Sunday, 25 June 2017

Wish me luck...


38 weeks and baby got low low low.... 
So, the mark of a new week is also my last two weeks of pregnancy with baby number two. However, with the twinges I have been having it may be a tad sooner that so this may be my last blog post for a while.

I will aim to update when I can, but I have planned to take July off  (unless a rant post needs to come out with the baby!) Looking after a new-born and a toddler I am sure my notebook will be full to the brim with material I can share with you in August!

For those wondering, I am still ploughing on with my book A Year in the life of a NICU Mum and good progress is being made so watch this space...

As readers of the blog, I am sure you all know I write for a variety of parent websites and the Huff Post and I have submitted my last pieces to them for the next month but please do continue to check them out! I will be back and present on all after July.

Mummy and Little Me Blog

Up All Hours

Salisbury Parenting Magazine

If you do not already, please do give me a follow on social media and I will be continuing to update my Instagram and Insta Stories no doubt daily with ALOT of baby spam.

Instagram @vicki_nicu-mum

Twitter @MumNicu

I will be posting the Honest Confessions Facebook page with various bits and bobs throughout July so be sure to go over and give it a like!

Wish me luck and I will see you all on the other side!

NICU MUM X

Bedtime


Bedtime

It seems I spend a lot of time counting down the hours until bedtime.

Tea has been made, served and abandoned.

Iggle Piggle has buggered off in his boat and I have fantasised about Tom Hardy reading me a bedtime story… in my bed.

Now begins the battle.

C Beebies goes blank and you use this to signal that it is time to go upstairs.

The protests of, ‘I don’t like bedtime’, are shouted in my face (Give it twenty-five years and a few kids then let me know if you still don’t like bed kiddo).

We slowly ascend the stairs and filter into the bathroom, the fun really begins.

Bathroom flooded and hair washed amongst the screaming, a small naked wet toddler is now running around the upstairs settling into your bed where he leaves a huge wet patch.

Military negotiations begin to convince said toddler that cleaning your teeth is a good idea, and bribes can just be heard over the enthusiastic Blippi Youtube video.

After telling me twenty times that he doesn’t like the toothpaste (it’s the same one he has always had) we make it into the bedroom.

The pyjamas that were picked are of course the wrong ones, and this needs be rectified immediately to some mis matched bottoms and a top that doesn’t really fit anymore. One where the picture has been incinerated by the tumble dryer and only one Paw Patrol dog has a face.

A pull up is wrangled on and he is wrestled into bed.

We argue for about 5 minutes over what story to pick, finally settling on one we have read 100 times. (The Gruffalo anyone?)

Once we near the end, whines of ‘I want another one’, echo around the bedroom.

I sigh, getting cramp from squeezing on the toddler bed with you but now begins my favourite part of the day.

After arranging your teddies in the order known only to you, slowly you crawl under my arm and nestle in.

No matter what day we have had, how much you have driven me up the wall now is the time all is forgiven, all is erased.

After a lot of sweaty fidgeting and me wondering if I will ever get up of this bed again, I hear you snoring.

I begin the dubious task of getting up and sneaking out the door.

Every day is the same, sometimes more arguments, sometimes less but one thing that is the same no matter what; that as I creep out of the room I look down at you my sweet devil child and realise how lucky I am to have you.

Also, that you are asleep.

I love it when you are asleep.

Bedtime, done.

Now pass the Gin.

Oh bugger, he has just got up.

Sigh.

Sunday, 18 June 2017

Enter stage right… you.


The Cockerill Boys, my boys.
When we first had Elijah, I envisioned myself as a creative sensory activity, organic food making all-encompassing helicopter mum. I would do it all, and I could do it myself. Fast forward a few weeks postpartum and I was quite frankly a mess. I was as far from ‘super mum’ as I could possibly be. A mother barely holding it together and who was planning her departure.

Enter stage right… you.
You stood by me right from the beginning. You visited me every day, when we were in hospital and even spent two days in your own in the NICU with Elijah when I was too ill. You were the mother, the father and everything in-between to our son. When we brought him home you did everything by my side even when I didn’t want you to be there. When I pushed you away and shouted that I hated you, that I resented you. When I begged you to come home from work, then demanded you to leave.

