Calm down, dear...

Picture credit: harvard law blogs

Women: How does the title of this blog make you feel? Does it make you seethe with rage as you reach to whip off your bra with one hand and strike a match with another? Perhaps it makes you think "Oh dear, silly, wasteful fanciful me, contemplating matters of feminist principle when the laundry basket is overflowing and I've yet to start making the dinner ready for when my man comes home". Or perhaps you think, 'Meh, it's not funny when that odious old bloke on that advert says it either. Move on please"

Hard to know how to react isn't it? Indeed, should we even be reacting at all?

On the drive home I was listening to Nicky Campbell's Radio 5 Live show and there were folk from all walks of life getting their knickers in a knot over whether David Cameron should be lambasted for what some have called a patronising and sexist put down.

There are those, including a female comedian whose name I didn't catch but is apparently very funny on her You Tube videos (but not on radio, it seems) who was absolutely outraged. So outraged that she launched into what another caller called a 'thesis' on why women shouldn't be denigrated in this inappropriate manner in that great chamber of debate, The House of Commons. It was a stirring speech and I must admit that my eye did momentarily rest upon the cigarette lighter as my hand simultaneously drifted towards my bra clasp as I adjusted the seat belt strap that had been bugging me for the whole journey. Aye, bra burning on the A46, what stronger gesture of feminist power could one possibly make as I had dropped my man off to work and my daughter at nursery as I drove home via the shop to pick up some Diet coke, a chocolate doughnut and a copy of Grazia?

Of course the inevitable other side of the debate exclaimed disbelief at a "world gawwwwn maaad" as the "PC brigade" come down hard on a piece of lighthearted friendly banter.

So should we as women be livid that in this day and age we can still have our serious political questions to the Prime Minister of this country dismissed with a simple "calm down, dear"? Or should we shrug and say "it was a joke, if not a very funny one, let's just move on, shall we?"

I'm in two minds. On the one hand I see the feminist anger at such a dismissal taking place in this context. It was not playground or office banter, it was the place where the public are meant to be watching democracy in action as those governing are questioned and held to account. Women have fought hard to be seen as equal, and even though there is no doubt in my mind that Mr Cameron didn't intend to be sexist, the very fact that he uttered such a phrase (the term 'dear' being the offensive part) somehow makes it okay for anyone to utter such dismissals in the guise of 'humour'. But on the other, I feel that as women we've come so far that this kind of thing is hardly going to set us back generations. Male politicians above a certain age that have been to public school are never going to be the most progressively liberal-minded lot and although they're meant to be role models, they're certainly not going to be emulated by the younger male generation to the same extent that misogynistic footballers probably are.

So it's a difficult one. Whether to be annoyed or not at something which was meant to be funny, but in the way of The Office's David Brent, totally missed the mark? Probably not.

What do you think?

In the press again! Hinckley News article on prematurity awareness.

I have included this link on my new Bliss campaign page (see tab at the top of the screen) but thought it deserved its own post. I shall be sending a thank you note to the lovely Ben at the Hinckley Times who wrote the article. He's done a great job in writing a piece which will hopefully draw local peoples attention to the very real threat of prematurity. There was a lovely photograph taken by a very patient (!) photographer who happily played with Babyzoid and her singing duck for what must have been 20 minutes in a bid to subdue her enough to get a good photo. I think she takes it all in her stride now though as she's used to cameras being pushed in her face. Indeed I'm slightly worried that she's going to start thinking she's the East Midlands own Suri Cruise and start demanding designer togs as well as her very own garden theme park for her next birthday, what with all the papping she's had over the last few weeks. I'd better get inviting the Beckham kids now to make sure they're not booked up in September.

Unfortunately you don't see the results of the photo session as that only appears in the print edition, but here is the link nonetheless:

Baby's early birth inspires charity role for Burbage mum

And a section from the article:

Those issues include ensuring long distance transfers are minimised and that all care follows a well managed pathway as well as the region’s desperate shortage of neonatal nurses and the importance of ensuring there will be no cuts to front line jobs.

Christina said: “That issue is extremely important to me as I received such excellent care and service from the neonatal units who took care of my fragile little baby and made sure that I was informed, and coping in the emotional sense.

“I will never forget their kindness. And I want to give something back so campaigning for Bliss seems the ideal way to do this. I am so worried about the prospect of babies being subjected to unnecessary risk through NHS budget cuts and staffing issues.

