The fifth year

I'm told my readers are missing my blogs. I barely have time to eat let alone blog for now! But right now I am sitting holding my rainbow close, remembering his big brother and trying not to re-live, yet again, the memories of five years ago today. It seems like the time to try a one-handed typed blog.

Five years. Such a long time and yet no time at all.  It is different this year, we have his little brother so of course I don't have the "luxury" of focusing solely on Bertie. And that makes me feel guilty! I can't win. We managed to travel down to see him for his birthday, I delivered his gift and flowers myself, and I am so glad we managed that. But, with so much to remember to pack for Oliver, I forgot to pack Bertie's candle this year. A silly thing, but a tradition and he doesn't get many. Lucky his nanny had some we could light instead. He danced in them just the same.  I forgot to look for him in the clouds. But I did notice when the sun shone at his forever bed, as it always does.

It's normal, isn't it? Second child comes along and the first gets less attention. Oliver has been called Robert/Bertie as many times as Oliver. Normal. But hard when the first isn't here to claim his bit of attention. I feel guilty when I forget to give it in the way I have always done. 

Taking Oliver with us to Bertie was bittersweet. So many years we have waited, prayed, hoped and cried.  He is here, our rainbow, and at a month old we took him to his brother's grave. I cried, of course.  For Bertie, for Oliver not having his big brother, for the space next to Bertie and my relief that we aren't using it. Because, yes, last time we went I really did look at that space and wonder if next time we came would we be putting his sibling to rest there? Relief. And pain. And a grief that isn't all fixed now, and never will be. 

When Oliver is drifting off to sleep, his jaw goes slack, his eyes close and he looks so much like his brother at the end that I can hardly bear to look at him.  He's doing it right now. I hope that as he grows, it will comfort me to get a glimpse of how Bertie may have looked.   But he is so much more than a rainbow baby and little brother. He is a new little life, his own person.  Not a replacement, a sibling. I am just so sorry for him missing out on his big brother.  For all of us missing out on Bertie and all he would have brought to our lives. 

Milestones and memories

Bertie would've started school this week.  Tomorrow to be exact.  It's the biggest milestone we've hit for a while.  I naively thought that having Oliver would distract me enough that somehow I wouldn't notice it.  How ridiculous!  How many times have I told people that a new baby doesn't make it ok that you lost one?  Maybe I was more hopeful than naive.   Anyway it has hit me hard and made me miss my biggest yet littlest boy all the more as I wonder which school would we have picked? What would his uniform be like? Grey trousers, white polo shirt, red/blue/green jumper?  Where would we take the obligatory "first day" photo? (today and tomorrow are days to avoid social media I think...) I wonder if I would be spending tonight calming nerves or calming excitement?  Would he come back full of beans telling me all about the other kids and how he has told them all about his baby brother already? Would he like his teacher? What would he be best at? Where would he need a little help? Perhaps he would be a bit shy? I don't think so, I imagine him to be quite boisterous and cheeky.

Thoughts that will never resolve, questions I'll never know the answer to.  I miss him so much.

Unfortunately it has coincided with my husband having to go back to work today after his paternity leave.  So I'm here on my own with Oliver and terrified something will go wrong on my watch. Again, memories intrude from the last time he had to return to work after our baby's birth. Then I was scared to be left alone without our baby, this time I am scared to be alone with the baby.  I need to start trusting myself that I can do this.  I am slowly learning to trust my body again after it brought Oliver to life and home, now I need to learn to trust my instincts and abilities as a mum to a living child. Five years on, I am still discovering the ripples caused throughout our lives by Bertie's death.

The adventure begins

Our second son and Bertie's little brother made his grand entrance to the world just under a week ago.   It has been a whirlwind week to say the least! Oliver Solomon gave us all the biggest suprise by being born on the landing at home. There was no time to get to hospital so he was delivered by the paramedics and his daddy cut the cord. It was amazing! I find it very ironic that for Bertie's birth I really wanted a home birth but wound up with an emergency c section under anaesthesia; whereas this time I had resigned myself to the high risk, highly medicalised birth which would likely result in another c section, and got the home birth I though I would never now have! We made it to 37+5 in the end, and he weighed 6lb 5oz.

