This fact enough is shocking. But it didn’t shock us. We’d known since the 20-week scan, that our baby was very small. While never under the ‘normal’ range for growth on the centile chart, it trailed along the very bottom line. Never under, never above.

At week 22 we were referred to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, when after an intense appointment of scans, led by two senior Obstetricians, the doctor calmly explained the process to us. She explained the possible reasons why our baby was quite so small, IUGR (Intrauterine Growth Restriction) being the most likely cause, and warned us: “We have very little patience for keeping a IUGR baby inside after 34 weeks.”

Ahead of our bi-weekly scans, I would study the baby’s growth chart and set it targets, giving its father the target femur length we would be listening out for at the appointment. Small victories for our little one. I ate all the food I should and watched my blood sugars like a hawk. I read around my type of diabetes and the medication I was taking to try to find a study that indicated it could restrict a baby’s growth and I had interesting, challenging and informed discussions with a variety of obstetricians with and without an ‘interest’ in diabetes. I included my own diabetic specialist doctor in my results and picked her brain around studies that might have shown women with my type of diabetes having smaller than average babies. After all, at full term (38 weeks for diabetic mums) my first daughter weighed only 5lb 14.5oz. I searched for answers and solutions.

I was admitted at 32 weeks and enjoyed the hours I spent listening to my baby’s heartbeat on the doppler, feeling it hiccup and watching it on the ultrasound monitors. I obsessed over pictures of newborns adorning the walls of the maternity unit and tried to imagine the size of a 3lb baby, which we were hoping ours would be. At 34 weeks, the birth by c-section was uneventfully straight forward and my tiny bundle was pulled out, longer than I had imagined, cried which was a relief and peed all over me.

I found SCBU isolating because while I focussed on my own baby, I tried to keep a respectful distance from the other families around me with their own very personal challenges. The chat is not quite the same as on the traditional maternity wards. I was frustrated by being kept behind a closed door waiting for someone to answer the bell to let me in and having restricted hours for visiting my baby. But, I completely and utterly trusted the doctors. Remembering how the experts explained, after 34 weeks, they could look after my baby on the outside, better than I could look after her on the inside.

I’m sharing my story as we reach the close of Prematurity Awareness Month. Of course there are many other aspects of this journey I haven’t covered in this blog, many of which are more gritty. You are welcome to read more here in 36 days an inmate.

Prematurity Awareness Month has been created to help other parents going through the journey to know that they are not alone. It is also to raise awareness of the incredible charity Bliss and the work it does to support families with babies born prematurely or sick. Throughout the month I have read accounts from other parents with very similar journeys to mine. Many IUGR babies, some with and some without explanation.

We were incredibly lucky, our baby had no retina damage and a small hole in her heart healed over, only a few weeks after she was born. She has also just completed a nine-year research study that we signed her up to, led by researchers at the John Radcliffe hospital to monitor and record her progress to inform future generations of IUGR children. It’s hard to explain my emotion about the journey now, as it was just that – a journey that we had to take, listening to experts and taking advice at every stage. Her prematurity now is a distant memory. But during months like this, reading other family’s accounts, it brings back the questions and doubt I had of myself. Why could I not feed my baby sufficiently? Why was my baby so small? How did I fail her?

If I can play a small part in this process, it would be to put my arm around another mum going through it and reassure her that this is not her failing. That she might forever feel it is, but it is not. That the journey of parenthood is so much about the life you give your little one after birth. Tell your story and listen to others but try not to compare your experience, your delivery, your baby’s weight and development with another. It’s your journey and your own very precious and personal experience and that in itself is a miracle, just like all our miracle babies.