In addition to this and the Leicester Mercury article I have also been interviewed by 2 local radio stations. The local press interest is a fantastic start to the campaign, but there is still lots more to do as awareness needs to be at a national level if we are to achieve our objectives of maintaining the current hospital network system and improving neonatal care UK wide.

Would premature labour have occurred to you before you had children?

As a young woman intent on never having children I was aware of certain difficulties, impairments or tragedies that could befall a baby on being born into this world. Even as a child I'd heard of Downs Syndrome and Spina Bifida, though I hadn't a full comprehension of what it meant for the families affected, of course. I also knew of cot death, or SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) that could strike down any seemingly healthy infant and render parents so completely destroyed by grief. But Prematurity of Labour? Sure, babies came early, by a few weeks or so. And what would happen? Well I guessed they'd perhaps be in an incubator for a few days before being allowed home with their mummies, like I had been when my mother's umbilical chord had wrapped twice around my neck, causing me a few breathing issues. But extreme prematurity? I confess it hadn't even occurred to me that a baby might just decide it needs to be born at 23 weeks, or heaven forbid earlier than that.

My own baby was born at 27 weeks, which is still classed as extreme prematurity, but doesn't require resuscitation at birth, as in the case of 23 weekers, the subject of a recent controversial BBC 2 documentary. I'll never forget the feeling of confusion and complete incomprehension I felt when I was told that I had gone into spontaneous labour at 27 weeks exactly. "What do you mean?" I asked, innocently. Babies just are not born before you can even enter your third trimester, surely? I was told not to worry and that I would probably last "another 2 or 3 weeks", which was still 10 or 11 weeks early.

Why was I not prepared for this? Why did I not recall a memory from the recesses of my mind of news stories or TV programmes dedicated to this all too common threat to mothers and unborn babies? Sure, there have no doubt been some - and indeed one of my fellow campaigners who I met this week had a documentary made about her son several years before, who had been born at 25 weeks and I was relieved to hear made a full recovery.

But 80,000 babies are born at risk each year from prematurity and other conditions that require specialist care. 80,000! Why the hell aren't we more aware of this? Of course anyone who reads this probably already is as in the blogging community there are many mums, like myself, who have ridden the prematurity roller coaster. Many like me are so incredibly lucky that their stories had a happy ending. Some of course did not have that happy ending. So us blogging community mums are perhaps a little more clued up than the young mum who sees that pink line on her test stick and starts dreaming excitedly of the next nine months, and beyond. But it's those mums who need to be made aware that this may happen. Nothing can ever prepare you for the trauma of having a baby born too soon or too sick, but it doesn't have to come as such a shock. Fellow prem mum's I've spoken to, and there have been quite a few lately, all detail their sense of shock and lack of awareness before they gave birth prematurely. So just as Autism and other childhood conditions are making strides with its campaigns for awareness, so must Prematurity.

One of the prime objectives for the Bliss campaign is to protect the regional network system that ensures hospitals are in contact with their regional neighbours, which is hugely beneficial when babies must be transferred for whatever reason. Before 2003 several nurses might have to give up several hours of their working day randomly phoning hospitals to find one with a free cot. At least with the network system it is more likely that your fragile baby will end up in a hospital relatively close to home. The system is efficient, it works and it must be protected. The fact that there aren't enough cots challenges the system, but the system itself does not need messing with, certainly a danger when all manner of reforms are being thrown around Westminster in a bid to see which ones will stick.

But to persuade our politicians that Neonatal care must be protected, we need the people who elect them to champion it at every opportunity. And if so many people don't even recognise it as an issue or have any real grasp of the implications of not adequately funding babies at risk, then how can we possibly hope to succeed?  The 23 weekers documentary highlighted the most extreme form of prematurity, seemingly focusing in on the fact that care for such infants is mind-blowingly expensive, but we need to make it known on a national level beyond any shadow of a doubt that the very real risk that premature labour can affect any mum-to-be, and it doesn't care if you're rich or poor, black white or Asian, healthy or unhealthy.  If it's going to happen to you, there's nothing you can do to stop it.  But you should at the very least be informed and feel safe in the knowledge that your baby will receive the best care possible. 

www.bliss.org.uk

If you think you can help raise awareness please contact the Bliss charity, via the contact details on their website. I am also happy to speak to or email with anyone who has been affected by premature labour (see contact tab at the top of this page).

