Baby Theo is back in the hospital for phototherapy treatment and I’m missing him more than I ever thought I could miss anyone. I’ve realised that the only way to keep my postnatal blues in check was holding my baby and feeling his little baby weight in my arms and breathing in his delicious baby smell and munching on his droopy baby cheeks. But now I can’t and it’s heartbreaking.
Out of the first 8 days of his life, he’s already spent 6 in the hospital…and counting.
Yesterday, when he was warded again, I was like one of those crazy mothers who refused to let go of my baby. I tried to hold him for as long as I could in a death grip while the nurse was trying to pry him from my arms looking completely bemused. After a while, she was like “I think you can put him down here and we’ll take care of him.”
Finally I did and I figured I’d lurk around to watch him from outside the nursery, to just be there, you know, even though my presence was pretty much unnecessary. But the curtains were drawn shut and I think the nurse felt very sorry for me so she tried to usher me towards the lift, like “it’s ok, you can go now, don’t worry, we’ll call you if there are any updates.”
I put on a brave face, like, “I think I’ll just stay here for a little bit” but then as she wheeled my baby in for treatment and the door closed behind her, I immediately burst into tears, like a full on emo meltdown.
Not one of my finer moments, bawling my eyes out like he was being sold into slavery.
My regular brain says that I’m being melodramatic – it’s not a big deal and he’s going to be ok but my hormonal mommy brain says that I need my baby and every minute of not having him makes my everywhere hurt.
Sigh, I miss this face so much.
