Raw

The last three days have brought some of the biggest highs and lows.

Firstly, Blarney has given birth. The boys, Chance Rex and Lance Reg, were born by caesarean on Sunday afternoon. This wasn't a surprise. Blarney had been in a state for over a week - the doctor decided that they needed to come out and come out now.

First I knew of this was when I turned up to the to the hospital to visit the day after I painted her toenails. When I got to her room, there was stuff everywhere, the odd blood patch in spots, her dressing gown, which she has lived in for the last fortnight, on the floor. And Blarney was nowhere in sight.

On making my way to the nurse's station I saw a woman being trolleyed into the lift. A mass of brown curly hair made things a bit more apparent. I gently edged over to the trolley. It was her, looking deathly pale and strangely deflated.
'Pand, I've had them. I'm off to Intensive Care,' was her weak reply.
'Congratulations, Little Mum.'
'Go find Barney - he's show them to you,' she said as the lift doors closed around her.

So I wandered around to her room, sat down, made a call or two while the nurses gave me a cup of tea (bless) and we talked babies a bit. I met her obstetrician who said not to fret that she was off to the ICU. She would be there overnight, that was it. That was all a precaution.

Barney was found in the waiting room looking completely out of it. The children, by this stage, were about an hour old. We spend the next hour fluffing about the maternity ward. I was the hold and carry person, holding and carrying what needed to be held and carried - of which there was a bit as Blarney's room was being given up for another patient. Then we went into the nursery to meet the boys. They were in humidicribs, all pink and furry and new, cleaned of most of the muck. Lovely little fellows.

Its hard to think that these little creatures, with their snub noses, smattering of blonde curls and tiny fingers were inside Blarney only three days ago.

Once Barney and I had checked out the babies we wandered across the road to the Intensive Care unit. Poor Blarney. It's a good thing that morphine suits her. She only got out of intensive care, back to the maternity ward this afternoon - three nights of no fun at all. At least she's had some rest now.

Adding to the concern about Blarney came the phone call last night. My beloved stepdad has had a heart attack. He's okay - he's going to be okay. The tests show he's not in the quadruple bypass league but these things throw you for a six when they happen.

Thankfully I working from home today, allowing me to not only work in my pyjamas, but to avoid people, which is all I really wanted today.

The hard thing about all this - is that in times like this, when things are really stressful, there is nobody there to lighten the load. I don't let myself think about how hard this is most of the time. Some friends have been kind. Popeye was brilliant this morning - told me to go to Adelaide - I said no - nothing I could do and my mother didn't want me there anyway. I might go in a few weeks time.

It just brings home the fact that we're mortal and that there are reasons why generally avoid being alone like we avoid the dentist.

Rather glad I'm borrowing a friends cat on the weekend - I get some company for a bit.

Pand