Silent Sunday

Listography - 5 things I hope people will say at my funeral

This week we have a choice in Listography! We can either do our very own 'Bucket List' and share 5 things we would like to do before we die, or if we are quite morbidly inclined we can share 5 things we'd like to overhear people saying at our funeral. Well being a former goth I've never shied away from the morbid, so here goes:

1. Do you think there will be a public holiday on St Beadzoid's Day?

2. Don't tell me, she's being cremated in a long black dress? Now there's a surprise...

3. She might not have died young but damn, that is still one fine looking corpse!

4. And following that touching tribute by the Head of the UN Goodwill Ambassor programme, let us hear a few words via holographic link from Queen Catherine at Buckhingham Palace...

5. Dame Beadzoid is survived by her 2 children. The eldest, Lady Babyzoid will be taking the helm of the family's muti-billion dollar business operations.

Now check out the rest by clicking on the Listography badge on the right of the page!

Doin' the zombie

Babyzoid's done it! She's taken her first steps! She's been taking one or two steps for a couple of weeks now but yesterday she achieved what I will class as her first little walk. She took 4 steps (including the one where she stumbled into me) all on her own. At 19 months actual, and 16 months adjusted she has achieved a very important milestone, and I couldn't be prouder. So cute, she decided she was just going to go for it, and did so with her zombie-like with arms stretched out in front of her, an intense look of concentration on her face until she realised her mummy, daddy and brother were all cheering her on. Picture credit: tx4tx
She then broke out into the biggest proudest beaming smile and let out a little giggle of triumph. How proud am I? 19 months may seem quite a late age to take you first steps to most, but for a little 27 week prem, it's not bad at all! :D

100th Post! I've Vlogged :D

Yes, here is my century, so what better way to mark the occasion than with a pioneerng (if others hadn't done it first) video blog. Of course I forgot it was my 100th post while I was recording, shame, maybe I'd have worn a party hat. But never mind!

Anyway, more importantly: Do I really sound like that? Seriously?

A 'vlog' on why I blog, what I'm up to, and my hopes and plans for the future. Eek!



Thank you for watching :) Will you try your hand at vlogging?

Big Plans!

Photo credit
I've been pretty busy of late. After a pretty rough year or so of battling Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and depression I've been trying to reassess what's important in my life. I've had plenty of time to think and dwell as I haven't been at work since the end of January. That's right, the end of January! Many of you may not even realise that I do work part-time. I've written before on how I wished I loved my career, but I don't. It's not what propelled me towards a spell of mental illness, but it has been a constant source of stress over the last few years.

I've had very little energy to do anything since I've been ill, and indeed blogging has kept me sane. I've had the chance to be part of a wonderful community where otherwise I would have been quite isolated, living away from most of my family and friends. My brain is still not working as it should and I don't feel at all sharp, but I'm starting to see the green shoots of recovery.

So I've been campaigning for Bliss, the premature and sick baby charity. It has given me a purpose and a focus. As I said in my recent press release and radio interviews (go me!) for the charity, my daughter and I received such excellent care from the two neonatal unit teams that I just want to do something in return. Sick babies can't speak up for themselves and the parents of babies in hospital have too much to cope with. It isn't until later, until we've started to come to terms with what has happened that we are in any state to think about campaigning or raising awareness. It's hard enough to just function half of the time. But I'm so glad that I took this on. It's fantastic and I get such a buzz from the work that we are doing. The campaign in our region is only just beginning, so there is lots of hard work still to be done.

In regards to myself, I want what most mums want, to spend as much time with my precious little one as possible. I don't want to miss anything, and nor do I want to be so completely miserable and stressed out so that I can't enjoy any of it. So I have to make a break. I don't know when it will be, the sooner the better. Some time ago I purchased a domain name for a website I want to build on cooking for babies and toddlers. Ensuring they eat nutritious meals that in many cases the whole family can enjoy, with a section on the needs of premature babies in the first stages of weaning. Hardly a ground breaking idea I know, but I think I can do it well - and I've a very willing taste-tester in Babyzoid!

I also want to take my blog to self-hosted as at nearly 100 posts (this is number 99!) I feel ready to graduate :) Between the website building and the Bliss activism it may mean that I've a little less time to post, comment, join in with memes for a few weeks, but it's a sacrifice worth making to get the Bliss campaign charging full steam ahead and engage in a personal project that will give me purpose and hopefully rejuvenate that mojo o'mine!

