Amy from Nearly Everything but the Kitchen Sink sent me the most amazing post, 2000 words, and it was wonderful. I have asked her to abridge it and publish the full version on her own blog at a later date. Truly amazing story.
I was 23 and had recently graduated. Life was busy. The only
hitch was the consistent bleeding I was experiencing. “Stress,” my GP repeated
airily. But I wasn’t stressed I
thought uneasily.
I awoke with a dull ache I couldn’t put my finger on and
uncomfortable cramping.. “Oh you too?” my colleague said sympathetically.
“There’s been a tummy bug going round the building like that.”. By the
afternoon I was being sick and struggling to maintain any composure at all.
Gratefully, I collapsed in bed with a hot water bottle and paracetomal which
barely touched the sides of my malaise. I heard my housemate come and go again.
Suddenly a strange feeling and new urge washed over me. I ran to the bathroom
and discovered to my horror that something else entirely was going on and
there, as I meet the most miniature foot I could imagine.
The world clicked into slow motion and me as I knew myself
drifted above seemingly to watch over the proceedings in abject horror and
disbelief. Far below me, a young girl still in her work clothes was there all
alone, with a breeze lightly whistling through the open window, delivering a
breech premature baby.
I was a shell going through actions I could not comprehend,
things I knew nothing about automatically like a robot. A tiny cry pierced the
room. Time stood still. The girl grabbed a towel, off the radiator and wrapped
it clumsily around the baby. The noise had stopped and the umbilical cord now
felt slimy and cold. Seconds ticked by.
Hello, you’re through
to emergency services. Which service do you require…?
Brash sirens ripped through the eerie quiet and a loud bang
indicated the paramedics had broken in. I stood there numb; they took the
infant and left as quickly as they arrived. I had no idea if she was alive or
had passed away.
NICU is like a horrific game of snakes and ladders but with
your own children. But for me, the hardest thing was coming to terms with the
fact that literally in an instant I had gained a child. She might have been
born just before 28 weeks, but I had not even had 28 minutes to come to terms
with expecting a baby.
My overpowering emotion throughout the stay was one of
intense shame and guilt. I think all, or most preemie parents or indeed any who
have had a child on SCBU can identify with some level of guilt. My own personal
conflict was that the one womanly job I was biologically designed for I had
screwed up. I couldn’t even register I was carrying a child, far less that the
pregnancy was running into serious problems eventually culminating preterm
labour. The lack of time for bonding, whether with a bump, a splodge on a scan
photograph or being able to moon over nursery essentials in preparation hit me
hard. I was so desperate to love and protect this tiny being in an incubator,
but my brain could just not compute that she was mine. How would I ever be
worthy enough of this beautiful wriggly little girl?
Slowly I became more confident. When I held her, it felt
like part of me was complete. As much as a parent is the epitome of safety for
their children, in the early days Wriggles also became that rock for me. She
brought me back from the brink when no one else could. I remember a friend
remarking once when she came to visit with me, that I looked like I had “come
alive” when with her. To this day, I
consider that one of the best compliments. For so long, I felt I was pretending
at being a mum that for someone else to recognise my love and devotion was like
a weight off my shoulders.
Although I am proud and firm in being the only mama
available for Wriggles, I still balk at the beginning we had. It is something I
will never forget, and I suspect in some ways, will never truly get over. But
as the days go by and my little girl becomes slightly less little, it is harder
to begrudge it against myself. There are days, like today, when she hurls
herself at me and head-butts my shoulders in eagerness for a cuddle and I think
that maybe, it doesn’t matter. By hook or by crook, our children are born and
it is what happens next that matters. And I fully intend to make our next as
brilliant as I can.
After reading inspiring preemie-parenting blogs
shortly after my daughter was born on the cusp of 28 weeks, desperately trying
to grasp some sense that I was
normal, just struggling, I finally gave blogging of my own a go just before my
little girl turned 1. My tiny little corner of the internet has become a haven
for when I get scrambled up or want to revel in Wriggles’ (so called because
she has never been able to sit still) achievements. Since coming out of NICU,
our journey has had its ups and downs, some more notable than others, and we
still have some battles to fight that will not be resolved anytime soon. I am
the proud single mama of possibly the funniest, cleverest, prettiest (apart
from yours….and yours) little girl who is about to turn two and won’t let
anything stand in her path
Wow Amy,I had no idea you had such a surprise.nicu hard enough when you know you are pregnant. you had a lot to take in so quickly.
ReplyDeleteyou and wriggles are doing so well,she is a lucky girl to have you.
Sam
Lovely post. What an incredible start to motherhood!
ReplyDeleteWow what a story and a beautiful one at that x
ReplyDeleteMy goodness, what an incredible story, thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteA brilliant post as ever, I dont know exactly what you did those moments in between finding the foot and calling the ambulance but you obviously did a fabulous job, and have continued to do so ever since... Way 2 go Amy mouse :D
ReplyDeleteOh my word!!!!!!!!!! I had NO idea that your NICU journey started in this manner. So shocking, that must have been so scary.
ReplyDeleteWow, just amazed by that. Very glad you started blogging.
Wow! What an amazing story x
ReplyDeleteWOW! What a powerful story and so well told. Well done you! And what a precious little wriggles x
ReplyDelete