So we are now parents to a rainbow baby. As I said, it's been a whirlwind. It is wonderful, it really is. Oliver is bringing us so much joy and he is a treasure. But there have also been a lot of tears over Bertie.   I realised there would be of course, but I wasn't fully prepared for how often they would come, and how unexpectedly. Little moments, such as laying next to the hospital cot with Oliver holding my finger.  Instantly transported back to another hospital, an incubator, a smaller baby who could only grab my pinkie not my first finger.  It is realising the full extent of all we lost when Bertie died with every new thing Oliver does or we do with him.

They say you find more space on your heart to love each new child as much as the last, and it is true. But couples parenting after loss have to love each of their children in different ways.  One is here, one is not. But both equally special and equally important.  It breaks my heart that Oliver will grow up without his big brother looking out for him.  On our second night in hospital, both he and I were wide awake, so I picked him up for some skin to skin. As he began to settle, my tears began to fall for the baby I never got to hold so close, never got to feel nestle against me, who I also whispered softly to, mummy's here, just go to sleep....  With tears streaming I held Oliver tightly, and began to tell him: "there's someone I want you to know about...."

The end is in sight!

Well, we are past 36 weeks and into the last few weeks of this pregnancy! Of course, the baby could still arrive at any time, but we now know that we have less than three weeks to go, maximum after seeing our consultant today and agreeing the last date I will be going to before they intervene.  Less than three weeks!! Incredible.

So this afternoon I have pulled my socks up and finished the mobile I have been making to pass my bed rest time at home.  Now I am officially off bed rest, I thought I had better do it, or it will never get done! So, that's the nursery pretty much finished, apart from waiting for daddy T to put a hook in the ceiling so that we can hang the Noah's ark mobile properly!

As you can see, we have gone with a rainbow theme (predictable, yes, but it pandas to the optometrist in me who knows that young babies see bright colours better than pastels!) We have kept a couple of bits from Bertie's Pooh bear theme aswell, so it is a balance between a new room for a new baby, whilst still remembering and including their big brother.

So how do I feel? Good question! OK! I think. I am not worried about the baby at all. Not really. Well, no more than any regular mum anyway. I am still getting frequent movement, and Grub seems to love waking my up at ungodly hours of the morning with kicks.  Watching the Olympics makes me wonder if this one will be a gymnast! Today's growth scan estimates a weight of 6lb. 6lb! I have re-packed the hospital bag to include newborn sized nappies and clothes, instead of premature ones, and we have a big bag of premature supplies to donate to the NICU.  In just 5 days we will officially be at term, well early term anyway.  So yeah, I am not too worried about the baby now. I am nervous about the birth, but who isn't?  Feeling OK, excited overall.

What is on my mind is Bertie.  I am struggling with the thought that with such a young baby, we may not be able to travel down to his foreverbed for his birthday this year, for the first time. I don't want to feel like he has been pushed out of mind because of his new sibling. I feel even more urgently that I need to remind everyone that he would be turning five next month, and starting school. I still miss him, this baby doesn't make it all OK that none of that is happening as it should be.  On the other hand, I don't want Grub's birth to be overshadowed by Bertie's death. That is why my preference would be for Grub to arrive in August, rather than going up to our due date on 7th Sept. Fortunately our consultant understood that and has agreed.  I think future birthdays and parties would be hard, knowing that Bertie should be having his a week or two later but he won't be. A different month makes it easier somehow. It's a tricky balance, finding space for both babies in the world. Of course, the world would prefer to concentrate on the living, so it is up to me to make sure Bertie is still a part of everything.  So, with the left over felt from Grub's mobile, I am working on Bertie's gift next. I always make him something for his birthday so it feels fitting this year to share that with his sibling.  It isn't finished yet, so will share it with you when it is done. That is next on my pre-baby to-do list!

Ready and Waiting

A couple of nights ago I sat on my bed and looked at the moses basket, sitting there expectantly waiting for the baby that is coming very soon, and it hit me- this baby really is coming home, very soon! It brought a tear to my eye.  It was, perhaps, the first moment that I fully allowed myself to believe that it is true.  That this little rainbow is actually going to make it.  That we aren't about to start again on the journey of grief. A mix of joy...and sadness.  Of pleasure and pain. A new life but one still lost. It is just a moses basket. But it is so much more. It's a hand-me-down that has never been used. It is full of expectation both unfulfilled and renewed. 

