I know... I'm sorry... it's been too long!!

Hey everyone, I'm so sorry for not updating my blog for a few days.  I know some of you have been a bit worried about me, but all is well in incubator number three!  Truth is, I was getting a bit worried about Dad... someone told me that he was posting the links to these blogs on Facebook and Twitter after midnight every night, then when I saw him on Friday he looked knackered, so I told him to take a few nights off.  Don't fret though, I've been keeping handwritten notes so you won't miss anything (the pen looks huge in my tiny fingers!)

Let's start with the progress...




...right, that's the progress out of the way now let's cover the stuff that hasn't really moved forward at all in the last three days!

My apneas (random not-breathing moments) have become a regular, almost predictable feature of my daily routine.  Despite all the prodding and poking going on no-one here is any the wiser as to what is causing them.  This has now become such a regular feature of life in Coventry NICU that whenever a baby has an unexpected de-sat the staff here have started referring to it as 'doing a Poppy'!  I'm going to add it to my medical dictionary.

There has been some small progress I suppose - I'm not currently under (or above) the Bili-light but I'm having another blood transfusion tomorrow (yes another one!) so my poor liver is going to be overwhelmed with new red blood cells again.  I'm prepared to bet any one of you a tenner that I'm back in the tan shop with my blindfold on by this time tomorrow night!

On Saturday the baby next to me was transferred to another unit and replaced with a giant!  It looked a bit like me in so far as it was pinkish, and seemed to follow broadly the same design, but let me tell you it was MASSIVE!  I asked mum to sneak a look at the label on the end of the incubator to check out what it could possibly be and what do you know, it was a baby!  It weighed 9lb 8oz!  I'm sorry but putting that next to me is just taking the mickey - talk about rubbing salt into the wound - this thing could have swallowed me whole!  Giant baby didn't stay long, which was good because it also cried really loudly and kept me awake.  When I'm bigger, I'm not going to cry like that... and I'm going to sleep all night for at least ten hours... and... what else was that Dad?  Oh yes, I'm only going to shit strawberry smelling poo in my nappies!

Millie watched the monitor...

Sunday was a good day.  I had my usual breathing issues but late in the afternoon Dad came in with Millie again.  It was really cool to see them both and it got even better when Jess (top nurse!) suggested that it was time for Dad to have a cuddle - with me, not her!  Dad opened the top four buttons on his shirt (steady girls!) and I was popped inside.  It was bit different from my mum cuddles!  First up there were no feeding nozzles, which was a bit of a disappointment, and it was nowhere near as comfy, but it was still brilliant.  Dad had his back to the monitors so Millie was put in charge of observations.  At one point my oxygen dropped to less than 50% but Millie helped Dad to prop my chin up and I recovered all by myself.  After that, we settled down and I had half an hour of proper Dad bonding (with a bit of sisterly chat thrown in too).  I can't wait to do it again!  By the time I was back in my incubator it was late and Dad was in trouble because it was a school night and Millie should have been home in bed... but none of us cared.

This is a worry!

Charlie went back to nursery yesterday and Dad was at work so Mum came in on her own about ten o'clock just as I had a big de-sat and needed to be bagged.  Mummy lost it and got all emotional!  I told her to get a grip... and she did.  Once she'd recovered Mummy showed me this picture of my brother.  I think it was meant to cheer me up but frankly, it's a worry!

There's a bit of a debate going on about whether I should go back on to the ventilator or not but for now I'm staying on C-PAP with some extra pressure.  Latest theory is that it might be reflux that's causing my problems so they are going to try giving me some medicine to see if that helps.


You're nearly up to date now but I just need to tell you about last night's scary moment for mum, and then I can't finish without mentioning Dad's latest Mr Bean moment!

So, last night first... Mum was on her own at home because Dad was away for work, when the house phone rang at 12.30am!!  It had to be the hospital!  Mum jumped out of bed in a panic, fearing the worst!

'Hello?'
'Hello, this is the NICU.'
'Yes', panic rising.
'Poppy's had a de-sat.'

This was followed by a very long pause until a very worried Mum eventually said,

'What's happened?'
'That's it', said the nurse, 'Just thought you should know.'

Dad reckons that in the right circumstances Mum is more than capable of lifting a fully grown person (say for example, a nurse) and dropping them from a great height (maybe a hospital window) onto a hard surface.  Luckily for the nurse she was on the other end of a phone and was off duty before Mum arrived this morning!  I'm sure she had the very best of intentions but the late night call scared poor Mummy to bits...

