DAY 8 – 30 October:

Michelle: When I woke up, I tried some skin to skin with Conor and he had a really good feed. I was so relieved and I thought everything was going to be fine, maybe we had been panicking for nothing. We went to the paediatrician, and Conor had a big dirty nappy while we were waiting, which was great news for me as it meant he was getting something in. We chatted to the paediatrician, and when he examined Conor, he said: “This baby is sick and needs to be admitted to the NICU.”

My heart plummeted. No. Surely not? He suspected neonatal sepsis, but would confirm a diagnosis once Conor was admitted. We made the journey up the road to the hospital. I was in a complete emotional state, and Mike, my rock, said “It’s just NICU, we know this, we have done this before. We can do this.” So, we admitted him to the NICU and my heart broke as we left the hospital that night. Here we were again, leaving our newborn baby at the hospital. It was gut-wrenching and I hated every minute of it.

Michael: I hold him for an hour while Michelle has post-op check up, he sleeps the entire time, but I love holding him. Go to paed who takes one look at Conor and says he is not well. Books him into NICU. 5-7 days we are told. Guessing a dose of antibiotics and he’ll be good again. We recognise a lot of the staff as Rachel spent 3 weeks here 2 years prior. Not too worried, we’ve been this route before, we tell ourselves.

I go back in the evening to drop off expressed milk and am made to sign a form so that he can receive platelets, sounds straight forward. Test has come back, it is an enterovirus, which is just diarrhoea, google tells us.