In case you missed the memo, we are running the Australian Running Festival Half Marathon on April 14th. We are doing this to raise awareness about premature birth and funds for the Neonatal Intensive Care Foundation (see previous blog for more info or go to our pagehttps://www.gofundme.com/running-4-NICU 🙂
I am posting daily on our insta (double_the_luv) and for our blog, my aim is to try and do a recap at the end of each training week up until the half marathon on April 14th. So here is Week 1….
Our little Warrior Princesses turned 1! It was a huge, emotional few days with a birthday party on Saturday, Christening on Sunday and the girls actual Birthday on Monday. We had friends and family travel a long way to celebrate our precious girls as well as friends who live locally. Of course we had a Warrior Princess theme! The girls were absolutely spoilt and we enjoyed time in the sunshine and in the pool. Thank you to everyone who came. The girls had a wonderful time 🙂
Day 1 of training
Our training kicked off on Monday, the girls actual birthday. Of course we had our morning snuggles and the girls had their 6:45am bottle then we headed off for our 5km ‘easy run’. The girls were happy and settled the whole time and even enjoyed a nap. 🙂
When we got back I attempted a sweaty group selfie and then cooked the girls a green pancake stack and sang happy birthday. It was just us girls because poor Baby Daddy had to work.
Day 2 of training
Tuesday is the training day I dread. Intervals! This morning we did a 2km warm up, 8 x 60 second sprints (well as hard as I can go for 60 secs), with 60 sec rests and then a 2km cool down. Last week I did 6×60 sec sprints and felt like I was going to die! But this time, I felt that I wasn’t as exhausted so I think I am improving!
Day 3 of Training
Rest day! This morning I attempted some Yoga while the girls played. They lasted 15 mins and then we went for a walk. We played lots and the girls fussed a lot (they have a little cold) and we also had a little dip in our unicorn pool.
Day 4 of Training
This morning I was supposed to do a 2km warm up and 2 km cool down with 2x 2km race pace (3 minute rest in between). I changed it up a bit though so the girls wouldn’t fall asleep because we were going to buy a pram after their morning nap so a pram sleep was a no go! We just did 1km warm up and 1.5 cool down with the 2x 2km race pace and then we had another little run when we went to try the pram out.
Planned to perfection, the girls napped beautifully after their breakfast and we went to purchase BOB! This pram is huge! But it is a proper running pram, feels great and I am so excited that we can train and run the event with it!
Day 5 of training
Just an ‘easy 5km’ this morning in our new truck! We had a little stop off at the shops. So glad our local grocery store has extra wide isles for our sweet ride.
This brings me to the end of week 1 recap! So far we have raised $690 which is fantastic!!! We have however, reached over 2000 people and I can’t help but think if each of these people had donated just $1 we would already almost be at our target! Please help us. Donate. Share our story. Cheer us on!
Yesterday I was thinking to myself, ‘I really should move past this… it has had a hold of me for too long.. it doesn’t have to be this way anymore.’ But then a day like World Prematurity Day comes around and I remember why it is okay to feel and why it is okay to keep sharing. Because we are not the only family that prematurity has affected, we definitely won’t be the last, and in no way are we the most affected.
Every year, 15 million babies are born premature worldwide. More than one million of these babies die, and many more face serious, lifelong health challenges. Worldwide, one in ten babies are born too early – more than 25,000 each year in Australia alone. Raising awareness of preterm birth is the first step to defeating it (miraclebabies.org.au) and I believe that it can also help to shed light on how common it is and what the experience can be like.
Having a premature baby or babies in my case, is heart wrenching. It’s so frightening, frustrating, isolating and traumatic. It is something that no one should have to go through. NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) parents have experienced loss in one way or another. In many cases, NICU parents never get to bring their babies home. We were so blessed to bring home two gorgeous baby girls and not a day goes by where I forget how fortunate we are.
