Grace's Story

Written by Mum Allyson.

Grace was my fifth pregnancy, having had one miscarriage at 12 weeks in between my first two children. I had three sons; 5 ½, nearly 3 and 15 months when Grace was born. My pregnancy had been difficult with regular bleeding and a hemorrhage at 18 weeks where I felt I had lost my baby but scans showed that I still had a fetus. 

Grace when she arrived at King Edward.

Grace when she arrived at King Edward.

I was on the last day of 23 weeks when I felt strong pains in the evening. I went up to the Albany Hospital and they gave me Ventolin to stop the labor. Initially I didn’t realise it was labor as I was induced with my boys. That seemed to settle so by 9am the next day when my husband, Richard, bought the boys to see me, everything seemed to be okay. By Midday my labor had progressed remarkably and I was being prepped to fly to King Edward as they thought the baby would be born soon. 

We were transferred to the awaiting Royal Flying Doctors airplane. The engines were going and Richard was being strapped in when my waters broke. The RFDS Midwife made a lifesaving call when she said I would be transferred by ambulance back to Albany Regional. It took them a very short time to get me back to the hospital when Grace was born encaul at 3pm on November 26 1997. She was just 24 weeks gestation and a very tiny little girl (585gms). The three doctors and one midwife decided to do everything they could to support her survival as they have since told me that she looked strong and healthy enough to try.

The hospital was not equipped for such a tiny infant and a friend has told me that all available staff were called to cut down tubes to help with her survival. There was no ventilator, so when they had successfully intubated her my GP spent just under six hours hand ventilating her. They called the Neonatal team who arrived by RFDS just before 9pm who stabilised her, which took quite a while and then flew her up to KEMH. I was told that up to 4 aircraft were involved in her birth and transfer. Regional families could not survive without the RFDS.

Grace spent 10 weeks on a ventilator and took two months to reach one kilogram. She was discharged after 4 ½ months from the nurseries at KEMH in April 1998.

This year she turns twenty and has done incredibly well. She graduated high school last year and is currently working at Bunnings for a Gap Year before she goes to Perth to study Social Work. Her plan is to work with the families of Pre-mature babies at King Edward or Princess Margaret.

I support Tiny Sparks WA and all the work they do because I have walked the journey of having a baby prematurely without support and being from the country it is even more isolating. I would have loved to have the nurture and encouragement that they offer to families when we were going through the difficulties that only those who have been through it can understand.


We welcome families sharing their stories on our blog.  If you would like to share your story please send approximately 500 words and a few photographs to admin@tinysparkswa.org.au with the subject 'Family Story'.

Wynter is Born

Guest blogger Lisa R shared her pregnancy story on her blog, Wynter Dayz, in 2011 and has kindly agreed for Tiny Sparks WA to share it. This is part one of three parts to her journey. Parts two and three will be released soon.

Greg and I will have been married for 5 years this coming March. We have been together for over 12 years and this has been about as long as I have wanted children. Being a stay-at-home-mum has been my career goal for as long as I can remember.

We have experienced a few problems in conceiving a baby so we filled our lives with work and amazing holidays to all corners of the globe. Both my sisters were pregnant and so I decided to get help and really become serious in trying for a baby. While I was at the doctors office in April the doctor told me I was ovulating and bang...5 weeks later we were pregnant. I took the pregnancy test as a kind of joke and cried when I saw those 2 magical lines. I didn't sleep a wink the whole night wondering if it was really finally happening! After confirmation from the doctor Greg and I celebrated and decided to wait to tell the family till my 30th birthday just so we could have everyone together at once to see their faces.

I had a near perfect pregnancy. Not one day of morning sickness. All I had was a little sciatic pain and carpel tunnel for a few weeks. All my tests and scans were great. At the 20 week scan everything looked good and all we were told was that the bubba was a little over the average weight.

I loved being pregnant, granted it was an easy pregnancy but it felt so right and I was excited to see how my belly was growing. Greg surprised me with a Baby moon to New Zealand and we had a fabulous time sightseeing and taking photos of me sticking out my belly.

So on September 10th 2011 I was at work. I felt some crampy pains and thought it must be a growing day. I sat for a second to recover from a pain surge and worked through the rest of the day. By the time Greg picked me up at 5:30pm I didn't feel 100% and went to bed as soon as we walked in the door. While lying there I started to concentrate on the pain and realised it was coming and going in intervals. Greg called the midwife at the Family Birth Centre where I was booked in to deliver the baby and she said to go to the emergency department at King Edward Memorial Hospital and pack a bag. I thought by then it was Braxton Hick's and I would be home that night so refused to pack a bag.

