I had a horrible day yesterday. Got up with Cay, fed him breakfast, left him with his dad, and shot off to a meeting for work.
The meeting was horrendous. It was a investigation into a member of staff, and whist I'm bound by confidentiality to keep any details to myself, I can say with 100% positivity that every single person on here would be horrified at what was discussed.
This ended up dragging on and on, so by the time I got home, Cay was already down for the night.
I missed my first ever bath-and-bedtime.
Because he'd been left with his dad, he'd ended up once again not eating any tea, so, after 5 1/2 months of trying, and a final glorious few nights of sleeping through(!), we were back to me being woken every two hours by a hungry, fussy baby.
I woke up this morning, highly pissed off, tired, and ratty, went on Facebook to air my irritability over my miserable 24 hours, to see the first story on my newsfeed was a friend confirming that at 6:30 last night, her little boy (13.5 months old), after spending the last five months in hospital, lost his battle with CHD.
The poor little guy spent just under half of his life, including his first birthday in hospital. A stay of about a month not long after he was born, and a further five months just gone, from which he never made it home.
This really hit me... Here was I, about to moan that I'd missed one bathtime...
I can't even begin to imagine how she's feeling right now.
Sweet dreams, A.J.B. xxx
The meeting was horrendous. It was a investigation into a member of staff, and whist I'm bound by confidentiality to keep any details to myself, I can say with 100% positivity that every single person on here would be horrified at what was discussed.
This ended up dragging on and on, so by the time I got home, Cay was already down for the night.
I missed my first ever bath-and-bedtime.
Because he'd been left with his dad, he'd ended up once again not eating any tea, so, after 5 1/2 months of trying, and a final glorious few nights of sleeping through(!), we were back to me being woken every two hours by a hungry, fussy baby.
I woke up this morning, highly pissed off, tired, and ratty, went on Facebook to air my irritability over my miserable 24 hours, to see the first story on my newsfeed was a friend confirming that at 6:30 last night, her little boy (13.5 months old), after spending the last five months in hospital, lost his battle with CHD.
The poor little guy spent just under half of his life, including his first birthday in hospital. A stay of about a month not long after he was born, and a further five months just gone, from which he never made it home.
This really hit me... Here was I, about to moan that I'd missed one bathtime...
I can't even begin to imagine how she's feeling right now.
Sweet dreams, A.J.B. xxx