A Fathers story: Nicu survivor, prematurity, loss, and covid

8th April: This is going to be a hard one to write for me; this took my anxiety to the limit. What started out as a routine visit on the morning of the 8th soon turned into a living nightmare. I was sitting alone at my Uncle’s house. I was away from Frances as we lived at different addresses. I was just sitting there thinking about Oliver and just general things. I though I would try and relax and have a beer. No later than I had finished the first can and actualy felt some sort of relaxation, Frances called. At 8pm on a Wednesday evening Frances had got a phone call from the hospital. The call specifically asked us for both of us to attend to hospital. As soon as she hung up, she called me right away. As I layed on my bed about to have another can of beer, I answered the call from Frances. Instantly from the tone of her voice I knew something was wrong, "Ethan how soon can you get to mine?". She explained the doctors and nurses were very concerned and we needed to get there

Just a slight digression, but I want to talk to you about the effect of covid up until this point. This was a behind the scenes shot of how I was dressed on my visits. Below is a Facebook status I uploaded at the time; I think this pinpoints how I felt at the time. Sadly this is not a filter... this is the extremes we have to go to just to see our Son. Certainly an essential trip and a meaningful one at that. I was on my own as due to covid-19. His mum couldn’t be with me, only 1 parent could visit a day, and there was no swapping in and out. When I wasn’t at the hospital, she is, and during those times I’m working a 14hour day with vulnerable adults who can't support themselves. I’m putting myself at risk on contracting corona there, and then the day after work I'd be back at the hospital. A trip that required 3 busses and took just under 2hrs. Also, due to this I'm unable to see the mother of my child as we live in different homes. Just when we need each other

4th of April: well this was a special day for me; things seemed to have settled and we were on a good track. From previously being worried about the blood transfusion, things were slowing down and although his haemoglobin and glucose levels were still up and down, he in himself seemed good.  It was during my visit this day that I was blessed with being able to change his nappy for the first time. Clearly scared, looking at his small and fragile body. I thought how in the world am I supposed to do this  . Changing a nappy on a full-term baby is stressful lol, but on a micro preemie with legs the size of an average finger I genuinely thought “omg I'm going to break him”. But with gentle help and encouragement from the nicu nurse, the nappy change was a success (glad to report he didn't break).  As the nurse pointed out, they are stronger than they look. I would encourage any parent in the nicu to do as much as possible. Be as hands on as you can possibly be; when the time came, i

Walking in to the nicu ward on the 29th it was only one day after my first visit. Frances agreed that I could go back in due to my work commitments; I was working for the next few days so wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. Frances would then do the days I was at work and this just seemed to work for us.   It still torments me to this day that we couldn't go together but we were powerless.  Walking in through the hospital this day felt different; it felt good and I felt a sense of positivity. We had received no phone calls or had any information to make us feel otherwise. So, as I scrubbed up, went back into the room and pulled off the blanket covering his incubator, I saw instantly that his skin looked less red and angry looking. It had taken a pinker tone. This only helped to raise my positivity.  It was at this stage things began to take place and I began to learn the lingo and language of the nicu. I was informed his haemoglobin levels as well as his glucose levels wer

I remember this day so clearly in my mind, I would say out of all the best days in my life this had to be up there along with the birth of my first born. On the morning of the 28th March 2020 I arrived at the hospital. Sitting in the car with Frances, I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I was about to go and see my son for the first time and I was filled with so much happiness, while at the same time feeling so scared it was like I couldn't control my emotions. I remember just shaking. Frances gave me some words of encouragement and said, “you will be fine”. I was still trying to get my head around him actually being here, as well as knowing I was going to be going in there alone; I just didn't know what to expect.  I made my way into the hospital and found myself ready to enter the doors of the nicu ward. Up until this point I had never really heard of nicu, I didn't know what I was going to see. I made my way through and I introduced myself as Oliver’s dad. It

Where to start... So, the first 24 hours of our son being born. Let me start by saying my son’s Mum was doing absolutely fine, apart from obviously going through the trauma of a premature birth and everything that comes with it. In stark contrast, I was a complete wreck. I was at home not able to see anyone or talk to Fran, plus, everything Fran’s end at the hospital was frantically busy so there wasn’t anyone with free time to give me any information.  After the birth, they managed to fit my son with a breathing tube and all seemed well. It would be 8 hours before Frances could go and see our son. The waiting was unbearable, and due to covid and lockdown restrictions I couldn't even go to the hospital to see her or our son. My only route of communication was through the phone, and obviously Fran needed to rest. So 8 hours of waiting for information felt like 8 days. I mean, 8 hours for a 23week baby is a long time; anything could go wrong. And that's all I could think about. 

