Amber and George.... The story behind the story.

I've been putting off writing this blog for a while for fear of possible criticism. There is nothing quite like it when parents criticise other parents. It can be so hurtful. But today I'm going for it, because if it helps even one new mum or dad feel less alone, it's worth any criticism that comes along with it.

This is 'the story behind the story' for my latest picture book 'Amber and George. A New Baby Story'.






As most of you know, George is my little boy (now 6) and Amber was the dog that I was once privileged to have as part of our family.

If you'd like to read more about the story of Amber, click here (beware! Tissues may be needed!). 

To learn about the story behind this book, we have to go back to when my children were babies.

Now, both of my children, as babies, had a terrible condition called silent reflux. Silent reflux is basically 'acid' reflux. It is very painful and distressing for babies. It leads them to scream almost constantly with pain. Even when diagnosed and we were able to give medication, it only provided a slight relief. As a result, I found life as a new mother very difficult.

I was going through a lot at the time. I had just gone through what is still the most traumatic experience of my life (that being the very stressful pregnancy and a truly horrific birth). We had just discovered that Amber had cancer and would likely die before the year was out, and I had a new baby with silent reflux to care for, with no family or friends nearby to help. It was... hard.

We were lucky to have his condition diagnosed early, but the medication only took the edge off, and as he was growing ok, we were basically told to stick it out.

I struggled to bond to my screaming baby, who screeched, and clawed at my skin, and writhed with pain almost constantly. Amber hid under her green chair in the corner (just like she does in the book) and we all suffered together. And even though it wasn't George's fault, I was devastated that Amber's last months had to be spent listening to this. The screaming was constant. All day. All night. You start to feel unhinged, and at times, numb.

It seemed like I had been shut out from the perfect motherhood that everyone had described. Of course, I expected the sleepless nights. But not this. This was a nightmare. The soft snuggles and overwhelming rush of love and contentment... that was not what I was experiencing. I felt miserable and lost... and so very alone. It's not acceptable to admit that motherhood is hard, and so you have nowhere to turn. Even now the memories are painful. It was a miserable time, and those first six months seemed to last forever.

But, time passed by, as time does, Amber's chemotherapy worked very well, and the few months she'd been given, stretched into a few more months.... And hallelujah, we could finally start weaning!





Silent reflux often improves with weaning, as solid food sits in the stomach much better than liquid. The improvement was almost instant. The crying lessened... and in the calm after the storm, we finally got to know one another.

Amber came into her own. She fell in love with George and was always by his side. She'd play with him gently and even stand next to him so that he could pull himself up to his feet whilst grasping on to her fur. She always had the choice to move somewhere else of course, but she didn't want to. She loved him.




Of course, this story ended in bittersweet heartbreak. The chemotherapy couldn't work forever. Amber died in the April. George was 14 months old and way too young to remember this wonderful dog that loved him so much.

When Amber died, I was devastated. I finally knew what it meant to be 'broken-hearted', because my heart actually ached with loss.  And I wasn't only heartbroken for myself, but for George, He was only 14 months old and of course, he wouldn't remember her. So I promised myself that, someday, I would immortalize her in a picture book for him to read.

I wasn't too sure about what the story should be for the book for some time. Of course, I knew it had to star them both. But It wasn't until my second child, Matilda, was born, that the story came to me.

When Matilda was born, George was just 2. And much to my dismay, she was a silent reflux sufferer too. She screamed and writhed and clawed at my skin, in a way that was painfully familiar. Of course, this time, I was a little more aware of what the next few months would bring. I prepared to brace the storm knowing that it was just a matter of surviving and staying sane for the next 6 months. But what was worse, was seeing poor George become so distressed by it. He'd been promised this little baby sister, a friend and companion, someone to play with, and instead, there was this tiny red banshee who screamed so much that all he could think to do was to scream along with her. I was torn between them both. A baby who couldn't be put down, and a toddler who needed attention and reassurance... and I felt like failed them both. In the end, I booked George into nursery every morning, so he at least could get rest bite from the constant screaming.

Again, the storm passed, and weaning arrived, and the dreaded reflux went away. And again, we could all finally get to know each other.

And this is what the story 'Amber and George' is about. It's about a little baby who turns your life upside down, perhaps makes you feel sad and confused... but, with a little time and patience, it all comes right in the end. It's about weathering the storm, having patience, and knowing that it will be ok.

I thought it was a message that perhaps a lot of children with new baby siblings needed to hear. And, colic and reflux aside, it's about babies taking time to develop and become the playmate you've been promised. Having a new sibling can often be a confusing and upsetting time for young children, and they can struggle to adjust. Hopefully, this simple story can provide a little reassurance.

I also wanted a message in the book for the parents too. Those weathering the storm of colic, reflux or milk allergies, who might feel lost, sad and alone. Those wondering whether they should be doing better, and why they aren't feeling the same, why they aren't enjoying motherhood in the way that everyone promised they would....

Sometimes bonding takes time. And that's OK.