Your baby’s name is precious, like them. And it’s refreshing to see that Joolz, the premier Dutch company that makes beautiful prams, agree with this sentiment! Introducing MyJoolz– a clever and beautiful way to personalise your pram. This has me very excited! Let me explain…
We’ve always tried really hard to choose names that are a little less common for our babies. Each of my four pregnancies have been punctuated with discussions over names, and I have to say that I’m genuinely a little sad that I won’t ever get to use my boy name choice after all, seeing as the last two babies were girls!
We stumbled upon Elsie’s name one night, having already decided that her middle name would be Rose. The two names fit together so well. It is a name I am proud of and I love it.
And because our children’s names and the spelling of them is not that usual, we rarely find anything personalised for them. This disappoints the children on a regular basis, but we (mean parents) love it. Any personalised things they have were picked specially and made to order. Just like them.
So how PERFECT is the new My Joolz service that means you can personalise your pram?
Yep. I love a clever design feature when it comes to prams, and this is definitely clever. The My Joolz service is simple but effective- your baby’s name engraved into the soft leather bumper bar of your pram, and 16 colours to choose from too. (more…)
You read so much about it. You expect it. You wait for it, with breath barely breathed and muscle barely moved. You feel it in the anticipation and the excitement, as if you could reach out and hold it. And if it could be bottled, it would shine like a beacon. It would shine. That rush of love.
And the first time I did it, brought a life into this world, I felt it. Despite the wires and the pain and the confusion, I felt it. That rush of love when they handed her to me. As her crying stopped, and she looked at me. As I became a mother for the very first time. So why wouldn’t it always be like that? That rush of love like a lightening strike through my veins, a pulse in my body as strong as a beating drum.
Welcome to week one of the #MaternityMatters link up! We’re looking forward to reading your posts and we hope you’ll return the favour by reading a few in the list too.
The aim of the linky is to create a place where parents and parents-to-be can both share and read posts and articles on any aspect of maternity matters. We want to provide a wealth of experiences, opinions and expertise to provide support and guidance when it’s really needed.
Please keep comments polite and balanced, and if you do not agree with something you have read please remember that we are all different and we all have our own paths to travel.
We haven’t had the best weekend, it’s fair to say. The baby started vomiting Thursday night and spent the whole of Friday night sleeping for about twenty minutes before waking in pain. I lost count of how many times I scooped him up to calm him down… somewhere around twenty-seven, I think. He eventually fell asleep around 3.30 am and woke at 7. It didn’t click then. He started vomiting again on Saturday night and woke at 10.30, again screaming in pain. It still didn’t click.
This is where doctors failed my baby once more. I called NHS Direct at 11pm and was told that a nurse would call me back within SIX hours but that I should call if he didn’t settle and was still crying. I gave it two hours (of pacing, crying, pacing, crying) before I called back and was put through to a nurse. The nurse told me that an out of hours doctor would call me back, which he did. The GP informed me- I would say politely, but that would not be true- that he was not a peadiactrics doctor, he could not prescribe anything for a baby and that the only advice he could give was to take the baby to the hospital. In my heart of hearts, I didn’t think he needed the hospital (it still didn’t click) but I felt too afraid not to. At 2am, alone and exhausted, it felt wrong to ignore a doctor’s advice.
The drive calmed him down and by the time we entered the land of late-night ghosts, he had stopped crying and was just staring at me, pale, red-eyed and confused. We sat amongst the accident prone and the unfortunate and we waited. The nurse that saw us was most displeased that we had inconvenienced her by arriving in A&E. We shouldn’t have allowed the GP to send us here, the raging temperature had gone down and I was clearly a terrible mother for bringing the baby out in the middle of the night. My punishment would be a four hour wait or to go home with no examination for the baby. I looked at him. And THEN it clicked.
We’ve been here so many times before. We thought we’d passed the pain and the screaming and the vomiting. We thought we were ready to wean the medication. It seems the Reflux had other ideas, still wanted my baby as its play-thing for a little longer.
It seems the tummy bug has irritated his oesophagus and set the flame a-fire again. We’d only dropped one dose of his meds but it had been a week and so the levels in his body were too low to fight the pain. Of course, I’m only guessing at this, since I left the hospital and decided to battle this out on my own again. The signs are all there- I know I’m right.
Tonight, my baby has eaten little and refused his bottle. He has been too scared to go to sleep and just when I began to feel that I would not be able to get through tonight with yet more broken sleep, screaming and pacing the floors… I sat down beside his cot. At first, I was defeated. I actually thought, I’m not good enough to do this. Then he looked at me, sadly, and reached out. He tugged at my sleeve and put his head to his sheets. I put my fingers through the bars of the cot and he held on to me tightly. He finally fell asleep. After three days of screaming and writhing and kicking and arching and wailing and whimpering and pain… he fell asleep holding my hand. Through the bars of the cot.