In NICU I constantly felt lost. Of course there were many ups and downs in the rollercoaster that is NICU life, but one thing I intrinsically knew, was that I needed to celebrate the mini milestones that most newborns never need to meet. Like when our babies began breathing with less support, when they started to breathe without support, when they opened their eyes, when their tiny little bottoms had just a smidge of fat, when they reached their birth weight, when they reached 1kg, when they went up a nappy size, when they beat an infection, when they wore clothes for the first time, when they turned off the heat in their humicribs, when they went into open cots, when we had our first touch and our first cuddle, when we finally had the first twin cuddle, when they reached full feeds, when they had a line taken out, when they graduated to special care, when they had their first breastfeed practice, when they had their first bottle practice, the list goes on and on. And with our girls, these milestones didn’t happen at the same time because, even from the very beginning, they have been very much their own person.
I know we have had it easier than other premmie families. I know that others do and will struggle more. I also know and understand that when we look at our babies, not only do we see their perfect gorgeous little faces, and their deliciously squiggy bodies. We also see warriors. Warriors who fought the fight of their lives and kicked but. Warriors who stayed strong and resilient, even when their parents found courage difficult and at times, near impossible.
Watching our baby girls fight every day, I would have given anything to see them healthy and happy like all newborn babies deserve to be. These days, when I get frustrated or when the girls have totally exhausted me, I remember how tiny, fragile and helpless they were and how lucky I am to have this crazy twin life! Now that we have our babies home, we have realised that it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things if they have delays or other prematurity related issues. The most important thing is that our children are alive. Whatever it is they need, we will be here to love, nurture and provide. Always. There is no need to be frightened anymore. My babies have given me strength that I never knew I had. We really are the lucky ones.
Being the mother of two extreme prem babies has undoubtedly been the hardest thing that I have ever gone through. In a way though, it has also been an eye opening and amazing experience. I mean, we got to spend an extra three months with our baby girls! And not only have we made our own little family, but we have also joined two others: the multiples family and the NICU family. Families who also know and understand, that even when the days are tough. Life really is a wonderful blessing.
Just over two months after my identical twin girls birth (at 27 weeks), I still couldn’t shake the anger that I had towards the my obstetrician. I couldn’t move past the fact that throughout the time that I was in his care, he was so complacent and treated me as he would a general singleton pregnancy, with low risk. I was so distressed with his and the ultrasound technician’s carelessness that many thoughts would flow through my mind at night. It was relentless, I just could not move on and accept what was. So much was stolen from me. One thing that I always imagined was that I would attend his practice after the birth of my girls with a thank you card and a picture of the girls for his wall, along with a nice bottle of champagne for him as a grateful gesture. Just one of the many unrealistic expectations of my pregnancy.
In attempt to help me grieve, express my concerns and hopefully prevent other mums going throughwhat I was going through, I decided to send him an email. I spent many days writing, editing, rewriting…Until finally I pressed the send button.
It has now been over 6 months since I sent that email and I have not recieved a reply. I guess it is due to legal reasons, as if he were to admit fault, he could get in big trouble, not that I would ever take this any further. Mistakes happen and I know that others have had wonderful experiences with this doctor.
To this day, I am still having great trouble moving on and dealing with this hurt. I have re-read and re-edited my email in hope to continue my healing process, to raise awareness about prematurity, and to encourage other mummy’s to never be afraid to advocate for themselves. I am definitely a lot more forward in this email than I was in the original and I have included pics to help break it up. Get comfortable, it’s a long one.
Thank you for being so kind and supportive throughout my girls birth. During the traumatic time leading up to their birth and the actual procedure I felt reassured and comfortable that you were there. I am extremely grateful that my girls entered the world in safe hands.
But doctor, my girls have been dealt a hand that I believe could have been prevented. The have been dealt a hand that could mean that I won’t ever get to bring them home. They have been brought into the world at a time when they were not ready to live and breathe on their own, at a time when they needed to be inside me, protected and nurtured.
