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Have you ever read about someone, or watched someone on TV, or listened to someone on the radio and thought, “Blimey, I like you,” without actually having met them?

Of course you have. We do it all the time. Every single day. Whether it’s a TV personality, a blogger, a newspaper columnist or someone you follow on Twitter, we all have connections with people we’ve never met in real life.

Tamsyn is one of those people for me.

When I started this blog back in February last year, I stumbled across a handful of other bloggers within a month or so. Tamsyn’s blog, Anecdotes of a Manic Mum, became one of my regular reads.

I drank in stories of her life with her four young children and husband in France. I looked at photographs of their home and chickens and beautiful surroundings, often remarking to my own husband that we should up sticks and go in search of a simpler life across the Channel.

I laughed at Tamsyn’s stories of manic mum-ness, children’s birthday parties, rare nights out and family days at home. I admired her ability to juggle everything and stay forever positive and bubbly.

I knew I would like Tamsyn if I were to meet her in real life.

And then this woman who I’d so come to like suffered a terrible blow. The kind of knock that many of us would not recover from, let alone battle and fight in the way that Tamsyn has.

In October last year (pretty much a year to the day) Tamsyn’s husband Alex was involved in an accident. He arrived home after a normal rugby session feeling very ill. Within 24 hours it was apparant Alex had suffered a severe brain injury.

Over the past year I’ve read Tamsyn’s heartbreaking letters to her husband. I’ve read about dark times when she was alone in the house with her children, not wanting to cry too loudly in case she woke them. I’ve read about her unstinting belief in her husband and the positivity she has had to exude to keep her family going. I’ve read about moments when she didn’t know if he was going to survive, waiting for a phone call to tell her if an operation had been successful or not.

I’ve read about Tamsyn’s struggle to come to terms with her husband’s current physical state, blind and severely disabled. I’ve read about her acceptance that she had to bring her family back home, to Oxfordshire. I’ve read through my own tears as I’ve put myself in this brave woman’s shoes and wondered how on earth I would cope in that situation.

But cope she has. More than cope. Tamsyn is a fighter. She has fought the system that withdrew her benefits, leaving her with no money to feed and clothe her four children. She has fought against administrative tape that saw her severely disabled, recovering husband put up for a job interview by the team overseeing her benefits payments. She has fought and shouted and appeared on TV, to have a neverending nightmare of a situation resolved.

And now Tamsyn needs help to shout and fight, because she is just one woman – and we are many.

So within the last 24 hours, a campaign has been launched. The team at Babyhuddle have pledged to donate £2.50 to Tamsyn for every product review written on their site. T’shirts are on sale, with the Making Waves for Alex logo. Fundraising efforts are in full force.

Tamsyn needs money to help her husband on his long road to recovery. She needs support and voices to help her shout about her appeal.

So if you can do ONE thing for Tamsyn today, choose one of the following:

  • Share this post on Facebook and Twitter and use the #do1thing4tamsyn and #makingwaves hashtags on Twitter
  • Share or tweet the Making Waves of Alex website
  • Share Tamsyn’s story by blogging about it and embedding the video featured on the post at Babyhuddle.
  • Buy a Making Waves for Alex t’shirt and post a picture of you wearing it

Do just one thing for Tamsyn. Remember, she is one person – we are many.


UPDATE: : Since this post went live on Wednesday, it’s become clear Tamsyn needs help more than ever. She found out her funding was cut this week, meaning her husband will be transferred to a care home unless this decision is reversed.