Soooo Not Moving On.

A lot of my posts recently have been about how I need to improve on myself, be cheerier, put the past behind me, that sort of thing.

But today I'm not going to post about that. Today's post is going to be like the big fat slice of chocolate cake that you're not really meant to have.

Today's post is going to be like maxing out on your credit card when you're current account is already overdrawn. In short, today's post is going to be an indulgence. 

The thing is you see, I'm feeling miserable.

Miserable that my Smidge, (The cutest baby that walked the earth this decade) is not able to go to baby groups any more due to stupid illness. Not the illness of her you understand, but that of the other babies (The one's we pretend to like because of the developmental benefits)

And now my Smidge has gone and made me prouder than proud by learning to totter, probably even beating some of her full term peers and now we have no one to show off to. How enormously frustrating.

I feel maybe just a tiny bit selfish that I am keeping Smidge from the groups but I can not, just can not see my little girl get sent back to hospital again.

I hate the hospital.


I hate standing around in resus an anxious gibbering wreck...
I hate prizing my moody pre-teen away from the computer and telling him in a fake-chirpy voice that we're 'popping' to the hospital, again. 

>I hate seeing my Smidge crowded by doctors and having needles poked in to her tiny veins.

I hate knowing that every decision I make is considered in the context of her medical history, her medical present and her medical future.

I hate that I carry the fear of making the wrong decision with me.


I hate feeling like I am selfish for protecting her because I can't face another trip to A&E

And I hate the fact that it really didn't end when we got discharged from NICU and that here we are today, still feeling like we're waiting on that dreaded NICU phone call.

And even when I see my Smidge playing happily in front of me, pouring cups of imaginary tea and shouting 'dog! 'dog!' (not at me), I am still in my minds eye ready and waiting.


Still a part of me sits braced for tragedy, ready  to act, ready to grieve.

And no part of me wants to feel this way or think these things.

This, to me is not depression or some other clinical condition, it is a reality placed in truth and the only thing that can take it away or make it better is good health and time, until then, I'm just going to have to wear it.


*Picks up napkin and wipes chocolate crumbs from mouth*

Thank you so much for being interested in my life.


Here is your reward...