Thank you to all the angels of the neonatal world

The first I knew of World Prematurity Day was when I saw posters about it on the ward of the maternity unit on the day I was admitted to hospital because my waters had broken at 28+5 weeks. At the time, it hadn't crossed my mind that I would be the mum of a preemie because hospital staff were talking about "waiting and seeing" and no way had I considered that I'd be giving birth to a teeny 2lb 10oz (1.19kg) dot just three days later.

But that was what happened and now, as my healthy, cheeky, vivacious little toddler Arthur is about to turn three years old, I am so proud to be the mum of a preemie. Because, for me, wearing that purple ribbon on November 17th says so much more than "My baby was born early". It's a giant, heartfelt "thank you" to all of the wonderful humans who got us through it. 

Thank you…

…to the consultant who showed us humility and kindness with a gentle look and an acknowledgement of our pain as he tried to canulate our little boy's tiny veins. 

…to the beautiful nurse who used to read night-time stories to our son when we couldn't be there. 

…to the HCAs (healthcare assistants) who encouraged us to take a break and eat something on days where we felt we needed permission to leave his side. 

…to the cleaning staff, working tirelessly to keep the bays at the pinnacle of sterile, who would always offer a smile and ask how our little boy was doing, validating our role as the parents who knew him best. 

…to the charity Tiny Lives that supported us emotionally, financially and humanly, with footprint cards at Christmas and advice on breastfeeding (literally) on (a Medela) tap.

Forever grateful

Without those people, we would still have got through it. But we'd have come out of it so much more battered, exhausted and terrified than we were. So on November 17th, I will look at my nutty toddler – probably hanging upside down off the sofa giving us a rendition of how Old McDonald has a T-Rex on his farm – and I will remember how, sat by an incubator, with his entire hand not big enough to grasp even my little finger, I barely dared dream of days like this.

And now they're here. And we will be forever grateful to the angels of the neonatal world who sent us on our way.

Thanks to Rachel C for sharing Arthur’s story.