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As a grandad, watching and waiting from the sidelines, wanting to take all the pain away, but being helpless, was awful, and I feel every bit of your pain and joy.
Hope your all together for Christmas. Sliante!
Day 4: Thursday
Red and Blue
Today felt a little bit disjointed if I’m honest. We had resolved to get to Skaboo early, for morning rounds, so we could talk to the consultant and get an update on Albert direct from the horses mouth. This meant that we had to be there by 9, and despite breakfast being at 8, Mrs R didn’t get her breakfast until 8:50 as hers is the last room in the wing of 3 wards.
We raced (well, I say raced, Mrs R is still moving like a constipated duck that’s had it’s feet tied together at the moment!) down to Skaboo with toast crumbs still smeared on cheeks.
While waiting for the big wigs to turn up, we chatted to the midwife in charge, and the Student Midwife on her second year, doing six months in the Neo Natal unit. All of the staff we have dealt with on this long ride have been absolutely first class, but these two in particular are simply breathtaking. The dedication to do something so heart wrenching as looking after very poorly babies, and yes, lose a few along the way is incredible. Yes, I could cope with the cuteness overload and the constant cuddles, but the tragedies that they bear every week are more than us mortals could cope with, and they do it with love, care and professionalism.
Anyway, they advised us to salute and stand to attention when the big knobs finally arrived (the most serious clothing we had seen to date, not a clown suit or pair of Crocs in sight!) we gathered around Albert’s Ark to get an update. The list of positives was pretty damn pleasing. He’s finished his anti-biotics and shows no signs of infection, so his canula has gone. They’ve reduced temperature in his pod closer to normal to get him ready for life in the outside world. (I had no idea 29 degrees was normal in Halifax in December. Must move down the hill for the warmer climate!) and he is building up his feeds nicely, and not chucking it all back up. The one tick still needed was to get him back well below the acceptable line for Jaundice, which is looking pretty solid. He’s been fitted with a pair of ultra cool cloth goggles that make him look a bit like a 1980s wrestler and blasted with blue light for large parts of the last day or so. This morning, after briefing, they turned it off and binned his RayBans! They ran another test late tonight, and if all that goes smoothly, tomorrow, he gets transferred from Ark to cot and gets to put on some real clothes for the first time. Awesome! Crossing everything.
We went back upstairs and finished breakfast and then decided to democracy.
Democracying is pretty difficult when you have had your insides reorganised, so with the help of the ward Midwife, who filled in the necessary government paperwork, I set off on a ridiculous tour of Huddersfield just to get the missus an emergency proxy vote. Apparently, if you can’t make it to the polling station, 30 yards from your house, on polling day, all you have to do is fill in a form, with a professional backing you up, and take it to the Civic Centre Electoral Office, 5 miles from your house in the middle of a busy town instead. Logic. Gotta love it! I embarked on my mission to ensure we both had our say, which took me around 2 hours! This isn’t a political post, so I’m not going into any of that, but we both deemed it important to be done. If you really want a clue, remember that we are both teachers, then check the title of today’s diary entry!
We then hit the Skaboo for the quiet session in the afternoon, which was amazing! Albert was bright as a button, and we got 2 hours of skin to skin cuddles, a nappy change, a feed and lots of burbles from him. I think it’s safe to say he quite likes spending time with his mum and dad now. I finally got a go at skin to skin, and loved every minute of it. He seemed ok with rug as a fairly poor substitute for boob, and settled in for a nap in my hairy man cleavage!
He has discovered proper boobs though. He really likes them. Although, like any young man, he doesn’t really appreciate their finer points yet and is currently restricting himself to clumsy fumbles and motor boating. Keep trying kid, you’ll get there!
The day ended with more tears from Mrs R, who’s in lots of pain, and still struggling with the absence of Albert, and with boobs that really need him to get a clue and start making them feel better. In other news, it looks like she’s coming home tomorrow, which will be both good and bad, as we will both be further from our boy at night instead of just me. We made time for a pretty difficult to achieve cuddle. Our first proper one since Sunday night. Let me tell you, that squeezing my 6’6” frame into a single hospital bed, next to someone who has recently been treated like a Bernard Matthews turkey crown is not easy!
Back home alone for the last time now, and settling in to sleep on my own again.
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Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youMy Trading Feedback | You Bring The Band
Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youMy Trading Feedback | You Bring The Band
Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youThank you to everyone that's replied, shared similar stories and passed on well wishes etc.
I'm absolutely not ignoring you, I've read every single reply, some of them many times over.
Today I was out of the house from 8am to 11:30pm so I didn't get a lot of time to sit and type, but I sincerely value every comment.
Thank you!
My Trading Feedback | You Bring The Band
Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youThat first few days when mum and Mrs T were keeping a long vigil at the hospital was one of the loneliest I can remember as I did all the practical running around but was heading home each night on my tod. Your description of returning to a cold and empty house, resonates.
I hope you get Albert home for Christmas.
That line will stay with me... and next time i see you it's probably all i will think about.
I saw the original fb post, then when i started reading this i was on the edge of my seat with a horrible feeling! All the best for everyone, hope you're spoiling Albert & Mrs. R rotten for Christmas
Good to hear its going well for you all Chris, It seems such a short time since your heartfelt marriage proposal to this huge enjoyable/nerve wracking event, I suspect your emotions are all over the place. Take care of yourself and look after the missus!
