Did I really end my last blog entry with that sentence? Serves me right. This is what it brought.
Our four year-old granddaughter in Sydney hit her head on a heavy timber coffee table last Friday week, resulting in a rushed trip to the casualty ward, where her scalp received a few staples.
Around midnight that night, her pregnant mother was rushed to hospital when her waters broke at a little under 32 weeks. The next day I was on a flight to Sydney to help our son-in-law care for their two children, a four year-old (she with the sore head) and her two year-old brother. Meanwhile, back at the hospital, our daughter was taken by ambulance to a larger hospital where she was to stay until she reached the full 32 weeks. Then it was back to the local hospital where her obstetrician and medical staff carefully monitored the situation in an effort to keep the baby in the womb as long as possible.
Trying to explain all this to two little pre-schoolers who just wanted the baby to arrive and for Mumma to come home was extremely difficult. Tony flew down on the Tuesday to relieve the flagging troops, thank goodness, and somehow we three managed to keep the household on a fairly even keel.
On Monday the baby showed signs of distress, so it was decided to deliver, as Justine had reached 33 weeks, considered these days to be fairly safe. And here is the cause of all the drama:
Daniel James was delivered by caesarian section on 1 June at 33 weeks. He weighed 1.805Kg (3lbs 15oz) and measured 41 cm, which is a little scary, particularly when we have had no experience of premature births in the family and our last grandchild entered the world a few months back at a hefty 11 lbs!
Now, I have a problem with weddings and births. I cry. So for the seventh time as a grandmother, I wiped away tears of joy and love.Big sister Emily is absolutely over the moon, even if she had put in an order for a little sister.
Two year-old Chris is now the middle child, a position his mother and I know all too well. However, he's so happy to have a little mate and immediately introduced him to a model of "Daddy's car".
Mother and baby are doing well and Justine will be leaving hospital tomorrow, much to the children's (not to mention husband's!) delight. Little Daniel will remain in hospital for around a month until he reaches a reasonable fighting weight. He should be out of the humidicrib in the next day or so, which is another positive step forward.
Tony and I returned to Brisbane on Friday afternoon, swapping duties with our son-in-law's mother, who flew up from Melbourne to take over household duties for the next week or so. Then we will return to Sydney, as Justine will not be able to lift weights or drive for the next six weeks.
In the meantime, we were looking forward to hugging our four little Brisbane grandchildren today, but our son, a teacher, contacted us last night to advise that the school principal has "forbidden" teachers to come in contact with anyone who has travelled interstate over the last few days. Swine 'flu hysteria has now reached ridiculous heights. So we will have to keep those hugs on hold for another week.
To think that ten years ago I was lamenting the fact that I would never be a grandmother. And today we have seven beautiful, individual little darlings who bring us so much joy. What more could we ask for?