Right, last thing then I'm going to practice my breathing for a bit.

Back to last Friday.  Dad came in on his own and the ward was unusually busy.  Two of the inmates (sorry, babies) were playing up and all of the nurses were busy.  Dad went through the visiting routine: removed watch, scrubbed hands, applied gel, put milk pots in fridge, came over to bed three, pulled up a wheelie stool, opened hatch and generally annoyed me for a bit!  To be honest, I was fast asleep when he arrived but he soon had me awake with his 'Hello Poppeeee!' and his tickling!

Two little pedals!

On the very bottom of the incubator units are two little pedals - one to raise me and one to lower me.  Dad's seen the nurses use them and figured it looked pretty straightforward and as he was sitting on the stool, it seemed like a reasonably good idea to lower me down to eye-level.  So he stood on the down pedal and to be fair, it all appeared to work just fine.  I felt myself dropping very gently and after a couple of inches I stopped and Dad started cooing in my general direction again.  So far so good.

Except there was a problem.  After a couple of minutes the red warning light above my bed started to bing gently.  Everyone ignores this one.  It's not an emergency, it just means that there's a temperature problem.  In this case the message underneath the red light said 'Baby Cool', which I like!  Normally one of the nurses pops over and resets the lights and sure enough after a couple of minutes one of the nurses tried to reset it... but it wouldn't reset!  It was at this point that another nurse came across and noticed that the lid of my incubator was precariously balanced about two inches above the top of the walls leaving a sizeable gap all the way round!

Four accusatory eyes landed on Dad who was sitting guiltily on the stool looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy and before the inquisition could really get under way he owned up to pushing the pedal.  I was just beginning to feel sorry for him when he decided that the best way to make up for being the cause of the problem would be to help to fix it!  And before anyone could really stop him he tried to jiffle the lid back on.

It fell back in to place with such a bang that most of the ward jumped - never mind me!

A big star jump!!

I shit myself... and did the biggest horizontal star jump anything under a kilo has ever done.  I tried to keep breathing - honestly I did - but even grown ups would have struggled.  I was bagged.

Dad had been on the ward for about four minutes!  I do love him.



Poppy Lola xxx

Digging in for the long haul...

I suppose the down side of posting a relentlessly upbeat post like I did yesterday is that it can remind you that not everything in the garden is really smelling of roses.

Can I be honest with you all for a minute?  I think I can - if you've come this far with me and you're still here you must have picked up the idea that this whole thing is maybe not as easy as it looks.  And even though I make light of it (and Mum and Dad do too!) sometimes it's scary and it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This is not as easy as it looks...

I really can't get the hang of this breathing thing and it's really beginning to bug me now.  I've lost count of the number of times I've stopped.  Each time it happens I get bagged and recover, and the doctors are very quick to tell Mum and Dad that this is the way it is and over time things should improve, but I'm three weeks old today and I really want to get this simple milestone out of the way. 

The big frustration is that no-one seems to know why I can't get it.  They're testing everything!  I've had brain scans, x-rays, blood tests and urine tests but they all seem to be coming out fine.  I suppose this is a good thing but it still means there's no quick fix.  Maybe I am just tired.  Maybe I do just need time to grow.



Spot the difference...
....me and Gaga lit from below!

And another thing (sorry to whinge but I've started now so I might as well get a few things off my chest!), another thing... I can't seem to fix this billirubin malarkey so I'm now being lit from both sides.  I have the standard bili-light above me (see previous blog posts) but now I have another one that I have to lie on!  When dad came in to see me after work last night, the lights on the ward had been dimmed and he said that my incubator reminded him of Lady Gaga's entrance at the Grammys last year!  I don't know who Lady Gaga is but I've checked the labels on all the beds and she's definitely not on this ward.

I think I need patience.  Three weeks seems like a lifetime when it's been your lifetime but if I'm going to be in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit - get me with my acronyms!) for nine weeks as planned then I'm only a third of the way through.  If it was a pie chart it would look something like this...


Basically, I've only eaten a third
of my NICU custard pie!

Hopefully, Charlie will be better soon and Millie is coming at the weekend so seeing my brother and sister might give me the boost I need.  I can't remember if I've told you already but Millie has been in to see me once before and it was cool to meet my sister.  She even held my hand for a bit and told me about how much she wanted a baby sister (she's got three brothers!) and I think it was Millie that picked the name Poppy for me, which everyone loves!  I think she's going to be a cool big sister!


