Sunday, November 20, 2016

Andrew's sisters





Double bed has taken a whole real meaning.

In Auckland, the kids played hours in this cradle or as my American friend S says, crib. her daughter liked it so much so I gave it to her, as Sam didn't want to play with dolls.

Deb and Gab were this age when we lost Andrew

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

World Prematurity Day.

Sands Auckland Central Today is World Prematurity Day. A day to raise awareness of the 1 in 10 babies born premature each year in NZ, and to remember all babies and families affected by preterm birth.
It is also a time to thank all the staff in the neonatal units across the country for their care and support, and to the researchers looking for ways to prevent or manage preterm birth.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

My latest book: The Playgroup


The Playgroup, paper back. ISBN 978-0-473-37871-4
Available at: Wheelers Books or from me, annkschin@Yahoo.com
eBook: Kindle Amazon ASIN: B01N0AWTOL

This book talks of a hotchpotch SAHM (Stay At Home Mums) jelled by a common denominator, the Playgroup. This book will resonate in women who went to Playgroup with their children or grandchildren. This hotchpotch include mothers of nuclear families, single families, bereaved parents, widowed, widowers, cancer survivors, volunteers, and so on. Issues like death, bereavement, cancer, adoption, fostering, and remarriage are sensitively discussed.


Monday, November 7, 2016

Hand Embroidery

I did a lot of sewing when I was grieving

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxkOTGWLCCQ

donation rather than flowers



When my baby Andrew died in 1989, a very good friend gave me a pot of Chrysanthemums. G said she didn't want to give me a bunch of flowers since I had requested," No flowers, and in lieu of flowers, donations to the hospital" Later, when the flowers were gone, she told me that I could grow it in the garden. It thrived and flowered well. It gave me a mixed feeling of my thoughtful friend G, and it also gave me feelings of how much I missed Andrew. The flowers were almost like this burgundy colour.

In my latest book, I wrote about a death, and donating money to the hospital.

butterfly-blizzard

a symbol of joy, happiness, of spring, rebirth and renewal.

https://au.news.yahoo.com/a/33117128/queenslanders-wowed-by-butterfly-blizzard-in-the-south-east/#page1

Hundreds of millions of butterflies have flown to Queensland’s south-east in a beautiful display which is said to happen only once a decade on this scale.
The phenomenon deemed a ‘butterfly blizzard’ is the Caper White or ‘common white’ butterfly migrating from west of the Great Dividing Range to lay eggs.
The remarkable migration sees millions of butterflies flock to the south-east to lay 60-100 eggs each on caper bushes.
Local butterfly expert Ray Archer told the Sunshine Coast Daily the butterflies lay eggs in large numbers and then hatched caterpillars strip the shrubs to nothing.
L: Photo by Deb Larks R: Photo by Cathy Collins.
Once done, the butterflies then head east.
Mr Archer said the butterfly migration was normal for this time for year but those this large were less common, happening only once every six to ten years.
He told Fairfax looking out his window at Bribie Island he could see up to 20 butterflies a minute.
The Caper White butterfly. Photo: Australian Museum

7 Things I’ve Learned Since the Loss of My Child

“If you’d like an inside look into why the loss of a child is a grief that lasts a lifetime, here is what I’ve learned in my seven years of trekking through the unimaginable.”

http://faithit.com/7-things-ive-learned-since-loss-child-angela-miller/?utm_content=buffera2bb6&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer

By Angela Miller
Child loss is a loss like no other. One often misunderstood by many. If you love a bereaved parent or know someone who does, remember that even his or her “good” days are harder than you could ever imagine. Compassion and love, not advice, are what’s needed. If you’d like an inside look into why the loss of a child is a grief that lasts a lifetime, here is what I’ve learned in my seven years of trekking through the unimaginable.


She writes like me, or rather I write like her.