For me, becoming pregnant was a long, physically and emotionally exhausting process and when we found out we were expecting twins, we were over the moon. I did my research and you were recommended to me by two doctors, both informing me that you specialized in twin, and high risk pregnancies. With this being my first pregnancy and it being twins, I of course took this advice and decided to pay to go private as I believed it was the best and safest thing to do for my unborn children and myself. I would pay you thousands to ensure that my babies and myself had the absolute best care.
I always wanted to be the calm, easy, breezy mum in pregnancy and in birth. I was this. And now I know that perhaps it was my downfall.
I trusted you. I trusted you with my life and my unborn twins’ lives and you let me and my babies down. You had a duty of care for myself and my babies. And I do not believe that you did your best to keep me safe and my babies alive.
I was hospitalised at 26+5 weeks and every day I was in hospital and my girls stayed inside, was a blessing. My gorgeous girls were born via emergency c-section at 27+3 weeks. I honestly believe that their extreme prematurity could have been prevented and I wish to explain why. Although it won’t help my girls now, I do hope that this feedback may help families with multiples that come through your practice in the future.
To begin with, at my second appointment with you, I mentioned that my babies were identical twins, because this was what my previous doctor had told me from my 8 week ultrasound. But when you giggled at me and asked me how I knew that, I doubted myself. You had received all of my files, scans and information so I thought, ‘okay, I’ll just shut up and let you do your thing’. But my previous doctor had told me originally that there was in fact one placenta and since the girls birth I have learnt that it is on this first scan that it is the most clear. Your ultrasound technition was unconfident (and boring quite frankly) and she said that she thought (with definite doubt in her voice) there were two placentas. You looked at the results and told me two placentas too, so I trusted this as we continued into our pregnancy. But now I know ALARM BELLS…you should have double checked, triple checked, quadruple checked even! If the first scan said one placenta, wouldn’t you think to look a little closer at the ultrasound? The difference between one and two placentas was the difference between a low-er risk and high risk pregancy. You didn’t listen to me. You didn’t listen to my previous doctor. You condesendingly giggled (at the time I thought your giggle kind and cute, but now I think different as I am slamming my keyboard) and told me two placentas, which meant you did not have to see me regularly. Major boo boo. I only wish I spoke up, advocated for myself and demanded you took a closer look.
As I said, this error meant that I was not given more regular (fortnightly) ultrasounds that I obviously needed. Before I was hospitalized, My last ultrasound was at 22+6 weeks and the next one wasn’t planned until 27 weeks. Had I have had one at 25 weeks I believe that we would have picked something up and prevented the traumatic experience that was my birth and the horrible start to life that my girls have had
Another issue is that I was never informed of the risks of prematurity, the possibility of twin-to-twin transfusion, signs that I should look out for, or the fact that it was very likely that if my girls did come early, that I would have to go to Canberra hospital. I booked with the private hospital which now I understand, was not a good choice as the chances of birthing there with twins was unlikely. I wish I was informed about what NICU and special care is and perhaps even statistics of premature births so I didn’t go into this whole experience completely blind. I was a first time mum. You were my doctor. I needed to know these things even if they were scary. I am a studious person but I had decided not to use Doctor google, after all I had paid for a real-life doctor, that specialised in twins. I trusted you would tell me all that I needed to know.
Furthermore, I have now learnt that I could have been having my ultrasounds at Canberra hospital, where they are very accustomed to multiple births and it is free. I wish I had been informed about this to help save us financial stress and also as they may have picked something up sooner (and been less boring).
At my last ultrasound (22+6 weeks) my girls were both head down and Dahli was so far down that the lady couldn’t get a measurement on her head. First of all I can’t understand why she did not just do an internal to get the measurement (they did this at Canberra hospital when I was first admitted), which would have put our minds at ease as the information that we had to wait for two weeks for over Christmas to be confirmed, showed that her head was extremely small (not even on the scale, small). Also, at the time I thought that being head down and so far down was probably a sign that the girls may have been coming soon, but nothing was said so again, I just trusted and went with it. I feel this was a big mistake.
