The Good, the Bad and the Health Visitor

First up, excellent news that in a fortnight Wriggles has gained 220g! How this has happened, I have frankly no idea as she has been bypassing all feeds like nobodies business and is only interested in sucking Quavers which are not full of calories. However, I am not questioning this gain but merely proudly putting my little spot around the 2nd centile on the dreaded chart and am prepared to tell any paediatricians to bog off if they think otherwise.

Rather irritatingly, going to baby clinic for these frequent weigh-ins (not by choice but on orders of the hospital) means that I have to see the Health Visitors more often than I would otherwise. I am sure that out there, there are some marvellous health visitors, and although mine is not terrible, she is very good at winding me up. I know she is not trying to, and she has admitted she has little to no knowledge of prematurity or feeding disorders and doesn't really know how to help mothers who struggle with mental health, like PND or anxiety. But each time, her well-meaning but ignorant comments sting and I go home beginning to question again if I am good enough or if making it up as I go along just doesn't cut the mustard.

Celebration

Crack open the bubbly, dust off the best cutlery (wait, I don't have best cutlery. Better give the normal stuff a swizzle under the tap then) and find your silver teapots!

WRIGGLES IS CRAWLING!!!!!

In a week she has nailed crawling, clapping, shouting down a cardboard tube and attempting to copy song actions to 'Wind the Bobbin'.

I know how infernal it is when parents boast of their precious offspring's achievements and how grating it is after a bad day when you are seething having tripped over the millionth Mega-Blok but look, I am allowed a little smug moment. Alright, quite a large smug moment.

All milestones are precious and although having only had one child, I cannot say for parents of "straightforward" children, but it means so much. It's one little less thing on my mind. Having a premature baby, or one that is sick or different for want of a better word gives things a new perspective both for their lives and your expectations. It is not to say that parents of such children love them more or have a better appreciation than parents without this experience, but I do think they have an acute awareness of each little thing. We have been inundated with medical and developmental knowledge, far beyond the literature that is normally given to parents. We have seen struggle. We have had days when we have to contemplate that we might not see our children crawl; not because they can't but because they might not be there. We also might have to come to terms with the fact some of their abilities may be impaired, so every little thing is a joy.