Thank you, NHS...

This blog comes direct to you guys from UHCW, where my poorly little poppet is laying in a cot next to me. Advance warning... I haven't slept and this post is laced with sarcasm!

I've been very aware lately of all the negativity around the NHS and their (supposed) inability to provide excellent care at the weekend... That is just absurd. After experiencing it first hand this weekend, I want to give the NHS the credit it deserves! 

After a week of a poorly Poppy not getting any better, I called 111 yesterday (Sunday) at around 1:30pm and they booked us an appointment at the walk in centre for 5pm. We were seen at 5pm. On the dot. By a doctor who, in my eyes, is the best doctor we have ever taken Poppy to. Instead of ignoring Poppy and talking directly to Steve and I, he fully acknowledged her and tried incredibly hard to make her smile, laugh and stay calm while he was checking her over, which was absolutely wonderful. Instead of being scared, and despite being very poorly, she just went with the flow. If only all doctors could be like this guy was... But let's not forget... Apparently, care isn't as good at the weekends.

We were sent over to UHCW, where the waiting room in Childrens A&E was jam packed with poorly little ones, yet we didn't once feel forgotten. We were booked in quickly, triaged quickly, given medicine quickly, then seen by a doctor within an hour and a half. Yet again the doctor who looked at Poppy was wonderful. After checking her over and giving us his diagnosis and recommendations (which were only a little different from the first doctors), he actually asked for my opinion on the right way to treat her. In his very words, "Mum is always right, we always listen to Mum's opinion." 

What an incredible attitude. On a Sunday.

Poppy was admitted and given oxygen, antibiotics and calpol, and was tended to overnight by two of the most caring nurses I have ever encountered. And believe me, I have had my fair share of hospital admissions by which to make comparisons!

Even this morning when the nurses are nearing the end of their long night shifts (again, let's stress, on a weekend) they are kind, and helpful, and doing their rounds with smiles on their faces. 

This weekend I have been truly astounded by the care Poppy has received, and very pleasantly surprised by it too. There is so much negativity about the NHS floating around, and especially about the level of care the provide at weekends, so I was a little apprehensive... But to that absurd hearsay, I'm afraid I now have to stick two fingers up. It's a load of crap. 

From the moment I called 111, to right this second, when the nurses have just been to check Poppys oxygen, I can honestly say the care she has received has been wonderful.

Everyone here is working their socks off, nurses, doctors, health care assistants, receptionists... and I really think the negative comments about the NHS are unjust. Yes, this may just be the humble opinion of one person, but it's a positive one, and maybe, just maybe I can combat some negativity with this post. 

I am so very grateful that we have this health care system in place in the UK. And it's free to use. Free. If we feel poorly, or our families are poorly we can go and see a doctor, for nothing. There are people suffering in the world without any access to any sort of health care... I feel foolish for ever having moaned about the NHS, because come on, we all have at some point.

Thank you, NHS. For all that you do.

The Dreaded 'Mummy Guilt'...

So it’s been a while since I was able to blog because, you know, ‘life’ got in the way, but I’m going to try and be better at doing it more regularly again, and with Christmas not far away, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to write (ramble on) about!

Something that’s been on my mind, and I’ve wanted to write about for a while is ‘mummy guilt’, which is honestly a real thing. Ask almost any Mum, anywhere.

‘Mummy guilt’ as a term, is something I probably would have rolled my eyes at before I had  Poppy… now however, it is something that is constant in my life. Seriously, every day. There is always the feeling of not doing enough, or that I should have done something different, or something better.

Like when the house needs cleaning, but I played with Poppy instead…

Or when I cleaned the house and didn’t play with Poppy for long enough…

Or if I only read her one book, should I have read her two??

Did she spend too long watching the Disney channel because I needed to get some jobs done?

Was that sneeze because I didn’t wrap her up enough?? (I mean, come on… a sneeze is just a sneeze)

When I went back to work in June, the Mummy guilt reached brand new levels. I wished so dearly that I could afford to stay home with my girl just a little bit longer, but that wasn’t the case. I needed adult interaction, she needed to be around children and we needed the money. Our little Popstar was already growing so quickly and now I was going to miss so much by being at work. My mind went crazy with guilt and my heart felt heavy… Would she dislike me for sending her to someone else’s house while I worked? Would she resent me for making that choice? As it turns out, she LOVES her child-minder and practically squeals with excitement when she opens the door to us every morning. I know I’m lucky with that, but I’m also very thankful of our child-minder. We found a great one, who Poppy loves, and she’s developing so well, which eases the guilt on that topic somewhat, although not completely.

I’ve kind of accepted that the guilt will always be there, but what I’ve spent a lot of time trying to work out is, why? Why was it, that since this little person came into our lives, I can’t trust in what I’m doing enough to know that it is in fact, enough? Would it ever be enough? Then I read a wonderful blog (I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name of it to link it), in which the writer mentioned the Mummy guilt, and for her, she had decided to embrace it. What she wrote sounded so right to me, that I too decided to embrace it.

For me (and I stress this is only my opinion), if I’m not feeling the Mummy guilt, then I’ve stopped caring as much as I should. What a brilliant way to turn a negative feeling into something I can process and use! Not everyone may be able to do this, and that’s fine, but for me, I think I can, and I will definitely try to. If my girl is loved, and fed and (mostly) happy, then I am doing the best that I can.

So now, when I the guilt hits, I will be trying to embrace it instead of feeling beaten by it.

Come at me, Mummy Guilt. Bring it on.

Xx