The Jackpot

(Based on diary extract from 30/01/2011). 


I'm making the hospital my second home now. I've even landed my own private room which sounds very glamorous but in reality there's only so much glamour one can associate with being in isolation with a screaming child whilst wearing the rather fetching c-section bed socks and a 1960s style maternity bra (surely there's a market for something just a little bit sexier?!). Put it this way, I'm looking hot. And instead of the sound of other babies crying keeping me awake, I have the constant drone of the 'emergency' buzzers going off every few minutes down the corridor which sounds like I'm in some sort of amusement arcade, minus the amusement.
Except I have, in fact, hit the jackpot. I look down at Albie, my prize, who has finally gone to sleep on my sore and oversized belly and I just cry with love for him. I have never experienced anything so overwhelming and I feel like I'm going to burst. That's why this whole experience has been so hard - because I'm so desperate for him to be happy that it's almost a burden as well as a joy. I don't care that I'm in pain, or that I've had no sleep or that I'm constantly serving him - I expected as much. I just didn't account for the weight of the love.
There's a knock on my door and finally it's food time but the meat pie was not exactly what I was expecting and I have never craved fish and chips more in my life ;)

Hospital food had a lot to be desired... seconds anyone?!

This was the moment that my love for Albie hit me like a ton of bricks and I cried for about an hour (until his next feed!!) because I'd never experienced love quite like it