I had my ideas of how I wanted everything to be done, and that was it. You never did it how I wanted, but what I didn’t appreciate back then was the fact that you did it in the first place. It was hard for me to let go, especially when we were waiting for the op. I felt like I had to do it all as I blamed myself, and when things didn’t go as planned I felt like a failure. I took it out on you. I blamed you but it was never you.

I have never said this to you before but I was jealous of you. I was insanely envious it was you who got to feed Elijah for the first time, to change him, and be there for him in a way I couldn’t be in those first days. I was jealous that you could hold it together, that you would get up and do the night feeds and be able to function the next day when I could barely hold my eyes open or function. I resented that you got to escape and go to work, that you got to be you. When you became a Dad, you took it all in your stride and became an even better person. Me? I lost myself. We didn’t talk for those first months, but I am telling you now I will always be grateful for the fact you were there for our son. You never left even when things got tough, when they got messy. When we hated one another and threw sleep deprived insults at 3am.

You always made sure we came together, and that we stood strong even though I knew sometimes you didn’t feel that strong. Sometimes, you let me do what I had to, never judging and always being a silent presence that was always there. You get up with Elijah at the crack of dawn and let me sleep in nearly every morning., You work all the hours god sends, yet you still come home never complaining to play with Elijah, to give him a bath, to read him a story and put him to bed. That ‘super mum’ that I wanted to be back then? Well I think you maybe it.

For nearly three years you’ve been Elijah’ rock never faltering, when I did. You’ve been my rock and just got on with it. I know that you try your best for us, and we may not seem it but we are so grateful for everything you do for us. When you spend your only days off redecorating the house or doing the weekly shop. You strive to give us whatever we want even if it means putting yourself last. Even when things are strained you will always make us laugh. No one does make us laugh as much as you.

I know you are terrified about being a father of two any day now. I’m not, do you know why? Because we have you, and just like always you will step up and get it done. You will once again adapt and be an ever-better father than you are now to two of the small humans we co created.

You will still put us all first as you always do.

You will still make us laugh.

You still won’t be able to eat white sauce.

You will have to wait until next year to go to Bloodstock old chap, for now you will have to settle for a beer and a pizza after work with the Cockerill Clan.

Our clan, the one we built, but the one you hold together.

Happy Father’s Day.

We love you lots, like ‘jellytops’.

Xxx

Twitter; www.twitter.com/MumNicu

Instagram; www.instagram.com/vicki_nicu-mum

Thursday, 8 June 2017

A letter to my son on election day.


Cockerills go voting
Dear Elijah,

You didn’t really understand what was going on this morning, or the importance of today.

Other than the library looking different and not being able to look at the books like you normally do you had no idea what mummy and daddy were doing.

We explained we had to go and vote, go in and tick a little box.

That little box is your future.

Your unborn brother or sister’s future.

The next five years.

Until we had you, we were never too bothered about voting, partially not understanding the importance of a lost vote or just being too cool to care.

I always took those women who fought so hard for us to be able to go and vote for granted. But they should be honoured, remembered and thanked that we do have the ability to be part of the decision of how our country is run.

I  believed that I wouldn’t be able to change the country with my vote, so what was the point? I didn’t want to vote for those parties so why bother?

However, things began to affect us and we grew up. Tax, pensions, the inability to buy our own house, being burgled but most of all YOU happened.

You were born in a hospital, a NHS hospital that both me and you stayed in for over a week.

The NHS saved your life, they repaired your heart and you are here today because of them.

In some countries, we would have had to pay for this treatment, and it is something we likely could not have been able to afford.

We may not have had you here today with us.

For all the criticism of wait times, lack of GP’s I will always be grateful to the NHS for letting me be a mother, for giving me you.

You need lifelong care now, and a another surgery and it is likely that we will have the NHS to thank for this, AGAIN.

We are so privileged that yes you have a pre-existing condition but you are looked after.

Recently, I have feared your future, with the ugliness that is happening in the world.

I worry for the world we live in, the lack of compassion, kindness and humanity that seems to be rife today.

I will always teach you to be open, accepting and help others who need it.

