What I love about being a mummy

I don't know what I expected to enjoy the most about being a mummy. I thought it might be togetherness, the intimacy of breastfeeding, reading, playing, finding new toys to love, and going places together.

What has suprised me is that what I enjoy most is observing Joseph. Looking at how he views the world. I am endlessly fascinated by what he finds fascinating. Sounds, television programmes, different foods, the sights outside our window.

Joseph's favourite spot in the whole world is his highchair by the living room window. Our street is not exciting, Accrington brick houses, the odd person walking past, kids playing after school. This morning some noisy Canadian geese flew overhead, squawking, and Joseph gazed at them, cooing after them. It was just so lovely, something so mundane, that you could so easily overlook, if you didn't have a brand new human sponge eager for new experiences.

When he was a little baby, his surroundings were unchanging. Lights were always the same, sounds were the same, even the people didn't change. When Joseph came home, overstimulation was constantly a problem. I kept him quiet, kept toys to a minimum, even his clothes were kept subtle and comfortable and non stimulating.

The past few months have been like watching him come out of his shell. He observes, he plays, he sings, he tries to communicated, he eats chunky lumpy food and is trying to feed himself. I am not sure how I will feel as his independence grows, and he needs me less, but I hope I will always learn from him.

There's One Born Every Minute

Tonight myself, and a lot of people like me have been watching this. Every week this program follows two women in labour, giving birth to their babies. Tonight, was different.

The babies had already been born, but should have still be in the safety and comfort of the womb. Instead, these babies were in a neo natal unit. One of the neonatal nurses said it best "its a whole other world behind these doors".

In the unit they showed parents on either side of an incubator changing a nappy. It brought back such happy memories, that ten minutes of normality, of changing your baby, touching your baby, doing something positive.

It's so hard, if you've had a "normal" birth experience (and I don't believe any birth is "normal" its a unique life experience and an individual one for all parents, but I think my reader, you know what I mean) to relate to life behind those doors. To the rigidity of ward life, to the restrictions on cuddles, on bringing things in to the unit (we weren't even allowed to leave a little teddy in the incubator)

But what I found personally difficult for me, is that I no longer recognise Joseph as that baby. I can't relate to that little person (one of the mums on the unit in the program said her baby looked like an alien - which is how I felt too), to the frail, tiny being who some days fought for his life.

Which, I suppose, is progress, that I am living in the now, with a strong, happy, bouncy boy.

Joseph is a success story, he is the reason neonatal units exist, and, to be political for just a wee moment, should be adequately funded, so that more mums like me, can have their success stories at home, tucked in their cots, sucking their blankets, where they belong.

And a special mention to my mum friends here for holding my hand tonight!

20 years ago.....

Joseph and I have something in common. Well lots of things in common, a love of singing, a wacky sense of humour and a tendency to hoard toys, but also we have one of those faces. You know the ones, open, welcoming, smiley, so people think they can say anything to you.

We were on the bus yesterday on the way to baby group and we were chatting to a nice little old lady we have seen a few times. She (like many others) is a paid up member to Joseph's fan club! She was talking to one of the crusty old men (now for those not familiar with Lancashire, these crusty old men abound, and are lovely, but do not hold back).

She was telling him about Joseph being born at 27 weeks and 1lb 7oz, and he looked at him and me and said "twenty years ago he would have died". Helpful? Hmmmmmmm

To be fair, twenty years ago we both would have been dead. I probably wouldn't have been diagnosed so early, and my liver and kidneys would probably have carked it, and we would have died in short order.

But that has to be one of the top ten things not to say to a parent of a premature baby.

For those who have had premature babies, or any baby, what are your top most unhelpful comments?

Quiet Days

I should have been clearing, sorting and organising today, but my shoulder hurt, and we were both tired all day! So today has been a thinking day for me and a growing day for Joseph.

I found this delightful recipe today. I didn't make pizza, but I did make the bread, it was amazing, so much easier than making naan bread! So easy it should be illegal! Joseph sat on his bumbo whilst I made it. He had his with marscapone cheese, fresh figs and banana. I cooked ours later with slow roasted lamb shoulder. It tasted like souvlaki from the Parthenon in Hobart. Well, almost!

As well as cooking I have spent the day pondering. After over 7 months of room sharing Joseph will soon have his own room. For years I have dreamed of having a beautifully decorated children's bedroom. I have decided to do a pirate theme in Joseph's room. I hope he likes pirates! He used to do the most delightful pirate face when he was very little before he had any fat on his face!

I was considering a mural but now after visiting this blog, am thinking of pirate dioramas instead, with paint and paper. I am sure it won't look anything like Charlotte's!!! Aren't they just darling?

So tomorrow it will be back to packing, tidying and organising, and little time for daydreaming, or trying new recipes!

Moving On

When we found out I was expecting, my husband panicked! We lived in a one bedroom flat, compact and bijoux! My husband suggested we look at houses, and move, quick! We looked around, we put ours on the market, and crossed our fingers. Nothing, not a nibble. The flat was still on the market when Joseph was born. I promptly rang the agent and took it off.