I was examined by a nurse and by then the pain was becoming worse and I started to bleed. After doing an internal examination the nurse whispered to the other nurse "she is 4-6 cms dilated".....Is this woman kidding!?!? I am 23 weeks pregnant, how can I be dilated? Soon the room was filled with doctors and medical students and an ultrasound machine. The ultrasound told us I was 2.5cms dilated and the amniotic sack had bulged through my cervix and I was having contractions.

I was in labour.

I was told that the birth was inevitable but whether or not we could drag it out was to be seen as some women have lasted another 2 weeks at most in this condition.
I just said do whatever you can to stop this as I cannot have my precious baby this early. I was given morphine for pain and to slow contractions. I took pills to slow labour and I was given a steroid injection to help speed up the development of the babies lungs. The doctor proceeded to tell us that at 23 weeks gestation our baby had a 25% survival rate and the decision had to be made whether we wanted to hold our baby after the birth (which would mean we would watch it die on my chest) or did we want the doctors to take the baby straight away and do everything they could. For me that was an easy decision. Although my dream of bonding with my baby after birth was shot out the window I could not face the thought of letting it die if there was a chance they could revive it. I had carried this baby for just over 5 months and my love for my unborn child had grown everyday and I did not want to give up. We were told if I needed a C-section it would be a "classic" which meant I could never have a natural birth and this scared the hell out of me as I am terrified of C-sections.

So I was in labour all Saturday night with Greg and my Mum and Dad by my bedside rubbing my back while I groaned though every contraction. By Sunday morning the contractions had slowed. I resisted any more drugs and a catheter. The contractions started up again that night and by Monday morning I was wheeled down a level to have an ultrasound. Our worst nightmare came true as they told us bubba had moved down in the birth canal.  This shot any chance of trying to postpone the labor any longer as the bacteria in the vagina could harm the baby as it was not protected by the uterus anymore.

After trying to slow the labour for 2 days I then needed to get it started again to push this baby out! The plus side of bubba moving down meant I could have a natural birth but I did not want to be induced with synthetic hormones my body could produce itself so I started dancing and walking in the birth suite and bouncing on a fit ball to the tunes Mayer Hawthorne and Alicia Keys. I didn't feel much but after going to the toilet I felt something a bit different and the midwife checked it out and it was the baby. It was all go then so at the smallest contraction I pushed with Greg holding one leg and my mum holding the other.  Bubba was breech so after the first push Greg and Mum were excited to see a tiny foot still in the amniotic sack. As I kept pushing my waters broke with a huge explosion. The baby's head was stuck and the doctor was about to cut me to get it out when I gave one mighty push and bubba was free and clear.

"It's a boy!"

He was rushed over to 4 waiting doctors who were ready to intubate him. This is a tube pushed through the mouth or nose down to the lungs and then attached to a ventilator machine to help with every breath. As I watched the doctors working on my little boy I pushed out the placenta.  Then they were about to wheel him out which is good news as this means they have got him breathing and ready to be hooked up to the machines in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit).

I saw him for a couple of seconds and he brought tears to my eyes looking like a skinned cat. Poor little muffin! I just wanted to make it all OK and I knew I couldn't at that time. I told Greg to follow the bubba back to the NICU.  Greg returned a bit later and we decided to announce he's name which we had discussed on the Baby moon.  A strong special name for a special boy.

Wynter Rock Rossiter.
Our baby is born!

Pictures

Volunteer April Ratajczak blogs for us

Ever since becoming a mum, I take a lot of pictures.  I cannot put emphasis on "a lot" enough.  One reason is I am an expat, so all of my family and friends back home don't have the luxury of stopping by for a visit to see Emily themselves.  The other part?  Pure obsession with my daughter.  I find myself, especially at the end of really hard or trying days (hey, this toddler stage is hard work!), laying in bed flipping through and looking at photos and videos of Emily from a few months ago, asking myself "how has time passed SO quickly?".  I also am in total awe and amazement of how far our little 29 weeker has come.  

I was recently emailing a photo of Emily to someone from the NICU.  I opened up the file on the computer with all the NICU pictures.... a file that I haven't opened in ages... months easily.  When suddenly I found heaps of pictures I had forgotten, until that moment, that I had taken.  While in each nursery, I took photos of our surroundings.  I wanted to be able to show Emily one day different steps of her journey in the NICU.  The equipment, the monitors, and even small things like the furniture.  At the time, all I saw was exactly what they were.  Now, looking back, I see so much more in those pictures.

