Today has been a day full of last year I was doing x, last year I was doing y. I don't want to think that way but avoiding that is nearly impossible given the situation.
June 15 2016 was spent, for the most part, in the hospital. I called worried because she wasn't moving as normal and they said to go at 10:30 so we did and we didn't leave until 5:45pm. That entire day was spent monitoring Olivia's heart rate and very different movements. I asked Pierre to take a picture of us whilst we were there with straps and machines on so we could "show it to Olivia when she was older and tell her how much she scared us". I also took a picture of Pierre sleeping besides me as he was crazy tired. The entire day was being documented so we could show her everything about her arrival. I don't really look at those 2 pictures because they make me sad, but they don't make me angry.
There is another picture that I wish never existed because I get angry at myself just knowing that we took it.
Both Olivia and I LOVE food, she was way more into sweet things than I was and I think by now almost everyone knows that her go to happiest thing ever was the celebration snickers. During my pregnancy I didn't really allow myself to eat a lot of sweets or unhealthy food in general as I wanted to be as healthy as I could. That day all bets were off and I just needed Olivia to dance like she normally did, and she was always up for a party when I ate. So I spent most of that day in a hospital bed eating pizza (that I shared with the midwives), a massive snickers and a massive ice cream that is documented in the picture that I hate.
After a scan with the aim to reassure us that everything was fine (it did quite the opposite when I was told her weight) where we could finally see that she indeed had my nose, we were told to go home and go back on Friday to talk about a possible induction.
From all the scan we had before, doctors told us Olivia was going to be around the 3.8 or 4Kg mark; so when we were told she was at 2.7Kgs (normal for a baby girl in the UK at 37 weeks), we rushed to Petit Bateau and Baby Gap to get newborn things and wash them that same night. After we bought a few plain ones and a super cute one we decided to have an ice cream in Amorino of Sloane Square. I asked Pierre to take a picture of me eating it so he could send it to my mum so she could see that I was doing everything in my power to get Olivia dancing. I hate this picture and the stupid face I'm making and the fact that it exists. Instead I wish someone would've heard me all the times I said that even though everything looked normal Olivia was behaving nothing like herself. I wish that picture didn't exist because it reminds me that whilst my daughter was potentially fighting for her life I was concerned about having outfits washed with organic soap for her arrival and that I had the nerve of stopping for an ice cream in the meantime... I've fought my feelings on that day for a long time.
Until my friend Salina, Inaaya's mum, helped me look at it from a very different perspective. I stayed in the hospital all day, I got a scan, I trusted the experts and I did everything that I thought it was right at the time. The extraordinary part is that for the whole of Olivia's life that might've been her favourite day because I spent the entire day eating all her favourite foods without caring about calories and her Papi played her some Pink Floyd and her song as we all went to bed. I often think of my last day on earth and I always go to: what will I eat?! Well, I know all Olivia wanted is sugar so that day I gave her exactly what she wanted. That was the last day I ate a Snickers.