Sunday, 24 November 2013

People can always pinpoint the exact moment they found out News. Good news, bad news - it is often highlighted by our surroundings and events to make the moment memorable. The way our bodies absorb everything happening around us, when in the actual moment, we often feel as though we are wading through thick mud...things are blurry at the edges and you don't often take note of any of the finer details, until much much later when you can tell your story.

Tonight, Dad and I were telling our stories about when Olive was born. He was looking after my two big kids, and they were all excitedly waiting for The Phonecall. Except, when he got The Phonecall, it wasn't quite the one he expected and he then had to break the news to my brave big babies that there was something 'wrong' with their sister. (I use the term wrong in this context because at the time, we had no clue as to what it was with Olive and Mum, being the messenger telling Dad, truly thought we might still lose Olive. For the record, I hate the reference 'something wrong' to be used with my little girl. She was born perfect and just the way she was supposed to be.)

It feels like so long ago that our Moment happened. Olive is such a crazy full on toddler now, it is easy to push aside the fears we had in the beginning and the stress of the uknown taking it's toll on us and our families. With her 6 monthly dermatologist appointment approaching, it gives me a chance to reflect on her last few visits from birth - how determined I was to get her that first appointment, and how relaxed I feel about them now.

I will never forget after Olives birth and knowing there was something wrong when she didn't cry. I will never forget the overwhelming sense of empty arms I had in recovery, when the two previous times I'd been in there, I'd had a brand new baby to cuddle, and this time, my child was off without me and needed help to breathe.  I will never forget being wheeled into SCBU and seeing all these tiny baby's and then my big fat 8lb14oz baby lying on her own, not being held and I didn't care one ounce about her marks, I just wanted to know why she was not being cradled as both my other babies were, constantly, from their birth. *I have come back to edit this part as I didn't convey what I meant correctly about her being on her own. As I was wheeled into recovery after the birth, Olive was rushed off to SCBU. Both Eddie and my Mum went with her, and were with her the entire time. Eddie held Olive's hand as she lay in the weird box in SCBU (apologies, I don't know what it is called!). Olive was never alone, but in my head at the time (which you must understand was in shock from not only the drama of her birth, but also the routine shock of caesarean and the drugs that go with it etc.), *I* was supposed to hold her. She was supposed to be on my chest, she was supposed to be having her first breast feed, she was supposed to be recognising that I was her in MY head, she was alone, though in reality her amazing and doting Father never left her sweet little side.

I will never forget the big point of NOT ringing my friends, because I just didn't know what to say. With Meisha and Jaxon, I rang my good friends from recovery and in the ward....with Olive, I only rang one friend and it wasn't until well after her birth. I just didn't know how to tell anyone, because I had no answers.

And I will never forget, ever, how that one friend responded and how all of my friends, both old and new, have been so amazingly accepting and supportive, and outright wonderful in this beautiful journey with my darling baby. I never could have imagined my life being the way it is, being taught such wonderful and valuable lessons from such small people. My children are my life and I thank each and every one of you for sharing this with us, and for being such a wonderful and supportive part of our lives.

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