Three years ago my youngest son was born 9 weeks early weighing 1.8 kilos. Three years ago I was sat by an incubator begging my son to live, telling him there was no option other than to be ok. He had a rocky start being ventilated on and off for the first few weeks and at 7 days old he contracted an infection which lead to septicaemia. We were taken into a room and told that they were doing all they could but this was all they could do. Those must be among the worst things you can hear as a parent, it still makes my blood run cold thinking about it.
Amongst all this I was recovering from losing nearly 2 litres of blood and an emergency caesarian while trying to get my milk supply established to support my baby.
He was in a NICU (neonatal unit) for 6 weeks at our local hospital and I have nothing but praise for the staff that work there round the clock caring for tiny babies - and their parents. They see it all. While my son was in there I ranged from being distraught and inconsolable to frustrated and angry and then to ecstatically happy when they told me that he could come home. They are the most patient, caring, kind and tolerant people I've come across and they gave us the un-comparable gift of our son's life.
Not everyone is as lucky as we were though. I know of one baby who didn't make it while we were there and every year I think about those poor parents and what they must have gone through.
During this time I received the most amazing support from a charity called Bliss. Without them I'd have been even more of a wreck than I was. Please take a moment to look at their website BLISS.
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