reasons to be cheerful

I saw this post and thought it was lovely...the idea started here and I thought I'd join in.

So here are my reasons to be cheerful this week...

1. Someone bought me lovely flowers.
2. Skittle looks cute in his sun hat.
3. Cuddles.
4. We booked flights to see this pretty girl and her parents.
5. The weather is lush.
6. We went to Church for the first time since Skittle arrived and had a nice nap to recover afterwards, sooo many people all in one place. Rather overwhelming.
7. Hubby gives Skittle a bottle in the middle of the night one day a week so I get more sleep!
8. I get to look at this all day.
9. Maxi dresses and baby wraps.

I think I should do this more often, it's so nice to focus on the cheerful things in life!

he's not tiny anymore

We went to the dreaded health visitors drop in clinic today. We have to get Skittle weighed every fortnight but Lin, our lovely community neonatal nurse isn't due til next week. Managed to get there with only a few shakes and shudders of panic as we crossed the road and avoided conversations with anyone and everyone.

Why does everyone introduce themselves with "how old is he?" anyway?

In the waiting room I noticed something new. Skittle wasn't the tiniest. There were 2 other babies in the waiting room that were clearly a bit smaller.

I knew he'd had a little growth spurt, not least because he's been drinking like a fish this past week! For example, yesterday he fed almost non-stop for 2 hours before bed. I just hadn't realised how much bigger he was. Fact remains that at 15 and a bit weeks old he's average size of a 5 weeker but in my eyes he's a giant.



So today marks the end of tiny baby stage. Which I feel bizarrely sad about. I think it's because I know we're so unlikely have another baby. I said to hubby yesterday that if there's to be one vaguely "nice" thing about having a prem baby, it's that you get a little baby for much longer.

This week he's started to wear 'newborn' clothes, we've come a long way from the initial 'shrink-the-prem-clothes-in-the-tumble-drier-to-make-them-smaller' size!

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inferior

My friend gave birth to her 4th baby today. Four. Four babies. Four births. Four successful, proper births.

I didn't give birth. My baby was just rescued from my failing body.

I think she's superwoman and I'm a fraud.

I know, I know, I'm not really a fraud. I'd never tell someone in the same situation that. But I feel so inferior today.

It's just been hard remembering that things didn't turn out as I'd expected. Thoughts have been spinning round my head like a kid at the fairground who's over used the teacups and ends the day tired, dizzy and disorientated.

I'm snuggling Skittle on the sofa this evening, thankful that he's here and that he's mine, just wishing I'd seen him sooner. Seen him the second he arrived, just like my friend did. Four times over.

getting it straight

I made a video of some of our early moments and photos. Just the progress Skittle made while he was in hospital. I needed to get it all straight in my mind. I spend so much of some days lost in little sections of NICU and going over various conversations, decisions and scenarios. I thought it might help me to almost timeline his hospital stay. I don't like watching it back. But I'm glad I've recorded it, maybe now my memories won't get carried away.

dipping my toe in

This week I've been experimenting with the outside world. Since Skittle came home I've been out three times, one tiny walk on mothers day and two attempts the shops, both of which went very badly.
I'm scared of the outside world. When hubby is at work I have to really make myself even open the curtains. I'm living in fear and it's not attractive. I don't recommend it to anyone.

My head swirls with images and ideas of freak accidents happening as soon as I step outside, I exhaust myself going over various scenarios and I'm scared to put Skittle in these dangerous situations I'm imagining.

When I'm reflecting on it like this, I can see that it sounds irrational. I know I'm still living like Skittle's life is in danger. I know technically it's not, its just I've convinced myself I'm going to lose him and doing anything that might make that happen seems like a preposterous idea. Why? Why, would I go outside into the big, bad, scary world and take my tiny, vulnerable baby with me? I'm frightened something will happen to Skittle or that I'll panic so much that I won't be looking after him properly. I mean members of the public call ambulances for people having panic attacks all the time, hubby gets called to loads of them, I can't be having that happen.

Anyway...this week my parents invited us to centerparcs with them and my sisters. It was wonderful. Really helpful in terms of helping me chill out and get some fresh air. Quite healing really. I love centerparcs, I think I've been about 20 times!

It's pedestrianised and secluded. Quiet and peaceful. Gentle and stunning. Fresh and renewing. You can busy yourself with numerous activities or simply sit back and enjoy the scenery. Mainly I stayed in the villa, soaking up the beauty outside the window, actually in all the times I've been, never have we been in such a beautifully located villa, 2 ponds stretched out just beyond our patio and made for incredibly picturesque surroundings.

Not at all in keeping with my big, bad world view. And for this reason I dipped my toe in.