I apologise for the amount of digressions, but I feel sometimes I have to take a break from my story because life is full of odd little moments. Some are good some are bad. Take last night for example, I'd had a good day at work and got home felt OK. I had a shower, felt refreshed, felt happy and then all of a sudden it was like a grey cloud just covered my thoughts. I knew what was happening as it has happend before. I'm having a moment... I feel like im there  I can smell the smells, I can feel the air  I see what's in front of me  For a second I'm living it again... It's a blessing and a curse (??)  Fuck bereavement!! I'm not a psychologist, neither am I a medical doctor, so I'm not sure what you would call these moments. Could it be I have PTSD? sometimes I do feel like 2 different people 😕 Can trauma such as mine bring out psychological illness? Answers to questions I actualy don't want or to scared to find out. I never accepted counciling as I fel

So we have reached the point where I can say my life irreversibly changed and will never be the same. For most of my life I have been like a captain of a boat; I’ve just sailed through life really. I have had some low points and I have had some high points. But nothing was going to prepare me for what I was about to go through.  (Yes, me and my partner at the time went through it together, but this is just my own account and my feelings) After a scary few days from Boris putting us into lockdown and not knowing if I was going to be a Dad again from one morning to the next, the day finally came. I can only describe these days as some of the worst I have experienced in my life because at this time everything was so completely out of my control. What with lockdown and visiting arrangements, I couldn't even get to the hospital and everything I heard was second hand news. I was so upset; I think I cried so much in the few days prior to our son being born that I had all but dried up. At

So I got a phone call tonight from Demelza hospice. The place where my son went after he had passed. I was asked if I would like to join a group on Facebook to do with the loss of a child... Willingly I accepted. Man if I’d have known I was going to see a family I met at Ronald McDonald house, I still would have accepted but I would’ve taken time to prepare myself for the fact that this would hit me like a tonne of bricks. In the coming future of my story this family will make their debut. Only by joining that Facebook group, I found out their son didn't make it.  This has hit me hard, we are approximately a half an hour drive away from each other, furthermore, we shared the same residence at Ronald McDonald and their son was one room over from mine. Please take a moment of silence for them. The hard parts are who do you tell this information to? Who will listen? Should I keep my thoughts to myself?  Also I don't know what I'm really feeling; how do I even articulate all of

A minor digression from the main story for the time being. It's been rather hard thinking about the past and I haven't even got into the main part. It's a rollercoaster of emotions delving into one's own thoughts and feelings. And thus far, I'm unsure if this is where I need to be heading. I must admit that although it's been distressing looking back at everything, I can with certainty say I am going to finish. It may take a month, or it may take many months, but it will get done. It's hard to say how I feel at this particular moment 😕 I'm happy I have got my daughter and I have got my family. I'm still most certainly grieving, but that's normal and I don't expect it to stop anytime soon, and i dont think I want to just yet. Anyway, please stick with my story, and as always I will be honest about how I felt and still feel. On a positive note, I know my proof-reading friend will be happy that I used the word digression correctly, and she will

23rd March... Started off like any ordinary day except Boris had placed us in a National lockdown. I never thought about the impact this would have on our pregnancy because our son wasn’t due till the 23rd of July, so as everyone else i probably thought about how it was going to effect me seeing my friends, going shopping, and stopping me from getting a nice cold pint. Anyway, my day was going alright, my daughter and I were sitting with a lovely take away pizza and we were just enjoying some father and daughter time. All of a sudden around 5pm I got a call from a number I didn't recognise... I answered it and it was Frances' sister. "Hello, you alright?" I asked. She responded with a worried tone in her voice whilst trying to be reassuring in a calm manner and I instantly knew something wasn't right. My mind didn't necessarily go straight to the pregnancy, I mean she's not even 23wks so I just thought it couldn’t be that. "Is Frances OK?&

So this seems like so long ago now, but all I remember is covid taking a full swing at the UK and starting to really affect the places you could go/ visit. But at this time, we could still go to the scans as normal and face mask were not even required, seems very strange to think about now 🤔 So anyway, as we sat and waited for the scan I remember just talking to Frances while we waited in the waiting room. We were just having a generic conversation about names ect with nothing set in stone. Anyway, as we get called for our scan I had this overwhelming feeling, and I think I can speak for all mothers and fathers when I describe this, it's like a magical room where you’re going to see your baby on a screen, but at the same time it's a very serious health check up. I was feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. Thoughts like “is my baby OK? is my baby growing as it should be?” and many other questions going through your head.  So as we are sat in this room and saw our baby b

Fast forwards a month and a bit and it was the 17th of February. Things between Frances and I were perfect. At this point of the year, Covid was only just starting to become a permanent fixture in the news, but from what I can recall, it was making its way around the world and causing concern, but was still at a very early stage. Anyway, we had a gender scan booked (one of the early fancy ones) and we were so happy to see what we were having. We took a few family members and my daughter, she was excited to see if she had a brother or sister. I wasn't fussed, I mean one of each would have been nice but I didn't mind and Frances didn't particularly mind either. The old familiar phrase of "as long as its healthy I don't mind" was said among us all. I have to be honest with you, that phrase has stuck with me. My perception of that phrase has changed, because what was about to happen, and the road we were about to travel... well nothing could’ve prepared us for wha

 time for the next step... we went and spoke to her parents and I can tell you that was a wild atmosphere full of mixed feelings.  As we called her parents into the front room, I was met with her mum. Her suprise to see me was met with "what are you doing here" (in a polite way) as I hadn't been round since we broke up. Anyway, skip foward a day and everyone had been told. While this was all going on, I found myself completely warming to the idea of being dad again. Myself and Frances sat down and discussed our options of being separated parents, and without hesitation it was agreed we would both do what we could to support eachother to be the best parents we could, even if we were separated. For information purposes she was already 3+ on a clear blue test = 5wks  That was also a suprise. Frances knew what kind of a dad I was because she had seen me be a brilliant father to my daughter from a previous relationship. (Fast foward time)... Around a few weeks late