I am sitting on the edge of Carys’s bed. She sprawls across my lap, fuzzy head tucked into the hollow of my neck, small arms clutching me tight. It is incredible how much strength there is in her… Read More
I watch my children launch themselves gleefully at the pile of presents under the tree, but take no pleasure in their joy. My heart feels cold and hard as a stone, and the bitter taste of guilt catches and won’t wash away in the back of my throat.
Sarah is the oldest. Always the thoughtful one, she organises her younger sister to sort the parcels into three piles, one for each of them. It’s meagre pickings, I think dismally, but they don’t seem to notice. Caitlin normally resents Sarah’s bossiness, but on this occasion normal hostilities have been temporarily cast aside. Jojo, not even a year old, crawls happily through the chaos, more absorbed in the crunch and rustle of the bright paper than what it conceals.
My brave bold trio, who already in their short lives have seen a side of it no child should have to witness. I won’t have their childhood stolen away from them, I just won’t.
It is four months today since my daughter, Carys, stopped taking thickeners in her fluids. I think it’s time to warn you what thickeners can do to your child, as we have experienced for ourselves first hand over… Read More
Although I review books fairly regularly, and post them on Amazon or Goodreads, I don’t often post them here, on aliisaacstoryteller. The reason for that is that there are some fantastic book review blogs out there who do… Read More