Holding Millie's Hand

So there you go, it's not that my glass is half empty today it's just that I'm beginning to realise that this is not the walk in the park that I hoped it might be.  Mum and Dad are still really putting everything in to supporting me and helping me through this... Mum especially!  I wish I could make it easier for her right now but one day when I'm older, I'm going to hug her so hard she'll look like Billy Beetroot herself, and tell her how much I love her and how grateful I am for everything she's doing for me right now.

Relentlessly upbeat!

Hey check out my funky new blog template!  It was pointed out to me that the previous one was a bit too blue and a bit too dull so I had a chat with my PR and Communications Manager (Dad) and he's sexed it up a bit.  I'm liking the pink a lot!

As promised this blog post will be 100% unashamedly positive - even the negatives will be positive.  This is a glass half full zone today so here are my top ten reasons why I'm the luckiest little girl alive...

1. I'm alive.
2. There are approximately 150 people who's job it is to make sure I stay that way.
3. I seem to have landed into a very functional dysfunctional family consisting of two unmarried parents, a bother, a half-sister and two half-brothers. 
4. Despite all the bother I've caused, they all seem to love me unconditionally.
5. Even though I've only met five people in my whole life who don't work for the NHS, there are hundreds of people who are praying for me and sending me positive messages.
6. I'm half scouse!
7. ... and half tyke (someone from Yorkshire!)
8. I dress only in a nappy which means that I don't waste a single moment of my life worrying about what to wear. (I'm sure there will be plenty of time to fret about fashion later but for now I don't give a monkeys.)
9. Every hour, on the hour, someone comes along and feeds me.
10. I won £3.7 million on the mid-week lottery last night. 

OK, I made that last one up but who cares!

In other news, I've decided to start my own 'non-medical term dictionary'.  Today one of the nurses told Dad that what she thought I needed was some 'titivation'!  Having thought this one through I think the dictionary entry would be:

Titivation: (medical) n Try out lots of different random treatments on a pre-term baby in the vague hope that one of them might work.

I have to say I'm very much looking forward to being titivated.

Talking of random treatments I mentioned the other day that Dad was going to bring in some olive oil to rub into my skin... well he did, and he made a right old mess of it!  Being a bloke he didn't bother to ask for any detailed instructions.  No, he thought it would be a much better idea to wait until no-one was looking then surreptitiously open the drawer below my incubator, stick his forefinger into the pot of olive oil, then glug it straight onto my belly!

The Muppet totally over-estimated the amount of olive oil required, despite the fact that he keeps banging on about how small I am!  Realising that it wasn't really being absorbed into my skin at the forecasted rate, and panicking that I would slide down the mattress and out of the incubator completely he searched frantically in the drawer for something to wipe it off with.  The only thing he could find was a packet of cotton wool balls so he took one of those and started to wipe the oil of my tummy.  It sort of worked to begin with but then he noticed that the cotton wool was shredding leaving a fine coating of fluff stuck to me.

With panic rising he grabbed Jemima Puddleduck and wiped off as much as he could - replacing her at the end of the incubator just as the nurse came back alongside.  I think he got away with it but it was close shave.

OK that's it from me tonight.  I know you want to know how I'm doing so in the spirit of positive blogging I'm going to say 'Just fine'!

Hugs and kisses

Poppy Lola xxx

Time for another oil change!



Sleeping like a baby...



Sorry if you were waiting to hear from me last night.  I was really tired - flat out - as you could see from the photo my Dad put up on Facebook.  If you missed it, here it is.  Look at me... sleeping like a baby.

It was the end of another challenging day.  Dad is back at work (boo!) so mum came in to see me on her own yesterday morning.  I'd had a really good night and my oxygen saturation was looking fine so the doctor had decided to take me off C-PAP and put me onto something called High Flow.  I think I've worked out now that there are five steps to get through before I'm doing this breathing thing for myself: Ventilator, C-PAP, High Flow, Low Flow... erm... just me!  So you see, I am making progress!  I seem to be comfortable at step two and trying to get to step three.

So anyway, that's where I was.  Everything was looking good so it was time to take Poppy to the next step.  And they did it again!  They put me on High Flow just before Mummy arrived and you've guessed it... just as she walked in I decided that High Flow was a step too far and stopped breathing again.  This time Mum got a front row seat and saw her first live performance of 'Bagging in Action', a Poppy Lola production featuring a very small baby and host of extras!  Mummy was surprisingly calm.  It's amazing how quickly my parents seem to be getting used to these dramas.