So Joseph came home with us to our flat. And it's been wonderful. I haven't needed to have baby monitors, Joseph is always within hearing distance. Our neighbours have been amazing, Neil and Martin redecorated our flat, Rita had the generosity to give me her housekey and access to her freezer to store my breastmilk, and everyone in our street pitched in to raise money for Bliss.

I am not unaccustomed to moving, I have done it 16 times. My husband only 4 times, and he has lived here for 15 years. But we leave this place both with heavy hearts, and happiness. I am not sure how we would have got through the last 12 months without our neighbours. I am not sure how I would have managed with my neuroses and a larger house!

But it has come time to move, and the gods have been looking down on us. We didn't even put this house on the market properly when we got an acceptable offer. The house we really wanted was no longer on the market, but the exact same house, but a mirror image, was on sale in the same street at £10 000 less than the other house.

And it really is finally time for Joseph to have his own bedroom. The first few times the singing at 5 in the morning is cute, but now the novelty is really wearing off!!!

The Joy of Recycling

I am not a very good greenie. I do my best, but my best is not good enough. I do put my rubbish in the right bins, but sometimes I forget to take Dolly Parton's brassieres to the supermarket. (My sister gave me these fantastic string bags, the first time I used them I put melons in them, and they looked very sexy, in a slightly disturbing way!!!)

But I strongly believe in clothes recycling. Having a premature baby means you go through a lot of clothes. Joseph was just three and half pounds when we started buying clothes for him. Our unit said they provided clothes, but what they had was girl stuff! I would have put him in pink, personally, who was gonna see him? However, it makes you feel like you own your baby if you can go out and buy lots of lovely clothes.

So now Joseph is in 6-9 months clothes. I would hate to think how many pieces of clothing I have recycled. I like to give them to friends, when I can, otherwise I send them to the charity shop. I buy as much as I can for Joseph at charity shops. It's really funny, people look at me strangely, there is a real cringe about second hand stuff in England, I find. And its not about saving money particularly (although that is a great benefit), it's about putting money into the community, funding local projects, its about clothes ending up on babies backs and not in landfill and its about recycling!

I'm looking forward to moving to my new house where I can more readily use my sewing machine, and I can really start recycling, turning my husbands old shirts into waistcoats and trousers for Joseph, and extending my own wardrobe too!

I'm The Mummy

I've been reflecting today on my own journey to motherhood, and got to thinking about Joseph's first week. Joseph was born on a Friday. I spent the whole weekend trying to get my head around the fact that my pregnancy was over, and that I had a child. It's really hard, and I think all my special care mums will feel agree, to believe you have a child. Your in a hospital room, your baby is not with you (in my case on another floor and down the hall) and your caught in this half life.

It wasn't until the Thursday my maternal instincts kicked in. Joseph became critically ill on the Tuesday. His stomach had early stages of NEC (necrolitising enterocolitis). He was being fed through the umbilicus, and they could no longer do this, due to the infection. But they couldn't begin to solve the problem until Joseph was stable.

I was asked to give permission for a long-line to be inserted. This goes through the babies arm (in Joseph's case, sometimes its through the head) and straight into the stomach, as I understand it.

On the Wednesday night one of the nurses came to see me and told me that they had tried twice, and it had failed. That if they couldn't do it, Joseph would die, and they would have one more attempt.

I didn't panic. I'm not sure if the amount of medication I was on protected me from what was happening, or I just had so much faith in Joseph that he would be fine, I just don't know.

I opened the doors of the incubator, held Joseph's foot, and explained to him exactly what they would do and why. I asked him to show the doctor the right vein, to stay relaxed, and let him finish the procedure. I told him I loved him, and that I believed in him. At that moment, I felt like his mummy. I hadn't held him yet, but I knew him and loved him.

His consultant came in on Thursday morning to ask for my permission. I glared at him and said "right I am the mummy, and this time you do it my way!". He glanced at his registrar (like Noah's ark doctors come in pairs!) and said "ok mummy what is your way? At this point I will try anything". "Talk to him. Tell him what you are doing, reassure him, treat him like a baby" He smiled and said "I never do that, but for you, I will try".

So I left whilst they turned special care into their mini operating theatre. I spent the day in my room, listening to my iPod, expressing, and sending all my thoughts and love to Joseph (and the clinical team).

I came down at 3 pm, it was still an operating theatre, so I turned to go, but the consultant gravely came out. My heart sanked. He put his arm around me, he smiled, "I did it your way. I have learnt something today. Mummy's are the best doctors. It's worked."

The following day the consultant came to debrief me. After he had finished he said "what do you do, in here, every day". I smiled and said "I sing, I bring in photos, I tell him about our lives, about his home, about our family, I massage his feet, I do containment holding, and I sing."

He said to me "you must keep doing all these things, especially the massage, he is the best 27 weeker we have ever seen, and its because of you."

On the Monday, he had gone, to be replaced by another locum.

But the senior neo natal midwife on duty brought over something, it was a prescription form. And on it was "Mummy massage repeat as required daily until discharge".