We are not well off by any standards, but we will always give to charity, to give to those who have less than us. We have begun teaching this to you too and already you have helped me raise money for the hospital that saved you. We have given to the old soldiers with the buckets in town, the Big Issue sellers even though we rarely read the magazine or we slip some coins to a homeless person.

I always tell you how lucky you are compared to some children, you have access to food, water, toys and two loving parents and a family that adores you. So many in the world do not have this, being a mother this makes my heart ache.

I can never understand those who do not want to help these children and their families who instead spread their bigoted views that they have stolen our jobs and resources. However, just like us, I believe as a country even if we are not as rich as some in the world it is important to show some empathy and help others. Not leave them, or to pretend they are not our problem, to shut the borders down and fob them off to someone else. After all, if we were in that situation surely, we would appreciate the help?

Something we never had to worry about before until now was the future of your education, your rights, your equality, your safety. I want you to have the best education and opportunities in life, with no restrictions dependent on your sexuality, your gender. I want you to be judge on your ability not your appearance or your background. I never want you to be attacked for your beliefs whatever they may be because someone does not understand or agree with them.

I want you to stand up for what you believe in, and to demand change if you do not believe something is right. Never do I want to see you criticize other’s choices for what their opinion is or attack them because of it.

In a way, I am glad you do not understand too much of what is going on with so many although commendable for their passion, for their opinions on the election and who they want to vote for, they are being so unkind to those who may believe in something differently, even family and friends. Having an opinion is one thing, being nasty about it is another thing entirely.

Social media is a sea of who people are voting for and what you are if you do not vote the same way. This makes me slightly uneasy. Me and Dad always vote together so far, we have always agreed, but no one else is privy to who we are voting for. Mainly as this is private, personal to us and what we believe is right for us and our family.

You may wonder why I am running on about all of this but the thing is whoever is elected today, will also need to consider these things to. They will need to consider the future of this country for the next 5 years and perhaps beyond and this will affect you, Elijah.

I hope for the sake of you and your brother or sister that they make the right decisions. That they show humanity, compassion and kindness. I am not going to pretend to know what half the policies mean, how they will affect us personally or how to run the country and fix the problems.

All I want you to know Elijah, is that we voted today with our hearts and we didn’t vote tactically, or for whoever is the favourite is. We didn’t judge others for who they have voted for.

We voted with who we believed are displaying the qualities of getting this country out of the darkness that it is in now.

Whoever it may be that gets elected (you will no doubt learn about this in history class which makes me feel so old), I hope people remain kind.

A naïve hope it seems, with slurs on social media, flights at the polling stations but really, we need to remember we all want the same thing. We may be voting differently for who we believe will bring this we are all voting for a better future.

Our future, your future and your children’s future.

Never look down on anyone unless you are helping them up- Jesse Jackson

Love Mum x

Friday, 2 June 2017

From the Inside - From One to Two, From Two to Three...

I was invited by the brilliant Jade Anna Hughes to share my thoughts on transitioning from having one child to two. I have been incredibly lucky to share my pregnancy journey with Jade although she is across the pond we are due only days apart. Bets are being taken now who will get to the delivery suite first!

So, on the brink of becoming a mother to two, and Jade to three we discuss our musings of another member adding to our families.

(Also please do check out Jade's debut book When Spring Comes Hope available to buy on Amazon now! It is worth the read, take it from me!)

The Cockerills are going to be welcoming a new member in just 5 weeks.
 
The Cockerill Quadruplet - by Vicki Cockerill
 
I was asked the other day if I am ready to become a mum of two?

I guess so, I shrugged, I don’t really have much choice now, with the baby arriving in less than 5 weeks! Ready or not this baby is coming.

It got me wondering, was I ready? Can you ever be ready for the arrival of another small human that will descend into your lives and turning it upside down?

Of course, there are books/blogs/expert suggestions out there all about coping with two kids, what you can do to help yourselves with a routine but I found I could never get Elijah to follow the routine they suggested never mind throwing a new-born into the mix as well. The more the baby didn’t follow the book, the more stressed I got and ended up lobbing them across the room thinking my baby was broken. This time round, I guess we will just hope for the best and see where it leads! In textbook terms I think we are ready, the baby has somewhere to sleep, it has clothes, toys, the pram and car seat are ready, but are we?

Read the rest by visiting the brilliant From The Inside............