After this scan I found out that you had looked back on my first scan (from previous doctor) and did in fact see that there was one placenta. Information that was gathered a little too late and yet still, nothing was done until I ended up in hospital bleeding. I also learnt after the birth of my girls that my cervix was not really looked at properly at all. I pressured to have this information at my 6 week postnatal appointment and there was nothing. After the premature birth (with no explanation) of my babies I thought perhaps my cervix was short and maybe that it should have been stitched, but the information was not recorded. Surely my cervix is something that should have been studied over the course of my ultrasounds.
Finally, the couple of times that I suggested to you that we make a birth plan, you giggled and said we would do so closer to the birth. This not only made me feel stupid but also gave me a false sense on security that my girls would go close to term. Of course birth plans can not always be followed, but perhaps this was your chance to go through the what ifs and possible scenarios of twin births, rather than acting chilled and moving on to your next patient.
This rough start to my babies’ lives may affect them for the rest of their lives. It will most definitely stay with me forever and I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that this all could have been prevented. I believe that everything could have been handled with greater care and that I could have been better prepared. I am so unbelievably dissatisfied and disappointed and it is my hope that this feedback is taken on board and that it may help people who are pregnant with multiplies that come through your practice in the future.
Our future is uncertain. The health of our babies is uncertain. The trauma that I have experienced is like nothing I could have ever imagined. I do not wish to cause you hurt. But I do believe that you should know the affect that few complacent, careless mistakes can have.
So there is is. Raw. Uncensored (Okay maybe a little censored). Of course I won’t ever send this re-edited version of my email but already, I feel a little more release.
Please remember to never doubt your mummy instincts. Don’t worry if you feel silly. Actually, if you are made to feel silly, find another doctor because if you don’t advocate for yourself, then who will! You are strong and fearless and you know best.
Our girls Dahli and India are almost 9 months old now (6 months corrected) and are growing stronger and healthier everyday. Looking at them, you would not know that they had such an awful start to life. They are incredible. They are my heroes. They inspire me to be a stronger and better person every single day.
Tonight I was mindfully going through our bedtime routine, listening and enthusiastically singing along to Spotify Acoustic covers, as I changed Dahli into her Pyjamas. India was changed and happily wriggling on her lambswool mat and Dahli was on the change table, her brilliant-blue eyes grinning happily into mine as I sang and dressed her. Soon the song pace slowed and the next artist began to play the familiar tune, Can’t Help Falling in Love.
While we were in NICU, I would hold and sing to my babies for hours, and this was one of the few songs that for some reason, always came out. As it began to play tonight, suddenly Dahli was no longer a 5.2kg happy, chubby baby. She became the tiny, frail, squeaky baby in her humicrib back in NICU. Her body fitted with cannulas on three limbs and a monitor on the fourth, as I changed her micro nappy over her sore, swollen abdomen. She was sick and I was scared. Along with this vivid flashback, inevitably came a wave of emotion that rather quickly, brought me back to present. There she was again. My chubby, little warrior. My baby girl who in the first few weeks of her life, exhibited more strength and determination than I think I ever will in my lifetime. I took a deep breath, wiped my tears and asked myself, How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve such an angel, and not just one, but two.
These moments are common. A simple trigger like a song, a loud beep (screaming monitors), a picture, a smell; I become totally overwhelmed as it takes me straight back to NICU. Not just in the day, but often in my dreams (hello dream jaw clenching again. I told my dentist I was over that habit!). These moments, although insanely emotional, always end with an astounding sense of pride and gratitude for what we have. I regularly remember that some parents aren’t so lucky. Some babies continue their fight for much, much longer than our precious girls and other warriors don’t win their fight; they grow their angel wings.
I know I will never forget how fortunate we are. Not a day goes by where I don’t remember how fragile life can be. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about the families currently in NICU with their bubs too eager to meet the world, battling to stay positive and sane; to hold their world together. Not a day goes by where I don’t remember the nurses and doctors who cared for my babies at a time when I couldn’t. Not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on the fact that our babies were saved. Not a day goes by where I don’t think, our babies are so special and so absolutely amazing.