Silent Sunday

Poop Those Cares Away

Babyzoid has always been a crapper. From the moment she started taking breast milk (starting out with 1ml every hour in a syringe) she could poop for Britain. She usually waited til the most inconvenient time possible. She'd do it when I was breastfeeding her - sometimes 3 or 4 times! I remember one occasion where it got ridiculous. She was strong enough to latch on at this point at around 33 or 34 weeks (gestation) and would take a few gulps, then she'd strain and poop. I'd change her, and she'd do it again... and again. And again. I would give up in the end and she would damn well have to wait until she'd stopped feeding as those micro nappies were too bloody expensive to be burning through at such a rate. Even earlier than that, waiting until she was having her 'cares' done in the incubator was another favourite trick. This involved having lots of little tiny cotton wool balls which you painstakingly unfurl and dip in special distilled water before attempting the old 'top and tail'. This is quite a challenge when your baby looks like their limbs will snap in half at the slightest bend. And even more so as you have to do it through the incubator port holes whilst baby is still wired and tubed up. Tricky!With Babyzoid, you'd take her nappy off, lift her legs and try and get at her botty with a damp cotton ball, and she'd let fly a barrage of projectile yellow poo. This would mean not only would it cover her legs and my hands and wrists, but it would also coat the incubator wall so it looked like a an exploded korma in a microwave. The incubator would then need to be taken apart, disinfected, and her bedding would all have to be changed again. Even her fluffy toys occasionally got caught in the crossfire and would have to be taken home all sodden in a nappy sack to be spin-cycled.

The cotton wool cares method is still used once the baby has graduated to the open cot, and if you so much as flash a babywipe in baby's general direction then your hand will be slapped and you will be shamed and admonished. Well, if our fearsome but lovable chinese head nurse was on duty. I'll never forget her slapping the hands of our neonatal dad friend when he cocked up a nappy change. She was fierce!

When it came to the time when my friends twins were going home it was time to teach us how to bathe our dinky dumplings. So Babyzoid had her first baptismal dunk somewhere around the 10 week mark. The bath they wheeled in was really small, but our three babies were all still between 3 and a half to 4 and a half lbs. We were all terrified. Terrified we'd drown our babies, terrified we'd tip the bath up, and most of all terrified for being shown to be completely incompetent and getting cuffed around the head in front of all the other nurses and parents!

It was with relief that Head nurse was not the one who was doing the 'demo', though she would pop in every now and then to laugh at us (old-school Chinese nurses are so harsh) The twins had their go first with my good friend, their nervous mummy, with me watching and learning. I seem to recall that they cried a little, but were perfectly cooperative on the whole. As I had the naughtiest baby on the unit I feared the worst, and it would be great for this little story if she'd flooded the whole unit and escaped down the corridor. But she was great! She loved it! It seems silly now the amount of poop I've handled (sometimes literally, nice) but one of my biggest fears was that she would poo everywhere. Indeed the nurses were all pretty much placing bets that that is what would happen. My little girl was known for being 'one of the lads' pretty much as soon as she got into the open cots. I'd be sat there by her cot, chatting with the mum's of the two baby boys in the room, when they'd all be doing the loudest botty burps, and Babyzoid's were always the loudest and most frequent. It used to amuse the other mum's and I wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or proud. She hasn't changed to this day. But in that first bath she kept her bowells in order, saved her mum's blushes and was the model baby. It was only afterwards when we got her into the pristine white hospital towell that she exploded - copious streams of sloppy liquidy pasty poop jettisoning into the towell, at which point she rendered pointless the ablutions mummy had just bravely performed.

Now I look back on those days fondly, as Babyzoid's poo is now a thing of wonder. How can one baby shit so much? I'll tell you how, it's because she eats everything she gets her hands on! Her infamous appetite knows no bounds and what isn't used as fuel for her manic whizzing around and daredevil settee dives is expelled unceremoniously in gigantic stinky overspilling cowpats. I'm not in a hurry for my little darling to grow up - it's going too fast as it is, but I think we might be starting potty training before long as averaging 8 or 9 babywipes per poop is getting a little ridiculous...

This was a 'Poo Carnival' post. Please check out more exciting excretory tales over at Ella's Poo Parlour:

The Tots100 controversy!

