Turns out that planning a birthday party for an enthusiastic almost three-year-old is a pretty rewarding endeavour.

Initially I had limited enthusiasm and motivation for Hudson's party, given the proximity of the event to Christmas, the relentless heat, and the lack of fixed inspiration for a theme of any sort from the birthday boy himself. The only 'theme' Hudson appears to be attached to in the everyday is as follows: (1) Anything that is in Dave's hands and (2) Technology of any kind. When I repeatedly tried to nail down an idea to center the party around, Hudson told me serenely that he just wanted 'sandwiches'. In the end I 'led the witness' into a fire engine motif, admittedly more for my passion and focus more than anything!

As the big day drew closer Hudson displayed an enormous amount of gratitude and appreciation anytime he spied me doing anything party-related. "Thank you for making the jelly for my party, Mum!" "I love you, Mum!" "Woo hoo" (with both small fists raised enthusiastically in the air).

When I plan a party, my mind goes into hyper mode for the entire preceding week. Every day I add to my list tasks that build towards the event, even planning dinners so that I can make double for the occasion. Dave, on the other hand, seems blissfully unaware that there is any impending event until approximately 24 hours prior, when he predictably does an emergency shopping run, suddenly convinced that I have underestimated the quantities of food required to feed the anticipated number and comes home with armfuls of chips, snacks, soft drink and chocolate 'just in case'. I secretly love this turning point (even though we always end up with oodles of leftovers) because it means the party has turned from 'mine' to 'ours'. Dave then motors around the house, moving furniture, blowing up balloons, planning party games and keeping the kids entertained so I can cater in peace. It's a rhythm that plays without us even having to discuss it, given the sheer number of events we have hosted in our home now.

I've never been brave enough to try using fondant before, and let's just say it isn't my spiritual gifting. Pretty much anything that requires precision, patience and mathematical estimations of any kind is not even close to my ball park. Thank goodness for licorice and buttercream icing to mask the construction failures and for little boy's eyes that light up at the reality of a fire engine cake, no matter how shoddy the design! As I was piecing the vehicle together I asked Dave for feedback... "Hmmm,.... It's not really straight, is it?.... but I guess that's what you are going for." Thanks Dave.

The morning of, Hudson came bursting into our room without even mentioning that the owl was green (the ingenious invention that requires him to stay in his bed until the owl's face changes colour at 7:00am), simply exclaiming, "It's my BIRTHDAY, everyone! I'm 'hweee'!!!" Eli was a little dubious in light of the fact that this event was unlikely to produce any gifts for him, though he did get more than his fair share of playing with the newly acquired loot due to Hudson's limited interest in toys of any kind. Dave and I took a gamble and gifted Hudson a real 'kid-sized' guitar, assuming that 'if Daddy has one' it might take. So far, so good.

I tried to keep the food simple this time, unsure of how the weather would play into the event, and wanting to be able to avoid oven usage if the day was sweltering. To cater to Hudson's emphatic request for sandwiches, I made Tuna & Pickle, and Chicken & Cucumber. For the main meal I went with barbecued meats (sausages, honey soy chicken legs, Moroccan marinated prawn skewers) and salads (a pear & walnut salad, a chicken & sweet potato creation of Mum's, and a tasty Mediterranean couscous offering from Monica). That morning I discovered our ears of corn were more than ready to be harvested, so I added to the menu oven roasted husks along with baked sweet potato. Dessert was a Raspberry Trifle with brandy soaked Madeira cake and home-grown strawberries, along with red jelly shots and loads of fresh fruit. There was also some Pine Lime Rum Punch which my Dad ended up sampling liberally, unaware it was alcoholic! My bad. Mum had to drive home that night.

Hudson's impassioned request for his party was that he would be able to use a real microphone and be the 'emcee' of the event. The excitement in his eyes was palpable as he swayed from side to side, burying the instrument in his lips, looking from face to face of his captive audience as he sung songs and singled out people to sit down and listen to him: "We're starting, everybody! Welcome to my party!"

There is always a moment, mid-party, where I look up, face flushed from the oven or from hauling platters out of the refrigerator, and I 'see' it. People in animated conversation, groups clustered around the bench sampling antipasto and drinking wine, kids shrieking with delight and running half-naked on the deck, laughter, excitement, fun, family and dear friends all connected together and forming memories for years to come. Yes, putting on a party for every birthday is a significant effort and Dave and I inevitably collapse into bed after the last crumb is vaccuumed up and the furniture returned to our usual living arrangements. But the privilege of creating that moment and seeing the unrestrained joy in Hudson's eyes as the anticipation grew, that is so unbelievably worth it!

