Not the sort of fight that involves fisticuffs or loud expletives, the sort of fight you take on for your life.
That’s who I became; that kind of mother.
I wrote this book to be the best friend to others that I didn’t have at the time…
Every time I get a thank you or hear from someone how it helped I feel truly grateful for the chance to make sense of my experience. It’s about the journey, and we’re all on one.
I heard a story once, about the piles of stones on the side of the Camino, a pilgrimage trail to Santiago de Compostela. Traditionally you take a stone from your home that represents your burdens, and put it down at the end as a symbol of setting them down. However, the story goes, you can put the stone down anytime and someone else can pick it up and carry it for you for a while. In turn, you too can pick up someone else’s stone for them – this way all the stones get to the end.
When it was first published Toasters Don’t Roast Chickens had to be reprinted twice in two months, and it is still selling second hand, being passed on from friend to friend, and generally getting to people who find it useful.
Times have changed since it was first published and this means I can answer the demand there is for it still and it will be re-released as an ebook. Coming Soon!