My my, lots of furore this morning following the Tots100 new rankings. Some bloggers are really upset that their rankings have fallen by such a huge margin. Some aren't bothered. And some are chuffed that they are in the top 100 for the first time. For the record I climbed a lofty 74 places this month and I'm now in the top 300 (woo!)

The reason I write this post is beacuse I just started typing a mammoth response to Fishfingersfortea, when I remembered a sage piece of advice from someone or other "if your comment is going to be more than 5 lines, write your own post!" I regularly write opuses on other people's blogs (um sorry bout that) but on this occasion I'll address the issue at hand on my own.

I will hand on my heart say that stats and rankings don't matter to me, indeed I wrote a humorous (I like to think) post on the subject sometime last week when my OH wrongly stated that he supposed we don't have rankings and league tables in Mummy Blogging. I'd find the link to it to drive you to other posts on my blog 'cause it's good for stats y'know, but well, I'm just too lazy.

I like to see that I'm being read, sure, and it certainly can be disheartening to see a post you thought was great receive 3 viewings, or worse! But I quickly learned not to feel this way. I can't possibly keep up with every single post on the vast majority of blogs I read, so I don't expect the same of others. If my stats dipped right down - probably meant I didn't spend as much time doing memes, linkies or commenting as last week. Maybe I spent more time playing with my daughter, or going shopping, or reading something other than blogs. Now I LOVE blogging, love the community, and love that writing my blog has given me a platform to write about and become activist for what I really DO care about: care for premature babies. That's why I'm here. Blogging is helping me through depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is giving me the drive to do good for others and not just be concerned with my own little world. I now have a purpose in life. And I've met some incredibly inspiring people along the way. Jennie Nairn who blogs at Edspire (see blog roll), Kylie at Notevenabagofsugar, Ghostwritermummy and Jayne Crammond, Tattie Weasel and Looking For Blue Sky, Crystal Jigsaw and Mummy From the Heart... I want to carry on naming more because there are so many. But that would be silly. There are also the real life people: Sara and Kellie at Bliss who work so tirelessly at campaign headquartes. Hang on, this is getting like an Oscar acceptance speech - maybe I ought to enter the MADS after all (thanks, but it's really ok).

It doesn't offend me that I see some bloggers enjoy the competition, it's their right if it floats their boat. But I'm not that way. I was an outsider at school, I still fundamentally see myself as such, except that I'm now a strong and confident woman who can interract with society. So I will never be caught valuing myself by 'popularity rankings' and therefore I feel no pressure whatsoever to achieve immortality with my blog. So to answer that original question: do we really not care about stats? Some of us do, and some of us don't. And there's nothing wrong with that.

And that is the last time I am ever going to write about blogging stats. I promise. Now I'd be really grateful if you'd read my earlier much more important update post on the Bliss campaign. :)

Bliss activism update: I'm in the Leicester Mercury, and on the radio...X2!!!

As many of you will know I have become a campaigner for Bliss. Following my meeting with my MP things have indeed been happening. He agreed to look further into the issues surrounding Neonatal care and indeed wrote to the Department for Health Minister on my behalf. He also provided a quote for the article below, which adds weight to the central region campaign. I am very grateful to Mr Tredinnick MP for the support he has given me so far and indeed I hope I can call upon him further to aid us in protecting services for sick babies.

Please take a look at the article below. It filled nearly a whole page in the newspaper and was accompanied by a really good photo of Babyzoid and I. I do have a copy of the photo, but I'm unsure of the situation regarding copyright so thought it best not to reproduce.

Incidentally, for anyone in the Warwickshire/Leicestershire area I'm appearing on a morning news bulletin on Oak FM tomorrow to talk about the issues surrounding the work that Bliss does. This was a pre-recorded interview so I'll be interested to hear how it turns out. I also did a pre-recorded for Gem 106, so looking forward to that one too!

http://www.thisisleicestershire.co.uk/news/Mum-lobbies-MP-vital-neonatal-services/article-3406470-detail/article.html

Don't forget, if you think you can help out at all with getting involved in campaigning for the protection of Neonatal services, then please contact Bliss. Their contact details are on the website (link above).

The Gallery - Mother's Love

Well today I have two entries in the Gallery as a photo of my precious little daughter has today been published on the fab new site championing mother's rights on the labour ward by our friends from Maternity Matters. The photo shows my beautiful little girl at only a few days old weighing under 2lbs after losing some of her birth weight. She is off the ventilator but hooked up to all of the other paraphernalia that would be with her for the first couple of months of her life. I love the fact that she's pulling a contemplative fist to mouth pose. Girl's always known how to work the camera!