Tonight as I was tucking him into bed, Hudson looked up at me with a serious expression.

"Mum,... it's not my birthday today."
"Yes, that's true, it was your birthday yesterday, wasn't it?"
"Mum... I want to have a birthday again!"

I know what you mean, buddy.
....

Dear Hudson, 

You are a whirlwind, vivid and fast, passionate and emotional. 

You know what you want and you aren't afraid to go for it. 

I love just watching you. When you stand close to your Daddy, by his side, always asking to be his helper, wanting to be a part of our 'grown up' lives already. 

You gravitate towards people, exuding life, light and joy. 

My heart melts when I see you ask your brother if he is okay in your sweet voice, tilting your head down and to the side as you gaze in deep concern at him. 

I love it when you get excited about something, your whole body can't even contain the energy and you do a little leap into the air with both fists above your head. 

You are hilarious in your attachment to technology, successfully pick-pocketing many a hapless victim as you turn on the charm while patting them down to find out where their phone is secreted. "Where's your phone, Mummy?" is probably one of the most common questions I field from you! And "I'm just, just... working!" is your inevitable frustrated response when I find you quietly hidden in a corner, having located Daddy's computer, usually by climbing precariously to get it. 

Your passion for 'Open House Kids' is endearing. It is one of your main topics of conversation, even to people who have no idea what it is. You speak about helping to set up for the gathering almost daily, and are devastated when it isn't your turn to go with Daddy. 

Words can't even come close to describing my love for you, my son. You have changed our lives in your three short years and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm so excited to see how your strengths and passions develop as you journey through this life. Thank you for being Hudson. There truly is no one like you. 

Love Mum

Today we had a party to celebrate the journey of Tribe and to commemorate the changing of our moniker to 'Open House'. I got the opportunity to share what the community has meant to me, and how it has been such a key part of my journey in becoming more vulnerable and admitting when I need help...

"Most things in life have come easily to me. I was the perfect match for the schooling system, thriving off the competitiveness and rewards, and the affirmation of being a good rule follower. After a slightly rocky start, I began to figure out the university system and was able to churn out essays with relative ease and graduate from Law with Honors. My first experience with work was positive, getting to work in an amazing team and under an affirming boss who was a great mentor and teacher. When the first year of motherhood came along, I was expecting a few difficulties, but apart from a brief hiccup in the form of Eli being readmitted to hospital in the first month, that experience was largely an 'easy' and positive one.

And then my beautiful son, Hudson, came along. We were living in shared accommodation at the time, with our great friends, Alex and Monica and their son Chase. I thought I knew what to expect from a newborn and labour because I had done it once before. Boy, was I wrong. The entire experience with Hudson challenged my every conception of myself and basically broke me. Hudson was perpetually unhappy, slept fitfully, he had silent reflux and would scream for hours as if he was being tortured and there was little we could do to ease the experience for him. He was developmentally delayed and didn't crawl or really move until after he was 10 months old. Until that time, his awake time was mostly spent crying on his back.

It didn't help that one month after Hudson came to join us, Monica gave birth to a placid, peaceful and happy baby called Lucas. All I had to do was look over at him cooing happily on the floor and then back at my screaming baby and it felt as if I was failing in everything. I had quit my job when Hudson was born so I had zero outlets for affirmation and it hit me so hard.

I was so used to being the one who had it together, the 'coper', the thriving one and it was all stripped away. There were glimmers of hope throughout the period, the birth of this blog being one, and my introduction to the concept of neuroplasticity. I became softer and more empathetic... but only after I had been considerably dark and angry for a long period of time.

In the year from hell, Monica and Alex put up with a lot from me. I was sullen and passive-aggressive, difficult to live with. Often Monica would be tip-toeing around wondering what on earth she had possibly done to piss me off. There were a few volatile house meetings where angry words poured out of my mouth before I could reel them back in. But through it all, they chose to love me, to forgive me and to this day, they are two of the closest friends that we have, despite currently living on the other side of the globe.

In late 2013 I fell pregnant again. When I was 9 weeks along, however, I went along to a dating ultrasound to have the awful, devastating experience of being told that they couldn't find the baby. It was known as a 'Blighted Ovum' which is where the fertilised egg is implanted into the uterus but it does not develop into an embryo. My body thought it was pregnant and was giving me all the symptoms, but there was nothing there. Later that day, I distractedly drove straight through a red light, right through two lines of oncoming traffic, and hit another vehicle. Miraculously all of us were OK, but my little yellow car was totalled.