So here we are at 34+4! Can you believe that I will reach early term (37 weeks) in just two weeks and three days? I can't.  It is a miracle I credit and thank God for.  I know that not all of my readers share my beliefs, but honestly, can you explain it any other way? OK, I have been on bed rest, but, let's not forget I had less than 1cm of cervix at 26 weeks, and had been losing 1cm every 2-3 weeks! None of my caregivers thought I would get this far, nor did I.  We have all run out of adjectives to describe how amazing it is, and all I have left is "Miraculous".  Nothing is impossible with God.  Science gets you so far, then there's God.

Do you remember the scripture I came across in my first week in hospital? When I felt like I was in prison?

Well, it has proved true, hasn't it?  I didn't give up, and my work HAS been rewarded, almost. I feel very "lucky" compared to many friends who lost their babies at full term. At least for me I can enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy knowing I am past my danger zone, rather than getting increasingly scared up to my due date. Of course I take nothing for granted. I know too much for that and am fully aware than nothing is guaranteed, even now. But, I do believe it's going to be OK. And since I will not be allowed to go overdue, the longest we will have to wait to hold our precious bundle is just 5 1/2 weeks, probably less. 

Now we are here, I really think we are going to make term.  I have finally stopped stockpiling size zero nappies and knitting tiny outfits, next week I will re-pack the hospital bag to be prepared for a term sized baby.  At our growth scan on Friday, Grub was estimated at 4lb 14oz! So almost too big for the "tiny baby" babygrows I bought already! I've knitted a newborn sized hat and today will start the matching cardigan.  (It is a girl design, I couldn't resist how cute it was! Plus I still think Grub is a girl.  Maybe next week I'll do a boy one just in case) And they are for MY baby, not a gift! Wow.

The pram is here, the nursery is done.  Rainbow themed, naturally. It is bright and happy and beautiful.  Again it is bittersweet to finish it, when Bertie's never got finished.  We have kept a couple of things from his Pooh bear theme, plus his Oglet toy to share with his baby sibling.  It felt good, and sad, to finally take them out of the drawers.  I am glad we moved house.  I think to re-do the same room would have been too difficult.

So now, we wait. We are as prepared as we can be.  We've watched hilarious birth class DVDs (having missed our antenatal classes with me being admitted), read my pregnancy book, bought everything we can think of that we may need in the first week, and restrained ourselves from buying the rest.

And breathe, and wait.

The chronicles of Bed Rest: Reflections (day 52)

As my time in hospital draws to an end, I've been thinking about what I have learned about myself, and about life over the past six weeks. 

It's a total cliche but I have learned what is most important to me. That being this baby being safe, and time spent with my husband.  When you see each other every day it becomes easy to take that time for granted. The tv goes on, attention turns to social media, whatever it may be. When you have a couple of hours every couple of days? You look forward to that time. You spend it chatting, even though you don't have much to say because you've been in the same room all day. You want to hear about what he's been up to.  You treasure the moments where he's getting kicked in the face by your bump. That family time becomes so precious, especially when you don't know how much more of it you'll get. Each time he left for home without me, my heart broke a little bit. It was like being 18 again and going back to uni after a weekend together- there have been tears! I have appreciated more than ever all the little ways he loves me, and Grub.  I can see what an amazing father he is going to be. 

I have developed a new appreciation for the loneliness of people who live alone, and/or can't get out much.  I understand now why elderly relatives want to know what day you are coming, what time, how long for? It is because they are living for that visit.   I have realised just how many great friends I have, near and far, who have visited several times and continued to support and pray for us daily. I really appreciate all of them. 

I've lived with a limited wardrobe, every other day showers and rarely worn any makeup.  I have spent nothing on myself for six weeks, other than a birthing ball, maternity nightie for labour and a birth education DVD (can you tell my mind has turned to having to actually deliver this baby!). I have asked Mr T to bring my bank card in twice- once so I could give a charity donation, and once so I could take advantage of a sale to buy the few things we still need for the baby. It's been great! Not least because I have saved so much money this month! I wonder if that'll continue once I'm home....