Enjoy the fact that @bridgehouse isn't lying on the floor taking photos of it all
Ebay mark7777_1
few days past and slowly the routine settled in of visit the hospital, go to work, back to the hospital, home for a little sleep and repeat.
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Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youDay 5: Friday
“I’m not sure there’s an emojie for that”
Today has been a real roller coaster.
Before I crack on, and in the interest of protecting the weak of heart, Albert is fine. It’s all the other drama that’s been a problem!
I over slept this morning. Hardly surprising, given that I have been running on adrenaline since Monday, and most people wouldn’t begrudge me a bit of a catch up on sleep. I do however have one very vocal critic, and when ever I fuck something up, he lets me know in no uncertain terms by giving me a kick in the guts that leaves me feeling like I’ve accidentally eaten a week old curry. I am of course referring to myself!
On this particular morning, my fuck up had some pretty serious consequences. Mrs R was likely to be discharged today, we knew that. However, as she was eating her breakfast, a nurse appeared in her room and said she had half an hour to be ready to go, and her choices were discharge or go for a one night stay in one of the parent’s rooms on SCBU. Half an hour to grab a shower, express some milk, and pack all your shit when you are basically a paraplegic penguin is not very long. And this fuck up wasn’t there to help. By the time I arrived she had been dragged to SCBU with all her belongings and deposited, in tears, into a room out at the back.
I had the teary phone call while driving to Halifax, and I would have kicked myself if I hadn’t been stuck in traffic and riding the clutch like a pro. In other news, I also had a call from my daughter’s school this morning, she was in the AEN unit having had a pretty turbulent time and needed my support. (This is not particularly uncommon, she has ADHD and Autism). It was then that I first noticed the puppet strings, pulling me in two or three different directions at once.
My eldest (That’s the first time I’ve used that phrase! It’s only really just dawning on me that I can start talking about children instead of my child!) is feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment, what with me having a child with someone else, and living 120 miles away. I have of course made lots of assurances to her that our relationship won’t change, but the plan to include her in the building up to Albert’s birth flew out of the window faster than then one for 40 new Tory hospitals when he came along in such a rush! I’ve been trying to organise a friend to bring her down to meet her little brother over the weekend, which I think is sorted now, but my second teary female of the day needing a rock was not particularly helpful whilst stuck on the Halifax Road in morning traffic.
I arrived and helped settle Mrs R as best I could, then helped her get set up for her, well overdue attempt at expressing milk. Obviously her mood was far from conducive to firing out boob nectar, which didn’t help either.
Things got better once we went down to Albert’s room. We both sat and had cuddles, she tried, more successfully to express some milk, and, here’s the big highlight of the day; Albert moved to a cot! Woohoo!
I got to dress him in his first outfit. Even though it was preemie sized, it still swamped him like a Tory landslide, but he did look cute as a very cute thing on its cutest day!
I have had a few guilt pangs today, but none more so than when I saw other couples come in and out of Albert’s new room. Other babies in there are in need of much more care, more isolation and rarely get the chance for cuddle release. I felt horribly guilty that we spent so long in there cuddling our baby, when other parents were left sitting beside Arks watching monitors and listening to bleeps. I’m sure they will all be fine, but I really didn’t like where my head was going.
I’ve been temporarily released early, as I’ve been offered the chance to stay over tonight in her room on a folding bed chair thing that looks ever so comfortable (not) and given that she’s definitely being discharged in the morning, at least I’ll be in throwing distance if I don’t wake up in time to help her. So I’m briefly at home for something to eat, and to pack some bits for me. I may post another update later from the hospital. At least I get to spend the night in the same room as Mrs R tonight, although I’m not convinced I’m her favourite person right now.
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Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youFirst outfit!
No more Ark!
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Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youWe've just had an absolutely amazing evening in the company of Albert. Lots of cuddles, and the little champ actually boob fed! It wasn't much, or for very long but he did it and I cried!
We topped him up with his tube feed, but we are seriously impressed that he got the basics of it down at the first real time of asking. Well done lad! You made your mum feel so much better!
I also introduced him to the 18 year unpaid internship he's about to commence...
Start 'em young eh!
Then got him changed into clean stuff for bed and cuddled him to sleep.
We're both feeling much better this evening.
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Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after youi remember the expressing room. There was room for about 9 bays with screens up and that funny “oomph ooopmh” noise in stereo plus those bings and bongs. My wife was really struggling but we had this enormous (I’m only 5’10” and my wife is smaller, so your a bloody giant in my books) Nigerian lady next to us. She was asking for more bottles every 5 mins and could have started a dairy farm all on her own. Didn’t go down well with the wife but it’s stuck in both our memories. I think she feed most of the prems and her own every night. moving to powdered milk was the best thing for us as everyone got to rest a bit and no stress.
futile pushing. The other with cord round neck and stopped breathing five minutes after delivery, both b C-section.
It it all seems like a dream now but I wouldn’t like to go through it again. The night I got back
home with both baby and mum still in hospital and no sleep for 48 hours I just cried and cried.
Don’t sweat the emotions man. Let them ride over you, feel them and enjoy them, even the “negative” ones. They’re there to guide you and when things calm down you want to look back having ridden the crazy wave like a pro.
Awesome writing by the way. Can’t wait for the next instalment. Best wishes to you, R, and A!