The response from Open House was incredible. Dave and I were hollow versions of ourselves after the turmoil of that year and the community gathered around us, bringing meals and love, and collected over $2,000 to help us buy a new car. We were due to move house in the same week that I had a curette and Hudson's hernia operation and a swarm of people showed up with helping hands. It was absolutely overwhelming.... and so healing.

The power of Open House for me, is the freedom that even when I was the worst version of myself, able to give so little, the community didn't flinch. It stepped in, opening accepting arms and said 'It's OK'.

It's truly when we are our most vulnerable, all defenses stripped away, that we realise who we are, and who our friends are too. I really feel like our little community is at its best when rallying around people who have hit rock bottom and are (reluctantly) ready to admit to needing help.

The friends we have made as a result of this community are irreplaceable and so, so precious. I literally couldn't imagine life without you guys. Thank you for doing life with us and sharing who you are with our community."

My introduction into motherhood was pretty easy. Eli was the 'perfect' textbook baby, sleeping when I put him down in his cot and happily achieving each milestone when expected. He was interactive, had a contagious smile and could be carted along anywhere without much fuss.

Then Hudson came along. With the labour from hell, the week in special care, the silent reflux, groin hernia, hip dysplasia, constant crying, sleep resistance and general aversion to playing with any sort of toy or baby item, to say that I was in shock would have been putting it mildly. That whole year is a blur to me, but I know that I wasn't in a good place emotionally.

I went from relishing motherhood and embracing it as a significant part of my identity, to wondering if I was even a passable mother as I numbed my soul to the sound of crying, because to acknowledge the constant distress would be to allow my fragile framework to be destroyed from within. Trying to smile at and coax a constantly crying baby to be happy is a mission doomed to failure, from my experience. I eventually just stopped trying.

Looking back, I realise that Hudson was in a constant state of agony and I can see it so clearly in those fogged eyes haunting me from the photos. After the hernia operation it really was like we were meeting 'Hudson' for the first time, as he became the cheeky, happy, funny kid that we know today. But the damage was already done.

Thankfully for Hudson, Dave was an incredible parent during that first year and the bond that he has with his son is a testament to that. Hudson is unashamedly 'Daddy's boy' and would happily follow him around doing whatever Dave is doing at that moment. Sure, it drives Dave crazy at times, but I'm just so grateful that my emotional lack hasn't seemed to have stunted his ability to connect with people.

A lot of the baggage from this experience has become more clear as I engage with the day to day realities of having a baby again. Ivy has been incredibly easy (apart from a month long resistance to naps of any decent length) and it has been a mostly enjoyable experience, but there are moments when her cry will put me right back into that dark room with the creaky floorboards in which I spent hours pleading with and hissing at Hudson to go back to sleep. My stress levels will suddenly shoot up and it will take every ounce of self control not to respond in anger to an innocent cry.

I've also noticed it in my level of comfort in holding and embracing a baby. Initially, I found myself reacting out of pure utility- feed, burp, put down to sleep. Now, six months in, I'm really enjoying just holding Ivy and experiencing the closeness of her company, holding her smooth, chubby cheek against mine and drinking in her scent.

Actually, the whole process of having Ivy has been incredibly redemptive with my relationship with Hudson. Because my brain in the area of affection and bonding is being positively rewired, I find myself reaching out for Hudson more and he is responding more positively to me as a result.

The labour experience with Ivy was the polar opposite to my struggles in the previous birth and this time I felt heard, acknowledged and taken seriously in relation to my concerns about neverending 'false labour' and the risk to the baby in terms of infection.

I'm so thankful for this redemptive experience with Ivy and the healing that has taken place in my psyche as a result. The triggers of emotional dysfunction provide a meaningful way for me to address the root causes and work through the issues and bad habits I've wired my brain into.

Stacey Kramer, a TED speaker, gave a moving 3 minute talk entitled 'The Best Gift I ever Survived' in which she described all the positive and life changing consequences that came as a result of a golf ball sized brain tumour. Her final line was so poignant: "the next time you're faced with something that's unexpected, unwanted and uncertain, consider that it just may be a gift".

Sickness, trauma, pain...  it certainly isn't something you would seek out in life, yet often it can have the most profound impact and catapult your emotional growth tenfold...and increase your empathy for others in similar situations. Despite the shattering experiences we went through in that first year with Hudson, I can truly say that I do not regret going through any of it.