day 3: bay 14

One thing they never tell you about hospitals is that they exist outside of time. One minute in the real world is about a day in hospital land; so consequently BB and I have been living in Bay 14 for years and years. The nurses must take some kind of drug to protect themselves from the time tear that occurs in here as they all look younger, slimmer and much fresher than I do. More

Epilepsy: BB’s Secret World….

Her eyes became fixed, her face relaxed and somewhere inside her small, perfectly formed little head her mind wandered off casually for a moment or two. Taking BB to her secret place that only her and her epilepsy know about. A smile broke out upon my face, for the first time knowing my daughter was having an epileptic absence made me happy.

A More

I thought they were over, I was wrong

BB had another seizure;

Its astonishing really how quickly you can adjust to living with a condition. My heart raced but not as fast as the first time, my eyes leaked but not as long and not as hysterical as before. More

Miscarriage: A Crack in My Heart….

The day I missed a miscarriage… 

It was 2009, it was a Friday, the weather was unremarkable, neither hot nor cold with no wind to blow the petals off the roses in the garden.

I was almost thirteen weeks pregnant with my third baby, I had turned a corner and left the exhaustion, the nausea and the love affair with my toilet bowl behind in the first trimester. More

bb goes back to hospital

Logically I shouldn’t be worried about tomorrow; my rational mind tells me BB is not in any danger and is in the best possible place. I also know quite clearly that I am incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful healthy daughter who has to live with a small condition.

But I do feel a bit wobbly, I would be telling a bit of an untruth if I were to say I wasn’t feeling more than a bit scared about BB’s MRI scan. Its funny the scan doesn’t worry me; I am hopeful the results will be clear or at worse case confirm the diagnosis of eplipsy. But the thought of someone putting my beautiful tiny little girl to sleep is close to unbearable.

Rationally I know it is routine but I don’t want her to have to need a routine procedure. Rationally I know she will be fine but yet my knees quiver when my minds eye sees the needle entering her nine month old hand. Rationally I know she will wake up, cry a little and then settle on the breast, but my mind runs away with me sometimes down the what if road…

Rational thought seems to be jumping on a speeding horse and galloping away from me right now.

To my lovely bb, you’ll be fine, I will be a wreck, and we will all come home tomorrow happy…

Rational thought will then be resumed.

one for the baby record book: first time in an ambulance…

Chaos, with a bit of excitement thrown in, mixed up with a spoonful of hyperactivity and you get twin boy’s mood at school pick up today. Hard enough to handle on a normal day but when you are en route to hospital its a bloody nightmare.

BB had her longest fit to date today which was rather scary (sense my radical understatement here). I am clearly super mum as I dealt with it remarkably well, although I had tremendous support from my girlfriend who had popped over for tea.

I dealt with the seizure so well I decided an ambulance was a bit overkill for this occasion and thought I would nip to school, pick up the twins and then drive to casualty to get baby beautiful checked out.

However bb had other plans; slightly put out by my refusal to get her favourite flashing blue lights mode of transport she literally threw a second fit in the car ensuring 999 was dialled. Subsequently twin boy and girl were yanked off the football pitch at school with mummy doing a rather marvellous impression of a fish wife screeching…

” Get your coat, shoes, book bag, lunch box, now!”

Delightful twin girl conformed beautifully, calmly excited that she was going in an ambulance leaving twin boy to show his enthusiasm in a different way.

Whilst I jiggled a post seizure shouting baby on one hip, twin boy leapt from bench to table to chair nee nawing like a mad man. As I clambered behind him chanting “stop no don’t” it only served to add fuel to his tank as he put his foot on the accelerator and drove faster around the class room.

As we waited for the ambulance he proceeded to ‘mimic’ his sister fitting; highly inappropriate but on a childish level really quite funny (this is written in retrospect – at the time I could have drop kicked him to South Korea)

When the paramedics arrived he managed to empty their bags in seconds and then assumed the role of Doctor Blackmore examining anyone within reach. And let me remind you that his baby sister was yelling this whole time making the whole event a whirlpool of stress.

After 5 minutes of this one paramedic looked at me and asked ‘is there anyone who can take him?’.

Notice his use of words; he said ‘him’ not ‘the twins’ not ‘them’ just ‘him’.

Terrified he was about to miss his first ride in an ambulance twin boy suddenly sedated himself into a virtually normal lad whilst I made provisions for the pair to be dropped off by the ambulance at a friends house.

Once in the ambulance the Tasmanian devil that is my son set off once more. Fingering every button, yelling ‘999 emergency’ at any passer by and chanting nee naw in a sulk as they refused to flash the lights.

Apparently the little bugger was perfectly behaved for my friend! As was twin girl of course.

Just another day…..

(Bb is doing well by the way we are staying in overnight for observation and free breakfast)

Did I mention I am running a marathon this year, at some point between hospital trips, school runs and doing the washing I hope to be able to train for it. I am raising money for a great charity; check out who and why here:

electronically tagged!

