
When Esther and William came home from hospital we did not mix with many people. We had been warned by the hospital about the risks of taking our tiny babies to busy public places. What we did do a lot … Continue reading
When Esther and William came home from hospital we did not mix with many people. We had been warned by the hospital about the risks of taking our tiny babies to busy public places. What we did do a lot … Continue reading
This last month I have been writing about Esther and William’s journey through NICU. How I kept vigil by their bed sides for 59 long days. I cannot imagine how my children would feel if things had been the other way around. As Multiple Daddy puts so well, you are never entirely sure what goes on in the mind of a toddler.
But still we try.
How must it feel for children to hope that their mother will wake? To hope that one day their mother will be able to come home? How do they rationalise the fact that their mother is not at home with them where she and they and all long for her to be?
I am a fully grown adult and I struggle to think about how this can be. My heart goes out to Multiple Daddy and the beautiful Multiple children.
Tonight I join with Kerry’s family, friends and fellow bloggers to share a prayer, a whisper of hope that she might one day soon be home in the heart of her young family. Back where she belongs.
I have not yet had the chance to meet with Kerry but I hope that I will have one day in the future.
She is someone who has helped me so often through Twitter and Facebook. One of those wondrous online companions that seems to know me better than many of my real life friends do. Not because she has spent time with me but because our lives have parallel lines. We have experienced so many of the same moments in life.
Kerry like me is a multiple mummy. She is in fact THE Multiple Mummy. Hers is the blog I turn to when things are tricky with the twins.
She directed me to Home Start when I needed an extra pair of hands. She knows all too well that there are never enough arms as a mummy of three very young children.
This post about having three children under three being hard but also great is one I return to time and time again when things are tough.
Now when I am feeling frustrated or the children are getting me down, I stop and think of fellow multiple mummy Kerry and it puts the world into perspective.
I am at home with my babies. How wonderfully lucky am I?
It is the wish of every mother, to be strong for her children and to hold them in her arms.
I hope that wish comes true for you soon, Kerry.
I am sending prayers and healing wishes for you this night.
Be strong. Fight on. The world wants you back!
I have eaten a Whole Nut in your honour.
Liska at New Mum Online has asked that bloggers hand over their blogs tonight to enable thought of Kerry, aka Multiple Mummy, ripple through the cyber waves.
She asks that we all say a coordinated prayer for Multiple Mummy tonight at 10 p.m.
This is my prayer, my wishes for healing for a beautiful lady and I hope a future friend.
God Bless You, Kerry x
This year I have a wish list of things I would like from Father Christmas. I thought I would share them with you, and through you with my husband(!) to see if any of these coveted goodies end up beneath … Continue reading
21st September 2010.
59 days after they were born.
Esther and William came home.
The few hours that we had not been at the hospital with our newborns we had been busy preparing their home.
The room that would house all four of us for the forseeable future.
The nursery.
They were still so very tiny.
They made everything at home look huge.
It felt like we had over prepared.
The nursery had a jungle theme just as our playroom does now.
Daddy had created all the artwork.
The window was sealed and insulated to keep the room warm and quiet and dark. The window was covered with a jungle mural that Esther and William used to stare at for hours while we watched the clock. They should have been asleep!
We had a cosleeper for the babies to sleep in when they were not in our arms.
A changing cot, just like we had in hospital. Though special care habits die hard.
I tried to stick to the NICU routine at home, changing nappies every three hours round the clock. Washing all body parts before putting babies in the bath. Only now can I see how silly this was. But then I did not know what else to do.
There were lots of cuddles those first few days. Making up for all the time we had lost.
This room was our safety blanket, a secure environment that we could control.
Where we kept all our medicines and guide books, planned our days and adapted our routines.
Where we got to know each other and found our way as a family.
This was our sanctuary. A place we could finally be together and alone as a family of four.
No beeping, no buzzers, no whirring machines.
No footsteps.
No questions.
No probing and prodding and painful procedures.
Things were starting to normalise.
At least that is what we thought.
But of course our lives were not normal. I am not sure they ever will be again.
Follow the blog over the next few days as I share with you our experiences of bringing our premature babies home.
Unsure what to buy for your toddlers this Christmas? Why not buy them a sailing boat, a fort, a labyrinth, a tunnel, a road way, a ball pool and much much more! When Esther and William were babies we had … Continue reading
When the day finally arrived that we could take our babies home, Day 59!!, we felt ready. Terrified but ready. The hospital staff prepared us well. One of the main things we had to do once home was to begin … Continue reading
Esther and William, born at 27 weeks, stayed in hospital for 59 days.
Everyday I would go to them in the hospital and do all I could to be a part of their life in those earliest days.
Each step toward the door meant that I could be more involved in their care but to begin with their was very little that I could do.
