I can't tell you enough what a great honour it is to have her feature a post on my blog today as it was she who inspired me to start blogging in the first place!
Below, Kylie talks about how she coped with the up's and downs of NICU life when her Son Joseph was born at 27 weeks weighing 1lb 7oz, the exact same weight as Smidge!
Pollyanna and the Glad
Game
My mum has always
called me “annoying Pollyanna”. It’s her fault really, she
introduced me to the television show and then the book as an
impressionable pre-teenager. I loved Pollyanna’s attitude to life,
finding the “glad” in everything.
When I was diagnosed
with severe pre eclampsia at 26 weeks and 6 days, I struggled very
much to see the “glad” and then the doctor told me he would have
to deliver the baby the following day at 27 weeks. I really couldn’t
see any “glad” in that. The midwives came and put me in a
wheelchair for an emergency scan. The baby had stopped growing, I was
very confused. I came back to the ward in a mess of tears.
The consultant
immediately snapped me back to reality “Look I am delivering a live
baby tomorrow, everything will be ok, you must believe in me, in your
team, in yourself and in your baby”. I immediately put my “glad”
head on. I was glad that I was in good hands, that everyone was
working together for the same outcome, a good delivery and a healthy
baby.
I had Joseph by
caesarean section the following day. One of the midwives came to see
me soon after Joseph was born. She gave me a letter from the Primary
Care Trust in an envelope. “Oh no” I said, “they’re not
sending me a bill are they?” she laughed! I opened the letter and
it was advising me that the next baby could be born out the lambing
end (perhaps not in those words) and the midwife came back in amazed
I was smiling and laughing. “What’s so funny?” she said. “The
PCT seriously think, an hour post delivery, I am planning on having
sex again!”
I was determined to be
happy, to find the “glad” wherever I could, to see the funny side
even in the darkest times. Looking back I am almost embarrassed. I
was insulated by this “glad game”.
On day 5 of his life,
my son Joseph was struggling. He was losing weight, which is really
not advised when you’re born at 1lb 7oz, and was very poorly
indeed. I took picture books in, I read and sung to him. I had a
baby! I was glad because at 35, I finally had a baby. OK he was
small, he was sick, but he was mine. And even if he only lived a
short time, he was my baby, my son, and I was glad.
A senior consultant was
brought in and said “you do not understand. You are too calm”. He
didn’t understand the glad game.
Every day I walked into
that unit with a smile. I greeted the other parents. I took mums out
for coffee. I consoled staff when things were tough, I was nice to
everyone. I didn’t allow myself to cry when on the unit. I did cry
at home at times, when it all got too much, even for Pollyanna.
One sunny Tuesday,
after 9 and a half weeks in hospital one of the consultants came in
on her rounds. She saw me sitting by Joseph’s cotside. She smiled.
She looked at her notes and said “right, discharge planning is now
in place, you will room in on Sunday and Monday nights, and take
Joseph home on Tuesday”. Huge tears slipped down my cheeks. I was
sobbing. She looked at me with fear and surprise, distaste even.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked. “I’m just so relieved”
I said. “I hate this bloody unit I want to take my baby home”.
The other doctors and
nurses all looked in amazement “but you are always so happy, you
always look pleased to be here”. I sighed. “I’m pleased to be
with my baby, but I hate it here, being glad got me through it, and
now it’s time to go home”.
The last week flew by,
my facade had dropped, and I realised just how much energy being
Pollyanna took. And, I put her away for good. She had served her
purpose, she got me through, but I didn’t need her any more.
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