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One of life’s miracles

So, as promised, I have loads and loads and loads to share with you all and have got a bit side tracked with work. (surprised?)  But I think it is fitting to write this blog today, because it is even the more relevant.

Oliver has come home.

Now, to most of you, that won’t mean a thing, but to Sarah, Den and Ryan who I have written about many times in this blog, it means the world.  It means the world because Oliver, or Ollie and Den and Ryan have now come to call him, is a genuine miracle.

I got a missed call from Den about nineteen weeks ago, which was bizarre – living out here in Barbados, we usually rely on Skype and the emailage to talk to each other to save the pennies.  So when I noticed it, I got the pit in my stomache…it’s never good news to get a missed call from the UK.

I called Den as soon as I could, and he told me that Sarah had been admitted to hospital.  There had been some complications with things.  He assured me that everything would be fine and not to worry.  But of course we did.  Massively.

It took me a few hours to work out how to tell Sian.

Sarah was at 21 weeks with Oliver, and was on bed rest in the hospital.

We rang and we rang and we Skyped and we called.

And after three weeks of the phoning and the emailing and the worrying and the sending of our love, I got another missed call at about 2 in the morning.

And it’s never good news to get a missed call from the UK.

But this call was.  Oliver was born at 24 weeks weighing in at just over a pound.  Den and Sarah sounded relieved, but there was still a very, very long way to go.  The little guy had massively under developed lungs, his eyes were not yet formed and he was just so small.

And so for the next few weeks, Sarah and Den and Ryan lived at the hospital.  They waited, and they nursed and they ground and they ground.  Den commuted and worked ridiculous hours,  Sarah was mum and nurse and everything in between and Ryan was, well, Ryan.  Amazing.  He never played up or got bored or kicked up a fuss.  Ollie was in hospital, so if he had to be there too, then so be it.  He really is an amazing little guy.

And all the while Ollie, as stubborn as his dad, as strong as his mum, as beautiful as his brother, just soldiered on.

And in the last six weeks, he has slowly grown.  He has been putting on weight, and he has been breathing on his own.  He is yet to reach his full term, but has proved to be strong enough and healthy enough to come home today.

And when you see him, and you see Sarah, and you see Ryan and Den;  no one talks about how tired they are – how they’re pissed off about work or about how expensive the parking is at the hospital.  And no one sees the tubes or the machines or the charts or the wires that have helped him along on his way.  All you can see, from ear to ear, are smiles of relief and genuine, genuine happiness.

Through Sarah, Den and Ryan’s tireless efforts, the world has been blessed with another little Ashworth…and although I did not think it possible, I love them even more for it.

And I just can’t wait to play the grabber game with him…

Thanks for reading guys – I will let the pictures do the rest xxx