DD was born Friday morning, by Friday evening they picked up she had an infection and she went to NICU for a few days. I stayed in a side room on the postnatal ward. She was on antibiotics and oxygen, although the oxygen was only a day or two.
I remember just barely getting to sleep and a very apologetic nurse waking me up because DD wanted feeding. I remember the walk to NICU at something like 4 am feeling like the walking dead and trying not to fall asleep while DD had a massive feed.
I was initially glad we were in hospital with the professionals etc, because I didn't know wtf I was doing. By Wednesday I was climbing the walls with wanting to get out. I was outside a nurses station so every time someone buzzed I knew about it.
I remember the baby blues, and crying buckets at seeing DH singing to her in bed. Always feeling on edge, alert, like I just couldn't relax anymore. And so, so tired. It was like wading through treacle. Wanting a break, but also so guilty if I left her for even 5 minutes, although DH was with her. Feeling like I needed to do it all otherwise people would think I was a crap mum (which is of course complete bollocks but that's where my head was)
Having proper tears at her being 2 weeks old and it all going by so fast and "she'll never be 2 weeks old agaaaaaaiiinnnn! 😭"
Sleeping on the sofa while she slept in her pram because like hell would she sleep in the sodding next2me we forked out on. Then getting up for a feed and DH taking the whole pram up the stairs for us to settle for the second stretch of the night.
Basically a blur of unrelenting tiredness and guilt that I wasn't 'taking it all in' or feeling happier.
She's 5 and a half now. I can't really pin point when the treacle wading slog of tiredness ended, but it did, and the love I have for her is just immense. She is my favourite person in the world.