the holiday that never was

We’re not going on holiday. 

We were going to go to America. Oregon, the West coast, 2 flights away. 

The holiday was booked in a moment of madness, whilst looking at our bank account and deciding it was now or never, we scraped the funds together and booked it. We booked it 2 weeks after Skittle came home, seemed like a good idea at the time, I thought it would be something to look forward to and that by the end of September I’d be feeling ‘back to normal’.

Oh how wrong I was! What were we thinking? I hate flying. Really loath it. And that’s on a good, calm, average day. My fear of flying has got worse, in 2007 me and hubs went to South Africa and Australia on a once-in-a-life-time/everyone-goes-travelling-in-their-early-twenties kind of trip. I was scared and felt ill but not in the way that I am now. Maybe it’s old age creeping in early. Maybe something happened to my hormones or balance canal or mind. By the time late 2009 came along and my brother was getting married in Oregon, I was full on terrified of the thought of flying and hideously air sick. Jet lag makes me feel like I have the flu for about 5 days, my body clock can’t handle it. I struggle with a late night, how hubs works shifts I have no idea. 

Anyway, what were we thinking? According to all our friends who have had babies, the earlier the better when it comes to flying. And we really took that advice on board and wanted to go while Skittle was still breastfeeding and young enough to sleep a fair bit. I miss my brother and his wife so much, we are desperate to see them. 

But as September 27th has crept ever closer I’ve found myself dreading the travel. But there’s been a real battle of mind going on because I am longing to see my brother and his family and I know they can’t wait to see us too. I don’t want to disappoint them and I really want to meet my niece. I want to spend time with them and learn from them and enjoy them. But everything else is getting in the way. PTSD is getting in the way, PND is too. My normal fear of flying. Flying with a baby. Two flights, two. And then there’s the fact that my brother is younger than me and that my niece was born 6 days before Skittle, on her due date. Four days after the due date of our baby that we miscarried. There’s a lot of emotion tied up in that. Far too much for me to deal with in time for a smooth holiday mental health wise. 

Then I saw Kylie’s post and thought maybe we should go. If she can do it I can do it kind of thing. And my lovely GP went to India to see her family when her little one was 11 months and she said it really helped her progress. Only I knew deep down I couldn’t do it. I started having nightmares about planes and escape doors and decided as much as I want to see my family, now really isn't the time to go. I was actually hoping that Skittle’s consultant would declare him unfit to fly. But then we decided really I was unfit to fly. 

So off we popped to lovely GP and she wrote a medical report for the travel insurance company in the hopes we can make a claim. 

The things is I do really want to go. Even though I don’t, I do. I want to hug my brother and sis-in-law and see our babies play together. I want to make sweet memories and live and love and cherish my family. I want to take photographs that we’ll treasure forever and see new things and have quality time together. 

Sigh.

All in good time. When Skittle isn't neutropenic and when I’m a little more stable and when it’s right. We’ll go, we’ll see, we’ll embrace, we’ll enjoy. 

And I’ll be very drugged up for the flight.