I went back on to C-PAP and to be honest the whole thing left me feeling a bit shattered.  I've not really managed to progress much since.  I even had three more little apneas during the night (just to keep everyone on their toes!)



Early attempt at sign language!



When the doctor came to see me this morning there were lots of frowns and tuts - as if I'm not trying my best!  I raised two fingers on my left hand and five on my right in a futile attempt to remind them that I was only 25 weeks cooked when I popped out but they completely missed my signing.  I really do need to work on a better communication strategy!

The conclusion of the meeting seemed to be that it was time for another oil change, so this afternoon I was hooked up to my third bag of red blood cells.  I know it's not a good long term strategy (unless I want to be a professional cyclist!) but I tell you what, it does feel good.  As soon as it was done my oxygen levels went back up and all my energy came back.  Mum said I looked like 'Billy Beetroot' when it was done.  I took this as a compliment.

Maybe this will be the one that finally gets me going properly?  I hope so.

Mum came to see me again this afternoon and told me that Dad was in place called Zurich - I have no idea where this is.  My geography knowledge is limited to the A46 between Warwick and Coventry.  I was only two hours old but I do remember seeing a sign for Kenilworth... I wonder if Zurich is near there?  Mum said that Dad was OK at work and only had to pretend he had something in his eye twice!



Blue eyed girl!



Once again I feel I need to end on a positive note so here's a picture of another little milestone achieved.  When I was born my eyelids were still fused together but a few days ago I opened them and it turns out I am Dad's blue eyed girl! So that's nice.

I promise my next blog will be upbeat from start to finish!  In the meantime if you should think of me at any time during your day, would you do me a favour and sing 'Always look on the bright side of life' out loud... then whistle!

Thanks

Poppy Lola xxx

Mother's Day

Very early this morning, just as the night shift was going off and the day shift was starting, I watched as each of the incubators was carefully adorned with a little gift and a card for the Mummy's to find when they came to visit.  A tiny teddy bear inside a cute mug with 'I love you Mummy' written on it... sweet.  And to go with each gift, a small card personalised with a photo of the little 'born too soon' baby...!

Ahhh!  But don't open the card!!

Now, if you've travelled this far on my blog you'll know that my dad (who occasionally helps with my blog posts) has been fairly selective with the photos he's used, and apart from that first one of me in plastic bag, I'd say that for him he's been reasonably discrete.  There are many words you can use to describe a tubed up premature baby in a blindfold but let's be honest 'photogenic' isn't one of them.

I saw the photo they were planning to use and was once again thwarted by my inability to communicate.  If I could have said something it would have been something along the lines of, 'You are joking?  You're really going to pop that photo of me inside that cutesy little card?  It'll frighten the life out of my mother... and if poor Charlie opens it he won't sleep for a week!'  However, as we now know, I can't engage the vocal cords due to the presence of a large clear plastic tube in my throat, so the picture went into the card and all I could do was wait.

As it turned out, Dad visited first on his own.  Poor Charlie's now gone down with the same bug Mummy had so the parents are on shifts again.

Since my strange turn for the worse on Friday things have been improving steadily.  I had a small problem yesterday when they found some green stuff in my tummy.  That was actually what they called it - no medical term, just green stuff.  I was taken off my milk and had to have the cannula reinserted so that I could go back to being fed through a tube.  I was not happy.  The one thing I've been good at in here has been drinking my mum's milk so this was a poor show.  The good news is that since then I've been moved slowly back onto milk again and the cannular can now come out.  Nobody seems to know what it was... but it's gone and I'm happy.

I'm still under the Billyrubin light.  Apparently I'm only supposed to use it for 16 days after I was born - 21 at the very most - so I have to come off it tomorrow.  If I'm still struggling with jaundice I might have to have 'liver drugs', whatever they are!

I'm making this sound bad but really I'm in good shape.  My breathing has been fine and the levels of oxygen going through the C-PAP are coming down.  I was at 42% today.  This is good.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned Bradycardias yet.  This when our heart beat suddenly slows down and guess what - it happens quite a lot in premature babies.  Normally, we pick it back up again and there's not much harm done but if they happen a lot it's a bit of a worry.  I only mention it because I've hardly had any Bradys (rhymes with Paddies not Ladies!) so that's a good sign too.  Don't want you to think it's all bad!

