Seeing your child ill in hospital is one of the most difficult things you will encounter. Whether a premature baby or a teenager approaching adulthood, seeing your child dependent on the expertise of a hospital team to save their lives is the most vulnerable you may ever feel. Your priority is their recovery and wellbeing. Your waking thoughts are focused on charts, stats and test results. You measure time in doctors’ rounds and nurses’ handovers. You may be going home to sleep, creeping into parent accommodation or camping out on a folding hospital bed. You get through it, because you have to, and your child needs the constant in their life to be well, constant.
If you are lucky, like I am, then you will have people around you in life who want to help. People who want to support you and make sure you are fit and well for your child. They will check in on your child’s progress, but they will also be concerned for you. Unless they are medical specialists, there is often little they can do to actually help the child.
If someone you care about is currently spending time with their child in hospital, you may not know how best to help, even if you really want to. You might be worried about causing offence, appearing nosey or interfering. Imagining yourself in the situation might provide clarity. There are things that have undoubtedly helped me. I am fortunate enough to be able to share a list of kind things my friends and family have thought of. I want to share them – as a resource for those facing spending time with their children in hospital, for their loved ones and as a reminder to me, should any of my friends ever need the same in return.
It was Sunday afternoon and I was stressed out. I was overwhelmed, and Leo was crying. He was looking at me like I had utterly betrayed him. I cuddled him and told him I was sorry, I was just trying to help him, but I had got it wrong. How had this dramatic scene come about? I had taken him to a baby swimming class.
Leo had not been swimming this year until we went to the hotel pool last month. He had been ill, and we had been busy at weekends. He hadn’t enjoyed the hotel pool – it was cold and noisy. I knew swimming was very good for him – the water would support him, and he would enjoy greater physical freedom than he is used to. I was determined that we would get back into swimming with him.
A visit to our local leisure pool went better and I was looking forward to the swimming class. It takes place in a hydrotherapy pool which is great for his muscle tone and there would be no older kids jumping around and shrieking. I had a vision of a lovely mother and son bonding moment in a cosy pool while Leo grew confident in the water.
The reality was 30 minutes of fast-paced activities, feeling like I didn’t have enough hands and a very upset Leo. I felt quite stressed trying to keep up and I felt very guilty that Leo was having such a rotten time. At the end of the class, the stress subsided, and I felt very upset. First of all, I felt very bad that I had put Leo through such a miserable time. Then I felt disappointed that I had failed to find the right class for him. Finally, I felt demoralised. I had acted with the best of intentions and I had upset my son.
I am what you might call a ‘summer person’. I love light nights and going out without a coat. I used to feel dragged into autumn kicking and screaming. Wishing for one more day dashing about in flip-flops. But not this year. While autumn always felt like the end, this year it feels like a new start. Like a new term, but for family life. While I used to crave excitement, now I like order, routine and knowing my plan from one week to the next.
Our transition from spring to summer was sheer relief. Leo spent eight weeks of spring in hospital and he was discharged in May. He had been gravely ill – more so than I would allow myself to reconcile with at the time – and were just so grateful that he was well enough to go home. I looked up and noticed that the trees were full and green, the sun was higher in the sky and the grass was regularly overgrown.