As we walked out of NICU for the last time, with Skittle, I vowed never to leave him again. Although I knew really that this was a silly vow. One that could never be kept. My son would grow up and go to school and make friends and be a big boy and become a young man that really didn't mind if his mum left him. But in that moment, I never wanted to say goodbye again.
But today was different. Today wasn't an appointment. I just went out. And I didn't like the feeling.
After 7 months, I finally left the flat without my baby, drove solo for the first time and sat for an hour and a half in Church and chatted to people at the end. With Skittle's dodgey immune system we can't take him places where he's likely to get prodded and there are lots of children so Church is a no go. But hubs and I decided I would go in the morning and he would go in the evening because we've only been a handful of times since Skittle was born and we miss it and it's important to us.
I made the most of it and wore my hair down and put a necklace on, 2 things I can't do with a baby in toe. And I sat there with my phone on my lap staring at the photo of Skittle, texting hubs and generally missing the two of them a heck of a lot. They walked down the road and met me afterwards and I immediately felt relief and popped him in the sling when we got home.
But hey, I've done it now. And that's a good thing right? But I'm in no hurry to do it again, it's just going to be a Sunday morning thing.