It Never Rains…

…but today it poured and the mini rollercoaster continues to chuck me around. My poor old mum came to stay last night. We were all set for a nice girly four days with her looking after Lucas assisted by a small army of generous friends with kids who had offered to take the pressure off each day, and the very first night she gets struck down by cancer related pain and sickness. Up all night and looking brave but grey by the morning. My dad came to collect her by the afternoon and Lucas managed a fun trip to the toy shop and some new shoes with flashing red lights as a result of me trying to keep him amused. I am currently down by two childminders, one babysitter (the daughter of the childminder – bad move) and one cleaner (who has buggered off on holiday at a day’s notice).

I dashed into the hospital to see the peas while my mum was still here and Lucas was asleep, hoping to try and breastfeed again. I thought I should mention that I was feeling a bit under the weather and could be coming down with a cold. They told me rather sternly that by handling my babies I risked sending them right back to square one. I realised that under these circumstances I was there for me not for them, terrified I might have already passed on a cold with all that handling last night. And as I started to sneeze uncontrollably on the ward the sidelong glances of the nurses told me it was time to go. So I sloped off home after a pump and delivering nappies without even a kiss or a cuddle with either baby. Felt a bit downcast and functional. Bringer of supplies. Gerard did some baby cuddling for me later.

Worried I have either a nasty cold coming on or mastitis. Bed and water. In laws cavalry arrive in the morning. Bugger.



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