Socially stunted

This post isn't about feeling sorry for myself, or for anyone else. This is just something that I wanted to put out there for all to know and maybe understand a little better. And I'm sorry, it's not my readers choice post. Yet.



Having a premature baby is one of the most socially isolating things to ever happen to me. I wasn't a popular person in school, I was a nerd, but this far surpasses even the pain of being an outcast in high school.

When someone has a baby, there's always the thought of, "Oh, I have a cold, I might not go visit just yet."

And if that baby is a premmie, that is more important than ever.

You see, amongst all the other complications stemming from premature birth, there is also the added risk of an immature immune system.

For this reason, we were advised by our health care professionals that for at least the first six weeks, to avoid crowded places, places with large airconditioning systems and people who had been sick in the last week or fortnight.

This meant being stuck at home, going nowhere as a family. DH (Darling Husband) would go to work and come home. If a colleague was sick, he'd avoid them and have a shower as soon as he came in.

After her six week needles, it changed to mainly avoiding sick people and places where sick people might converge. 

Other parents didn't seem to understand when I would ask if they or their child (or children) had been sick. If their child had a runny nose, they never understood why I'd make an excuse and not meet up with them.

When DD (Darling Daughter) got sick at 4 months of age, it was terrifying. It was the first time she had ever been sick. As the parent of a premmie, my biggest fear was RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus). It's common in children and can often lead to hospitalisation, but it is especially dangerous to premmies. For more information about it, please see the Lil Aussie Prems page on Respiratory Syncytial Virus.

We spent 4 days and nights sitting up with DD constantly as she would choke and be unable to breathe. Thankfully though, it was just a bad cold that turned instantly into a chest infection and it wasn't RSV.

Even now, at 14 months old, I still won't willingly subject her to kids I KNOW are sick. Seriously, I don't go up to someone when they have a cold or vomiting to try and catch it, so why should I subject my child to it?

Yes, I know getting sick helps to build their immune system in the long run. If she catches it, she catches it, but I'm not going to play Russian roulette with my daughters health. You never know, it just might be more serious for her than your child. 

14 months on and it's still hard. I feel like a social outcast, never to be allowed out again. It might have something to do with the rainy weather, or it might be the fact that DD has a chest infection again, and to allow her to get better we haven't gone anywhere until yesterday and even that was a bad idea. I still have days where I feel so alone because we barely ever hear from anyone anymore, and I feel like I am being cut off from society one tiny strand at a time.

So, the next time a friend of yours has a baby, who is premature (less than 37 weeks gestation), please show a little consideration. Please don't ignore them, exclude them or make them feel guilty if they cancel on an event because they've just found out that someone coming has had vomiting and diarrhoea in the last week. Simply let them know that it's ok. You understand. Reschedule. And if they are still nervous, please please don't hate them. Don't make a joke of it. It's hard enough being a parent let alone a parent of a premature or chronically ill child. 

If you do have a premmie, please check out Lil Aussie Prems for information and their forum for support and understanding from other premmie parents.  

That Darn Feeling

Ok, so yesterday I freaked out. Big time.

For two days, I'd had severe nausea and even vomiting in the morning. 

I honestly thought I was pregnant again, even though DH and I have always used protection, apart from when we were trying for DD.

When I threw up yesterday, DH said, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

That's when the panic set in. I rang my mum, all scared, wanting her to watch DD while I went and got a pregnancy test. In the end, I went and saw my GP because in my mind, the test was only going to give me a false negative. I became a human pincushion for bloods to be taken, I was so dehydrated. He rushed them through and one of his receptionists rang yesterday afternoon - I'm not pregnant! It's just food poisoning or a virus.

Why was I so scared? I'm just not ready for another baby yet.

There's quite a number of reasons, including the fact any further pregnancies are high risk, with lots of monitoring, early steroid injections, lots of scans, and a very good chance I will go premmie again, maybe even earlier than 33 weeks. I don't want to miss out on anything with DD while she is still so young. It wouldn't be fair to her to do it all again so early. Our house isn't big enough, we don't earn enough money, I can't risk losing my job. I mean, Centrelink would probably look a bit nicer toward us if we had more than one, but it still wouldn't get us through. 

Will I ever be ready for another baby? I honestly don't know. DH thinks I'm just being silly, but he's not the one who was left alone in the hospital at night, with no one to turn to if I needed to vent. He could have called his parents or mine, but I'm the sort of person who finds it very hard to talk about how I'm feeling sometimes. I also have trouble asking for help. 

There's no doubt in my mind that we would have just carried on and somehow gotten through if I was, but it was such a relief to know that I'm not pregnant. 

