Mr M has now started his new job, leaving me and BC to become best buds, just the two of us.
So, I thought it best to introduce her properly as she is going to be my partner in crime for the foreseeable.
BC is my two year old daughter.
And this is, for both of us, something of a novelty.
I went back to work when she was 8 months old, and she has been in nursery ever since then.
This is a massive deal for both of us.
I am most certainly not nearly as cool, interesting or generally as fun to be around as her nursery crew – kids and key workers – were.
And to tell you the truth, I’m terrified. Because I’m not sure if I know how to do this.
Day two of me looking after her FT all by myself and she has a grazed knee, a bump on her head and a lump on her lip! What the heck am I doing?
I’ll come back to the present in a later blog. For now, I wanted to explain why BC and I have a somewhat special relationship.
Bae was 11 weeks early. And this particular post is to tell you our story of what happened.
At 6am on the 4th Jan, when I was 28 weeks and 5 days pregnant, I woke up in the throes of full-blown labour. Except, it couldn’t be labour right?
In the space of 50 minutes I went through the four stages of pre-term labour (as defined by me).
Conversations in my head and with real people went as follows:
Stage 1 – Denial.
Wow – these Braxton Hicks are really bad. I’m going to be rubbish when I go into real labour, I’m really struggling with these Braxton Hicks. I didn’t think Braxton Hicks would last as long as this… and come as frequently. Braxton Hicks, Braxton Hicks, Braxton Hicks (can’t possibly be labour – I’m only 28+5. And if it was labour, how can I keep falling asleep. And if it was labour my waters would have broken. definitely Braxton Hicks).
Stage 2 – Capable Acceptance (sort of).
Okay, okay Braxton Hicks isn’t meant to hurt. Maybe, just maybe, something’s wrong. It might even be labour – possibly. Best go to the hospital. Just to check. But I won’t wake up Mr M – it’s probably nothing important. I’ll just drive myself over. Oooops – dammit. Woke him up. Yes dear, I’m okay. Just going to pop to the hospital. Why? There’s a realistic likelihood that I’m in labour. Why do I think that? Um, because I’m in a bit of pain… sort of contraction-like…ish. Okay, let’s go over together. I’ll just go and brush my teeth and….
Stage 3 – Furious Pain.
ARGHHHHHHH NO I WON’T BECAUSE I’M IN BLOODY AGONY AND THIS BABY IS COMING RIGHT NOW. THIS BABY SHOULDN’T BE COMING RIGHT NOW. TIME ME – HOW FAR APART ARE THESE CONTRACTIONS COMING? 90 SECONDS? IS THAT BAD? ERM… YES DEAR, THATS PRETTY BLOODY BAD. BLOODY MARVELLOUS. THIS BABY IS COMING AND SHE SHOULDN’T BE COMING AND WHY IS SHE COMING? SHE SHOULDN’T BE COMING AND OH MY GOD CAN’T YOU GO ANY FASTER? DON’T GO THAT FAST. STOP THE CAR. GET AN AMBULANCE. NO KEEP ON DRIVING. I’M TRYING TO KEEP THE BABY IN. THIS BABY IS NOT MEANT TO BE COMING YET!!!!!
Stage 4 – Resigned helpfulness (and being super polite because, after all, these people are strangers)
Just to let you know, I’m 28 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I had a stitch put in at 18 weeks, it’s all in my notes. Am I too far gone to have the steroid injection. Yes. Right. okay. How far exactly am I along? Fully dilated? Right… lovely. Remember to breathe, I’m breathing aren’t I? Ohhhh like I learnt in the classes? See my class is booked for 5 weeks from now, so I haven’t learnt how to breathe. Can I trouble you for some gas and air? Nope? Not enough time? Okey doke. Um… at the last check she was breach, I don’t suppose she’s tur… nope? Still breach? Fabulous – so an emergency C-section you say? Okay let’s go. Right, so her heart rate has dropped, no time for a c-section, going to have to push. But first you need to break my waters. Now I have to push. How do I do that (I haven’t learnt that either)? You know, I’m just going to go for it. S***. S***. S***
And so, 26 minutes after I arrived at hospital, BC was born and whisked off to SCBU (special care baby unit).
We spent nine weeks being looked after by the most amazing team of people I could ever hope to meet, before being discharged on 3 March (still three weeks before she was due – this kid is determined).
Nine weeks of tears of every kind imagineable, but in the most astoundingly fortunate position whereby BC had none of the normal development challenges that arise from a baby being born so early.
So, she’s my little miracle.
And whilst I feel I let her down at every single turn, and fail epically 20 times a day, this kid makes me more happy than anything else in this world.
And that’s why it will be my utmost privilege to spend so much time with her over the next few months – and I know I’m shit, but I just can’t wait!