My second photo is quite a bit later when she had graduated from Intensive Care to High Dependency. I thought she was getting so big by this time, honestly!

Movie Meme: Week 7 - Blade Runner

I'm really making an effort to try and get in first this week as I don't see how this couldn't be in the top 5 80s films of those who have seen it (surely most people?).

Picture credit: Alt Film reviews

Directed by Ridley Scott it's what might be called a cyber-punk classic - and yes I did just steal that phrase from IMDB. Harrison Ford's Decker is a 'Blade Runner' - a cop whose job it is to hunt down human clones known as 'replicants'. The replicants were meant to be stationed on various space colonies to serve their human creator's needs, but have to be terminated as they become to dangerous. Ford is meant to be retiring of course, but in the good old time-honoured Hollywood tradition of that 'one last job' he is lured back to hunt down a crew of escapees who have hijacked a ship and are headed back to earth.

Harrison is getting older here, but is still a bit sexy and brings his A-game; Rutger Hauer is delightfully over the top as the bad-ass rebel replicant; and Daryl Hannah looks beautiful with long legs and bandit eye make-up. Blade Runner is one of those films that will forever be remembered for it's style, and later films have often tried to replicated it's look and feel, Fifth Element being a good example. It contains the usual Hollywood "there be a moral to this fair tale, there be!" but it's ok. Yes, we get the point that we shouldn't play God and dabble too much in cloning and genetics lest we create some dystopian disaster which threatens all of humankind, but the message doesn't detract from the cool by straying into the preachy. A great sci-fi film that still looks modern and futuristic in spite of the fact that next year it will be 30 years since its release.

Now see the rest at:

Sleepy Saturday, Insomnia Sunday, Migraine Monday

My blog had gone dark for a few days aside from my contender for crappest Silent Sunday photo ever. It even beat the French urinal I submitted for the shapes week of The Gallery that time as most pointless photo ever. I kind of feel I should apologise to anyone who took time to click on my link only to be faced with 'scraggy daff poking through the dirt from next door's garden'. Yeah SOS bout that. Yet you lot are so lovely it still garnered 7 comments, bless.

So yes, shoddy smart phone snaps aside I've been failing to sleep when I should, sleeping when I shouldn't and feeling pretty rubbish. I've a list of tasks as long as my arm and have even resorted to buying an iPod touch app that gives me loot and XP, which is Experience Points for you non gamer-nerds, to motivate myself. Not received a bean for the ironing yet, and that's unlikely to change.

So hopefully a normal blog, tweet and commenting service resuming tomorrow after my pre-recorded radio interview (more of to follow).