But I will say to you - if you ask for your steak medium well and it's still rare, don't eat it, no matter how starving you are!

I've linked up with Essentially Jess for IBOT today. Head on over and check everyone out!

The In Between

As you would all know by now, DD was prem. At 33 weeks. 

As we approach her first birthday, I thought I would share a few things from the last 11 or so months. 

Through Community Health, we were provided with home visits from a Child Healthcare Nurse. These visits didn't commence until DD was almost 6 weeks old, due to a lack of communication from our hospital.

We have constantly been told to remember that she was a prem and base a lot of things on "corrected age". That's all well and good, but intellectually, she's on par with actual age.

Physically, they told us she was behind. Their actual words were, "She failed."

Excuse me? The first time these words were said, she was 7 months old (5.5 corrected) and she failed her 6 month assessment. Simply because she didn't want to take her own weight.

What hope do kids have these days when they are that young and being told they are failing??

Fast forward to the 9 month assessment, done at 10 months (8.5 corrected) and we get told, "She's still failing. Actually, she's worse."

Excuse me, yet again??

Everyone says not to compare your baby to others, but we are constantly being compared and judged.

Our CHN told us to put her in the Jolly Jumper more. The physio she referred us to, told us that was the wrong thing to do. CHN told me that there's a group for babies of less than 32 weeks gestation to get together and play and work on motor functions. 

Sorry, you're failing, but you're not premmie enough to warrant help. 

That's what it felt like I was being told. That's the worse place to be. In between. 

Through my own perseverance, that of DH and my parents, we've been working with DD.

I'm pleased to say that she is now taking her weight, loves to stand and can get into so many places she shouldn't, even though they are blocked off from her. We did get confirmation from the physio that there is in fact, nothing physically wrong, she was just waiting to start in her own time.

We are still in between - walking and crawling! That's a better place to be.

The Journey Part 2

To follow on from yesterday's post....

This side will deal with how I went emotionally.

When my waters broke, I was calm. When they admitted me to hospital, I was calm. Two days of bed rest, I was bored, and still calm. The third day though, it suddenly hit me. I was going to have a premature baby.

DH had gone back to work by then, as there was no sign of labour and he was only a 5 to 10 minute drive away anyway. No point in wasting his holidays, which we were saving for when we took our baby home.

Day 3 saw me having to be cuddled LOTS by my parents. Those who know me, know that I hug, but my parents and I never really did. We knew we loved each other, we always said it, but the only things apart from DH to calm me down were my parents. The lump of emotion that constantly seemed stuck fast grew and grew and grew. 

They took me off bed rest, I walked the corridors of that ward like there was no tomorrow, trying to get bub on the way again to no avail. 

The night before my induction, I finally caved and asked for the medicine to help me sleep that I had declined the previous few nights. I still didn't sleep great. DH and my mum were at the hospital early. I remember the midwife wanting me to walk around, but as it took her, DH and mum to walk me to the toilet, it was decided it wasn't a great idea. 

When DD was born, there were a LOT of people in the room. 3 or 4 midwives, the OB and the Paed. They all arrived within 2 or 3 minutes from their rooms (the doctors) and I remember hearing DD screaming. Everyone was saying, "What is it??" My honest to goodness thought was, "I don't give a F*** what it is, IS MY BABY OK??"

DH and I were extremely lucky. DD was breathing on her own, didn't require ventilation but was tiny. We got a quick cuddle before she was rushed over to the Special Care Nursery (SCN). 

1 week later, the day I was dreading came. I was discharged. It was great that I got to spend so much time in hospital, being so close to DD. I missed DH and my bed greatly, but the love for my child made me want to stay so close. The Nurse Manager was quite abrupt and nasty to me, and then when the lady at the desk at the hospital asked if my baby was leaving with me, I broke down. 

Another issue I had was that Kangaroo care was encouraged for so many of the other parents, but not us. In that time, I kept asking myself why we were so unlucky that we couldn't use kangaroo care to help us.

Most of the people we came into contact with were great. There's a few very special ones who I keep in contact with, especially the midwife who took care of me on bedrest and spent some time in SCN looking after DD. And me. The conversations we had at times kept me sane. 

2 weeks after she was born, our first huge milestone - leaving the isolette for an open cot. 3 weeks after she was born, I got to room in for the night. At age 22 days, we brought our daughter home. It was so great to finally show the lady at the desk that we DID have a baby and we WERE going home. I wanted to sing and shout and dance around.

