30 weeks gestation seems too soon to be born.

Too soon to meet chicken legged, ruddy, scrunched up beings.

Too soon to be thrust into the NICU after our last baby died.

In the NICU.

Too soon to gaze upon tiny fingers and toes, bruised hands and feet from too many needles and blood tests.

Too soon to take any of it in.

I don’t think about that time very often. The whole nine weeks went in a blur of premature experiences.

Tubes and wires and alarms beeping in some machinery induced chant. Medications and set backs and triumphs and heartache all wrapped into two little people who are just about to turn three.

It’s too hard most days. It leaves me in a state of traumatised disbelief whenever I turn my mind to those first few weeks of Noah and Ivy’s birth.

Ours is a success story, a graduation from being born too soon, to growing and thriving in the outside world.

We were lucky.

Others were not.

Some days we would come in to find parents sobbing, their babies just too small and frail to survive. Their lungs not developed enough, their bodies unable to fight.

Sometimes it was parents that we had come to know. Forced together under circumstance.

Sometimes the air would be thick with grief and the tension high as the other mothers stole secret, regretful glances towards the drawn curtain to the room that we all knew was there for the sole purpose of shielding others from the unimaginable.

I look to my youngest children now and I think, you would never know. You would never guess in your wildest dreams that my kids were born too soon, that they needed help to breathe and chemicals injected into their lungs to force them to expand. You would never know, that for weeks, they forgot to breathe and needed medication to stimulate that natural, primal response.

You couldn’t tell that they had nasogastric tubes for feeding and fortifiers to quadruple their calorie intake, so as to give them the best chance of survival. Now they look just like children who went to term and they act like them too.

In the beginning they were slow to move, their developmental milestones not reached and you could tell to look at them but today they run and jump and talk and I am thankful.

Thankful for the team who worked on those two precious parcels, for the doctors and nurses who knew what to do to sustain their little bodies.

With their third birthday just around the corner and it being prematurity awareness month, in the USA, more than ever I remember how far they have come.

Originally posted at Five Minutes For Special Needs

My little guy is amazing, social, easy going, talkative, has a gorgeous dimpled smile and a wicked sense of humour, loves routine, kisses and cuddles. He lights up my life with laughter and joy. He is my second chance and I love all that he gifts to me.

My little girl is petite, beautiful and strong. She is a complexity of character, socially shy, yet cheeky and free spirited with those she is comfortable with. She has stolen the hearts of many. She is the full stop at the end of a very long chapter in my life. I’m glad that it was her. She completes me.

Here is Ivy and Noah’s birth story. Written about five months after their birth.

Here is a little movie montage for anyone who has five minutes.

Tomorrow for all those with a love of all things Ivy and Noah there will be another one.

Our caesarean was originally booked for the 23rd of December and their estimated date of delivery was the 12th of February.

They were born at 30 weeks gestation.

On this day the Feast of Saint Andrew is celebrated. Interestingly the first day of advent.

Our good doctor’s name was Andrew. (Coincidence, fate oR just plain creepy, you decide).

Today, though, I have vowed never to complain about the services offered to me by our paed…okay, maybe I won’t be able to keep that vow and maybe it is unrealistic, given the way I distrust doctors in general.

When I read this story in one of my favourite blogs and followed the links to this blog, I admit I was thankful for all that our paediatrician has done for Ivy and Noah. I was also thankful that we don’t have the health care system that people living in the USA have to deal with.

Both of these mums have triplets, born prematurely and both have had issues with their paediatricians. Go and read for yourself.

If you are Australian, you will be gobsmacked. If that is not enough to peak your interest, how about ‘called security’,  ‘have us arrested’ and ‘dismissed from the service because the doctor didn’t like his tone’ for key statements?

If you are American… is this normal? Are these the kinds of things you have to deal with regularly?

Please tell me that all doctors do not have an etiquette policy. Please tell me that you are not all told that you will not be seen if you stink or if your children are too sick?!?!?!?

Like I said…speechless.

Luckily I can still type.

A friend phoned me last night. She asked me if I imagined my life would be like this, when I met David, when I was 17. She asked me if I ever imagined I would have so many children. The simple answer to that is; no.

I knew that I wanted kids from a young age. When we talked about children, David wanted two and I wanted four. The only thing we could agree on was that we wanted an even number of children so nobody was left out. I certainly didn’t think about the logistics of being a mum.

So what is Motherhood to me?