I hold my girls just that little bit tighter every day. I kiss them maybe a little too obsessively. I constantly remind them how wonderful they are. I play, play, play until I have nothing left give, on repeat, all day long. I stare at my babies as they sleep with a deep, overwhelming sense of pride. I sneak back into their room a few more times at night whilst my husband is nagging me to get to bed (daddy’s shift). I scroll through their pictures while I lay in bed, too excited to sleep because I have two strong, gorgeous, lovable twins.
Maybe as a parent without the experience of NICU, I still would be doing the exact same thing. But as a NICU mum, there are always underlying thought processes that help you see the blessing of life a little clearer. The simple things become so much more because you are so, acutely aware that in a moment, life can change; life is so fragile; nothing is ever permanent.
In NICU the mantra was always, ‘One day at a time’. Today that continues to be a useful mantra, although it’s more ‘one moment at a time’ as the life of twins gets busier and busier! Of course there are definitely moments of complete frustration and exhaustion, but then I promptly remember how lucky I am to be a mum and just how blessed we are to have two bundles of complete joy.
NICU has changed me, but I believe it to be for the better. I am not sure if the flashbacks will ever cease or if my girls are completely through the woods, but NICU has taught me how important it is to live life in the moment and to celebrate every little success. And while in NICU, if my girls have taught me one thing, it is what it means to be brave and strong. As the saying goes, ‘you never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have’. I know that if I can handle NICU, I can take on anything- just like my determined, ambitious warrior princesses.
The future is bright and beautiful my precious, baby girls!
I don’t remember your name, nor can I picture your face, but what I do remember is your no bull honesty. I remember your brazen sincerity as I lay in the hospital bed; veins burning like webs of fire, heart pounding through my chest, arms and thighs bruised from steroids and cannulas, my tummy sticky and gooey with the monitors used to chase my active babies around, and my neck killing me from having to sleep upright, keeping my babies in sight for the nurses. I also remember the relief I felt when finally, a reassuring, firm voice from above (that would be yours) told me, “Honey, these babies are on their way!”
Throughout my whole pregnancy it was like all doctors and other nurses danced around the hard truths. I floated along with my not regular enough appointments, thinking all was wonderful and perfect. I wish I was more informed throughout the whole process and although having my girls arrive so early was extremely frightening, it was also a relief when finally, after almost a week in hospital with nurses and doctors pussy footing around the inevitable, you told me the truth. Thank you for not treating me like an idiot. This is my body, and my babies and I always should be told the truth, even if the truth is scary.
You didn’t wait for my Dr to arrive (like you were supposed to), you didn’t hold my hand and tell my babies “stay in their bubbas, the world is not ready for you yet”, you didn’t tell me that perhaps things would get better and that maybe I would get back to work and the whole situation could reverse itself, you didn’t make irrelevant small talk. You didn’t whisper in the birthing room corner with the other nurses or doctors about what I feared may be happening. You didn’t care that you broke the rules, not allowing my Doctor to give me the news when he finally turned up. You saw a distressed, pregnant woman, fearing for the lives of her twins, and you told her what she needed to hear- that within the next 30 minutes, she would meet her 27 week old (gestation) babies.
This was my first pregnancy and in just a moment, you taught me a lot. If I do have any more children, or if I find myself in hospital for some other reason, I will be requesting non-sugar coated information. I am not a fan of sugar coating, not in my diet or with my health. I don’t need a pretty picture to be painted of the best possible outcomes, I need all the possible outcomes handed to me. This way I can prepare myself for whatever is to come. Yes, we received some information while we were in this whirlwind, about survival rates and possible disabilities if our babies were to arrive, but it didn’t feel real because no one would tell me that it was likely that our babies were on their way. Maybe I should have figured it out, but when I was deep in this tunnel of the unknown, for some reason, I wouldn’t believe my girls were coming, not unless the words were said by a professional. Just a simple, “it’s likely they are on their way”, or “you should prepare yourself for their arrival”, would have been enough to kick my brain and thought processes into gear, to get my head around the fact that: this is serious, this is very real, I will be meeting my babies soon.