It was a steep learning curve, practically and emotionally.
I felt like it was an immediate, premature yet delayed start to motherhood.
It is so very hard to explain.
One thing I can do though is try to explain how I spent my days, my long long days in NICU.
When Esther and William were born I could not drive and so David had to drive me to and from the hospital. It meant that most days once I got there I was there for the duration and on my own whilst David worked. He planned to work as much and as hard as he could so that he could be ready to look after the babies once they came home. As well as running his business he also had a twin nursery to prepare. Our babies were not expected for at least another three months!
Every morning we drove to the hospital and tried to arrive by 8 o’clock. The nurses would wait for us each morning to carry out the babies’ cares. David would often stay and help, it was precious contact with our little people but sometimes he had to leave for work.
The cares routine was carried out twice a day. I changed tiny nappies, washed tiny bodies, oiled fragile skin and cleaned and moistened dry mouths. It was precious time with my babies. To begin with I was often watched closely by a nurse but as time went on it became our time. A time to examine tiny toes and feel tiny fingers. It was all part of bonding and falling in love.
Most of most days were spent sat on a tall stool looking through the misty steam of the incubator to my tiny babies.
I tried to move between the two of them regularly. Trying to ensure I had some awake time with each of them each day. It was hard to tell with William at the beginning as his eyes were tight shut. The days were spent watching and waiting. Waiting to be told that we could do this!
Between 8.30am and 9 the doctors would do their rounds. At this time we would be asked to leave while the doctors talked with other parents about their child. Their was a kitchen where we could go to make a cup of tea and a room where we could sit and wait. I often used this time to express milk as that way I would not have to leave Esther and William alone again for at least another three hours.
Often during this time if David were still around he would go to work and I would walk out with him to the hospital shop where I would most days buy a can of coke and some chocolate raisins. It became an important part of my routine this little ritual.
When the doctors spoke to me it was often to say no change, or to advise how many days one baby or the other had left til they needed a blood transfusion or if their milk amount was to go up, or down. We were lucky in that nothing too serious happened to our beautiful son and daughter. They were strong and they were growing. They needed help with their breathing and needed light therapy for jaundice but on the whole we and they were very lucky. Most days from the doctor we were told no change and to carry on doing what we were doing.
From 10am the day was often mine. I would sit first with one baby and then the other reading to them and singing to them. They had picture books that I bought for them when they were born and on their one month birthday. I read them Milly Molly Mandy stories and Just William too. I told them about their family and we planned what we would do when at last they were home. I read rhymes and poems and I sang them songs. Esther’s song was There Was A Princess Long Ago and William’s was The Grand Old Duke Of York. I also used to sing Thumbelina and lots of school hymns. I wanted them to know my voice but also the constant communication helped me. It soothed me. It made me feel connected to them. My babies.
Every three hours I had to express milk. I would stretch the three hours sometimes until it became so painful that I had to go. I hated leaving. I used to hate the thought of something happening while I was gone.
Between the reading and the singing and talking to the wonderful staff came the thinking. The what ifs, the maybes, the whys. Intertwined with the thinking was the worrying and the wondering and the the guilt. Always the guilt, of what had I done to cause my children to be lying here when they should be safe and warm inside.
David would come again in the evening. Most days we would leave at 8. When they were tiny there was little we could do after their final cares. We were aware that I needed looking after too. I was recovering from major abdominal surgery as well as recovering from the birth and dealing with the emotions of prematurity.
Home was for sleep and food and expressing milk. I had not started blogging then. I was in no state to read. My sleep was troubled, disturbed. I longed to be back at the incubator side. Back with my babies.
The sounds of the NICU never go away. The beeping, the buzzing, the alarms. Even in the still of the night at home the bells would be ringing in my head.
I dreamed of a day when I could bring our babies home.
Every morning as we drove to the hospital, listening to The Killers, we would be wondering what we might find there that day. The walk through the hospital corridors seemed so very long. I think I held my breath most mornings until I saw that my babies were still breathing theirs.
A day in the life of a NICU Mum is a long and emotional one but each day of that time I witnessed a miracle. The miracle of life beginning. And two of those lives were mine.
For the last few weeks we have been testing tights for boys after the lovely Daisy Chain Baby answered my call for help. Remember this post about socks on the school run? I spoke to Daisy Chain Baby who offered … Continue reading
Dear Father Christmas This year I have tried so very hard to be good but there is one thing I just cannot resist and that is chocolate. I am hoping that just this once, Father Christmas, you will be able … Continue reading
When Esther and William were born at 27 weeks I was more determined than ever to feed them myself. At the beginning though they did not have the strength, size or skills to feed from me. The sucking reflex does … Continue reading