There's no place like home...isn't there?

Elsie was born on Wednesday 12th and we got home late Thursday 13th. Friday 14th Elsie had her tongue tie appointment. Her appointment was at 11am so we had plenty of time to get ready and get out the house...in a normal house yes, in ours, NO!

I had been up all night with Elsie making sure she was comfy, breathing and not choking on the milk I had been giving her.  I had got her into a routine of feeding her 10mls every four hours. Feed her, wind her and change her nappy. Then the cycle would start over. I would feed her and the next few hours would be full of horrendous breathing and sicking up the milk. When this was over it was time for the next syringe feed so  I would change her nappy and it would be her opportunity to bring the last bit of milk up. Then she was ready for the next feed of milk.

5:30am Darren came downstairs and took over me caring for Elsie.  I was exhausted and I handed over. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep. Next thing I knew it was 10am and Darren was waking me up for Elsie's appointment at 11am. 

I couldn't believe it. When I was pregnant I wanted to be a mum who was on top of it all. I didn't care if in my head I was a swan on acid, on the surface I wanted to be cool, calm and in control.  I could not have been further from this ideal. I got out of bed covered in disgusting post natal sweat and quite frankly, I didn't care. I got myself in the shower for all of a second and threw some clothes on.  Meanwhile I was yelling at Darren what to pack in the changing bag. "Nine nappy's, two baby grows, three vest....because you just never know for a half hour appointment!!!!"  Anyway we were all bundled in the car, we just pulled out of our road and I had the awful feeling you get when you have forgotten your PE kit at primary school.  I didn't have Elsie's hospital notes.  In hindsight it really wasn't that big of a deal but for me it was just another way in which I was failing miserably at this new job I had inherited...being a parent. Not only did I have that feeling but I was also terrified, not because Elsie was about to have her tongue cut which allegedly is not painful, but they encourage you to feed your baby afterwards as pain relief! I can't successfully feed my child when she's relaxed never mind screaming in agony! What if they realise just how rubbish a parent I am at that point????!

We got to the hospital in a crazy panic at 11am, appointment time!! Darren dropped Elsie and I and we ran into the children's department.  "I have an appointment for Elsie at 11am for tongue tie" I said "I'm really sorry but I've forgotten her notes" I said in a jokey but really I'm trying so hard not to cry kind of way.  "Oh," the receptionist said "I'm sorry we've rearranged the appointment, we have just tried to call you and tell you on your mobile and landline but there was no answer, if you could come back Monday?"  

Of course, all those caller ID phone calls on the home phone weren't PPI, they were the hospital. Lesson number one learnt! Answer the home phone from now on!!!

We got home and settled ourselves. Waiting for the first visit from the midwife. She came and was lovely, asked all the questions about feeding but raised concern for the jaundice colour that Elsie was.  I think it would be a good idea if you popped to the hospital to get her checked over if that's ok?  She was concerned about the sickness and lack of milk she was taking. Not to mention the sickening yellow tinge that any fake tan addict would have been envious of.

We took her to the hospital to get checked, her sugars were fine and she was briefly checked. I was a weeping mess. I had all of the right answers to all of the questions yet I knew deep down ,my child wasn't normal. Everyone said babies are hard and I have dismissed a lot of the comments but really....they cannot be this impossible!!!!  Anyhow we were sent home the same afternoon after being told that its just normal baby possetting the fact that my baby is drinking 10mls of milk and yet bringing up a whole muslins equivalent fifteen minutes later is fine.  We went home. I was lost, embarrassed and feeling ridiculously helpless.  Friends were offering help. It sounds like reflux, raise her head up. Sounds liked colic etc etc but I knew there was more to it but I had nothing better to suggest. That night I watched her sleeping in her bouncer, it was the only place she seemed comfy, upright! I'd sing a song to her with her name in it that I will never forget. I will never forget that feeling of being so lonely. 3am is a horrible time to think you need to do something but you don't actually know what. I would listen to her horrible raspy breathing and then I had a beautiful moment where the noise stopped. Finally, I thought, she's comfy and isn't struggling. I watched her and in my mind I was having an epiphany. I'd cracked it, this is what sleeping like a baby really means.  Then it dawned on me, her face is red, her top lip is blue! This isn't right, she isn't bloody breathing!  I sat bolt up right and grabbed her out her bouncer giving her a short sharp shock. Thankfully starting her breathing again. I thought something has to be done now. So I got the ready made bottles of milk out the drawer thinking, well my breast milk isn't making her better, maybe it's me. Lets try Aptamil it seemed a thinner consistency. Perfect, what do I have to lose. 4am I tried it. Fail. She cried, I cried, she threw up for an hour and the same routine continued.  Something had to work so I left her to sleep again in her bouncer. I'd exhausted everything but my manual breast pump. I don't know what difference it would have made but at the time I had to try everything. I was failing so I had to give it all a go just to know I was failing properly!  6 am I gave her some of my breast milk I'd managed to express. It didn't work so I thought sod this. Maybe it's me. I'll leave 10mls downstairs in the fridge and go get Darren to give it go whilst I have a sleep.