 


The chair's that were used during Kangaroo Care at the time were simply a chair.  A piece of furniture.   Now when I see this picture, I suddenly remember countless moments between Emily and me. Once she was able to be held, nearly every day (except when she was in isolation or I was sick) we hand bonding moments in these chairs.  I told countless stories, and when nobody was around would quietly sing or hum a tune. This was where I sat and held her for hours the day she needed a blood transfusion, because the only thing that settled her was a cuddle and her dummy.  Most weekdays, this chair is where we were when my husband came for his visit after work (and his cuddle as well).  These are the chairs I was sitting in the day the doctors told me about Emily's heart condition.  When I look at these chairs, I can't help but think of the countless memories each one of them holds.  It's now to me, so much more than a piece of furniture, and I bet anyone reading this who spent time at King Edward instantly had a memory of their own from this picture.

 

This was the first nursery and bay Emily was in.  (This was after she was out of the incubator... I didn't take surrounding pictures until a few weeks into our journey).  At the time, this seemed a little like our prison cell, and we were prisoners not only to the hospital and our bay, but also the monitors.   Now I look at it, and I see so much.  This is where I got to see my daughter for the first time after delivery.  This was where we learned to do cares and change our first nappy.  This is where we met nurses who became our second family.  Do you notice the cute name tag hung up that says "Emily"?  One of those beloved nurses' daughter made that for us, her other daughter made one that was also on her cot during our stay, and a third that was brought home and put on her bedroom door.  It still hangs there to this day.  This is where we watched Emily progress and fight, and one at a time, pieces of equipment disappeared as Emily improved.  This wasn't our prison.  This was our home and the beginning of our family.  No, it was not what we envisioned or had hoped for.  Who hopes for a premature birth and NICU stay afterall?  But this was OUR family's start.

 

DSCN7862.JPG

For 11 weeks and 5 days, this was simply Emily's chart.  After washing our hands and saying good morning to Emily, this was our next stop... to read how she had done over night.  I look now and the first thing I see, especially as a NICU parent, is the red, but not in the same way that I viewed it before.  At the time, red marks meant we weren't going home anytime soon.  That was especially true towards the end.  For those who don't know, you can have NO RED on your chart for 48 hours to be able to go home.  Many NICU parents become anxious about that red pen.  Now, when I see pictures of Emily's chart, all the red just makes me even more proud of everything that she had to overcome during her journey in the NICU.  Every bit of red pen is a battle our Emily fought and won.  

(As a side note, I loved how some nurses would draw flowers or hearts next to her name.. as a parent, such a personal touch to see in the morning when we arrived!)

 

                               "It's a rough life in the NICU, but someone has to do it!"                      &nb…

                               "It's a rough life in the NICU, but someone has to do it!"  
                                                                   (Emily relaxing)

I encourage parents who are currently on their NICU Journey to take pictures.  One day you will look back and you will see so much more than what your eyes saw the moment you took that picture.   I encourage NICU graduate parents to have a look at a couple of pictures (if you are able) and see if you too can see so much more than you realised.  


In our shoes.

Volunteer April Ratajczak blogs for us

I recently shared an article on our Tiny Sparks Facebook page titled “20 Things Not To Say To A Mom Of A Preemie”.  You can read the article here.  This started up quite the conversation on the thread with a lot of people commenting on hurtful things that had been said or done to them during their NICU stay or after once they were home.  Parents know that these things aren’t done or said with a malicious intent; however that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes these things, especially certain comments, can be very painful. 

That inspired me to write this blog.  I could easily write a blog to tell you what to say or what to avoid saying to the parents of a premature baby.   However, I feel like instead of telling you what is helpful (and hurtful), I would just tell you what it’s like to be the mum and dad of a NICU baby.  Unless you’ve been in our shoes, you will have no idea what parents are going through.  Perhaps better understanding what we are going through will help you to be able to provide the support your friend/family/etc needs during their NICU journey.  

(Disclaimer: every nicu journey is different.  What one family experienced may not be the same as someone else.  This list is just a guide based on my experience as a NICU mum to a premature baby.)

