It’s ok to not be ok. Supposedly.

It’s ok to not be ok. Supposedly.

I can only describe the last couple of weeks as a continuation of the longest rollercoaster of my life! I’m experiencing highs and lows literally every single day and if I wasn’t having to keep the fluids up for feeding the milk monster it would be to stop me from becoming dehydrated from all of the tears!

Finally the time came for catheter out day. As if the general birthing a child ensures you’ve lost all dignity and privacy for your body after people have prodded and poked around, put things in places you’d rather not; then carrying around a bag of your own waste fluid is just a continuation of this unwanted experience. The doctor pumped my bladder full of dye until it was full and I felt like it would explode then took a load of pictures of it to check that it wasn’t leaking. It wasn’t which meant I could have the catheter out and just had to pee a certain amount during a few hours. Totally nailed it and did a happy peeing dance to celebrate. Never been so relieved (literally) than I felt right then. Only problem was by being so fixated on the catheter coming out I hadn’t considered I’d still be feeling pretty shabby, both physically and emotionally, once it was gone so that added to my frustration and upset.

The following day we registered our teeny tiny human and made her all official. Funnily enough her name wasn’t on the list of the top 100 in the registry office but that didn’t surprise us as we went for something she will definitely have to spell out or clarify whenever she rings a call centre. Poor kid. The big girls were at nursery so we went for a lovely peaceful meal just the three of us to celebrate. You forget how easy eating out is with only one child in tow – hot food and everything!

We have also celebrated our anniversary. 1 year since we turned our civil partnership into a marriage and 11 years since the civil partnership. I can’t believe how quickly it’s gone since the big party in Windsor. We had agreed not to make a fuss since we have quite a bit going on with the arrival of the little one but L surprised me with my wedding flowers all over again with our first dance song “Shut up and Dance” playing. There were free flowing happy tears and that warm, fuzzy feeling at just how thoughtful she is. I felt loved. She’s got to love me to put up with me over the last few weeks I know it’s not been easy for her.

Next, to add to the ride, it was time for L to head back to work. This is it. This is me on my own with our three children. This is us having to begin our new normal. I felt ready for it. I mean the OCD in me was starting to get annoyed at how L was doing things round the house which is usually my territory. I mean she’s let G have potato waffles for breakfast most days with the giveaway sign of ketchup on her face and who knows how many chocolate biscuits the chaotic one has had. L wasn’t bothered though she said it was a clear sign I was getting better now I’m bossing her around again. Plus I made it to nursery only 5 minutes late with all the snow, three kids in tow and homemade costumes for world book day. Felt epic! Maybe it’s the Northern in me, or maybe it’s just the determination that I want to feel better and back to me, that I got a bit of fire in my belly.

So imagine the disappointment that the first week going solo the tears still kept coming. I found it hard for so many reasons. I was in pain manouvering through the day from lifting the kids into the car and going about my day to day tasks as well as coping with the tiredness, so it was no surprise when the health visitor asked me how I was coping and I became this blubbering mess of tears and ugly crying face. Now I don’t know what your experience is of a health visitor but I hear a lot of people grumbling about them and their faults but I guess I’ve been pretty lucky with mine as they’ve always been fairly helpful.

I’ve only had one awkward moment with our first health visitor who discretely shuffled the ‘contraception after a baby’ leaflet out of her welcome pack she was about to give me. Yes I’m not sure I’m going to need that love! So this time round and I’m a mess expecting her to be all judgy and critical at my ability to be a good mum and her advice was “you’ve had a baby. Go easy on yourself. It’s ok to feel like this.” Phew! It was like the fog had lifted a little bit. Maybe it was ok. Maybe I’m not completely crazy. My friend told me it’s ok to not be ok. Maybe she is right. Still keep trying to tell myself that and remind myself I’m trying to get over a hugely traumatic birth, whilst juggling life with three children and not to mention the physical healing which is still not where I want it to be. My stomach for instance is a mess. I’d expect it to start resembling some sort of normal by now, maybe a little podgier, but it is still really abnormal, hugely swollen and painful in many areas – probably about 5 months pregnant looking. Trying to be patient but it’s not really my thing.

