One week after the boys were born I was allowed to leave hospital. I was excited to leave. I was eager to get out but as anyone who has been in hospital knows, it took a good three hours after the news to be formally discharged. I felt like I had not been home in forever. I was beyond ecstatic to see my fur baby (a spoodle- Murphy) In all the excitement I didn’t stop to think exactly what that meant…
The huge glass sliding doors opened and I stepped outside to the front of the hospital and it hit me right in the guts like a ton of bricks. Right through my heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was not supposed to happen. I was going home. But all my children were staying. Two fighting for their lives in the intensive care unit and my baby girl in that cold room with all the dead people. This WASN’T SUPPOSED HAPPEN. I felt like I was going to collapse. All around me it seemed like there were happy family’s taking their newborn babies home. Suddenly their seemed to be happy pregnant women everywhere with their doting partners leading them like they were as fragile as glass. I started screaming. Literally. I started wailing. Literally. I stood there in hysterics while the hospital world just moved around me. Hysterically wailing, waiting for Daniel to bring the car. Hysterically wailing like my daughter had died. Hysterically wailing like I didn’t have my precious babies to take home.
The whole car ride home it was just leading me further and further away from my babies. It was like being punched with brick after brick after brick. We were home. I started shaking. I didn’t want to go inside. How was I going to face the baby things? All the beautiful tiny precious clothes I had bought in my excitement. How was I to face those tiny beautiful dresses I had bought for Olive. I took a deep breath and forced myself to the front door, even though I felt like I could have happily spent the night camping out front in our car. I opened the door and first thing that hit me was how pretty our house is. Now our house isn’t super fancy or Pinterest worthy or anything like that, but after spending so much time in hospital which is factually ugly, being surrounded by my beautiful artwork and our bright sunny house was like walking into the Taj Mahal for the first time. The second thing that hit me was that there was not a single baby item out. My sister and Mum had kindly come over and put every single baby item into the nursery and firmly closed the door. I quickly collapsed into our dreamy bed and felt like I could sleep for a very long time.
Waking up was the hardest. I would wake in a panic and think did I dream it? I would touch my swollen sore stomach and that sinking feeling would wash over me. No Lucy you are no longer pregnant. Yes Lucy Olive has passed away. Yes Lucy your boys were born five hundred grams and are currently fighting for their lives in neonatal intensive care unit. And so, began the NICU Groundhog Day.