Back to today... Dad came in first and sat with me for a bit.  We had a chat about my brothers and sister, and then dad gave me a gravity feed (I hate to say this but he getting quite good!)  He looked a bit sad when he had to go, then I remembered he's back at work tomorrow so I won't see him till Friday!  I've seen him every day of my life so far so this is a blow, but I did my best to be strong for him.  We high fived and did some knuckles and generally did a good job of holding it together.

Mum arrived a bit later for her MOTHERS DAY VISIT and it was cool.  She found her present and looked really pleased.  Then she opened the card and looked less pleased.  I knew it!  This one won't be going on the mantlepiece!

Mum looked great.  Even though I missed her when she wasn't feeling too good, I think a few days away did her good.  She thanked me for the Fat Face pyjama's and daffodils I'd bought her for Mother's Day.  I know that I'd be much better off if I was still inside her womb but today for a little while I was glad I decided to pop out early.  Being here, on the outside for Mother's Day was a bit of a treat!

Jemima Puddleduck keeps a close eye
on my oxygen monitor!

Before I sign off tonight I have to say thank you once again to everyone who's following my progress and wishing me well.  Mummy and Daddy have been overwhelmed with the number of messages they've had and they are really, really grateful.  I know they've said it before but knowing that so many people are thinking of us makes such a huge difference.

Hugs and kisses.

Poppy Lola xxx





 

A day of two halves...

I'm beginning to figure something out here... The minute I start to think that things are going swimmingly, and all I have to do is count off the days until my release, that's the point when things will start to go wrong!

So... I've had a great night, my oxygen is down to 50%, the Billyrubin light has gone and the nurse has just told me that Mummy is coming in to see me with Daddy and Charlie, when all of a sudden the gentle bing bing of my monitor turns into an almighty BAAAARP BAAAAARP!!  It frightened the life out of me and seemed to have a similar effect on the doctors who all headed swiftly in my direction.

Another thing I might not have mentioned up to this point is that occasionally very premature babies sort of well... forget to breathe!  It's called apnea (or apnoea if you want to be all pedantic about it!) and some babies do it all the time.  Bit stupid if you ask me.  I mean I can see how I might forget to adequately deal with the used up red blood cells in my arteries but forgetting to breathe?  Surely not!

Well yes apparently! And at ten thirty this morning - just as mum, dad and Charlie were chugging up the A46 to see me, yours truly forgot to breathe.  It takes a bit of time for the monitors to twig what's going on.  It's the one that measures the oxygen in my blood that finally realised that something was up but by the time it started singing my oxygen saturation was down to 8%!

It seemed I'd lulled everyone (including myself) into a false sense of security.  There was only one thing for it... I was bagged!  Now to some of the more broad-minded readers of this blog that might sound like something that should on no account be done to anyone under the age of 18, however that is not the sort of bagging I was subjected to!  I was simply encouraged to breathe again through the use of a manually operated bag blowing air into my lungs.  And it seemed to work.  A few minutes later and I was back on track.  A bit more oxygen and a bit more positive pressure through the C-PAP and all was well.

Not good though.  The general view of the doctors seemed to be that if it was a one-off it was probably because I was just tired, but they're a bit worried that it might be down to infection, so my bloods have gone off to be tested again!  On the positive side, one of the treatments is caffeine so from now on I'm having a coffee with my lunch and dinner!

Anyway, all this hullabaloo kicked of just a few minutes before Mum (who remember hasn't seen me now for three days) was due to arrive with Dad and Charlie.  I'd just got my breath back (literally) when in they walked.  My incubator is surrounded by activity and before I could stop them (which would have involved the development of sophisticated communication skills, so would have taken maybe three years or so) the doctors and nurses launched into an animated explanation of what had just happened.

'We've just had to bag her!' they informed Mum, Dad and Charlie.

Of the three of them it was Charlie (aged 3) who seemed to be following the conversation best.  Mummy looked like she was going to faint and very nearly did, and Daddy put that face on where he pretends to know what people are talking about when in reality he hasn't got a clue.

It took a good fifteen minutes or so for everyone to calm down by which time Mummy was very pale.  Dad took Charlie off to the siblings play room for a debrief, leaving me and Mummy to finally have a bit of quality 'girl time' together.  From this point on, the day improved considerably.