I have been living in this weird blur for the last few weeks. I’ve even gone through some of my pictures and texts and can barely remember them happening or as if it was from another time. It’s weird and surreal but my control freak nature hates it plus I feel like I’m not getting to enjoy the best bits like I would want to. Also with this emotional side of things my ability to interact with many humans, be them friends or strangers, is becoming affected. When people tell me I look great or that I’m doing so well I feel like an absolute fraud as inside I’m hurting. When people ask me how I am my response is the usual “I’m good” or “I’m ok” but really I’m not but I won’t tell you because I want to be these things I’m just not there yet and that’s ok. Supposedly. I don’t quite feel up to big groups and I certainly am out of my comfort zone with strangers. Strangers are the worst. They see you with a fresh baby and feel its essential to impart their tales about their uterus, vagina or c-section during birth when I don’t even know their name. I can’t be held responsible for my actions if this happens again; my smiling politely has ran out.

So trying to take one day at a time and be kinder to myself lowering my expectations and slowing things down. I know I’ll get there and there will be less tears and more smiles just don’t know when.


Two weeks into life with the little one.

Two weeks into life with the little one.

Two weeks old. Little miss is already 2 weeks old. She has settled into the family as if she has always been here and she’s growing fast. Already getting emotional at her growing out of some of her first size sleepsuits. Awww. I really want time to freeze her at this age and size. I think I’m going to be like this with all of her milestones with her being the last. With G I was pushing her to achieve more milestones but I feel the complete opposite.

I was due to have my stupid catheter out this week but it didn’t happen. I literally bawled my eyes out on the phone when the hospital called to say it would have to stay in another week. A real case of don’t shoot the messenger but the lucky caller got a hysterical, hormonal mess at the end of the line. I then cried on and off for two whole days. I feel for L. Clearly I’m a joy to be around!! I think we are all finding comfort in cake.

To make it worse I started to get even more uncomfortable with the catheter and after a quick check up when collecting some more pee bags my urine does show an infection but it would anyway since I’ve had the catheter in so long. The only options were to leave it and hope I don’t develop any other symptoms or to remove the catheter and put in a fresh one. Since I already feel like someone has set my pee hole on fire there’s no way I’m letting them change my catheter unless it’s absolutely necessary. So I went home with some numbing gel in the hope it takes my mind away from it all for the next week.

Then as if we weren’t sick of any dramas and hospitals the most horrible thing happened. We found this purple bruise-like line on our baby’s stomach/side and groin so we called the midwife who came out to look at it. She said it could be a blood clotting disorder or that they have to consider it would be a NAI (non accidental injury) that someone has hurt her. I felt sick. We were sent straight to the children’s ward at the hospital and told to pack for a few nights as if it wasn’t the blood disorder we would have to stay in hospital until Monday for social services to come. Honestly L and I were crying our eyes out. We felt completely broken that either she had an awful disease or that they thought we had hurt our baby. We went to the ward and after a tense wait where we were both going through everything again and again. L said I roll her like a burrito too tight so maybe that’s why she is bruised and she was second guessing herself saying what if she has picked her up too hard. We were driving ourselves nuts trying to get our head around it all when the doctor examined her and the bruising/mark had gone. We were confused to say the least. Thankfully L had taken pictures which we could show him. Thats when technology is amazing. Straight away he told us it was a vascular abnormality and nothing to worry about! It comes out when she cries along some of her blood vessels. He also found she had a heart murmur but that’s pretty normal at this age and should resolve itself by 6 weeks. We were allowed to go home without painful blood tests on a newborn or social services intervening! It was absolutely awful being in that situation especially when people think that you could possibly harm your child. I get why they have to follow their procedures but to be on the receiving end of the questions and documentation was terrifying.
We are well and truly sick of hospitals now but so so thankful our baby is fine. We’ve been advised to carry the letter from the doctor with us at all times so that if anybody sees the marks again, say at a baby clinic or the doctors, then we can show them the proof that we haven’t hurt her. I would never have even thought about that.

Positive news is our little tiny one has put on lots of weight and her belly button stump, which is utterly disgusting and I have no idea why people keep them as keepsakes, has fallen off so we bathed her for the first time which the big girls really enjoyed. I on the other hand always find it a bit nerve wracking doing the first bath as they’re like a slippery eel. I leave that to L she’s way more confident in that area. Here’s hoping the next week goes quickly and we can start to move on from all of this drama.