Beautiful baby and I are on day release, we can leave the hospital during the day and can wander around berkshire freely but as the sky turns dusky and bb’s eyelids start to droop we have to head back to the ward before we turn into pumpkins.

I imagine this is what life must be like if you are electronically tagged, but without the naughty pleasure of committing a crime.

I have to honest it was something of a relief to head back to cell block H. After watching twin boy and girl systematically shred eighty presents and hearing them whoop and shriek with excitement that only brightly coloured plastic goods can bring I am officially nik nak paddy whacked. The z bed in a sauna was looking pretty appealing as I closed the front door stepping away from the choas of home into the quiet of the evening.

But it seems that I have really upset the big man this week. As I returned to my brightly painted cell greeted the nurses, I suddenly heard my new bunk mate; and he wasn’t calling out “hello, nice to meet you.” Seriously baby beautifuls new neighbour has a volume switch to rival twin boys. He is like a fog horn on loudspeaker. I appreciate the little fella is poorly and I understand the frustration of being cooped up on the ward but jaysus I am on night three of being here this week and I haven’t stood on the bed yelling like a demented dragon simultaneously beating the patient line television with the ridiculous ‘too expensive to call’ phone. (Although I confess I was tempted to when trying to enter payment details into the aforementioned television so I could have some viewing pleasure.)

Suddenly home looks as peaceful as a closed library as I dodge flying yogurt pots and close my ears to a finely tuned whinge. Bb and I fear that he is looking to start a riot so we have withdrawn into our curtained square. If we look to be involved we may lose our right to free tea.

Ah buggerdy I just heard Damian’s mum say he has slept all day; we all know what that means….

Come back twin boy, your loudness is forgiven.

Think of me.

Sleep well!

The ‘h’ plan – guaranteed to shed the lbs

I have discovered a new diet. Its called the ‘H plan’, it really works although some consider it extreme.

Basically you need to have a child in hospital, the nauseating worry means you don’t feel like eating half the time and when you do feel a bit peckish the NHS cooking can manage to curb your appetite.

Although in saying this, baby beautiful can’t seem to get enough of the meals here, forget the organic goodness I give her at home; my youngest is clearly a smash and tinned custard type of girl. And to be honest while we snuggle up on the ward my girl can have whatever she likes.

The twins birthday bash went well. Although you don’t know loud until you have heard forty five year olds scream in excited unison. My ears are still ringing as I type.

We managed to successfully return all children to their owners, only one was bleeding and all left high on additives clutching more cake and poorly assembled party bags containing a mix of glo sticks and e-numbers.

I filmed the whole event so one day when he who helped create them has offended me some how I will tape him to a chair and make him watch it. If he really upsets me I will tape his eyelids open for the Hokey Cokey. There a couple of scary bits where we almost lost a small child under a blanket of left feet.

Twin boy and girl worked out that with forty guests they each had forty presents to unwrap and both coped well when I suggested they wait until tomorrow when bb and I come home from hospital. Clearly displaying their new found maturity at the tender age of five!

All my babies big and small are snug in bed, two dreaming of discos and magic tricks and one of fields of milk.

Let’s hope they are all under one roof tomorrow.

deja vu: back on the childrens ward

In four hours time forty sets of parents are bringing their five year old off springs to my care. Twin boy and twin girl are celebrating in style and are having a funky cool (their words) disco for their fifth birthday.

Before the party starts I quickly have to build an extension to accommodate the excess of toys we already unwrapped yesterday and I need to butter a few thousand sandwiches and I need to regain my sanity and emotions as for the second time this week I find myself blogging from the children’s ward.

Beautiful baby is determined to give me a heart attack before she turns one as she had two more seizures this morning.

My beautiful lovely girl is being poked and bled and I can’t help her. I am utterly useless by her side and spooked to bits about what these seizures mean.
Fear of unknown is horrid, my brain is stir fried mixed with what if she is.. and cheese sandwiches plus jam should be fine. I hope I can un scramble myself enough to not lose anyone’s child whilst he who helped create them keeps my ward chair warm.

Wish me luck and keep all crossed for Libby-Sue.

this one goes out to the one i love

May I say over the last twenty four hours he who helped create them has been outstanding. He kept his calm when I lost my senses and has been a rock to lean on.

However as I prepare to greet the world this morning from the hospital bed I peer nervously into the over night bag to see what he has brought me.

I reach in for a towel so I can shower away yesterdays stresses. Hmmmm bless him in his panic he must have forgotten. Deodorant will have to suffice; hmmm that must also have slipped his mind. Unless of course I have married Neanderthal man who likes my musky natural scent. Well I can make do with baby wipes then!

Fresh underwear – check. – the boy done good here he even remembered socks.

Clean top – found it. No trousers to replace the ones bb was sick on yesterday but they are really comfy so I don’t mind.

I then catch a glimpse of my make up bag sitting in the far corner of the bag. Clearly he who helped create them wants me to put my face on.

And that would be my clown face as my dearest has packed an empty eye shadow case and no less than four blushes – a different one for each cheek! (Get it?)

So bb is doing fabulously, and I look like hell but feel great!

Morning world.

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