We had now been in Hobart for five days and started to develop a routine of sorts. I was still struggling to sleep any later than 4 or 5am each morning, so I started my days quietly sitting and thinking in either the kitchen or the TV room.
There were plenty of other families there - the house was full - but mostly everyone kept to themselves, each as worried about their own child as we were. I met a lot of mums and dads, and grandparents, who were going through a lot worse struggles than we were, and it helped to keep things in perspective.
We had started timing our trips to the hospital with Ellie's feeds so that we would be able to pick her up and hold her without having to wake her up. She was still very sleepy at that stage. It was also harder to stay for long now that she was in thr nursery, just because it was so crowded in there and there was no privacy.
So we would spend an hour or so with her, supervising her feed, then back to the house or in to the city for an hour, and then back to the hospital. It was tiring, but it also have me a pourpose and something to focus on. Rather than looking to when she would finally come home I was just focusing on what had to be done that hour.
Nothing happened on Sunday. Ellie kept having her feeds, kept increasing them and stayed stable. It was a limbo of sorts. Laying in the crib was a healthy baby girl, trapped in the hospital because no one was ready to try to feed her with a bottle. It was frustrating to see a whole day go by with no progress.
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