On risk.

“Thank you for making one Mum feel not so different”.

The heartfelt words from one mother to another mother on a very similar journey to my own. A mother I have never actually met before, but a mother I immediately respect; I know she has walked in my shoes.

After posting my last blog The island about what it often feels like when you're raising a child with a diagnosis (in my case a rare genetic syndrome) I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of complete strangers, people I had never spoken to before, who took the time to write to me. My story echoed their own experiences and feelings and they simply wanted to say ’hey, thanks...thanks for being so honest.’

As one mother wrote to me:

"Im so sick of this whole glorified motherhood thing. Regardless of whether your child has a diagnosis or not, I feel like too many of us mums are afraid to put our hand up and say, "hey, this is bloody hard. I’m struggling over here. This mum gig is not all sunshine and rainbows." However everyone seems to be sh**scared of what other people will think. But who cares, right? You’ve made me realise that. So thanks. Your blog is really refreshing."

And she made me realise that people appreciate honesty. We all struggle. We all have insecurities. But we spend so much of our time trying to hide them beneath the surface; we don’t want to let people in. We coat those tiny cracks and flaws in a thick layer of paint and attempt to carry on like they don’t exist. But I decided to go ‘’f*** it”. I expressed vulnerability and people respected that. They could relate to my story.

So when another complete stranger was honest with me, I also respected that. Upon stumbling across my blog and learning I had fallen pregnant again only 6 months after having my daughter Georgia, she wrote to me and said:

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I think you are so brave for falling pregnant again so soon. I have a one-year-old son with a rare genetic condition and we have learnt to deal with it so far, but we too don’t know what the future holds. We want to have another child, but at the same time I’m terrified of falling pregnant again. How did you do it? Weren’t you scared?"

I had to chuckle when I read ‘how did you do it?’ But was I scared? To be completely honest, not really.

And here’s why.

Georgia’s genetic syndrome could happen to anyone. It happened to me but it just as easily could have happened to the lady next door, a friend of a friend, a work colleague, or the drug addicted homeless woman living on the streets of Melbourne. It could even happen to you.

But I've realised people don’t like to swallow that risk whole. I think we push risk out of our minds until that 1 in 100,000 or whatever that statistic may be lands smack bang on our doorstep. And even then we try and find some rational explanation for it.

As one writer articulates it well:

“We want to believe we can garner ourselves against risk by explaining it. Cancer? Oh, must have been a smoker. And if not a smoker, oh an eater of greasy foods.”

So when the 30-year-old health enthusiastic is diagnosed with terminal cancer we are all flabbergasted. “How?” “Why”? It’s just so hard to fathom isn’t it?

In a similar vein, the fact my first-born daughter was born with a rare genetic syndrome and not the 45 year old woman at a heightened risk of having a child with a genetic anomaly due to increased maternal age, is just one of those things that cannot be rationally explained. I remember when Georgia was diagnosed people were shocked. “How?” “Why?” “But you’re so young and healthy.” They were searching for a rational explanation and admittedly I did too for a while.

But that’s why I didn’t hesitate to fall pregnant again. Besides the fact Georgia is the light of our lives and my husband and I just couldn’t wait to give her a younger brother or sister, the cold hard truth is that my chance of having another child with a rare genetic condition is just as good as yours. And I am totally ok with swallowing that risk.

So I told the stranger this. And she responded:

“I think I’m being a chicken and just need to take the plunge and do it. I guess everything happens for a reason hey?”

I agreed with her about the whole being a chicken bit. But everything happens for a reason? Maybe not. But we’ve just got to learn to be ok with that truth too.