It’s all those things that everyone said it would be, it’s sacrifice, it’s full on, it’s the hardest job I have ever done. It’s wonderous and amazing and brings me so much happiness. It’s love and contentment and brings a fullness to each and every day in mind, body and soul. 

Mostly though motherhood is about learning.

As a mum, you are always teaching life skills but as a mum, I am also the perpetual student. I learn new things every day. About myself, about my children and I am still learning life skills!

When I first became a mum to twins, Imogen and Madeline, they taught me about selflessness, about the big picture. They taught me about patience (It took three years to conceive them) and understanding. I think they also taught me about time management and the importance of boundaries. On a funny note, they also taught me never to carry two babies upstairs, naked, when they have gastro…very messy!

Lily came into my life (about 9 months after the above bout of gastro). Lily taught me to really enjoy motherhood. She taught me to appreciate all the little things. When Lily came into my life, my father told me I was stupid for having more children, that I should be concentrating on a career, a house and having all the finer things in life. It was Lily’s birth that gave me the strength to stand up to him, tell him that family was more important to me than anything else. Although she was a surprise, she was a Godsend.

AJ and Malachy came into our home when they were four and three. I am not their biological mother but they are still my children. Through the boys I know about compromise. I know about overcoming terrible situations, adaptation, about hanging in there when you want to give up. I know about a longing to protect and a different kind of love, one that I have sometimes had to work at but one that is very much alive.

Four years after Lily, our first son, William, was born and died five days later. From Will I learnt about absolute devastation, a love that is so strong that I can still feel its presence every day. I learnt the beauty of letting go, I learnt to find and rely on my mother strength and I learnt that I could keep going, fuelled by the love of my children.

My last set of twins, Ivy and Noah, were born at 30 weeks in 2005 about a year and a half after William’s death and after a very scary pregnancy but it is with these children, my last, that I have learnt some of the most valuable lessons. As a mother to these precious miracles I have learnt to hope. Over the last twenty one months, they have taught me to feel joyous about motherhood again, at times when I felt there was no joy left in me. I have realised that I am a mother first and foremost and that, even though it can be a difficult, exhausting, sometimes thankless job, motherhood means everything to me.

It’s my life.

Oh, and I also learnt to appreciate my own mother much more than I ever did as a child.

This topic was published as part of MamaBlogga’s Group Writing Project. The theme is motherhood. It’s my first attempt.

Why don’t you give it a go?

Today it was wet and freezing and the babies and I were stuck inside to slowly go cabin mad. (Like a dog goes chain mad).

I did what any person would do and took out my camera. After the babies demolished the kitchen followed quickly by the loungeroom, unrolled a new toilet roll and started in on my room, I called it a day and locked them and myself in Noah’s room.

Ivy and Noah did what any self respecting toddler would do on a wet day. They pulled every single toy out and every book was tipped from the bookshelf. I tried to get some good shots but do you know how fast two twenty month old children can move? FAST! Very fast!!!!

The real reason I was trying to get photos was to enter a competition that is being run by Huggies. It’s for Jeans for Genes day. To enter you need to have the cutest baby in jeans photo. After a couple of hours though I came to the conclusion it was impossible!

I thought it could be fun but I also wanted to support this because William had a genetic heart condition (critical aortic valve stenosis) and any research into genetics is therefore important. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if something significant was found before any of my children have children? There will always be a risk for them, I know that.

It was just not to be today.

A lovely teacher from Bellbird P.S. has birthed her baby at 28 weeks. When I found out I wanted to go to her and give her a hug, just be there for her as she goes through this journey. However, I don’t know her that well. It got me thinking though that there is very little support for families who have premature babies up here. I did ask when Ivy and Noah were in the NICU and the response was that there was no interest for a support group for our area. I beg to differ. I could have definately used some help and reassurance.

There is a lady on the Central Coast who is trying to get a group up and running. I am really hoping it gets off the ground! I’ll be one of the first in line to go to a meeting. It’s still an hour away though from the Newcastle and Hunter regions.

How do we get something like that started I wonder?

When Ivy and Noah were first in the NICU, they were in the same bay that WIlliam was in. I was never going to be ready to go back into the NICU but to find them in the same place was terrible. Physically I was struggling with the overpowering feeling that I couldn’t breathe alot of the time. Especially on Noah’s 3rd or 4th day when he was particularly unwell. It was really hard looking at him and not thinking of him as William. For almost a week I didn’t visit either of them, I was so scared they were going to die. I would take the kids in. I would go with David to the door but I couldn’t go in, just when they needed me the most. I’ve admitted that to a couple of people now but this is the first time I have written it down. I really did want to walk away.

