‘If we can make it through December, maybe New Year’s we’ll be together,’ words sung by the one and only, Liam Payne, had been my mantra for the past two weeks. Yes, I had driven Dave insane, but it had paid off and we were headed home! Home, home, home! We bundled everything together and shoved it into the car, giving one final hug and ‘sayonara’ to the stuffed zoo animals in the foyer of Ronald McDonald House on our way out.
We rang our parents from the car and got the hell out of Melbourne! Yes, we had given away our most likely once in a life-time opportunity to watch the Melbourne New Year’s Eve fireworks, but we were going home! Well Leo to Shepparton Special Care Nursery, but we would be all together and it was the final step in our ‘beeline to home’.
We made a plan that Dave would continue on home, while dropping me at the hospital on our way through – Mum, Dad and Charlie to pick me up after dinner. We couldn’t believe our luck, we would finally be in a position where we could be surrounded by family, and things could get a little easier. But then again, there was a little man pulling all the strings in with the higher power and he would guide us home – we knew that.
Walking back into the Shepparton hospital that day was one of the proudest moments of our entire journey thus far. This place was one I knew, I didn’t need a map, I didn’t need to ask which floor and Louis’ name was on the wall – I was home.
Special Care Nursery however, had been just as daunting as Melbourne and once I was buzzed through things became scary. It was almost like we were back to square one, so many questions, so many new faces and this time so so many babies, all together in the one room! Leo all wrapped up and waiting for his Mummy in bed nine, straight in and off to the right. It was an odd feeling, there he was, our rainbow baby, but I felt restricted to touch him – there was just so much going on and I felt almost estranged.
The baby who had needed the transfer to Melbourne had not yet been cleared to fly and was currently still awaiting their journey. We knew our transfer home would not have been possible without this baby, for they were now setting out on the journey we had just left behind. It was something we wouldn’t wish upon any family. This baby, following on as the babies in Melbourne had, would forever be a part of our story and in our thoughts.
Leo had been across three hospitals in two days and his temperament was evident – he was a very grumpy little boy and there was nothing I could do to counteract it. His heart rate was tacky and setting the monitors off, and in turn, sending my anxiety through the roof! Several nurses were in and out of our area, most not introducing themselves before silencing the alarms and exiting again. One nurse removing Leo from my arms and encouraging me to settle him back into his bassinette and break for dinner.
Dinner? What dinner? I didn’t know where anything was, let alone where my dinner was being kept! But I was thankful for the break and took some time to breathe while I was finally shown where the trolley was located with my meal and where the toilet and kitchenette were. But that would be all for today, unfortunately.
My departure that day was really hard, Leo was just so unsettled and due to capacity, he just wasn’t getting the same amount of care that he had been receiving in Melbourne. I knew he was hungry but they wanted to keep his routine to three-hourly feeds with medications dispensed prior – it was a lot to get our heads around but we had to remember, this was the final step, our ‘beeline to home!’
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There really was no place like home and we were still pinching ourselves and running on adrenaline. This time last year Dave and I had been welcoming in the New Year from the tank tower, while watching the Nathalia annual fireworks display – wishing and hoping for our rainbow baby. We weren’t to know what the new year had instore for us or that our rainbow baby was to be Leo and that he would indeed be a 2025 baby.
It was a little naughty but it only seemed fitting that we celebrate just how far we had come and with Charlie showing no interest in heading to bed, we hopped in the car, breast pump in hand and headed into Nathalia. Yes, technically, Leo wasn’t in my arms as the clock ticked into the New Year, but we were so much closer to bringing him home and we chose to focus on that as we huddled together under the fiery colour explosions in the sky. Our dreams had come true and we were one step closer to coming through on our promise to Charlie of ‘we’ll bring this one home.’ Finally, the boys to meet in only a matter of hours!
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This was us, the year 2026 and our third born was here, choosing to be earthside with his family. We liked to believe he had spent time with his forever baby brother, Louis, and following his guidance, had made his way into our arms. Leo, to forever be our rainbow after the storm. Our first-born Charlie, finally, physically getting to fulfil his role as big brother and hold his baby brother in his arms. Smile beaming from ear to ear as he stated the words, ‘we bring him home.’ We didn’t have the answer, but we explained, ‘he is here and he’s doing really well, but he needs to stay in hospital for a little longer,’ or put simply, ‘soon.’
It wasn’t going to be easy and things were defiantly run very differently here compared to Melbourne. Myself feeling quite vulnerable after what had already occurred and struggling to find my voice – it just wasn’t going to be easy.
I just wanted to sit with my baby, but there seemed to be rules here and Leo was sensing the tension, setting off his monitors again. The nurses had forgotten to order my lunch and it was 2pm before I had the opportunity to ask, I didn’t know where the wash-room was and it had been hours since I had pumped – my boobs were literally bursting.
