I put Maggie down to sleep in her cot for the last time tonight - her special bed is being delivered tomorrow. And I'm really, really dreading it. There were more than a few tears tonight getting Maggie ready for bed, for this last night.
I was actually okay with the special bed until the message on our phone last week from the team delivering it - Hospital Services. My little reality-block bubble, which really is quite strong most of the time, had been seeing Maggie's bed as 'special' in vague, nice, cute terms. Just for Maggie, special. But here was the truth - it's a hospital bed. For my little girl's room.
A big, single, electric bed that stands at our waist height for easy access, with blue, padded sections we open for putting Maggie in and out, and then close when she's sleeping. Her room won't have her little, 'normal' cot in the corner any more. It will be dominated by her big hospital bed. And my reality-block bubble isn't strong enough to make out that this is okay, that this is anything but heartbreaking and wrong and a daily reminder that reality isn't what I keep pretending it is.