Life with the little one – Day 6

Life with the little one – Day 6

I thought I’d have loads of time to write during night feeds about everything that is happening but little miss still has day and night the wrong way round so can sleep for more than 3 hours straight in the day but is up feasting every hour in the night.

Thankfully to keep me going and to help L out a lot the loveliest and super kind people from church have organised a meal rota where somebody comes to bring us food every day for the first two weeks. It’s amazing. Not just savoury food either…CAKES AND DESSERT. It’s like something out of the sweetest little movie. We are so very lucky to have friends like these.

Here’s me and the tiny one on day 6. This is 6 days since this little bundle of goodness arrived and what a delight she is. I don’t want to jinx it but so far she has been so good. Sometimes you wouldn’t even know she is there.

I’ve had loads of messages from people saying how relaxed we all seem and how happy we always are but I’ve not felt too much like that over the last 6 days. Today is the first day I feel a little bit more like me and a little bit less like utter crap.
It’s these times when you realise that without that special person in your life you wouldn’t have half the strength you do. L has been my absolute rock this last week. She’s not only had the girls to look after or the day to day tasks at home but she has broken me out of hospital and cared for me at home with endless cups of tea and snacks. Sometimes there’s no place like home and it couldn’t be more true this week. She’s seen me at my very worst but it hasn’t phased her. She’s just been encouraging me all along the way. Although I was brave at the time I had the little puncture to my bladder and another part dissected during my section, the aftermath has not been so pretty. I didn’t think I would get past day 2 as that’s when I was completely broken but she was there for me, along with a super guardian Angel friend, holding my hand through the pain and wiping up the tears.

So I certainly don’t look like any celebrities in magazines post birth but this is real life and although not as glamourous, it’s still beautiful in it’s own way. There’s way too much pressure on new mums to be looking a certain way after they’ve had a baby but they’ve just had a baby! Give them a break. Let them wear their pjs in the house with unbrushed hair and no make up on. That’s how I intend to spend this first two weeks.
I look about 6 months pregnant with my swollen belly, L says my scar looks good but I can’t see it yet because of the belly, I have a cm cut on my nipple from feeding and everytime little one latches on my toes curl and I wince, plus I have this catheter which I have to keep in for two weeks before they can check my bladder repair has been successful. I managed to loop the tube round the bed the other night when I was up for a night feed and thought I’d yanked my urethra out. There were more tears to add to the usual post natal hormones!

Despite all of this I keep looking at our little baby who is so calm and content and tiny and it makes me happy. I’m grateful that we are so blessed. She looks like a little burrito baby all wrapped up and I would go through all of this again to have this little face to stare at.

I am still on countdown to COD (catheter out day) but I’ve made it through another day, thanks to cuddles with my 3 babies and L, so life is good. Day 7 is one step closer to being 100% me again.

The birth!

The birth!

It’s a girl! I can’t begin to describe how elated we were when we found out our little baby was another girl. I’ve said all along in my pregnancy that it was a girl so I was relieved that my mummy instinct was right. Deep down I think we were both wishing for a girl but didn’t realise it until they arrived. I think we need more bathrooms in our house for the future.

This time we agreed to have the screen lowered during the section and watch our baby being born and it was wonderful. A really special moment that we will treasure forever as it also meant we could learn the sex ourselves too. This little one didn’t cry like the others which obviously panicked us no end but we were reassured that she was fine. Could this be a calm addition to our family? Hmm…I doubt it!

Our baby was here and she looked so tiny. She was much smaller than the others so I expected her to be 6lb something but L shouted over from the scales in the theatre that she was 2700g which is pretty much bang on 6lbs. The smallest of our babies by far. No wonder my bump kept measuring small. I should’ve eaten more cake.

She has a real look of both of her sisters. They certainly all have the same eyes but at different times of the day she looks like G then it will swap to the chaotic one.

L cut the cord and brought her over to me for some skin to skin and we got some amazing pictures with the two of us sporting the biggest grins I have ever seen. I love looking at that picture as each time I see it I feel the moment again and again and it is lovely. I still find it all a bit crazy that a time which can be the most special day of your lives can also be one of the most terrifying, but that’s my experience of having babies I’m sure others may feel differently.

