Introducing Stephen Alexander Howells

Day 2:

I am writing this from the hotel room, two days after our family was completed with the arrival of (& this may be me being bias) the world’s most beautiful little boy.

The birth story isn’t particularly traumatic but it wasn’t straightforward either. It turns out, baby is a bit of a drama king and was not ready to leave his nice warm house. Induction failed after almost 11hrs and they stopped my contractions so that I could walk to the operating theatre. The ceasarian was quick, calm and the team were amazing. Our perfect little man was born, pink and screaming, at 3.50am on April 9th 2021.

They let Steve go and see him in the cot once they’d done their initial checks and, much to my surprise and happiness, they then put him on me for a few minutes before taking him to NICU. Having been told we wouldn’t get cuddles after the birth, throughout the pregnancy, it was the most amazing feeling to be able to hold my boy after the birth with limited wires and tubes.
I was discharged from the hospital around 36hrs after the birth. Slightly sooner than the norm for a section but he had already been transferred to the children’s hospital and I was beside myself being so far away from him. Steve stayed with him as much as he could and was there for the transfer too so I was getting updates and pictures. It’s not the same though and just hours after feeling like my life was complete, there was a huge gap again.

Before transfer I managed to visit him in NICU. The wonderful nurses allowed Steve to come in too so that we could be a family for the last time until he’s discharged from the children’s. I’ll treasure those few hours forever. I knew it would be hard being separated, but I didn’t realise just how difficult it is to deal with. The mental drain, constant anxiety that I’m not seeing him enough, that he needs me, that I should be doing more is exhausting. Couple that with attempting to recover from the section (they sent me out with zero pain relief or post op care advice, thank God for the NHS website and mum friends) and I am almost more tired than when I was pregnant.

Day 4:

I won’t sugar coat anything. I don’t see the point or benefit of doing that. I am struggling. Seeing him is amazing. Leaving him is getting harder by the day. He’s latching now which is fantastic. I feel more like a mum when I can do something for him. I’ve started pumping too. It’s hard when they keep asking for more and more milk when it’s the first day it’s come in and I’m so sore, tired and stressed, that it’s not easy to keep up with demand. I feel like I’m failing him, letting him down. I don’t mind them topping up with formula but I almost feel like it’s my fault they’re having to and I’m not doing enough.

Mum guilt is so real.

I haven’t really stopped crying since I was discharged. Often there isn’t even a real reason for it (damn hormones) but the frustration is intense.

We can’t see anyone, we can’t be together. We can’t support each other in the hospital. We can’t be the ones to comfort him in the middle of the night when he fusses. I can’t feed him on demand. We can’t make the pain when he has heel pricks and cannula changes go away and we can’t be the parents you want to be when you have a newborn. Navigating parenthood is hard but doing it with a sick child, at the tail end of a pandemic, is heart wrenching.