There was just so much going on, mainly with the other babies and I just felt like anything I needed was minimal compared to others – and the PIPER team were back.
Triggered by this, I watched on in silence as another mother was going through the nightmare we had just awoken from. They really did just take your baby away and I was in literal tears as it all unfolded before my eyes. I had to do something, but I wasn’t strong enough – I just felt for them! I could hear the nurses saying ‘most babies are transported back within 24hours’ and I just wanted to scream at them for filling the mother with false hope. I was yet to learn that every story had a different time frame and that we had just been unlucky. Still, life just wasn’t fair, in any scenario really.
I may have not had the words right then and there, but I did go home that night and put together a PIPER Graduate flyer, mainly for Leo, but also for the mother of the baby transferred that day. Including the note ‘from a mother who’s been there.’
Eventually one of the nurses bought over a pumping station and I took a break in the lounge on the ward. I ate Arnot’s biscuits and some jam I found in the draw for lunch that day.
But upon return, things had settled and I could finally feel the atmosphere around me ease. I realised I really was going to need to start speaking up because some of the other mothers were starting to ask the nurses questions while they were in tending to Leo, cutting my confidence short. I guess it was every mother for themselves and their baby! But for now, I was finally just enjoying a cuddle with my littlest man while things were calm and quiet!
It became one of those things, I wanted to be with Leo, but I was also happy to be home by the end of the day. I had felt more at ease before leaving that night, but my anxiety quickly returned by the following morning. It was time to call in the support crew again – my sisters being first in line.
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Trying to explain my anxiety to others was hard, because I myself didn’t really understand it. I knew I felt vulnerable, but I had also felt out of control with matters concerning Leo’s care. I wasn’t given updates upon arrival, therefore I didn’t know when his last feed had been or if he was due for one, leaving me questioning whether to pump or not? And then as my sisters arrived, one of the nurses gave me some guidance about setting boundaries with visitors and choosing to hold Leo rather than passing him over to them. Followed by ‘he’s your baby, so we can’t tell you what to do.’ Gahh! I just need to get out of there! I hated being there without Dave and this could go on for weeks yet!
Not that I was sending a message as I walked out the door shortly after, leaving my sisters alone with their newest nephew, but I think a message was implied. My husband couldn’t be there with me so my family would be and I would be taking that break time, while knowing Leo was in good hands. We just needed to do what we needed to make it through this ordeal, one day at a time, possibly until Leo’s original due date in 25 days’ time!
Because that was what we were working with, that was what the nurses had stated. ‘Most babies are here until at least their due date, because that sets us with a realistic timeline, rather than promising any earlier and then risk disappointing everyone,’ they said. My internal response being, ‘over my dead body!’ Things just seemed to be dragging on as it was, surely it couldn’t continue for another month! We were so thankful that Leo was doing so well, yet things just kept standing still, every day the same as the one before – another lunch gone unordered, another door to be buzzed through – several times a day!!!
I did however feel guilty when Mum and Dad rocked up like passing ships with my sisters as they were leaving. Oops! Sorry, but Papa needed to meet his youngest grandson too! It helped that they were also my ride home though!
The weekend that followed became a blur and I began to spiral – I was still on my own at the hospital, other than the quick stop over with Dave and Charlie and with no new news, I felt lost in the crowd. The nurses could be quite loud and there always seemed to be some kind of hustle and bustle happening, so I made sure to take several breathers.
At least, finally, at two weeks and three days old, Leo had his first bath! Don’t get me wrong, he had been well looked after and wasn’t a stinky baby, but I think we both breathed a sigh of relief when his body submerged into the warm, soapy water. That was until he pulled his nose tube out! Now he was just a naughty baby! But we both genuinely enjoyed the experience, myself not bathing a baby since Charlie and remembering that Dave had been the one to take the lead. This time an experience, just for us, however reminded of the sad reality that we never got to bath our second born. This one was for both of them, choosing to share what we could, or rather, should have been.
Come Monday and my anxiety had taken over. I wanted to see our baby, but I was panicked by the thought of heading back into the hospital – I just didn’t want to be there anymore. Leo wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that I was still shaken by the whole ordeal and every minute I spent at the hospital, I was fighting myself internally to find the confidence I had once had. Even asking the simple questions, ‘when is Leo due for his next feed?’ Some days I just couldn’t do it and it annoyed me, one, because I shouldn’t have had to ask and two, because it continued to rattle me.