Spreading sleep dust to all fellow insomniacs/sleep deprived mummies x

Silent Sunday

What being a parent means to me

Babyzoid and I have been on such a journey over the past 19 months. Even before she was born 13 weeks ahead of schedule we both had to fight in our own ways for the day the day when she would eventually come into the world. It had taken quite a while to conceive – 14 months in all. I would tell myself that it was nothing compared to so many others, indeed I worked with one lady who took 4 years to conceive.
My partner and I were so overjoyed, so utterly over the moon when I found out I was expecting. We were due to go to Bath for a few days away the next day. I was so disbelieving that we’d finally done it that I did a third pregnancy test as soon as we got into our B&B room.
A couple of weeks later and the joy turned to misery as I was struck down with what turned out to be severe form of morning sickness, Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I spent all day every day unable to get away from the bathroom. Eventually I was so sick and weak that I couldn’t even make the bathroom most of the time and had to have a bowl by my bed. My muscles wasted and I became skeletal. I had weighed a slim but healthy 8st 7lb, but I soon plummeted to under 7 and a half stone as I couldn’t even keep a sip of water in my system.
The weaker I got the more devastated I became at what seemed like a major injustice. I wasn’t sure I could carry on. At times, I wanted an abortion. I had been so desperate to start a family with the man I loved, it had finally happened for us, and it had turned into a nightmare. I also loathed myself for considering ending my pregnancy. How pathetic was I? How could I even consider terminating the life that I had wanted to create above all else? She was fighting in spite of the fact that I couldn’t give her proper nutrients, in spite of the fact that I was incapable of taking folic acid. I would never forgive myself if my inability to keep down food made her ill or disabled once she was here.
But somehow I stopped pitying myself so much as I realised how much I wanted to be a parent to the little creature growing inside of me; to make up for the awful start I was giving her.
Of course when it came to it I couldn’t even hold on to her for the full 9 months. We never found out why Babyzoid came early, but my placenta was obviously deficient from the state of it once it came out. I probably had an incompetent cervix too. Who knows? But my little girl has had to overcome a lot, both in utero and out.
Now I am the proudest Mummy alive. She fought her way off the ventilator after 2 days in the NICU, then she fought her way through High Dependency, graduating to SCBU, and eventually home – 2 weeks ahead of her due date. I was so proud. And I’ve never stopped being proud. I’m so proud that my little girl has caught up her height, weight and then some. Proud that everyone says how irresistible cute she is with her angelic blonde flicky-outy hair and her large green almond-shaped eyes. Proud that she goes for what she wants in life at only 18 months old. She wants food? She’ll grab her bib out of the baby unit (creating chaos in the process) and bring it to her Dad or me. She wants a kiss? She’ll lean in and nearly head butt us. I’m proud that she is such a rough and tumble tomboy who seems to have no fear. Proud that she has such a wonderful sense of humour and an infectious giggle that melts the heart of everyone who hears it. Proud that so many people have said that she seems advanced and has ‘been on this earth before’.
I know rationally that every mum is proud of their little one, but I feel it with every bone in my body that my little girl is special, that she is a fighter, that she was meant to be here and that nothing is going to stop her achieving whatever she wants to achieve. I thought it meant the world to me to be a parent, but it means everything to me to be her parent. I feel I won the baby lottery and if I never achieve anything else of note in my life, then that is OK.

I Love My Little Human Dustbin!

I feel almost guilty writing about this as I know that so many parents have real difficulties with getting their small ones to eat proper food. I feel almost like I'm bragging - well, I guess I kind of am. Bragging because I'm so proud of my little girl. Not only is she tenacious, feisty, hilariously amusing, loving and affectionate, and has the most beautiful little face I ever did see; but she has slept through the night since very early on, doesn't get up at the crack of dawn )the crack of noon perhaps, if I'd let her!) and she eats anything I put in front of her. Yes, anything.

Care for some examples? Well she started out her eating career by favouring some of the less obvious weaning choices. She would eat bland baby rice, I mean as I've said she'll eat anything, but the delight in her was most obvious when I gave her anything tasting strongly of prunes, or basil, or beetroot. Basically anything that had an extremely strong flavour.

I remember reading everywhere that babies like bland flavours - well not mine. I remember getting somewhat frustrated at having every snack I tried to eat grabbed off me by an already very well fed Babyzoid. So when she grabbed a segment of lime off my plate, which had been squeezed over something or other, I thought 'ha, this will teach her!'. But no! She merrily sucked away at the lime all afternoon and would shout annoyance if I tried to take it off her. I did start to wonder if she had any taste buds at all, but the 'mmmmmm's' of delight when I give her her favourite dishes like moussaka, Mediterranean fish pie or Thai green chicken curry (I know!) tell me otherwise.

Indeed last night Babyzoid really should not have been hungry. She had been at nursery all day and had had the usual: a breakfast in addiction to the one she'd already had at home; morning snack; hot lunch and pudding; tea and snacks. For once though I didn't have the shame of being informed that my precious had not only thieved half the other babies dinners but also the staff's sandwiches. Always a relief! She really shouldn't have been hungry, but as ever she was. Daddyzoid was the one doing the cooking last night as he'd decided I need to do what my therapist says for once and actually REST. So my favourite crab and courgette linguine was on the menu. Not one to be left out, Babyzoid had to join us in the high chair, else she'd have been shouting and trying to hoist herself up our legs like my old family pooch. We started out by giving her spaghetti, but then Daddyzoid got his cheeky face on and tried her with an olive. Yum! Then the capers; Yum yum! Then the courgettes, then red onion, the lumps of crab... even the fact that some of this tasted pretty strongly of red chilli's didn't deter. The olives and the capers were her favourites. She devoured them how I devour Maltesers.

So rather than having the frustrating hunt of trying to find something that she will eat, I'm actually trying to find something she won't. I thought I had found it in bananas, but it turns out she'll even eat them if there's nothing else on offer. I realise this makes me the luckiest mummy in the world come mealtimes, but I dread to think how much my food budget is going to be in a few years if she keeps this up!