1.       We don’t eat well. 
What’s for dinner?  Often whatever leftovers we have in the kitchen from food that was given to us or whatever takeaway sounds edible.  After a while, no takeaway sounds “good”.  After spending the night worrying (and for many mums pumping) and then all day at the hospital, going home to cook a meal (followed by the clean up after said cooked meal) is more than we can bare.   And hospital food?   While it may be decent, after a while it becomes...... old.  A freshly cooked hot meal is pure bliss.
 

2.       We are lonely. 
People may comment on Facebook updates, pictures, etc, but the phone isn’t really ringing.  Perhaps it’s because people don’t know what to say, so it’s easier to say nothing.  Perhaps people just got busy.  Perhaps people assumed we knew they were there.  The truth is life gets lonely.  Your day revolves around watching your baby lay in the incubator/cot and watching monitors.  Your social interaction becomes the chats you have with the lovely nurses who become friends (and some become a second family). It’s just the way it goes.  And yes, there are certain people who never let you forget they are there for you and check on you regularly, (and those are the family/friends you are extremely thankful for) but there are a lot of people who just vanish.  

3.       Our baby’s good days are our good days.  Our baby’s bad days are our horrible days. 
It’s just the way it works.  Also sometimes there can be nothing “wrong” but after watching your child fight to live day after day, mixed with all the emotions we are experiencing (several discussed throughout this), sometimes we are just exhausted and emotionally drained.  So know that even on good days we may be struggling, but if our baby isn’t doing well, you can assume WE aren’t doing well either. 

4.       We are hearing a LOT of Cliché’s.  And they are painful.
 “Sleep while you can”  “She will be home when she is ready”  “He is where he needs to be”  “One day this will all be a memory” “I know how you feel” (spoiler alert: unless you actually HAVE been in these shoes, that last one will make us angry...very angry...)   I could go on and on and on.  While some of these may have some truth to them, it is basically telling us we aren’t allowed to feel how we feel.  And we have every right to feel upset about the situation.  NO parent wants their child home before they are ready.  We KNOW the hospital is exactly where our baby needs to be.  We know these things.  But we are frustrated, tired, and just need you to listen to how we feel.  Often these clichés come because people have no clue what to say.  But it’s ok.  We really don’t need you to fix this or say any words of wisdom.  

5.       We know our baby is tiny. 
But please stop saying it.  You may be in shock, but despite all odds, our baby may be 2-3 times their birth size or bigger once you see them.  “He/She is so tiny” seems to hit a sore spot with a lot of NICU parents and takes away from the fact of how much they have overcome to get to the size they are now.  Our baby may be small, but has conquered some amazing hurdles and endured more things than a lot of adults have had to fight. 

6.       We are exhausted by the monitors.
Watching monitors all day sounds boring.  Until those monitors are hooked up to your baby, and every alarm that goes off causes you to worry.  You sit and worry that this time your baby won’t bounce back.  This time their heart won’t go back to beating at a normal rate.  This time their oxygen levels won’t recover.  You also don’t hear just your baby’s monitors, but also all the babies around you.  During your NICU stay you will likely experience your baby or another baby in an emergency situation, require resuscitation, and sometimes become critically ill and/or pass away.  The reality around you is impossible to escape.  You worry about babies around you, as you have become attached to them and likely have become friends with their family.  You also worry the “what if” in terms of your child.  “What if we are next”.

 

7.       We are scared.  Really scared.
We are watching our child fight to live.  It’s scary.  Really scary.  Many NICU families have no experience in a NICU until their child is in one.  It’s a whole new world full of tiny humans, unfamiliar faces, and noisy monitors.  When you welcome a child into your family, you think that it’s natural to be scared, but this is a whole new WORLD of scared.  We have no clue if we will even be taking our babies home with us. The first time we get to hold them, while it’s a moment of pure bliss, is also nerve wracking.  They are so small, fragile, and still hooked up to all the monitors and breathing aids.  This isn’t what we envisioned when we thought about holding our baby for the first time.  It’s absolutely terrifying and the list of terrifying things is long enough to be its own blog entry.

8.       We are TIRED.
We spend all day at the hospital.  Many mums are also pumping every three hours (that’s three hours from start of pump to start of next pump, so around 2 hrs of sleep between if you are lucky).  While you are up, you also call the NICU for an update.  Sometimes the phone isn’t answered straight away so you enter a panic “something is wrong” mode.  A few minutes later the phone is answered, you get an update, and go back to bed.  As soon as you lay down you wonder if your baby is still ok.  Afterall, a lot can happen in five minutes.  As your mind races, you realise you have about an hour until the alarm goes off for your next pumping session.   Even without the pumping, your mind doesn’t stop.  Again, “sleep while you can” is a statement that is an absolute joke for a NICU parent.  Don’t forget for a lot of families, one or both parents are also working.  So add full time work life into that mix.  Yeah.  We are tired.