It took a good kick in the pants from Carolyn (midwife and friend) to get me back in there and see Noah as a new and precious being and to look to the positive that maybe just maybe I might take these little ones home. Other than that episode, the whole experience at the time was… numbing.

My head couldn’t get around everything that had happened and was happening and so it didn’t, it shut down. It went into some kind of weird autopilot, not unlike after Will had died. Ivy and Noah’s good days and bad days all felt the same.

When I think of our NICU time now, I physically shake and sweat, the same as when I talk about it, so I usually don’t. I don’t bring it up and I am quite good at changing the subject when it comes to NICU talk.

I started to have a conversation with a friend about it the other day and felt like I was going to cry. It felt wrong to be upset almost two years after the experience but, like William’s grief, Ivy and Noah’s birth and 9 weeks in the NICU and SCU have largely been swept under the rug (because they are alive and I got what I wanted and I should be happy with a good outcome) and a kind of delayed reaction has set in.

It’s really hard to look at the photos we have  because I don’t remember alot of the time in NICU and when I do look at them I feel sad and sad feels wrong. I know I should feel happy that they are here and well. I do feel blessed every single day that I get to spend with them but there are lots of negative feelings surrounding Ivy and Noah’s birth too. To say the emotions are mixed is an understatement. I know I’m not making alot of sense here, people but bare with me.

What I am trying to say in a nutshell is that I believe in delayed reactions to a traumatic event but that in having these emotions two years down the track (three in William’s case) it is difficult for many to understand. What’s the big deal? They are almost two. That part of your life is done with, get on with it already. I struggle with that exact same internal argument all the time and I don’t allow myself to feel that sadness for fear of being misunderstood but is that ok? Will there come a time because I haven’t dealt with Ivy and Noah’s birth and NICU period when I just lose the plot entirely?

Way out in London Airport, in Hangar Number 4,
A lonely little biplane lived whose name was Evermore.
His working days were over; no more would he sail
Upon his wings above the clouds flying the Royal Mail.

Bye bye biplane
Once upon a sky plane
Bye bye
Hushabye
Lulla biplane

All the mighty jet planes would look down their nose.
They’d laugh and say, "Oh, I’m so glad that I’m not one of those!"
And Evermore would shake away the teardrops from his wings,
And dream of days when he again could do heroic things.

Bye bye biplane
Once upon a sky plane
Bye bye
Hushabye
Lulla biplane

Then one day the fog and rain had closed the airport down
And all the mighty jet planes were helpless on the ground
When a call came to the airport for a mercy flight
They could not wait - ‘twould be too late - someone must fly tonight!
They rolled the little biplane out to runway number 5
And though he looked so small and weak, he knew he could survive!
And as he rose into the storm the big jets hung their wings,
 And hoped some day like Evermore to do heroic things.

Bye bye biplane
Once upon a sky plane
Bye bye
Hushabye
Lulla biplane

And so, my bitty bundle, I have spun a tale for you.
You must learn there’s nothing in this world that you can’t do.
Do not be discouraged by circumstance or size:
Remember Evermore and set your sights up in the skies.

Bye bye biplane
Once upon a sky plane
Bye bye
Hushabye
Lulla biplane

I was reading on another forum - Austprem, about how premmie children are  often judged because they are small for their age. It got me thinking that premature babies are the most amazing creatures. They fight for their right to live from the moment they are born. They struggle and overcome many odds to be here and present in this world.

Ivy and Noah were so small and helpless at 30 weeks and in 18 short months they have thrived to become active, smart, darling toddlers. Noah has weak lungs and Ivy has health issues too but they are happy, joyous beings who live their little lives to the fullest.

How can we dare judge premmie babies/children? How can we not include them because they are smaller or sicker than the other kids? I think we should take a good look at them. We can learn alot from these little fighters. Ivy and Noah taught me resillience and to never give up, no matter what.

The above posted song was also submitted on Austprem in response to the same thread and while I have never heard it before the words truly touched my heart and reminded me that from little things big things grow.

National Premmie Day is on the 12th of June.

While I may not go to any formal celebrations I will be hugging ALL my premmie children - Imogen and Madeline 35weekers, now 11years old (almost), Lily, 37 weeker,(technically not premmie these days but not quite full term either), now a big girl at 9 years and Ivy and Noah -  my squidgy 30 weekers, now pushing past the 18 month mark, barrelling towards 2.