There was a real sense of relief that our baby had arrived safely, that she was finally here after all this time. But not long after her birth I was told by the consultant that they had punctured my bladder and they needed a specialist from urology to come and look at it. I have no idea how but I was pretty calm about all of this. It was surreal me lying awake on the operating table my body open and us all having a general chit chat while we waited for another surgeon to arrive. To be honest I was trying to play it cool for L’s sake as I could see the panic and worry coming over her. It really was mind over matter for the rest of the surgery. I’ve never had to dig so deep to keep it together and have no idea where that strength came from. It also didn’t help much that the tiny one was starting to exercise her lungs and let us know she was hungry.

The surgeon arrived and it was like watching a tv show about yourself that somehow wasn’t real. He said my bladder needed dissecting as it was attached to my uterus which unfortunately is a common problem when you’ve had a previous section but in doing so I managed to get another tear in the bladder. To cut a long story short what was meant to be a 1 hour operation turned out to be 3 hours with my spinal injection wearing off but I was adamant I couldn’t be put to sleep mainly because I didn’t want to leave L on her own as I knew how upset she was and I didn’t want to come round all drowsy and not be able to feed our baby so I did the last bit of surgery on gas and air and talked a whole load of nonsense but it made L laugh so that’s good. Every cloud and all that. I was also told I would need to have a catheter in for 2 weeks before they could check if my bladder had healed but right then I just wanted to get through the surgery and I would deal with that later.

Finally when they had repaired me and stitched me up I was able to go to recovery with L and our little miss and start feeding her which she took to straight away. What a relief. The hardest part was done and now it was just a case of caring for this utterly perfect tiny human who I was already in love with and getting myself recovered so we can begin our adventures as an all female family of five.

Obviously I am gutted that things happened the way they did in surgery but I’m just relieved that we are all ok and keeping my fingers crossed that once I get my catheter out I’m not destined to a life with tena lady or avoiding the trampoline park with the girls. Here’s hoping it all resolves itself over the next few weeks.

L and I haven’t had it easy with 2 of our daughters births being pretty awful but I just keep thinking how I’m glad it was the last one that was complicated as if it had been chaotics birth then we would never have gotten to a third child. It also helps that we have each other to get through these moments and take care of one another. L and I can do anything together and this just proves it. Plus the hardest part is how we negotiate the hormones of having 5 females in the house. Hopefully we will survive that!

Baby countdown: the wait is over!

Baby countdown: the wait is over!

Well that has to be the quickest week of my entire life. In my silly little head I had longed for slow days which are productive and relaxing in lounge clothes (since that’s all that fits me now) in front of the telly, maybe even starting a box set. But that was never going to happen as I’m so rubbish at relaxing.

We had a great time for G’s early birthday celebrations and I even managed to finish the cake extraordinaire and felt pretty chuffed with it. There’s something so satisfying and heart warming with making your little ones birthday cake although the thought of knocking 3 up per year seems a bit daunting!! L doesn’t know why I don’t just buy one, but even she admitted I’d pulled it out the bag this time and it wasn’t a ‘nailed it’ moment. Whoop whoop! Totally high fiving myself here.

So somehow I managed to take a little tumble at the soft play party as I tried to avoid tripping over one of the little guests. Thankfully I managed to save myself from squashing my bump and avoid too much trauma but it did give me a fright. And that night, what I assumed was braxton hicks, started again. So the next couple of days with the lack of sleep and feeling that time was getting closer I just ended up weary and teary by Monday. It didn’t help that the chaotic one decided it would be good to start waking a few times a night for no good reason than ‘tickle me’! Full on psycho screaming and then you’re faced with that beautiful smile and those words. No wonder she gets her own way.

I was overwhelmed by everything on Monday. Felt like I had so much left to prepare on a never ending to do list and I was anxious I’d never get through it. It was all tiredness and me being absolutely moronic. Then the braxton hicks settled but I was in for another dreadful night with the tickle monster.

When Tuesday came around I knew the only thing that would be of any benefit was sleep. And that I did. When I woke up something must’ve clicked in my head and I had a super productive day getting through all of the jobs I had nagging away at me. I even had a good workout with Henry to give the carpets a right good seeing to. It was probably all of that which is why I ended up in hospital that night, or maybe it was finally me relaxing and feeling ready that yes now this baby can come!

I was admitted into hospital with tightenings which then became regular contractions. I’d driven myself there in the hope I’d be told it was nothing and they would send me packing with some reassurance and a “see you on Thursday” but that wasn’t the case.

