Wow! I haven’t written in so long.
When I started this blog, my aim was to share with the world the journey that me and my tiny toed boy went through in the Neonatal unit. What I never expected was how close it would bring me to those emotions that I experienced 6 years ago.
On 21st August 2012, my little boy had been in the Neonatal Unit for a total of 8 days. Over that first week I’d learnt how bright purple lights in an incubator actually treat jaundice, that a CPAP machine supports to expand those tiny little air sacs in our lungs and that most babies (no matter how small) actually lose weight within their first few days in the big wide world.
During that first week, I was still in the Royal Bolton Hospital, staying each night on the maternity ward. My blood pressure was being controlled by a high dose of Labetalol but also, my ability to stay calm in such a stressful situation. There were times when my own ill health prevented me from visiting my tiny toed boy. I think I found that part the most difficult. Being so close, yet still unable to even see him.
When I was able to see him though, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
This little person was so strong, so determined to fight his way to full health.
No matter what the world threw at him, he just kept going.
Each day I visited, I read the diary that the wonderful Neonatal nurses had written for him. I wrote back. Telling him how proud his Mummy and Daddy were and how much we loved him.
I sat wondering how long we’d be in the unit. How long would he need the machines for? When could I pick him up without having to ask? So many questions that were shared with other parents of tiny toed babies. Very few of which could be given a definitive answer.
How long till you can come home, my Tiny Toed Boy? x