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If you managed to read my birth story, then you will know that I got my much wanted, planned, home birth after some uncertainty as to whether I would be able to or not. It truly was magical and I would love another if we ever decide to have any more children. What wasn’t in the plan though, was to be admitted to hospital. I wanted a home birth, because this was something I majorly wanted to avoid.

Saturday 1st March
As little man was born in the very early hours of Saturday morning, one of the midwives came back later that day in the afternoon to do his newborn check – this which would normally be carried out by the doctor in hospital. All was fine at this check but we were still struggling with feeding – mainly with latching on. (Regular readers over the last couple of years will know that I suffered badly with breastfeeding guilt after failing with little man #1, so this was something that I desperately wanted to achieve this time). As we were struggling but it wasn’t overly desperate that he hadn’t fed by then (though would need to soon), a midwife would return on the Sunday to see how we were doing. The midwives had also contacted the breastfeeding support team (B.A.B.E.S) at the hospital to contact me about coming out to see me. I was expressing my colostrum though (which we were using a Calpol syringe to feed!) so he was getting a little something.

Sunday 2nd March
The midwife arrived early Sunday afternoon, and we were still struggling. She helped me with positioning and trying to get him to latch, but he was still having none of it. As I was still expressing though she left it at that and would call me in a couple of days after I’d seen the B.A.B.E.S. Pretty much as soon as she left she was back after finding her thermometer in the car, and she wanted to take his temperature. It turned out, that it was lower than they would like it to be, at 36 degrees. She was a bit concerned so she called the hospital just to check on what to do, as he wasn’t feeding and he had this low temperature. This did turn out to be a slight cause for concern, so they wanted to see us up at the hospital ASAP. Cue me panicking (especially as it was NICU she was conferring with) – this is where the worry started all over again with a new baby! But off we went – with a nervous Mummy, a whining toddler, a possibly poorly baby, and a husband trying to keep it all together! 

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I’m Stacey, in my mid-late 30’s, from a tiny village (officially a hamlet) in Lincolnshire.

I’m a mum to two handsome boys. They’re both diagnosed autistic but that only makes them different, not less. Barney, a Frenchie x Beagle, is my furbaby. Owner of a husband too!

Blogging about lifestyle and books with a bit of everything else thrown in!

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