Poppy and Ruby's arrival into our world was rather quick and somewhat unexpected. Which is a funny thing to say because, duh, I knew I was pregnant. Its just them being born at 30 weeks gestation is not what I was expecting, or to be honest, wanting.
Poppy and Ruby Peterson, born 18th June 2013 at 30 weeks gestation
But they are here now, and have been on this planet in their own rights for almost 5 weeks. It hard to imagine that I should still be pregnant right now and that it would still be 2 weeks until their scheduled arrival. Sometimes while I'm getting ready in the morning I stare at myself for a full five minutes in the mirror wondering what my belly looked like as a huge ball of pregnancy. But thanks to wonders of instagram, the planet will never forget that. Some mornings I want to take a picture of myself in a sort of 'har har, 36 weeks today, yo!' way. Then I realise I'm not infact Anna Paquin and looking amazing flat stomached seconds after her twin's arrivals (no really you guys, have you seen the latest True Blood episode where she gets all nakey? she must work out like a god damned machine).
The girls are in the SCBU at the local hospital here. Which is better that when they were in NICU a good 20km away. But you know what? it sucks balls. It sucks so much balls. I hate not being able to be a mother to my babies. Maybe if they were my first and I didn't know any different but this sucks, I ache to pick them up and hold them how I want and kiss them and touch their faces without trying to remember if I used the hand sanitizer within the last 2 minutes or a nurse looking over my shoulder. I hate the constant monitors beeping and bleeping and screaming. I hate the busy ward that seems to have a revolving door of babies in and fucking out, except for mine that is, they have been there 3 weeks on Tuesday and they will be there another two weeks at least. I hate the amount of faces I see, every day there is a new nurse to meet when you only just got used to the one the day before. Sure I see lots of similar faces at SCBU since the staff is smaller, but holy crap I swear to god there is a new specialist every god damn day. There are Social workers and Speech Language Therapists that somehow have something to do with teaching your baby to suck. There are developmental therapists who want to monitor Ruby, but not Poppy. At least the lactation consultant just ignores me. There are doctors and trainee doctors and I'm not sure how to tell the difference. There are the cleaners and other types of cleaners(?) and then more nurses. And parents... so many parents. Some ignore you, some make eye contact and at least smile, some we are on first name basis with. Theres the polite ones who at least discretely try to sneak looks of your babies in boxes as they walk past, some blatantly walk up and look like the incubators are glass walls of a zoo. Most are quiet but some are loud and obnoxious and don't seem to realise that they are sharing a room with at least 3 other babies and families. There is no privacy. NONE. I'm not breastfeeding so its not like I feel comfortable asking for a screen either.
You have no control. None. Everything changes on a daily basis. you just think you have a good routine going and you go in there and the feed times have changed, so you have just missed one, or the cares had already been done so you miss out on that. Its small tiny insignificant things you have no control over, but theres thousands of them.
Then there are the 2 steps forward and the 1 step back. NICU staff constantly said 'one step forward and 3 back', those absolute Joy Germs, them. SCBU are at least the opposite but its like you have some amazing day with the girls and the next you come in and they are having monitors beeping with apneas and bradys and DSATS and all that other junk that you have suddenly learned about and have no energy to tell anyone else what the hell that actually means.
Monitor fatigue. Its a real thing.
Its a love hate relationship you have with those noisy little fuckers. Monitors that is - not the kiddies. One second you are wishing you could take them home with you, (because how do parents sleep at night without the security of it all??) and the next you want to rip off all the leads and turn the bloody thing onto perpetual silent mode and just breathe for a second.
And you make up shit in your crazy assed head. Constantly. I wont elaborate on this part because if you are a parent, you know the crazy assed shit you make up in your head.
You learn that your children are on a range of supplements. Caffeine is probably the most amusing. Mine are still on caffeine, they haven't grown out of needing it yet. They have morning coffee hits, just like mummy and daddy. Daddy has 3 now.
I try to think of all the plus sides of having my babies in SCBU with 24 hr around the clock trained professional ninja nurses. But some days I cant see it. I try to remember that right now I'm having HOT coffees, and like, at least 3/4 of them before being distracted. And there usually only one cup of 1/4 left laying around somewhere as opposed to 10. And I'm sleeping at night. Soon, when the girls are, Simon and I are not going to ever have sleep. There will be 4 children who will need our constantly attention, or at least someone to yell at them to share they fucking toys and stop god damn screaming at each other.
Yikes.
I try to just think, in a year, this will be a fuzzy memory. A moment in time. like memories of a prolonged labour after a few months. But its hard. But hey, I'm not breastfeeding and at least there is a liquor store within 1 minute walk, right?
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