The biggest, longest rollercoaster so far was defeated. We were finally a family. Even now, I look back and wonder how I got through. I don't see myself as a strong person. But in that time, I had a strength I didn't know I possessed. 

There might be more to follow this, I don't know. All I know is that it is approaching 12 months since this journey began too soon. And I wouldn't change it for the world!

I'm linking up with Jess for IBOT

The Journey Part One

This is a post I've thought long and hard about writing. I even asked DH would he mind if I shared, because it's OUR journey, not just mine.

Be warned, this could be a long one. 

As you would know from previous posts (and some of you knowing me outside this), I am a mum to a beautiful 11 month old daughter.

What a lot of you won't know (my faithful followers) is that my little girl was born early. 7 weeks early, at 33 weeks gestation, in fact. And to top it off, she had stopped growing and was the size of a 29 week baby. Not that you'd know it to look at her now. 

Here is our early start story......

I'd been on the pill for many years, to manage a medical condition where my body was wonky and instead of a 21/7 cycle, I was having the reverse, a 7/28 cycle, where my period would last 4 weeks and I'd have a week off. Ugh. So, at the start of 2011, I stopped taking it. We had our honeymoon and a month after we returned, our little girl was conceived. I know the exact date and to me, it's kinda funny.

I had the standard "morning sickness" but thankfully, mine was only nausea for the most part. I had one bout of a bad head cold at around 8 or 9 weeks pregnant, and that was the first time I actually threw up. Everyone at work had an idea, what with me wearing travel sickness bands on my arms to reduce the nausea to a workable point.

My first trimester was a breeze apart from the nausea. The second trimester, I was sick for 6 weeks with 3 chest infections. I was only allowed 2 lots of antibiotics so the third bout I just had to get on with it.

My due date was February, and because I didn't want my baby shower in January (too hot), and December was booked out with antenatal and Christmas parties, my lovely friend, Kylie, organised it for November. So many people asked me why I was having it so early, and I explained the time constraints to them.

DH and I had antenatal in the second weekend in December 2011. So many people had told me I was too small (only a tiny bump), and I looked like I'd overindulged on pasta. I'm serious. Teeny tiny bump. I asked the midwives at antenatal and they weren't concerned, so I was happy. There was one couple there, who were 36 weeks, and me, at almost 32 weeks, was convinced their baby would arrive first. 

The following Saturday, after a walk around the shops, I took my mum to our GP as he hadn't seen me since the last chest infection. I went home and decided to have a nap before my team Christmas party that afternoon. I woke up, lay there and thought about getting the washing off the line. That's when it happened. 

I was convinced I'd had too much water to drink, that tiny little release was my body's way of telling me to get up and pee. So I stood up, and said to DH, "Get up, I'm leaking." I didn't know where else to stand, so I stood in our shower stall as I didn't want to "pee" all over our newly polished floors. A call to the women's unit and we were on our way (there's another story here, but that's another day). We arrived, and were put in a labour room, because there were 3 women who presented at the same time. 

The midwife who ran our antenatal class was on, took one look at the maternity pad I'd had on, and said, "Sorry, love, your membranes are gone." We had to wait about half an hour for the on call OB, who just happened to be the one I was changing over to (that's another story). He did the first internal of my pregnancy, and held his fingers up in a circle to the midwife. A little wave of panic went through me.... I was dilating!

My mum, by this stage, had joined me at hospital, while hubby went home and got my hospital bag. I mentioned to mum that it really felt like I needed to pass wind, and she said sadly, "That's early labour, love."

They dosed me full of drugs, which made me look like I'd sun baked naked in the midday sun, but they stopped my labour and I got the recommended 2 doses of steroids for bubs lungs. They said to me if I hadn't gone by the Thursday that week, then they would induce me, as it was too risky for bub to stay in there. So Thursday comes around, and they pump me full of drugs... I must have looked like a pin cushion as I had 3 (yes, 3!!) things being pumped into my two hands. I was one of the lucky ones - my labour was only 3 hours, 33 minutes long and with one huge push at the OB's instructions, DD was born, screaming! 

33 weeks, 3 days gestation, 3 pounds 7 ounces (1560 grams), baby girl, head full of hair. NO ventilation required. But she still spent 2 weeks in an isolette (humidicrib) because of her size. She couldn't hold body temp. 

I think today, I will stop our story here. There's so much more to tell. But I don't think I want to dwell on anything now. Just getting this part out there is an awesome start. Please stick with me, everyone, while I get brave enough to let you into what was going through my mind during this time. I've only stuck to the cold, hard facts for now. But you need those before you can see into my mind. 

Have a lovely Monday!