Charlie came back in a bit later with Daddy and this time I was able to give him his presents which he seemed very pleased with.  I could see from his face that he was trying to work out how exactly I'd procurred them but then the penny dropped... Amazon.com! 

I'm a bit worried about my big brother... he did look happy to meet me at last but I think the machinery got to him a bit.  Don't worry Charlie Bear!  I'll be fine... you just wait and see!

Yay! A cuddle from my mummy!
Check out all my kit in the background... and look
at Charlie's face (not happy!)

And the day just kept getting better!  Just when I thought Mummy was going home the nurse had a little chat with her and persuaded her that we should have a proper cuddle before she went.  So what do you know... next thing I'm OUT OF MY INCUBATOR and CUDDLING MY MUMMY!! Yay!

It was cool!  They sort of put me down her T-shirt which was a bit weird at first but it felt great.  I could smell her and feel her heartbeat and everything.  The best thing that's happened to me yet - which when you consider what has happened to me so far should come as no surprise!

So there you go... a day of two halves!  Bagged in the morning and cuddled in the afternoon.  They said this was a going to be a roller-coaster ride... and it is!

Two weeks old...!

Feeling pretty pleased with myself today!

Not only was I born two weeks ago today but it's also three days doing all my own breathing without the aid of a ventilator... and they said it wouldn't last!  Well, I said it wouldn't last too so I'm happy to report that I was wrong.

It's not all plain sailing.  The oxygen levels in my blood (my 'gasses'!) are still low so I'm having to take on extra oxygen through the C-PAP machine.  I'm at 60% and they're trying to get me down much lower but every time they try, my DE-SAT alarm goes off!  I'll get there eventually...

Wow!  I'm smaller than a hand!!

Dad's done another one of those black and white photo's to show how small I still am (even though I'm now 60 grams more than when I was born!!).  Anyway, let's keep him happy by all going, 'Wow! Look! Poppy's smaller than his hand!'

Thank you.

Actually, I had a good day with my Dad today.  Mum's still feeling lousy so she had to stay at home and go to the doctors.  I have my fingers crossed that she can come to see me tomorrow - I'm missing her.  Dad is getting pretty good at the neonatal stuff though.  Today he fed me twice and changed me twice, and just to show how delighted I was I did two big shits for him!  One of the reasons why I'm struggling to get oxygen into my blood is because there's lots of fluid in my lungs and in order to try to drain it away I'm being given diuretics which mean I wee and poo a lot! It's funny when Dad does my feeding or changes me. He tries to be all confident in front of the nurses and Doctors but I can tell that he's really nervous! I think my dad might be a blagger...

One big disadvantage of being disconnected from some of the tubes I had when I first arrived here... the only way they can get blood from me now (to test my gasses) is by doing a heel prick.  I don't like this.  It bloody well hurts and I'm not good at stopping bleeding, so today I bled all over my blanket and all over my new teddy bear which then had to go home for wash.

I heard Dad saying that he was going to bring Charlie in to meet me tomorrow.  I hope he does.  Two weeks old and I still haven't met my big brother.  I hear he's very excited to meet me and I think Mum and Dad have hidden a present for him in my incubator so he thinks it's from me.  He won't fall for it but it will make the parents happy!

Do I look like a Gremlin?

I need to tell you about one of the down sides of being born this early.  Put simply we're not a pretty sight us 'pre-termers'.  This is partly due to the fact the we have tubes strapped to our face from day one (which, by the way, are on for so long that when they take them off our faces don't go back to the way they should be - they remain mis-shapen for a week or two), and our skin is not really ready to be exposed to the outside world so we look like gremlins!  I feel I can share this with you.

Today, one of the nurses asked Dad to bring in a bottle of olive oil.  I thought maybe we were going to have a Mediterranean lunch but it turns out they want him to massage it into me!  Honestly!  I'm now to be basted like an oven ready chicken!  There is no dignity in being minus 12 weeks old.

Perhaps one day I'll be a catwalk model and we will all look back and laugh... perhaps not.

And they said it wouldn't last!

I can breathe!



If you C-PAP tell him MAM's looking for him!

They've taken the ventilator away from my side which I am interpreting as a 'good thing'.  OK, so it's not all been going hunky-dory since I came off it.  I still need lots of oxygen from the C-PAP and as predicted I've had to go back under the big blue light to get my Billyrubin down (see illustration below) but hey, in the whole scheme of things this is looking good!

