Baby Got Back

We were finally out of hospital...

...and we came home and got to work adapting to being a family of four. That and remembering how utterly knackering the newborn stage is - we waved goodbye to sleep and got to grips with being elbow deep in nappies and baby milk. Things ticked along pretty normally - Connor was still breathing pretty fast but we were told that he would continue to do so until he cleared the air from around his lung. Things were bone-achingly tiring but they were also 'normal' and we slowly got used to it.

Then everything changed. Connor developed a cough at four weeks of age but we put it down to the fact that we'd all also had a mild cough, I can't tell you how much I wish now that we'd been right about that. A few days after the cough started he then became very sleepy and stopped taking as much milk - for Connor that's a big deal as he's a large baby with an equally large appetite, so we started to think something was up. Luckily our very brilliant Health Visitor changed her plans the day we contacted her and came to check on him for us. When she arrived he was showing some little signs that he was struggling to breathe - she took one look at him and suggested we take him to A&E for review. 

Children's A&E was RAMMED. Like, only one parent allowed RAMMED. We eventually got seen and by then Connor was really struggling to maintain his oxygen levels. He was diagnosed with bronchiolitis, put on oxygen and a little feeding tube was placed down his nose. It was a total whirlwind, especially because I'd convinced myself on the drive in to the hospital that they'd laugh us out of A&E for wasting their time. I do have to say that despite how busy children's A&E was, as soon as they realised that Connor had the pneumothorax we were immediately prioritised and seen really quickly; I am so very grateful for that.

That was Tuesday. It's now Sunday and he's still in hospital. The level of stress is unreal. The viral swab that they took when he arrived came back that he has the common cold and a virus called RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus) - they're both pretty common but unfortunately in Connor it's spread to his lungs and caused the bronchiolitis. Viruses cannot be treated with antibiotics so they just have to manage the side effects which will then allow him to fight the viruses and hopefully start to recover, It's incredibly difficult to watch your tiny baby fight something that you cannot see and cannot fight for them.

That's where we are, waiting for improvement. He's not 100% better but at the same time he's not getting worse. So we wait. Because of the RSV and the fact that viruses are contagious we have been put into our own little cubicle. I can't quite bring myself to call it a side room as it's pretty much a cupboard with a sink.

• Cubicle pros - our own TV, being able to talk & sing to myself and know that no one thinks I'm a little bit on the weird side.
• Cubicle cons - it makes me think that I'm Harry Potter, if Harry Potter never got his Hogwarts letter and had a sick baby - basically it's quite small with no windows

Now we've become those parents, the kind of parents that the staff have come to recognise in the corridor because they've been there so long, There are many little head nods in greeting as I amble from my cubicle to the toilet & back and my name has now changed to become 'Connor's Mum'.

So we keep going, every time that he manages to maintain his oxygen levels for a little while, or he takes a little more milk at a feed, or he just opens his eyes and we can see that he's really realising we're there - it's all a little win and helps us to briefly & optimistically imagine the moment when he's well enough to come home and we can start to be a family again.

Final mention is our little Dylan, he is absolutely taking this all in his stride and we are impressed with how well he's coping. Every day he's carted off to someone else's house so that we can swap over at the hospital and every day he deals with the changes with minimal fuss. It sounds corny but he's our little ray of sunshine and we couldn't be more proud of him. 

That's all I have for now. Stay tuned for updates! Every fibre of my being hopes for some good news soon.

Love, Meg xx

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The Next Adventure

Hello again.

It's been quite a long time since I loaded up this blog hasn't it? To be perfectly honest I thought that it would be something that I would not update again, but seems that life has thrown me quite a few curve balls lately and I am going to use this as a place to write about that. It's mainly for self-preservation but if you'd like to come along for the ride then strap yourself in. 

Let's do this.

In my last blog post I'd just had my baby, Dylan. Well, Dylan has now transformed into the most hilarious, independent and gorgeus two-year-old ever - although I'm aware I'm pretty biased on that front. Where did my chunk of a baby go though? 

Here's the little monster in question:

As a small insight into Dylbert, his favourite words are currently "No", "Mine" and "Beebies" (for when he wants CBeebies on the TV) - so I think we've got this parenting thing sussed, right? Please note the sarcasm - I don't think anyone ever has parenting sussed, if they tell you that they do then they are a big fat liar. It's a bloody rollercoaster - you've just got to buckle yourself in, hold on tight and try not to get yourself covered in vomit. Or snot. Why is there so much snot?!?

With that in mind, Warren and I had a little chat and came to the conclusion that we really hate sleeping at night and seeing our friends whenever we want. So we decided to have another baby. After a few terrifying bumps in the road, we finally got pregnant and were well on our way to having baby number two.

I'll speed through the next bit for you - hospitalised at 24 weeks with possible pre-term labour (luckily false), regular scans as this baby was predicted to be a chunk (unluckily true) and then booked in for an induction at 38 weeks. I wish I'd also had the summary and not lived through that to be honest, pregnancy is so bloody anxiety inducing!

I also won't bore you/freak you out (delete as appropriate) with the labour and birth details. In summary it was another speedy labour and our baby boy, Connor, was born in the early hours of the 6th November. 

Here's the little grump:

I DIDN'T sustain another horrendous, can't-sit-down-ever tear or haemorrhage like I did with Dylan and I honestly thought we were home and dry.

But we weren't home and dry. Unfortunately Connor was the one that took the hit this time - I would honestly have given anything for it to have been me that suffered if I could have spared him just one second of discomfort. That's the thing about having babies, the Mum-guilt starts as soon as they're born and they place them onto your chest for a cuddle. If you haven't had a baby yet then just know that you have been warned on that one.

When he was born, he was purple and didn't cry. Paediatricians were bleeped, he was placed on the resuscitaire (if you haven't seen your baby on a resuscitaire then count yourself as one of the lucky ones) and they did everything that they could to make him cry. He didn't. As a result of that, he didn't inflate his lungs properly and couldn't maintain his oxygen levels. The decision was then made to take him to special care for 'a little while' for oxygen and observation. 

So off they went, with Warren also in tow. The Midwives also left shortly afterwards to complete all the paperwork and put the birth on the system. I have to say that the silence after they all left was deafening and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I don't really want to talk about that time but I will say that being on your own in an empty and silent delivery room when you should have your newborn baby in your arms is one of the worst things I've ever experienced. And, if you've read my previous posts, you'll know I've had my fair share of crappy experiences.

Connor, it turned out, wasn't in special care for 'a little while', he was there for five very long, very stressful days. The day after arriving he was diagnosed with a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and was put onto a machine to provide oxygen and pressure to keep his lung open until he started to recover. I have to stop here just to say that the special care team are TRULY FANTASTIC. They were so friendly and explained everything as we went along, they also provided me with many kind words and tissues (so many tissues) when I had one of my multiple wobbles and messy cried AT them. From day one we knew he was in safe hands and they were just amazing, beautiful human beings. Not to get too political but they honestly aren't paid enough for all the work that they do.

Here's our little monkey getting his money's worth from the NHS:

After five days he was well enough to be discharged from special care to the ward and then a few days later (after being in hospital for a week) we were finally discharged home to begin our next adventure as a family of four. I honestly thought we were home and dry.

But we weren't home and dry.

Love, Meg xx

P.S. Liking my story? Why not follow or subscribe by email below? I promise I won't bombard you with lots of blog posts, I'm strictly a every few weeks kinda gal.