Dear Reader,
Tilly has been neglecting you shamefully.
She promises to do better...
Love
Tilly's mum.
Where was I? I'm going to have to do a very quick catch up...
We were in hospital for 5 days.
Night 2 was hard. Neither baby would settle at all. I was exhausted, I felt like there was no one to help and that I'd really be better off at home where at least there'd be two of us.
The twins fed constantly but not terribly successfully, at least in Alex's case.
The midwives said he was hungry, they took him for a little while and then suggested giving him formula.
Now I've nothing against formula and I was fairly sure we'd end up using it as part of the feeding process at some point, but not at 30 hours old, when it's perfectly normal for milk not to be "in" yet until 3 or 4 days post birth.
I took him back from them and went back to the constant feeding. I knew I might have to give in at some point, I'd been told that a c-section could mean that full milk production could be delayed.
I fed Alex and Toby through the night, all night, and at around 36 hours old I noticed a change, they settled and slept. The constant feeding had brought the milk within 36 hours.
My iron level coming out of theatre had been 7. something, very low but not a significant drop. They decided to hold off on the transfusion.
On day 4 I felt ready to go home, the older children had been ill but were getting better. I felt ok and was getting bored, Mum was due to head back to the UK and J was exhausted with running around after everyone and trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital.
The consultant was happy that I was doing fine but decided they needed to check my iron was rising first. I was sure it must be, I was taking 3 iron tablets a day, and drinking spatone, and no longer had two parasites leeching away all the good stuff.
It had dropped. I needed the transfusion.
They decided to give me three units of blood the next day, one it was in I would be able to go home.
The next day I had breakfast, and they got me ready for the drips etc at around 8am. Each unit would take around 3 hours to go in so I hoped to be going home by tea time.
What a frustrating day that was. I waited and waited lunchtime came and went without the blood arriving. I couldn't see any way I was going home. J was feeling poorly and suggested I wait another day or two but I was psyched up to be at home so when the blood arrived with a plan to pump the first unit over 3 hours and then the other 2 over 2 hours each I grabbed it although it was already 2pm and I wouldn't be done til around 9.
To my shame I brushed off J's concerns.
Blood feels strange going in, it's icy cold, straight from a fridge and hurts at first. As it comes up to room temperature over the hours it takes to go in you cease to notice it, but then that unit is done and a new one it put up, icy cold again.
I was still wearing the hated surgical stockings and having daily injections to prevent clots.
At 9.30 we were done and got ready to go home. J again tried to persuade me that I should stay another night, he looked exhausted and said he was feeling ill.
I'm stubborn though, and we got home at around 10.30.
J and the boys had decorated the house with flowers, banners and balloons.
He hadn't made our bed though which he'd stripped to wash the bedding and I was cross.
By next morning it was obvious in retrospect that J was poorly. He felt fluey and headachy.
By Monday his face was looking slightly swollen, I told him to make a doctor's appointment but he refused. He'd do it next day if he didn't feel better.
On Tuesday I made the appointment while he slept, his face was very swollen, something was obviously wrong, Sam and Josiah, who'd been better enough to return to school on the Monday, clearly weren't up to it on the Tuesday and stayed home.
He drove in for the appointment, I sat at home and waited for him to come back. Then he phoned, the GP was sending him to the hospital, it looked like he'd be admitted for IV antibiotics...
When the consultant saw him she confirmed th GP's diagnosis, J had erisipelas, a potentially deadly strep infection he was going nowhere but a hospital bed.
I was home with 2 nine day old babies, 3 children, one poorly, one shattered and in a post viral grump and one ridiculously energetic and a 75 year old who had reached her limits.
But hey, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?