Instead, I decided to make my own decisions and chose to feed Leo if he was demonstrating hunger cues. He was my baby and I was the one who would be feeding him once we got out of here! It did mean that when the nurses came across, statements were made about medications being overdue or his feeding schedule being recalculated, but I had to let it go. I wasn’t across the metabolic cocktail and if the nurses wanted to change that, then they needed to communicate better and walk me through it – until then, it just wasn’t my problem. Feeding was my main priority and Leo and I were a single pair of two, and I needed to relax in order to master the latching bond – that became my sole focus.
The day continued to my own schedule, guided by the words that ‘everyday you’re here, is one day closer to bringing him home.’
Tuesday brought in a double PIPER transfer, while Leo and I watched on from our corner cubical. Each baby with their own story to tell. A story similar to ours, one we could sympathise with, yet none of our business – these babies were safe and thanks to PIPER, closer to home – that was all that mattered.
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Life continued on within the world outside of the hospital and everyone was feeling the heat from the consecutive 40-degree days. Our own plans of installing air-conditioning across all three bedrooms at home before Leo’s arrival, stalled due to end of year close of businesses. We had been booked for installation this week and had therefore organised for Mum to take Charlie home with her Wednesday night, while Dave and I planned to spend the following day at the Hospital.
Mum meeting me earlier that day for another Leo fix before Dave and Charlie’s arrival. Who had however, brought with them the news of a cancelation of the installation until the following week! Now if this scenario were a cartoon, you would have seen my body melt away into a puddle on the floor at that very moment – only it wasn’t funny at all!!! The situation couldn’t be helped and thank goodness Mum was still happy to take Charlie for the night. It was just another battle we needed to fight through and it was bloody hot! But at least one of us could get a break from the heat.
As planned, Dave and I returned to the hospital the following morning to spend the day with Leo. But not before listening to a confusing message that had gone through to my voicemail. The message was from someone on staff with the RCH stating that Leo had passed his hearing test this morning, but they had some questions and to call them back. Firstly; I wasn’t aware he was having a hearing test done this morning, and secondly; Where was Leo? This was the RCH calling not SCN! Thirdly; What did they want to talk to me about? Was something wrong????
I was panicking and returned the call on our way up to SCN – turned out a team from RCH was in Shepparton today and had indeed seen him that morning. Their question was about the medications he had been on early during his care, as one of them had the potential to course issues with his hearing later in life – great! I didn’t have the answers so it was suggested we retest again from ten-months-old – I took a deep breath in and out. Unfortunately, the relief was short lived when we set sights on Leo. He had vomited and was covered in a sea of yellow, along with a pile of yellow stained clothes, to which I could only assume was from overnight. He was also without his nose tube, which had been pulled out over 12 hours ago while having a cuddle with Nannie. What the hell was going on?! None of the nurses had come forward upon our arrival and after the news of his hearing test that had gone ahead without notification, earlier consent given yes, but defiantly not informed – I was pissed! Again, I had to approach the desk and ask for information about our baby. The nurse in-charge hadn’t been Leo’s nurse overnight, however pointed us in the direction of the nurse who had been. She was a quiet lady, who as far as I was aware hadn’t cared for Leo before, but what concerned me was she seemed completely unaware of his history. Her answer to asking about his nose tube was, ‘he’s all suck,’ which didn’t answer my question at all and when I asked about the vomit, she jumped up immediately. It was almost as if she thought we were asking her to clean it up, which was not the point either. What was clear was we weren’t getting anywhere with information regarding our son, but from what we could see, he was doing ok, but I needed another breather!
Thankfully, I had contacts who were able to reassure me and suggested I focus on the positives – if Leo’s nose tube hadn’t been reinserted, then he was one step closer to coming home. That was what we clung to as the end of the day came and we once again made our way out of the hospital without our baby – hoping he would receive the care we wished we could give him ourselves.
That night we received the news that Cole William Marshall had been born, weighing a healthy 10 pounds! A second son to Elyce and Liam, baby brother to Wyatt. The message said the birth had been ‘traumatic’ but at current, Mum and bub were doing well.
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Friday everything changed, and the heat had broken out into flames around the district, completely surrounding home, from Yarroweyah out to the north-east, Nathalia to the west and Nagambie to the south. A haystack fire as close as Waaia and not yet under control. Myself currently at the hospital, alone. Houses had been lost at Yarroweyah and people were panic packing. Watch and act warnings had been issued and Katamatite ordered to evacuate.
Friday was also the first time I was informed about the ‘parenting program’ and how this would be our ticket home! Due to Leo’s steady observations and no restrictions lingering from RCH, the program would bring me back to the ward – almost as a trial run. It would be a two-night stay and it would mimic that of a ‘normal birth’ hospital stay.
Was I keen? defiantly not! Would I enjoy the one-on-one time with Leo? Of-course! It would be our last piece of the puzzle, our ‘beeline to home’. Commencing tomorrow, the countdown would begin!
'Our Little Louis' 