Last night, just for a couple of hours, was the first time I was alone in the house during the stillness of the night. I had to literally boot my parents out the door with some heavy emotional blackmail of letting me be slightly independent and trusting that I would call at the slightest wiff of a seizure. Sorry mama and pop.

The thing is I needed it. And I didn’t realise until after I started weeping just how much. I’m sure this isn’t going to help my case for more time alone but I needed to cry. It wasn’t in an uncontrollable sense, it was just processing everything and allowing the potential gravity to seep into my body and sit there even if just for a little bit.

None of the sadness I felt was about anything apart from Loli. It probably didn’t help that the last thing she said to me as I put her into bed was ‘Please come and get me in my dreams Mummy, I love you so much’.

In the honest way I’m trying to be on here it was about the thought of my little baby, my truly magical monkey being left without her mummy. It can’t not rip your heart in pieces and that’s true for any mother or father on the planet brain tumour or nothing at all. So in some ways I actually don’t need anyone telling me it won’t happen or how unlikely the chances are, I just need to process it and do whatever I can to prepare myself and (in administrative legal ways) her in the same way any parent does. In the 6am light that sounds ok, last night it felt a little more and that’s ok too.

So how can I prepare? Well the obvious is savouring every little moment and using this time before the surgery to do everything and anything we can. To laugh and absorb each other, to get cross and make sure she understands I’m still a parent parenting her. To talk to her about memories and show her photos. To create new memories and even video us together so we’ll always remember this time whatever happens. And to promise I will always ALWAYS be there for her from any part of the universe and in her dreams.

Legally we’re also finally sorting out our wills and I will be making sure our insanely amazing support network understand (obviously they already do) that they’re hers too, forever. We actually held a humanist Naming Ceremony for Lolita in April 2017 (woohoo I just remembered a date!) and part of it involved her ‘guide parents’ and everyone else at the event making commitments to her which I fully expect everyone to keep or should anything happen I’ll come back to haunt you b1tches!!!

Other than that who knows. But I’m glad I finally thought about it and accepted this very tiny chance of reality. I looked it up because I roughly knew the answer anyway and I have almost double the chance of getting 5 balls on the UK lottery than I have of going into yet another world on that surgical table. So whilst this is a heavy post maybe I’m not so special after all.