We woke on Friday morning on the 1st floor with our baby on the 3rd, it just wasn’t meant to be like this, all the while we were surrounded by the sights and sounds of how things were meant to be. We were able to see Alfie as often as we liked, 24 hours a day, unless there were clinical procedures taking place. If any of the babies in the unit needed an injection the whole unit would be shut down, frustrating but necessary to protect all the babies.
Jean and John and Sharron came to visit and get their first visit with Alfie. Beth wasn’t given that much time to recover, still attached to a drip and bag, she was encouraged to express milk into small cups so that it could be frozen for Alfie. This was pretty hard going as the natural hormones that stimulate milk production when you get hands on your baby weren’t there! Beth would look at pictures of Alfie as she expressed as it was thought that this might help. I had to get so close to Beth’s nipples that my eyes could hardly focus on them, we felt that every drip was vital. At this point Alfie was fed via a drip through his belly button; a second tube in the same place was used to take regular blood samples. I noticed that these tiny tubes had “Argyle” written on them… what are the chances of that! We were given the good news that the brain scan machine wasn’t showing anything of concern and his observer (he would be watched 24-7) said that she hadn’t seen him have any fits or seizures, key factors in determining the effects of oxygen starvation.
Later that day now that Beth had been disconnected from one wire we left the room, again with Beth in the wheelchair, to go and have coffee with Matt and Sharron. Beth kept up her sprits by hiding away from me behind a corner while I went into the toilet! Knowing Beth’s strength it wouldn’t have jumped out and walked off like the Little Britain Character.
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