Knitting and leaving the ward – Monday 9 April – 27 Weeks and 2 days

As I open my eyes to the start of a new day, I wonder how much longer it will be before Baby C makes his arrival.  Having the threat of a preemie baby, and all of the implications that brings, consumes everything.  I am unable to think of housework (which at the best of times is a push for me anyway), or any of my other responsibilities.

My maternal instinct to protect Jay from any eventualities – eventualities that I dare not even think about, but are there, looming, ominously threatening – is incredibly strong.

My phone buzzes.  The doctor has been.  Because I have been settled for a few days now, I am allowed to go downstairs in the wheelchair. 

I’m just getting ready, I will be there as soon as possible.

I want to come home.

I know love, but they said they would consider sending you home only after you got to 32 weeks.  I feel like I am forcing my child to stay in boarding school when she is so miserably unhappy.

I get ready and drive to the hospital.  It is Easter Monday, so again Dee is able to be with JC.

Before arriving at the hospital, I stop off at the shops.  It seems ages since I have been shopping.  I wander around, looking to get Jay something.  I am feeling uninspired, but end up getting her a sweet scarf – winter is on its way after all.

I amble into K-Mart.  Easter eggs are on sale.   We definitely do not need those – Jay has one enormous stash.  I stumble upon some wool and decide to buy a baby knitting pattern book, some wool and needles.    Yes, folks, I am turning into the proverbial granny!

I arrive at the hospital and Jay is gagging to get out in the wheelchair.  We make our way down to the lobby and enjoy a meat pie and hot chocolate together.  We follow this with a lovely Danish – yes, okay, the diet is not going particularly well.  Jay’s mood is lifting and it is lovely to chat to her.  We talk about the baby, the people who are coming and going in the ward.  She is getting to experience a myriad of different mothers and is already determining the kind of mum she wants to be – protective, nurturing, caring – I had no doubt this would be the case.

We take a wonder around the hospital shop and giggle at my less than expert wheel chair driving skills (the aisles were very narrow is my excuse and I am sticking to it!).  I buy Baby C a gorgeously cute beanie and Jay buys herself some more puzzle books and magazines.

We return to the ward and I start my knitting (why am I cringing?).  “Do you want to learn to knit, Jay?”

“No.”  A response that was a little too resolute and quick for my liking 🙂

“Oh, okay, then.  I guess there are some things that you just cannot pass on to your daughter.”

Jay does word searches and I begin to knit.  We chat some more – always about babies in some way or another.  The gift that I have been given through this very trying, emotionally exhausting time is not lost on me.  I love how we are getting so close.

“Listen, Jay, when Em arrives, I am going to go okay?  You are really well settled now and you don’t need me here all day.  Em will want to be with you on your own anyway.”

“Okay, Mum.”  Followed by, “I want to knit.”

“Do you?  How about I bring some stuff for you tomorrow and I teach you?”

Jay nods.  Em arrives and I pack up and make my way home.  I am tired from a late night and am looking forward to getting home.  I seem to be tired a lot lately.

I get home, and lay down on the settee.  I sleep for two hours.  Thank goodness for long lazy weekends.

Dee has prepared dinner whilst I slept and we eat at the table – the first time all three of us has eaten together for a while.  JC is in good spirits and we talk and laugh a bit.  It is good to feel this sense of normality.

JC wants to stay up late again.  I am desperate for an early night but agree to stay up with him (bloody school holidays).  I watch episodes of “One born every minute” on UKTV.  I love to watch what each family goes through as it welcomes a new life into the world.  I imagine myself in that position in a few short weeks (with any luck).

JC’s movie finishes and he goes off to bed.  “Good night, JC, I love you.”  He grunts.  His latest thing is that he refuses to tell me he loves me.  I am saddened by this, but also know it is a teenage boy thing.

I log onto facebook and Jay has posted a photo:

I totally love it.  Aw, baby girl, thank you so much.  I love you so much.

 I love you too.  Thank you for everything and being there for me xxx.

 I climb into bed.  Another day is over, Baby C has made it through and my daughter thinks I am the greatest.  Damn, it’s been a good day!


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