Bad news is... Mum's not well!  She was so excited about me coming off the ventilator and she couldn't come to see me today.  Hopefully, she will be feeling better tomorrow and we can have a little high five then.

Still, Dad came in and seemed pleased.  Problem was the nurses picked on him a bit.  They allowed him to feed and change me by himself then kept catching him out with things he'd forgotten to do.  Nothing serious like 'You didn't reconnect the oxygen'!  Just little things like he forgot to check my temperature and to change the monitor from one foot to the other.  He'll get the hang of it I'm sure!

Please note... this is not me!  I'm not even sure
if it's a real baby...

The staff in here are brilliant... and there's hundreds of them.  I don't think I've had the same nurse for more than two days running so far.  And they're from all over the place.  I'm getting a very cosmopolitan start to life.  So far I've been watched over by two nurses from Yorkshire (Leeds and Huddersfield), one from Liverpool, two from London and one from Scotland.  The Doctors have come from the Welsh valleys, Switzerland, Surrey and India.  The Doctor who did my x-rays was a Manc but guess what... she supported Liverpool, so that was good!

Dad said something about Liverpool playing Everton tonight and then rushed off...

I can breathe!!

Groundhog day... (day 12)

Mummy arrived first at the hospital this morning.  Daddy wanted to catch up on his e-mails and check his sales stats. Honestly, I'm stuck in here on a ventilator and he's worried about holiday sales!

Talking of ventilators I heard them talking about taking me off it again earlier today - they even put that C-PAP machine next to my incubator so it would be ready.  I tried my best to look a bit ropey but they didn't fall for it this time and at seven this evening... they TOOK ME OFF THE VENTILATOR!  It appears to be the case that I am now breathing for myself.  It won't last.  I'll get tired.  I'm telling you, I'll be back on that ventilator before morning!

To try to make it easier for me I was given my second blood transfusion today so I'm feeling tickety-boo.  I feel like a drug cheat!  Only problem is, my Billyrubin levels will shoot up again and they'll have to put me back under the blue light.  I don't mind though.  I'll get to wear the blindfold again so I can pretend I've been upgraded by BA.

Oh!  Before I forget... more good news!  The blood tests came back early and I don't have any infections.  I knew I was OK but it's hard to communicate with a clear plastic tube down your throat!

In other news, Mummy and Daddy are becoming quite competitive about who's 'qualified' to feed me.  Before they're allowed to come at me with a syringe full of milk they have to observe the nurse three times.  Dad was winning (he did three goes back to back on Sunday) but Mum shot into the lead today and even managed to perform one unassisted feed on me! Go mum!!

Mummy has also asked me to point out that she is also way ahead on the nappy change front (4 - 0)!

Clarke's would still charge £39.99 for a pair of shoes!

Dad's been photo shopping pictures again to try to show how small I am.  This time it's the old 'footprints and fifty pence piece' composition.  Ask yourself... how would you like it...?

Anyway, let's see how tonight goes.  If I'm still on this C-PAP in the morning there's gonna be some serious high-fiving going on in this ward!

Grandma Visits

Mum and Dad came to see me first thing this morning.  They both looked a bit better than yesterday but to be fair it would have been something if they'd looked worse!

I'm under my magic blue light and my bruising is beginning to go down a bit.  This is good but it makes me look even smaller and thinner!  I did some thrashing around.  This is because I'm not happy but Mum and Dad thought it was a good sign!  They have so much to learn!

Dad held my hand for the first time and got Mum to take a picture on his phone.  Then he went away and did something funky with it on his i-phone and made it all black and white.  He seemed really happy with his work so it seems a shame not to show you it.  Look how tiny my hand is...!

Tiny hand!

This afternoon I had a visit from my Grandma; my Mum's mum Betty.  Grandma had been warned that I looked a bit scary, with wires all over the place and tubes connected to machines that go bing, but she still managed to look shocked.  A baby could get a complex in here!

Grandma did her cry (everyone does a cry!), then she stared at me for ages and went all gooey!  My Mummy is a twin and Grandma always thought that she was small when she was born... but she was more than twice my weight (porker!).

Have you seen that advert on the telly, I think it's for Microsoft, where the Dad sets up an e-mail account and everything for his new daughter, then sends her messages and photos?  Well my Dad is a big softy and he thought his would be a cool thing to do for me.  So he went home last night and tried to set up a g-mail account for me and guess what?  Google's policy says that I'm too young to have an e-mail account so that advert is a pile of poo!