9.       We feel guilty.
It’s a very normal and often talked about emotion for NICU parents, especially mums.  While we may KNOW this was not our fault, good luck with us fully believing that.  Many of us followed the “book”.  We didn’t eat foods on the “no” list for pregnancy.  No drinking.  No smoking.  Never forgot a prenatal vitamin.  However we tell ourselves that we should have started maternity leave earlier.  We should have pressed harder when we  felt something was wrong and the medical team blew us off.  What if we had pushed and they detected this earlier?  Maybe a second opinion and this would have been caught?   What about some of our cravings?  Did we eat the wrong foods?  We had no signs, did we miss something?   The guilt will eat us alive.   Actually, the guilt DOES eat us alive.  Remember that when you ask us questions about our baby and our pregnancy ending early.

10.   We don’t know.  We simply do NOT know.
We have no clue when our baby is coming home.  We have no clue if he/she is coming home on oxygen or any other equipment (but really, does it matter?).  We have no clue if our baby will have any long term effects or problems.   We are stressed out about it and we simply don’t have the answers to these questions.  Trust me, when we have the answers, we will tell you.

11.   We grieve for the things we lost; it’s normal.
This is one that a lot of us don’t expect, but when it happens the grief is quite overwhelming.  The list of things we lose when we have a premature baby is quite long.  And while we are so happy that our baby is doing as well as he/she is, we are going to be upset about the things we missed out on.   

12.   We will never ever ever ever consider ourselves LUCKY we missed out on the aches and pains of the last month of pregnancy.     
This could fall in the cliché category or the grief category, but it deserves its own mention.  I think the comment speaks for itself.

13.   We cannot afford to get sick.  Neither can our baby (or any baby in the NICU for that matter)
If you are sick, please avoid contact with us.  We know that people get sick, but we can limit our contacts with people we KNOW are sick.  For parents, missing on time in the NICU because we are unwell is pure torture.  For the babies in the NICU, a common cold or stomach bug lose in the NICU could be deadly.  That is no exaggeration. 

14.   Our future is uncertain and scary.
We have no clue what the future holds.  Will there be long term medical issues?   Developmental delays?  Will our baby be on medical equipment when they come home and if so for how long?  What medications will the baby be on?  Most premature babies have multiple follow ups over the first few years and beyond, so we may wonder what our care plan will entail.  However, the big question we ask is, “will our baby come home”.  These are not the questions new parents should ever have to be worried about or think about.  Yet, for parents of premature babies, it is.  And further past that, many think about the future.  What happens if we chose to have another baby one day?  Will we have to endure this again? 

15.   Our life will not instantly become normal just because we get discharged.
Once we get to take our baby home, we don’t just instantly become a “normal” family who just brought their full term, freshly born baby home from the hospital.  We have specialist appointments, weight checks, Neonatologist appointments, GP appointments... the list is quite intense and exhausting.   Our life revolves around our baby’s appointments.  We also may have medical equipment at home that we are still using.  We have a very fragile infant whose immune system is not the same as a full term baby and whose organs are still fragile, especially their lungs.   A simple cold for some babies will easily land our baby in the hospital back, possibly back on oxygen and respiratory support.  All this while also coping with an infant’s needs, sleep deprivation, and normal life such as eating, cooking, cleaning, etc. 

16.   We celebrate every milestone so much more.
All parents celebrate milestones.  However when you have a child born prematurely you have no clue what the future holds, especially with developmental delays.  So when our babies roll over, talk, crawl, or any other milestone for the first time, expect a celebration that you may find over the top.  But when you have no clue what effects on development your child’s prematurity will have, when they do hit these milestones, and on time (corrected age) not only are we excited and proud, but we have a sense of relief as well.

17.   We will keep hand sanitizer for visits and continue to avoid us you when you are sick, even once we go home.
Do not be surprised when you come visit at home when we have a bottle of hand sanitizer and remind you to use it every visit.  Do not be surprised when we avoid functions because someone who will be attending is sick.  Our baby is fragile and all of our specialists have guided us on staying healthy.  Hospitalisation is extremely common for prems once discharged, especially in winter when winter colds and viruses, including the Flu and RSV.  We may not avoid an illness or needing to be hospitalised, but we will certainly do everything in our power to avoid it.  Who wouldn't do the same?  Our child does NOT need to build his/her immune system by being exposed to people who are sick.  We are NOT being over protective.  We WILL take our medical team's advice every time over anyone’s “theory” on our child’s health.  Every.  Single.  Time.  