I know the other nurses were all beautiful, caring people (well most of them). But until there was you, I felt like I wasn’t being taken seriously. I felt like it was all a bad, fuzzy dream as my head spun and one day rolled into the next, and the next, and the next. All the while, I imagined that in a day or two I would be on bedrest at home, chilling and watching Netflix. No one would tell me that it was likely that my girls were on their way. No one would whisper the words. True, every day they stayed inside was a blessing, but living in limbo, on a hard, stiff hospital bed, thinking I would return home any day now, was false hope.
So thank you, for giving it to me straight up. I wish I had encountered you at the beginning of my hospital stay. I only met you the morning my beautiful girls entered this world. Now 6 months later, as I reflect on the whole traumatic experience, I remembered you and how somehow, as you handed me the news I had feared, your honesty made everything seem okay. I heard the news; it was go time, and yet somehow, I knew my babies were going to be okay.
I am currently feeling a bit like a Jersey Cow, hence the name ‘Teaty Biccies’!
My lactation nurse at hospital was fantastic. She gave me a recipe for lactation biscuits that she suggested I ask a friend to make for me. Reading different things about them left me keen to try them, even if they didn’t work, cookies sounded good to me! So I did have a lovely friend bake them and, boy oh boy did they work!
The first time I had them, I was expressing so much milk that I filled my freezer, the freezer at NICU and still had enough to feed the girls. I will admit that was also having lots of skin to skin with the girls (which studies show helps milk supply). In NICU, you had to hold your baby for at least an hour at a time because of the effort it took for bubs, giving them a good rest once they were out and on you. So I was doing this twice (one baby at a time), in the morning and the afternoon – at least 4 hours a day total. With this skin to skin and the biscuits, I was making so much milk that I ended up getting mastitis (definitely another blog post) because I wasn’t expressing it all out (lesson learnt!).
When the girls came home, I wasn’t having as much skin to skin and life was even busier, so my milk supply dropped. I made a few more batches of the cookies, and each time I saw a definite increase in my milk supply. Of course in the whirlwind of early motherhood, I have misplaced the original recipe, but I found another on the internet that I like: https://www.bellybelly.com.au/breastfeeding/lactation-cookies/ After baking these a few times with some healthified changes, I think I have mastered the perfect recipe!
The last time I made them, I accidently left out the flour. I was wondering why the batch was so small! But you know the saying about mistakes being important because we learn from them? WelI I actually discovered that the biscuits are so much nicer without the flour! They are kind of like a chewy ANZAC if you do it this way. I find with the flour (I usually use a combo of coconut flour and almond flour or gluten free flour) they are a bit dry. I also have made them with a beetroot late spice (instead of the cinnamon) and these were the tastiest yet! The latest batch I tweeked a bit again, adding just a bit of flour (to help them bind better) and I am pretty pleased with the result! Not only do I find it hard to stop at one, but I have to hide them from my hubby!
Here is my adaption of the recipe:
Makes 12 biscuits, cookies, whatever you want to call them!
¼ cup wholemeal flour
½ cup organic virgin coconut oil (you may need to soften this in the microwave)
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ cup coconut sugar
2 tablespoons flaxseed meal
2-3 tablespoons of water (depends on how moist you prefer the cookies to be)
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (optional, for flavour)
1 teaspoon cinnamon (or beetroot late spice)
1-2 tablespoons of brewers yeast
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups oats
1 cup of your favourite biscuit ingredients (coconut, dark choc, raisins, slithered almonds, dried apricots, you get the picture)
Preheat oven to 180 and line a tray with baking paper.
In a mixing bowl, cream the coconut oil and sugar, then add the egg and vanilla (if using). Mix well.
In a separate bowl, combine the flaxseed and water, let them sit for a few minutes before adding to mix.
