Part three.

Some other hospital observations; The parents room always has that slightly unlived in smell, and includes shared mugs that look clean, but that you will always pre-wash before using. Food is labelled in the fridge, which smells despite it being checked and emptied of old food weekly. Although Isaac is fed here, I am not. The hot food on the concourse is so expensive, I live on M&S salads and posh microwave meals. Whatever time of year, the ward is always hot. 

You can't help but parent watch in here. You can't help but overhear when all at divides you is a curtain. When others express sympathy to me about our incarcerations in hospital (usually about two/three times a year right now) I always explain how humbling hospital stays can be. Most of the time, we are in hospital to keep Isaac well, which is quite different to coming in to make you well, or for respite care, or worse, end of life care. 

As well as some heart-aching stories of support and love, and many many loving and incredible parents, you also see other parents using nurses as child-care, leaving for  hours or even days at a time. You see young parents not coping. You see quiet toddlers, seemingly afraid to cry. You see couples arguing. You see children with carers, whose parents never visit. You see distraught families.  

Being on the ward also reminds me of Isaac being young. We spent a lot of his first year in hospital, as he caught Bronchiolitis twice. It wasn't until he was much older that Dan and I would share the nights on the ward. As a baby it wasn't an option because I was breastfeeding. Although I feel almost traumatised by some of these memories (the failed PICC or long lines, that took hours to get in while he screamed, only to fail again later that day... the oxygen and still his O2 saturations dropping below 90...). I also have lovely memories of rocking him to sleep in the big wooden rocking chair, him speeding around the corridors in a baby walker, giggling all the way as he dipped in and out of rooms (long hospital corridors rock for vehicles on wheels!). 

Tonight Dan and I have swapped over, so I can have a much needed night with the girls. It's so lovely being home, with them, on our own sofa, with Obie  sitting on my feet. So why does it feel so wrong?