18.   We left the NICU, but the NICU did not leave us.
It’s not a chapter of our life we will just forget.  We may wish we could, but it’s there.  There will be random occasions that bring emotions back.  Perhaps the sound of monitors on a TV show.  Perhaps it’s seeing a pregnant woman who is very far along.  We have no clue what the triggers will be.   We would not wish the NICU experience on a single person, yet for the most part, we wouldn’t change much.  We came out stronger than we went in.  We came out more knowledgeable than when we went in.  We came out more appreciative than when we went in.  And for many of us, we were lucky enough to walk out with a true, living, breathing miracle in our arms.  Often that little miracle has taught us more about life in their short time on this earth than we have learned our entire lives.



Izzy and Pea - The NICU journey revisited

Guest Blogger Allison F writes of her journey to have two gorgeous girls, both born at 28 weeks. You can follow her blog izzyandpea here.

For as long as I can remember I have always wanted a big family, I have always felt that it would be my greatest achievement in life.  Greg was at me for years to start a family, though I wanted to finish my degree before we started trying.  So when we got married we went through the whole ‘honeymoon stage’ and fell pregnant straight away.  I felt in my heart that this was going to be the year of our lives, getting married and starting a family straight away.  We had been together 7 years by now so we weren’t technically rushing into anything.

Isabelle's 1st birthday and pregnant

Isabelle's 1st birthday and pregnant

After my first miscarriage it didn’t take me long to want to try again, but after my second miscarriage it just wasn’t the same.  That feeling of being so happy to be pregnant had gone.  It almost felt like a chore, a chore of having to wait to see if my pregnancy was viable, we needed find that passion again for a family.  When we found out we were pregnant with Isabelle, I was so relieved that I call fall easily, though petrified at the same time.   I remember the day my Aunty phoned me to say my cousin had had her twins, I was 21 weeks pregnant at the time, and my cousin was only 25 weeks pregnant.  Something inside of me made me keep in contact to see how she was getting on.  When I lost my plug at 25 weeks, I knew, I knew I too was going to have a premmie and we did.  Isabelle was born at 28+4.  She is now 16months and perfectly healthy.

With having a big family we wanted our kids close together, which was one thing we had always agreed on. Even though Isabelle’s corrected age is only 3 months, we aren’t going to be using her corrected age forever.  So when Isabelle was 6 months actual we started trying.  I have to be honest, I wasn’t sure I could go through it again.  I was more worried about Isabelle and the thought of having to leave her if we went early again.  I was so torn when we found out, we were both so happy and I was also petrified, we had a scare at 7 weeks and I honestly didn’t think I could take it anymore.  My heart was breaking and the thought of losing a baby this early again was so overwhelming.  I want that big family though the heartache of it all was starting to take over.  At 20 weeks everything was perfect, by 24 weeks my cervix was still closed and perfect, by 26 weeks my cervix had halved.  My checkup at 28+4 I had no cervix and fully effaced, I was sent straight to hospital.  I was calm when I went into labour 30minutes later, I remember the nurses telling me that I can be upset if I want to be.  I was alone, my husband was at work and I was laying on the table in theater and all I could think about was Isabelle and how the hell am I going to do this again. 

Penelope at birth and due date 

Penelope at birth and due date 

Isabelle meeting Penelope outside of NICU/SCN2

On a visit to see Penelope I overheard the LC ask a mum, ‘how much do you think he has had?  Do you think he will need a top up?’  I broke down; it all came back, all the little things that I had blocked out of my head, all the little things that I had forgotten.  We were back, we were in NICU/SCN and we were going to be here for weeks.  I cried myself to sleep for the first 3 weeks, I felt like I had failed at being a mum and I couldn’t deal with the fact that I had to have a c-section.  It broke me, it truly did.  Then one day something just clicked and I turned a corner, I was on a mission to get Penelope out of there as soon as I could, and we did.  She was 8+4 when we brought her home.  That was 3 weeks ago.  I still want more children and I know in my heart I am not finished.    

© 2015 Allison Filinski | www.izzyandpea.com