SCBU

After a well deserved brew of tea and slice of toast (would have preferred a bacon butty and cafetiere of coffee myself) i was wheeled to see my boy in SCBU (special care baby unit) There he was in a glass fishbowl recovering from his ordeal. All seemed fine and off i went to get a well deserved rest :0) Mother and baby doing well...............

Then followed cards, flowers, a stream of rellies all actively participating in the joy a newborn brings. Laughter filled the room as the nurses brought me this wonderful contraption to ease the pain of the bruising to my lady parts!! (to much info???) the down side was i had limited access to this gift from heaven and no amount of cajoling the nurses could gain me unlimited access......bummer wonder if they take bribes......desperate times call for desperate measures. 

We weren't out of the woods but the room smelt of optimism to only be dashed within days as my boy took a dramatic down turn. 

From elation to despondency within hours. From the moment the doctor walked into my room and imparted the news that my son had suffered a fit and was very poorly (they thought bowel infection) and that i needed to phone my husband to immediately come to the hospital  the bubble of euphoria was burst. 

With trepidation and unsure of what to expect i followed her down to SCBU he was very ill...............soon to become the sickest baby they had ever had in the unit now that's a claim of fame we could have done without. 

HE dutifully arrived and we sat holding hands and clutching at straws listening to all we were being told.......He had contracted septicemia (E Coli) and the next 24 hours were crucial.....the next 48 hours were crucial.........he was struggling but boy what a fighter.....seemingly boys give up the fight easier than girls but not my boy he fought like a bloody trouper for life. Sitting watching him and seeing his tenacity to live was emotionally overwhelming..............All my natural instincts as a mother kicked in Christ like a lioness with her cub the desire to protect took me completely by surprise it was an emotion so powerful, so all invasive everything else took a back seat including HIM. 

They made us a room up alongside SCBU so we could be close and on hand, making the decision to restrict visitors was easy to do i allowed my sister he his sister and they were dealt the onerous task of updating people. That way was easier and meant we could focus our energy on little one..........also somewhere in the back of the mind was that if their was to be a loss of life fewer people would have bonded and would be less hurt if he lost his fight. 

I remember standing looking out of the hospital window down onto the scene below and realised that whilst my world had come to a dramatic and grinding halt the rest of the world were just going about their business. A tear trickled down my face i wanted to scream stop this is important .............

perhaps the feeling of isolation started then but i know it put my situation into perspective in that we were merely a small dot in the scheme of life...............and what would be would be. 

So with best face on and seeking positives amongst all the negatives I took a deep breath and watched over my boy..............offering reassurance were i could the little fella would clutch my thumb in his tiny fist............the bond was there we were ready to fight the world.............come what may BRING IT ON 

making an entry into the world

I enter the hospital maternity unit in a flurry with staff fussing and checking on me - the department is very busy and having me transferred down has impacted on their coping abilities although all are to polite to say so clucking and reassuring when necessary. They run checks on me, strap me up to all kinds of monitoring equipment and a drip and decide mother is going to have baby naturally - bustling out of the room as quickly as they entered. 

The drip is driving me mad and i have the urge to raise my pert butt of the bed and walk around - not allowed it seems - gosh there was me thinking it was the natural thing to do it certainly felt like the natural thing to do - contemplating my navel and having time to imagine what passing a football was like was not something I wished to dwell on  and i needed a change of scenery badly not only that having to make small talk with him who shall not be obeyed was always challenging at best. 

After what felt like an eternity midwifey popped in to tell me mother was now going to have an epidural........ to slow things down.........slow them down!!! I wanted this experience over ASAP but hey the anaesthetist will be down to perform the task soonest .....soonest turned out to be some two hours later seemingly he was busy in theatre well that's alright then not going anywhere I'll just hang on here then. Small talk defo getting thin now...........to the person who ever decided it was  good idea to have men in the birthing room  I ask the question.........are you out of your tiny mind!! 

Irritatingly at this time my legs took on a life force all of their own and kept annoyingly dropping off the side of the bed which HE seemed to find humorous as he had to keep lifting them back on as I had no feeling in them. perhaps on a different day and them being someone else's legs I would have been gripped by the funniness of it today was not that day ........ 

Time drags so I suggest to HIM that he goes into town for a Chinese (an excuse to get him out of my hair). With every contraction I am thinking of ways to de-assemble his body without anaesthesia. 

After much appreciated respite suddenly HE returns with a take away wafting sensory smells to wet my palette and proceeds to scoff the lot ........ ever sensitive the male species.

Around midnight I notice the monitor and instinctively feel that something is not quite right and instruct him to make himself useful and go off and find midwifey and alert her.........he duly carried out his mission and landed back with midwifey who clucked reassuringly and disappeared to return and invade the room with the A team. All hell broke lose at a single moment............  

 I was told to push and he was recommended to dampen my brow and cluck more reassurance and encouragement in my ear how that translated into slopping a wet flannel on my brow and semi drowning me I do not know but the list of parts that were going to be removed physically from his body increased dramatically at that moment. I think I politely suggested he cease...... well that's my memory :0) 

I was told to push with every contraction......what contractions I thought I had little sensation of them at this point as the epidural seemed to have done its job.........baby was struggling and the decision to do a high forceps delivery was decided upon he was well and truly settled in and not wanting to come out. The forceps were duly placed and she tugged with all her might, they were replaced and she tried again and i was told when to push it seemed like forever before my babies head appeared. HE unbeknown to me had moved to the operational end which greatly surprised me as this was a guy who was squeamish and nearly fainted at the sight of his own blood......mind you he didn't stay there for long quickly returning to encourage me to push like my lady parts depended upon it. Out popped my battered and bruised little 4lb 1oz bundle of joy.........but no cry for what seemed like an eternity, they whisked him away and gave him oxygen and massaged him and I could tell from their faces they were concerned..........1 minute 2 minutes and then after a goodly time he cried..........its the best sound in the world for a mother to hear..................the journey had started............

thought of the day

Having listened to George Osbourne and Ed Balls (and its clear he has  none) this morning on TV going on about welfare reforms (under the guise of austerity measures) i have an urge to bang their heads together and drag them out of the bubble they live in and into the real world!!!

this cavalier attitude towards the real lives of individuals with severe and complex needs does my tits in (can i say that - well i just have) They are juvenile prats scoring points on the back of others miseries and difficulties