Vicki Cockerill - NICU MUM Blog

There has been some unrest in the household this week. The reason? I am 34 weeks pregnant and I am nesting like a maniac. Irrational, impatient and neurotic, my desire to clean is something else right now. There are no words you can use to describe the overwhelming urge to completely bleach and disinfect the whole house, all its contents, animals and family members to your partner at 11pm. Or why you are reorganising your books that you haven’t touched in 2 years, and yes it does have to be done NOW. RIGHT NOW, no I do not care if we are going out the kitchen tops need scrubbing down. Cleaning products have basically become foreplay to me, and I have endless lists of what needs to be cleaned, chucked away or done before the baby comes. Here are a few signs to look for when you enter the nesting stage of pregnancy. 1.        You begin to dream of bleach and fantasise about cleaning products. 2.       You begin to look at your house in a whole new light, examining ev

Before Elijah was born, I didn’t have any experience with heart problems, other than the odd family member having a ‘dodgy ticker’. I didn’t really know what this meant or what could cause it. I certainly didn’t know what Congenital Heart Disease (CHD) was. Soon, that was about to change and I was going to become somewhat of an expert on the subject. When Elijah was born, 12 hours after birth he began having what we now know are called ‘Tet spells’, or, ‘dusky episodes’. Changing colour to a bluey/ purple colour and then regaining his normal pink colour. Upon his admittance to NICU he was diagnosed with a critical CHD called Tetralogy of Fallot (TOF). According to the NHS 1 in 111 babies born, are born with a CHD, this is also the cause of 1 in 13 infant deaths. Nothing was picked up on my scans, and we even had extra ones, all through the pregnancy we were told what a healthy heartbeat Elijah had. Never in a million years did we think there was something so wrong with our baby’s

To You, The other mother on social media. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You do not know me, not really, we have only ‘connected,’ online but you have changed me. Changed me as a person, as a woman and as a mother. I can never repay you for what you have unlocked in me. You made me feel normal, when I wanted to scream, to cry, to shout that I can’t do this anymore. I regained by sanity when speaking to you, and saw I was normal. You made me feel like it was okay to feel like a complete failure when the baby had colic and cried for three days straight. That it was alright I hadn't washed my hair and was covered in sick. To be proud when I achieved something that seemed so small to many like getting out the house, or putting my make up on. That yes, my house is also covered in toys and when the baby was napping, I didn't tidy, I ate a packet of Oreos instead. You shared a small insight into your life, one photo, uploaded it and sent out there in

This letter was never written to be published, this was a letter to Greg, my partner trying to tell him I needed help. I needed him to know that it wasn't just being tired and hormonal that was causing me to be a bit down, I was pregnant and depressed. I cannot really put my finger on the exact reason, and I felt ashamed, insensitive and selfish I was feeling like this when so many are struggling to get pregnant or have lost a child. I know they would swap with me in a flash if they could. That's why I kept it in, pretended I was okay but as the weeks went by it was getting harder and harder to hide, and it was beginning to creep out. I lost my appetite, I had no patience with Elijah and spent most of the time lashing out at Greg. Enough was enough I knew these feelings, and knew I couldn't let them get the better of me. Not this time. Not much is out there about mental illness in pregnancy, as after all isn't this supposed to be a happy time? I wanted to share this