After being admitted nil by mouth, with the possibility of doing the section the next day, I checked in to what I can only describe as a luxury holiday. It was peaceful and there was nobody I had to look after. L came to visit me the next morning and asked me several times if I wanted anything to eat whilst scoffing hula hoops and drinking tea. Always brilliant when nil by mouth but like she says she has to keep her strength up! Seriously though as always she’s done nothing but run around after us all over the last few days. She is my rock and I’m missing her now.

Finally the decision was made to wait until the planned section date the following day but to keep me in the hospital until then. So I spent the day listening to music, talking rubbish with L, I had a bath in peace and when I came back to my bed my dinner was sitting waiting for me without any effort on my part and no clearing up afterwards! Seriously why did I not check myself in here sooner it was absolute bliss.

L brought the girls in to see me and they gave the most lovely cuddles which brought tears to my eyes. I really hope they are going to do well with this massive adjustment to their lives. I felt so guilty for them on Tuesday I made them star shaped sandwiches for their nursery packed lunch. Hoping that the extra effort would go a long way to show that I loved them so much but I’m pretty sure they would’ve got flung to the side and favoured by some other lunch box item. This is motherhood guilt creeping in.


Here I am now literally hours from holding our little baby, the final piece to our family jigsaw, and I’m thinking about the moment and how exciting it’s going to be but still a little bit sad that now the pregnancy journey has come to an end. L hates it when I get like this. She says I get all thinky and it seems all gloomy when I get to the end of anything but I’m not gloomy I just like to reflect on what’s has happened so I can look to the future for what will be next. She says it’s too deep. And yeah it is but we’ve come a long way. It’s not just the 9 months I’ve been cooking this little tiny human, it’s all of the discussions before hand, the IVF treatment, the donating eggs (I mean how excited must that family be about to have their first child after such a long journey) and then the miracle of being pregnant. Plus this has been the pickle of all three of my pregnancies which has certainly kept us both on our toes.

This will be the last time I have my bump and feel a new life competing for the gold medal in gymnastics inside me. I guess I am a bit sad that’s all over and apprehensive of what’s about to come, but once I’m holding that fresh little life in my arms, smelling its unique newborn smell you wish you could bottle and feeling their heartbeat on my chest I know I’ll be ready for the next chapter – when the Robson-Malone’s become a party of five!

Baby countdown – A week to go!

Baby countdown – A week to go!

That’s it I’ve all finished work now until around December. So I have a week to kick back and relax beginning with a solo visit to Costa which is a real rarity. I might even pamper myself. Ha ha! Yes who am I kidding we have two kids who are super needy plus we have G’s 4th birthday party this weekend. How is she 4 already? Well she isn’t really as her birthday is a few days after the new arrival but if we are not keen on soft play now a few days after delivery is literally my worst nightmare and I couldn’t leave L to go solo with it. Imagine her having to mingle with other parents and be at soft play. She would hate me for that.

My mind is focussed on creating some spectacular masterpiece for G’s cake in the theme of trolls! L is concerned it’s going to end up as a “nailed it” on Pinterest after a previous episode involving some Mike wazowski cookies when I was nesting before G was born. I made her take them to work where one of her colleagues almost broke his tooth on them! But I’m determined to prove her wrong. You should’ve seen her WTF face the other night when I roped her in to the production line creating brightly coloured flowers for the decoration, needless to say she’s not offered to assist again.

The pregnancy insomnia has kicked in so at best I’m getting 4 hours sleep a night and that’s interrupted by at least 3 wee breaks thanks to the baby using my bladder as a punch bag and pillow. So not that thrilled when people keep saying get as much sleep while you can as if I can bank a few extra hours in a special little box so when I’ve been up all night feeding the tiniest human in our family and I’m exhausted I can just make a sleep withdrawal. You know maybe only an hour at a time, I wouldn’t be frivolous with it, and then suddenly I’d feel smashing and less zombie like!

I’m lying awake thinking about how I could be working on the cake or things that must be done before the baby arrives as if time will stand still! Last night I was wide awake thinking about a conversation I’d had with someone when I thought I could’ve dealt with it better, maybe even educated someone. I was asked yesterday if the chaotic one was my partners child. Now with that I assumed they meant did she carry her and give birth to her so I immediately replied “no she’s mine”. The response was “oh so you’re going to have three, that’s a handful”. I smiled a bit confused.

