I can’t believe that a whole year has passed since Freddie was born and how much he’s changed during that time. Obviously, he’s a lot bigger but from the tiny, underweight, unhealthy baby we bought home from the hospital, he is now a strong, healthy and oh so cheeky little boy.
Freddie’s health has dramatically improved over the last 12 months with his hemangioma partially involuting, the ulceration healing and his heart and body adjusting its new needs. He’s come so far and we’ve learnt to adjust to living with Freddie’s hemangioma as well. I still have the odd day when I am more sensitive to it than others, days where I feel people look more. But I’ve also grown in strength and pride for my son. You want to stare at my baby? Well fully expect me to glare back at you until you feel so awkward that you quickly look away. I have no issue with people who are genuinely intrigued by it and will happily explain it to them, but those are few and far between. It’s the ignorant, small minded idiots make my blood boil.
This week has been a huge trigger in bringing up all the emotions I felt this time last year. All week it's been playing on my mind about what we were doing this time last year and the anticipation and excitement we had to meet our new baby. Then even today on his birthday, I've found myself clock watching.
7am we arrived at the hospital ready for the c section
2pm Jack was finally allowed in the hospital!
2.35pm the time he was born
4pm the time we went up on to the ward and I had to face other people with a 'less than perfect' looking baby and the first person to ask me 'what's that on his head'
6pm the time he was taken to NICU
10pm the time I sat balling my eyes out in NICU not knowing what the hell was going to happen to my baby. Feeling so alone and helpless.
1.30am the time they took my baby away from me. The time my heart was ripped out of my body.
I still see it so vividly. Him being wheeled away in the incubator and the doors shutting behind him. Not knowing if I was ever going to see him again. Beyond helpless.
4am call from Jack, he was at Great Ormand Street.
4.30am Freddie arrived at Great Ormand Street. At least he would now have his Dad there with him. I hated the thought of this tiny, helpless baby being so alone. He was only a matter of a few hours old and had been taken away from his mother, tubes shoved in all places, in a glass box and driven 2 hours away. At least now he would have some comfort.
7am Freddie and Jack were moved on to PICU after being cleared from the rapid testing unit.
8.30am I was given the okay from the doctor to be discharged
1.30pm I actually left the hospital! And gave my mum the biggest hug of my life!
4.30pm I arrived at Great Ormand Street, queue one almighty panic attack, then into mama bear mode, where is my baby!?
The whole experience of having Freddie taken away from me has scared me for life. This is not something I would ever wish on my worst enemy and is the reason for my post natal ptsd.
The feeling of utter helplessness, being completely out of control, the unknown, the uncertainty.
They knew Freddie was going to be born with his hemangioma. They knew the potential risks so why was this not thought of? Why did they not prepare for this? Why was I allowed to give birth to him in this way?
I still feel so angry about everything that happened that day and the ultimate shit show that happened. The stress that I, Freddie, Jack and my family had to endure in that first 24 hours was unbelievable all because of poor planning and a sheer lack of knowledge from our doctors.
But now I look into Freddie's eyes and know I'd do it all again, a million times over, in a heart beat.
None of this is strength or courage or anything else like that. At no point did I have a choice to do any of this. I am simply a mother put in a shit situation, and any mother would do the same.
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