Not to be outdone, my dad just lied and added fifty years to my age, so I now have an e-mail address... poppylola1@gmail.com .  I think you'll agree it's quite a good one!  Not many Poppy Lola's in the world then!  I'm looking forward to receiving lots of messages from everyone that knows me... and maybe some from people who don't!

My first full day...

A plastic bag?  Really?

Look, I know it's my fault and I should have just stayed where I was for a bit longer - well for three months longer - but I ask you, was it really necessary to pop me straight into a plastic bag when I arrived?  Apparently, it's to stop me losing too much fluid through my skin but honestly, I look a right state!

And look at that label attached to my hat!  I look like an oven ready chicken!

Mum and Dad arrived about lunchtime.  They came straight from Warwick as soon as Mum was discharged.  I hope they don't mind me saying but they looked knackered and more than a little bit worried!  They were met by a nice doctor who took them off into another room to introduce them to the world of premature babies and all the scary stuff that they need to be ready for.  When they came back in to see me they looked worse than when they went out.

Mum had a cry.  Then Dad saw Mum crying and tried not to cry himself, and failed.  I would have cried too but the tube down my throat got in the way (this might become a theme!)

Here's a summary of what Mum and Dad were told...

1.  There's a long way to go and there will be lots of ups and downs
2.  I'm going to get infections but they will test me all the time to stay ahead of the game
3.  I'm very early.  My organs aren't really fully finished yet, especially my lungs and my heart and my skin.  This is going to cause no end of problems!
4.  I can't breathe for myself so I'm on a ventilator.  When I get a bit stronger I can come of this and go onto something called C-PAP (?).  I'll probably go on this, then get tired and have to go back onto the ventilator again, but this is normal.  It might happen several times.
5.  I'm being fed through a tube in my foot but Mummy has to start making milk so that I can start drinking that instead.  I say drinking but they are actually going to inject it down a tube in my nose straight into my stomach.
6.  I'm very bruised (from my feet first entrance in to the world yesterday) and I have a lot of something called Billyrubin in my blood - which is bad - and my liver isn't working so I can't get rid of it, so I have to go under a magic blue light for a bit.  Apparently this works like a liver... don't ask!
7.  I'm connected to lots of monitors which go bing a lot, and occasionally go bong bong bong very loudly causing Mum and Dad to become very worried.  This is normal.

As if this wasn't enough for Mum and Dad to take on board the nice doctor then asked them if I could be part of a medical trial (to be fair I do look a bit like a guinea pig at the moment!).  He was very keen that I should take part.  So keen in fact that Mummy got all uppity with him and asked him how much money he was being paid and which drug company was paying him.  Dad was a bit embarrassed!

Long story short, they've agreed, so I'm now part of the I2S2 clinical trials!  It's something to do with iodine and thyroid development.  The good news is that when I'm two I have to go for a follow up test and the sponsors of the clinical trial will pay my bus fare... which is nice!

Oh, the other thing that came out in the meeting was that my Dad thought it was a good idea to Google 'Premature Babies' when he got home last night, so the nice doctor had to bat off loads of questions about survival rates (9 out of ten 10 for babies weighing over 2lb), Cerebral Palsy (high risk), deafness and blindness (both high risk).  Mum and Dad like to be told the facts and I think they're both pretty strong so probably better just to be straight.  As the doctor said, I'm just one baby and I'm either alive or not and at the moment I am, so let's crack on!  I like that!

Welcome

This is the diary of me:

Poppy Lola Hufton Jones

I was born too soon on 1st March 2012 (St David's Day) at Warwick hospital.  I was supposed to be born on or around the 8th June but I arrived 14 weeks premature and weighed a feather over one kilo - that's about two pounds for those of you who still think in old money.


Taking every day as it comes...


Shortly after I was born I was taken in a special ambulance to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (bed 3 if you're interested) at University Hospital Coventry.  Apparently my arrival was a bit unorthodox but I'll let mum and dad tell you the gory details later in this blog.  For now, all you need to know is that I'm here and I'm taking every day as it comes.

I know that there are loads of people out there rooting for me and I know that my mum and dad are really grateful for all the messages of support they've had.  To be honest I'm not sure either of them believe in all that God stuff but just knowing that people are praying seems to make a difference to them.

Anyway, if you're one of those people praying for me, or crossing your fingers for me, or just wishing me well, this blog is for you.


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