New Year 2006

As I rock my youngest son to sleep and post the birth story of my two eldest I'm reminded in a sudden rush how completely and utterly lucky I am to have three, beautiful, healthy children. I was prompted to look up a post I made on a message board at the start of 2006. It's difficult to remember but impossible to forget.

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I don't get much of a chance to come on here these days but I just wanted to let you know about my terrifying start to the new year.
On Friday the 30th at about 7.30pm we sat down to relax for the evening. Joseph was complaining so I picked him up for a cuddle and noticed his breathing seemed rather unusual and erratic. I decided it was best to get him checked out - he'd had a cold for a few days and there's asthma in the family so I wanted to be safe. As I waited for our lift to A&E to arrive he became drowsy and floppy. I couldn't believe he was the same baby that had been bouncing and 'chatting' a few hours previously.
When we got to the hospital I still expected to be sent away with some calpol and told it was a chest infection or something. The next thing I knew the triage nurse was taking us through into resus and hundreds of doctors were swarming around! Joseph had gone very very pale, his skin was mottled, his hands and feet were blue and his torso was covered in a pin prick rash. I couldn't believe it; it was completely surreal. He had needles stuck in his arms, his wrists, his head. Blood tests were taken, xrays were done, consultants were brought in from home.
Suddenly my little boy, looking tinier than I'd ever seen him, was sedated, intubated and bundled into an ambulance to be transferred to an intensive care unit some 40 miles away from home. I wasn't even allowed to travel in the ambulance with him as he needed to be accompanied by so many staff.
We followed behind in the car with Jack, who was thankfully being an absolute angel. I just couldn't believe it was happening. He'd been fine a few hours ago.

Joseph tested positive for Meningococcal Septicaemia. Luckily I'd taken him into hospital within an hour of his symptoms appearing and all the medical staff did everything 'right'. In a series of completely fortunate events and thankfully, him being a pretty robust little boy, he's now fine. I couldn't have asked for more efficient medical staff and I dread to think that if even one thing had been done differently I wouldn't be typing a positive story here now. Imagine if he'd started to get ill while we were all in bed at night!

Thankfully this didn't happen, and Joseph was only in intensive care for 24 hours. We've spent a week in hospital, which was completely exhausting, especially as I had to express enough milk for Jack who was being cared for by his Grandparents. But we're home now, and though the boys are completely out of any sort of routine and I wake up all the time at night to prod them and make sure they're still alive, we feel incredibly fortunate.

Hopefully none of you will ever have this experience but just in case - if you ever think you're being neurotic, chances are, you're NOT! Illnesses like this can kill within a matter of hours and appear out of nowhere. For anyone who doesn't already know or would like a recap, here's a link to some of the symptoms of Meningitis and Septicaemia:

http://www.meningitis.org/

Hope all your babies are happy and healthy and you had a great Christmas and New Year!

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I remain eternally grateful that so many little coincidences fell into place that night. I'm so incredibly glad that I didn't pay any heed to the pre-birth advice that the key to caring for twins successfully is ROUTINE! What if I had my babies in bed, in cots, in their own rooms by 7.30pm? What would I have woken up to the next morning?

I remember ringing my Mum, uncertain, to get confirmation of what I already knew to be true. I felt it, deep inside of me, that something was wrong although his symptoms were initially barely noticeable. I remember pacing the hall frantically within seconds of ringing Ryan's Mum to take us to the hospital. She took her time. I paced. Ryan told me to calm down. I paced. That part of me knew I wasn't over reacting. We didn't have time to waste.
I remember being utterly calm at the hospital. I remember the on call consultant being paged from home. She swept into the room with her hair done up and her huge faux fur coat on. And she did a wonderful job.
I remember being inwardly hysterical that I wasn't allowed to feed him. I sheltered myself with this. He just needed some Mummy milk, that's all. Milk would make it all better. Why wouldn't they let me feed my baby? He couldn't really be this ill. Could he?

My chest still knots like a ball of tightly wound elastic reliving it.