Holding it all together #2 At Home Again

After I had been in hospital for a week, Pineapple's father picked her up from school, and let her know the good news that Mummy was already out of hospital, and even better, at home.

Rather that skipping off delightedly, to get back as soon as possible as expected, she stopped and asked him gravely:

'Oh. Has the baby died then?'



We had spent a long time explaining to her that the doctors had operated, and if all was ok after a week I would be able to come home. But obviously we had not explained enough. After all, the last time I was in hospital for a week, the death of a baby had been her experience too.

I am home, but not out of the woods. I am on strict bed rest, sofa rest, house arrest. This involves simply choosing a side to lie on, and occasionally swapping sides. I can get up to move about a little, to use toilet and bathroom for example. Stairs are to be avoided. Its a daunting proposition, not just for me but for everyone who lives with me. I have at least three more months of it. But, I would rather be at home than at hospital, and I am completely delighted to have even been given this challenge at all.

During the operation they found that things were worse than they thought, hence the week for observation. That I did not lose the baby immediately was a good sign, and this continued for the week. Although it was all so frightening because it was so similar to your loss, I have consoled myself by noticing all the points that were different, and reminding myself constantly of those. But I cannot deny its been tough.

Pineapple told her Dad that she had something to say to the baby when she got in.

It was lovely to see her, and for the first time in a week, not from my hospital bed. She rushed over and hugged my stomach, and whispered to it:

'I love you, Marge.'