If we have three kids but L carries them doesn’t that mean they are still my handful? Or if L did carry her does that mean I would be let off of parenting duties? That maybe I could’ve actually got sleep in the last two years? That I wouldn’t have to feel like I was negotiating with a terrorist just to leave the house this morning because we only had the red wellies and not the yellow ones! Coincidentally chaotic does have the attitude of L but that’s just pure nurture!

I’m kicking myself as normally I’m pretty good at correcting people on these conversations but perhaps it’s the slow motor skills of a baby brain that stopped me from feeling like I answered that the best way possible. Hopefully no one at the hospital next week will ask if L is my mum again then I’ll be pleased.

So our last weekend before the madness begins I’m hoping for a cosy Friday night with pizza treats since L did awesome at Slimming World this week and after the soft play extravaganza we are heading to a burns night celebration! Can’t wait to get up and do the highland fling and belt out a little Auld Lang Syne in my most patriotic Scottish accent!

Our Christmas miracle

Our Christmas miracle

Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel like you’re having an outer body experience watching a situation unfold and then you realise that it’s real and it’s totally happening to you?

That’s what it felt like when  we went along all cheery and excited to see another picture of our little baby a few days before Christmas expecting it all to be routine, straight in and out, we weren’t prepared for there to be complications.

We were expecting a simple date for the diary for the planned section and off we hop home to pick up the girls but unfortunately it wasn’t the case. First we were told that the baby’s growth had dropped off the chart. So it had fallen below the 10th centile and it would need to be reviewed in 2 weeks. We were told that if there was still low growth then we would be having the baby almost immediately which would mean about 34 weeks old. Crikey. My head was buzzing about what this would mean for them and how they would be but we were reassured that they would be fine at that term and given all of the information about what they would do etc.

Next bomb to land on us was that my placenta was still low (placenta praevia) I know this means risk of blood loss at anytime but then they said there was a chance it could be placenta acreeta. Never heard of that and didn’t realise acreeta was one word until I googled it. Thought they were say “a critter” whatever on earth that was. Anyway supposedly that’s when the placenta has embedded onto the previous c section scar. This would cause problems with the incision to deliver the baby, high chance of major haemorrhage and then afterwards as the placenta can’t be removed without the risk of major haemorrhage likely to be a hysterectomy. Wow! All that information all given at once. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes but somehow trying to think logically and ask the necessary questions plus I knew that L would be almost hyperventilating hearing all of this so I had to try and be the calm one taking the information in. We decided we didn’t want anymore children when we went through this IVF but being faced with someone telling you that you can’t is a different feeling altogether.

We left the hospital with our heads spinning and in silence as I didn’t know what to say and L wouldn’t want to talk about it as she would be freaking out. Obviously the next 24-48 hours we started to understand it all, sought advice from those in the know for some much needed reassurance and also scared ourselves stupid thanks to the power of Google. I was weepy at times convinced things were going to be really bad. That our baby would be really early and need special care and that I was going to have a massive bleed and either be seriously ill or not make it at all. Christmas was a very quiet time. The girls enjoyed every minute of it with pantomimes, parties and presents from Santa. They even got to eat sweets a lot! But L and I were different. We just had to look at each other to know what we were thinking and there was a feeling of worry and sadness. I was teary a lot especially during the lovely moments as I was terrified what the next few weeks had in store. It felt like the longest two weeks ever.

Then in one short scan appointment with a foetal medicine specialist our whole world was turned back upright the way it should be. It’s very unlikely I have “a critter” they won’t know for certain until they open me up but the consultant has been round the block a bit so knows her stuff- phew! And even better little pea head has grown more than a pound in the last two weeks. L has paid special attention to fattening us both up over Christmas and it’s worked out. They are now more than 5lbs in weight which is a lot more than they anticipated and doing really well.

So now here I am with a date set for the delivery of the 3rd Robson-Malone child in less than 3 weeks and all I want to do is to enjoy some time with my wonderful family before the chaos begins.

We just need some low key time soaking each other up. The house is finished, the nursery is ready, both G and chaotic are sleeping through in their super bunks just G’s birthday party to go then time to meet our little baby.

Thankfully, from some sort of Christmas Miracle and lots and lots of praying, the only thing we really need to be thinking about is a name for the new arrival.