Of course I have still had creature comforts. People have generously brought me girly bits like hand creams as well as books, fruit, sweet treats and tea! I haven't been on digital detox - in fact I have relied more than ever on social media to keep connected. I have spoken on the phone and texted people more than ever, simply because I have the time.  It probably took me the best part of the first week to switch off the internal monologue of "stuff I need to organise" to stop writing lists for Mr T to do, to stop worrying about work and how they were coping without me. In short to realise I am not indispensable and there's nothing I could do about it if I were! 

As much as I miss my home, I don't miss the "stuff". Life has been for the most part, happily simple in here. Of course having your meals brought to you, sheets changed for you and cleaning done for you all helps! But what I mean is, I haven't missed all my possessions. I have my iPad, and I won't lie I would have struggled without it, but all I have used it for is Internet, to keep up with friends and news, and reading a book. I've streamed a couple of shows to pass the time. I don't miss the tv. There's no show I regret not seeing.  

What I do miss about home, despite feeling lonely at times in here, is a sense of privacy and space. Alone time. I know that sounds really silly but what I mean is, in here, people start coming in to my room on their own schedules throughout the day, starting at 8am. Whether I am up or not.  It grates a little bit. But I know it is not a hotel and they have jobs to do. So I make sure I am up as often as I can. Being able to lay in bed beyond 8am without fear of intrusion by anyone but The Cat will be a real luxury for the last few (hopefully) weeks before Grub arrives!  I am an introvert- space and privacy are important to me. I am also missing The Cat and the quiet (and not so quiet) companionship she offers. Resting my hand on a fuzzy head and hearing a contented purr is a treat I took for granted until now. 

I have learned, if I didn't already know, that I would and will do anything for this child. God has proven to me once again that He can and will provide beyond what I could ask and expect.  I never allowed myself to really believe I would be discharged still pregnant. I have no doubt that I wouldn't be if it weren't for the enormous amount of prayer and grace being extended to us. 

It's been interesting, and enlightening. I wouldn't want to do it again, but I hope I remember the lessons for life. Now that I am down to my last couple of days, I am finding it really tough. Because I know it is almost over, it's been such a long day today.   I feel quite tearful and I just want to go already. I've done my best, I've been compliant and mostly uncomplaining. But I'm so ready for it to be over! Officially I'm in until 32 weeks, which is Wednesday morning. But I am going to see if they won't let me go tomorrow evening instead, just a night early, at 31+6. No big deal right? But to me it would be a huge deal. My own bed. A night early!! Wish me luck....! 

The Chronicles of bed rest:Day 44

30+4 guys! So great! We are four weeks further along than Bertie. Now that my gestation begins with a 3, I am so much more relaxed. We have even started researching prams! I'm daydreaming about christenings instead of funerals and just did a big online shop in Mothercare sale.....in short the pregnancy feels almost normal now.

But, now that I have stopped worrying about Grub, it has given me the head space to think about Bertie. Now we know why he came too soon, and we also know that he most likely would have been OK had we known, had I done bed rest.  It's a weird one. In some ways it helps to know it was nothing I did wrong, and it means the problem can be managed in this and any possible future pregnancies should we be blessed again. But on the other hand it hurts to know that it wasn't "not meant to be" (not that I ever believed that), that he would have been ok, should have been Ok. I know there's no point playing the what if game, because nobody wins...but the thought is there. I also think about how he would be as a big brother, whether he'd be hoping for a brother or a sister. Definitely a brother I think. Girls smell when you're nearly five! It hurts that we won't get the sibling photo.

This morning we went to look at SCBU here. I was a bit apprehensive, afraid it would bring up difficult memories. It didn't. Infact I am glad we did it, as actually it was a lot less "medicalised" than I was envisaging, particularly in the lower dependency nurserys that Grub would be into now.  We have also learned that if I can get to 34 weeks, then depending on the condition of the baby, there's a chance we will be able to stay together in "transitional care" here on the post natal ward, rather than being separated with Grub in SCBU and me discharged home. That would be so wonderful! Basically it's if the baby is able to breathe and feed with little/no support but does require monitoring and possibly some minor interventions. The neonatal team would visit us daily and the midwives would support breastfeeding. It would mean me being admitted again but who cares? We'd be together which is what I so desperately want.

So forget 32 weeks, the goalposts have been moved again. I am now praying to make 34. I'm just three days off 31 so it feels doable. I just have to behave once I get home and not start walking about too much! I have a huge incentive now, we can do this!