 
It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. I might just try it again.

paternity leave - round two

It worried me at the time. We were wasting hubby's paternity leave. We weren't meaning too. We'd had plans, ideas, dreams of what it would be like, what we'd do when it was the 3 of us at home. But when it came to it we were stressed out, dazed and in shock. We watched tv, argued, struggled, questioned and glazed over. There were a few moments where we put lots of effort in, mustered up the courage to try something nice and tend to one another but it was all a bit beyond us if I'm honest. We managed a couple of nice picnics on the lawn and we took the time to capture Skittle on camera with various props, we had a few family members to visit and at times we tried to talk. But it was too hard.

And before we knew it, it was over. I felt like I'd ruined paternity leave for hubby and we'd never get that sweet time back.

Hubby went back to work and that was it. The lovely thing about 12 hour shifts is that he's not around much for 3 or 4 days but then has 3 or 4 days off. Sadly in the last 4 weeks of working he's done a selection of the worst, most harrowing and disturbing jobs of his career. Including 2 seriously ill children, one of which he had to take to our hospital and hand over to one of Skittle's Drs, a man dying from the same condition his precious granddad died from 6 months ago and a one month old that had devastatingly passed away. Cue trauma. My poor hubby had had more than he could take. The straw had well and truly broken the camels back. Paper work done, 2 weeks of short notice annual leave approved due to special circumstances and one final night shift to drag himself through and we entered paternity leave - take 2.

instagram moments

This time we're trying harder. Not exhausting ourselves, no pressure to get things done or being unrealistic, just enjoying time together rather than staring blankly and surviving.

my parents have an attractive garage door!

We're making the time to talk, communicating about what we're going  through, saying sorry and being understanding. Discussing and dreaming and making allowance for one another's faults and binding ourselves together with love. We've snuggled under the duvet on the sofa and watched DVDs and eaten chocolate and whole bags of sweets. We've gotten some fresh air and eaten nice food. We've set little goals for each day and are enjoying each others company. Just the 3 of us. I feel blessed. Blessed to have an amazing hubby and an amazing boy.

I'm stressed out and scared but in taking time out and going slower and being more purposeful things are going better. I like paternity leave take 2.

And the best thing? Yesterday my awesome Mum and Dad booked a lastminute holiday for next week. 5 days in a villa, in the forest, just 2 and a half hours drive away. Lush.

longest nearly-seven months ever

I really didn't enjoy being pregnant. I was rubbish at it. I felt ill the whole time. I was sick until 21 weeks. I was seriously anaemic. My kidneys got easily infected. I kept going into retention. I had acid reflux. I had very low blood pressure. I was in agony most of the time. I had major PGD. I fainted many times. I could hardly eat anything. I hated being pregnant, I loved carrying my baby and getting gradually bigger, but I hated being pregnant. 

I felt so bad for saying that.

I was so desperate to have a baby. Miscarrying was just the worst time of our lives. When I moaned about feeling dreadful, some people were quick to remind me that I wanted to be pregnant. I wasn't saying I didn't want to be pregnant, I just felt terrible and inpatient. But I still felt guilty for not enjoying it.

People said the second trimester is great, you bloom, they said.

You'll start to feel better soon.

It'll go really quickly. Don't wish it away.

It'll fly by. It'll be over before you know it.

Last day of pregnancy, 30 weeks - my birthday.

Well despite it being a rather short pregnancy it was the longest nearly-seven months ever. Some days I counted down the hours. To this day I have no idea how I did the things I did while pregnant. I don't know how I dragged my aching body into work each week for as long as I did. I eventually had to go part-time, then a bit more part-time. Then my GP suggested I take maternity leave early and I worked from home.

It did not go quickly.

Sore feet :(

I hope he comes early, I'd say. Oh the horror, not that early. I was thinking 2 or 3 weeks not 10. I wish I hadn't said it. I know it made no difference, but still.

Looking at that fragile little body with his chest caving in with every recession heavy breath, oh how I longed to be pregnant again. To have him in me, safe and secure.

 Seeing him in that incubator all weak and vulnerable I just craved feeling him kick inside me again. That was by far the most wonderful part of being pregnant, the kicks. I could feel them from about 16 weeks. I enjoyed the company, he made me jump from time to time but I loved the feeling of his little feet, elbows and bum poking and prodding me. Bizarrely, I sometimes feel like I can still feel him kicking. Which, other than being very odd, makes me very sad. It just reminds me Skittle should have been in there longer and compounds my failing feeling. I thought I was loosing my marbles but apparently lots of women experience "phantom kicks". Strange.

It might have felt like a long time but I wish it had been longer.