Add the dry ingredients in a separate bowl and mix well.
Add the flaxseed mix and dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and combine well.
Finally, stir in your additional ingredients (if using them).
Make the biscuits (using a tablespoon or dessert spoon) and place them onto the lined baking tray. This mix is a little sticky, but it works!
Flatten them just a little with the spoon or a fork.
Bake the lactation cookies for around 12-17 minutes, depending on how well cooked or crunchy you like your biscuits.
I should mention that brewers yeast (the ingredient that really helps to get your milk pumping!) has a bit of an unusual taste; yeasty like beer, as you probably guessed! So perhaps use a little less of this ingredient in your first batch and see how you go! Let me know if you make them and what you thought. Also, always happy to hear to any delicious changes that you may have made.
Then today, I was left on a high. A high I had not yet experienced before. A high that I had heard about from women who were lucky enough to call themselves mothers. Not the high after birth (that’s a whole different blog). But the ferociously, protective high like no other..when you defend your baby/babies and your parenting.
To date, our whole parenting situation has been organized yet floaty. I guess that comes with me being a school teacher and a yoga teacher and my husband a musician and army man. Also, Spending the first three months of our identical twins lives in hospital certainly helped with routine and structure.
But today, when least expected. The mystical creature whom I thought maybe I would never have the displeasure of meeting, made her self known. The little old busy body, who clearly thinks that her cuteness and years of experience on earth gives her permission to judge our parenting.
We had just visited our superheroes at hospital (NICU staff) and were out in the sunshine feeding our identical twin girls on the field nearby. Dahli was crying and fussing with dad while he was trying to feed her while India was calm and happy as she fed. Hubby was stressed. I was upset that he was stressed and he was annoyed at the effort we had went to to get to hospital and that we didn’t get to see many nurses, and also that he had a crying baby in his arms.
Then, across the field (literally..a whole field) came the little old lady who thought she would impart her wisdom upon us. “You really should put a beanie on that little boy”. I couldn’t believe my ears. That little boy? Who was already wearing a blue, fluffy warm, hoodie that had just fallen back as she fussed with her bottle?
First of all I was annoyed that she had failed to notice the hot pink onesie and maryjanes (not that colours matter, my girls wear a a range of colours) and well one should not assume anyway! Then it clicked that she was questioning our parenting and the clothing choices I made for my girls for their special visit to NICU.
I sternly told the lady that she was a little girl, she was quite warm in her hoodie, she was fine and that we didn’t need people to tell us how to parent our children. My husband went silent, not knowing what to say and the lady was very taken aback too. “I was only being kind”, she tried to say after she had said, “oh well some people don’t put beanies on that’s all”, leading to more judgement about other parents whom I do not particularly wish to judge either.
I understand that she thought her intentions were kind and that she perhaps thought that she needed to educate us. And for a second I thought maybe I should apologize for being abrupt with her. But then I realized, you know what. It’s her that needed the educating. Hopefully the fact that I stood up for myself and made it known that her busy bodying was not appreciated, will make her (and her busy body friends) think twice before they cast their judgement and opinions on another parent or parents.
So then we got in the car, and I just started laughing out loud. I couldn’t believe my ferocity and my confidence. My hubby just looked at me and said “you destroyed her”, in a proud, affectionate way (our little tiff of frustration towards each other had now vanished). I didn’t realise I had this spice but now I guess I know that I do. Being a calm (most of the time) and organised (I do my best) mummy doesn’t mean that I can’t stand up for my parenting choices and for my baby who is allowed to have a cry if she needs to! And to all you mummas out there; you are amazing, you know best, and never ever doubt yourself. And compliments to my sister, “Mum always knows best, except when she has no clue and then we just wing it! Am I right!”
So the high that this unpredictable moment gave me, has led to my first blog. Will I write another? Who knows? Will anyone read it? Who cares? Writing it has been very therapeutic for this twin Mummy.
Mum always knows best, except when she has no clue and then we just wing it! — Tara Wilson