I woke up at 11am and woke up with the paralysing dread...how has Elsie fed?? I couldn't even get myself out of bed so I text Darren asking how she had been. He replied "we're ok". I know by now that's code for I can't tell you the truth because I'm now worried and I don't want to make you worry more. So of course I was worrying but thought I'll have a good shower and feel a lot fresher and level headed about this shocking situation.  How do people actually manage having children???! I stepped in the shower and the door bell went. It was my breast feeding support worker. I hung my head in shame as she looked at me like I had done something wrong when I appeared in my nighty and dressing gown. I always remember a midwife saying to me "on your visits, if you are still in your dressing gown it is a good thing. You are concentrating on your newborn baby. If you answered with a full face of make up it almost gives off the wrong impression." This support worker didn't get the memo. She looked at me as though I was a lazy mother who wasn't coping...she had got half of that correct in her defence.  We chatted and she told me that today was the day hormones were going to go crazy, NO KIDDING! I said Elsie was having about 10mls of milk every four hours.  Her face dropped. She took numbers, age, weight. She said the awful words. Your child should be having 60 mls every two hours! My heart sunk!  10 mls is practically killing my child and its taking her four hours to recover. How am I meant to give her 60mls every two hours???????!

She ran and got a breast pump for me out her car. 
"Have this" she said "until next week. Keep your milk coming in. Express every two hours, here you are start now" she started looking at Elsie with concern. It was 12 lunch time "when is she due a feed?" She said.  I dreaded that question. I didn't want her to stay and watch Elsie do a feed. 

"12:30" I said. 

"Ok well you must do 60 mls from this feed every two hours, she does wake up for her feeds, yes?"

I looked down at my yellow daughter who was pretty much unconscious at this point. The only sign of life was her loud raspy breathing and the jerks she would do every few seconds (now we know was caused by low blood sugar)

"Yes" I said "when we are feeding her she wakes up." (Because we are choking her)  At this point I am losing every ounce of dignity as I am crying because of my lies and hormones but also the fact my nipple is essentially being stretched within an inch of its life to get milk for this child who cannot tolerate it by this strange machine!! Thank fully the support worker left in time for Elsie's next feed. I couldn't cope doing it so Darren sent me in the shower and he gave 60mls a go. 

I got out the shower and shouted how did it go?  I got a awful reply of we are just having a rest. Enough said. I went straight downstairs saw she'd just managed 15mls and told Darren we are going back to hospital. I called my mum and dad in tears who rushed over. I was at the point now that something had to be done. Babies are hard, not impossible! We got to the hospital and Elsie was stripped off. ..

"We cannot do anything for this baby here she needs to have tests in special care...." One nurse said

"We do not like the strain on her chest and her stomach is distended" a Dr then said

I didn't care. Take my baby and tell me there is something wrong, please!! I needed something to be wrong with her just so I knew I wasn't a bad parent.

We were told she would be back in 10minutes. Darren started watching a football game on his ipad and I was keeping friends and family up to date.  My mum had turned up at the hospital so I nipped out to see her and fill her in. She had been to Boots and done a supermarket sweep of different types of bottles.  We were hoping these feeding issues may have been down to tongue tie, I thanked her and she left. I returned back to our room, Darren's football was at half time. This 10 minutes was getting longer and longer. A Dr came back and told us Elsie had a blockage. They aren't sure what it is but they're just going to do one more test. I wraked my brains. We hadn't given her anything to block her throat. What could it be?  By the end of Darren's football game we were told we could see her. She was stabilised. Covered in wires and suction machines. It was an awful shock. But I was so pleased that it wasn't me and that there was a tangible reason I had been unsuccessful at every attempt to feed her. 

We were told that she was being Ambulanced to Brighton Trevor Mann unit for an emergency operation tomorrow. It was all getting a bit real. They needed to take my blood for some reason. But anything that they needed to do I was going to comply with. I was just pleased finally my prayers were answered. My child was ill. It wasn't just me being pants!  They put Elsie into a portable incubator with oxygen and allsorts of equipment. Then the question I knew was coming but I had dreaded was asked...do you want to come in the ambulance with her...?  I really didn't. I wanted to go home, eat, pack my bag and get my head straight. I just burst into tears and looked up at Darren and asked if that was ok that she went on her own? I knew in the soaps that would have been the moment the mum would have ran behind their child being taken off in an ambulance and maybe seeing that on a daily basis on TV was what made me feel guilty.  I just needed to get my head straight as I knew if anything Elsie was being looked after now. So I need to look after myself, be it for five minutes.  We went home and packed our bags and made sure we were fed and watered and made our way to the Trevor Mann unit in Brighton where we knew things were going to get worse before they were better...