I’ve ignored posting for a while, roughly 8 weeks or so. After my stay in the Leicester Royal Infirmary at the beginning of March I was a good girl, the midwife sent me home with some blood pressure medication and a home blood pressure monitor so I could take my BP daily. If it went over 140/80 I needed to call the maternity assessment unit for advice. I did, twice.
The first time I was instructed to rest for an hour and recheck my BP – if it was still high then I should call back. It went down during that hour but a few days later it was 156/82. So I called, expecting to be told to rest again.
The Midwife asked a few questions, and decided I should go in for monitoring as Tiddler wasn’t moving anywhere near as much as usual.
So in I went, I was placed on a BP monitor for an hour, then on a CTG machine to monitor Tiddlers heart rate and movements. My BP just kept on climbing. Tiddler was moving but very gently and the midwife struggled to get a good enough trace on the CTG.
so the whole process was repeated, but then a doctor took me into a private room. “When did you last eat?” She asked as she checked my reflexes, I was ravenous and remembered that I’d not eaten since lunch. It was 7pm. I asked if I could have a sandwich as it looked highly likely I was getting admitted again but why was the doctor admitting me?
Then came the words every fat bird dreads.
“No sorry, I need you nil by mouth”
Shit. I knew what that meant but I needed to hear the doctor say it.
Why?
She looked at me sympathetically and the midwife walked in with my ID tag. I asked again. Why, tell me what’s happening…I was ignored as they discussed my care
“She hasn’t had steroids” “Hmmm 30 +6”
I started to cry. The Midwife took pity on me and said they were admitting me and that I needed to take the tablets she had to bring my BP down. I asked why I needed the steroids, and if my BP went down could I go home.
She smiled. No I couldn’t go home. My protein count was +3 enough for admission alone, add that to the high BP (207/99 at it’s worst) and the reduced movements from Tiddler meant a possible emergency c section, I’d need the steroids to prepare baby’s lungs.
I cried some more. Called Brett to let him know and my BP went down enough that they were satisfied delivery could wait. I was then admitted to ward 5 for the second time that month, I was given the same bed by the Window opposite a lady who had been in earlier in the month. We joked about us never getting out and I settled in.
Even though I had escaped an emergency delivery that night, I hadn’t escaped the steroid injections. I had the first that evening (Tuesday 24th March) and complete with a sore bum tried to get some rest. One of the midwife’s offered me some tea and toast which was received with gusto. I updated Brett, ate and drifted off to sleep.
Next morning I had the second of the steroid injections and settled back into the old routine of life on ward 5. It was boring, but I coped. I had visits from Edward, friends and other family to keep me going – each day was a day longer for Tiddler to grow. Each day brought the same problem, poor trace on the CTG, repeat CTG and still get poor trace. By Friday, a really friendly midwife took the task in hand and sat holding the transducer on my bump in the hope of getting a better trace. She got what she needed but she was concerned that there were too many decelerations, it could be nothing she said. She decided to do another CTG that afternoon and consult the doctor.
That afternoons CTG told the same story, so it was repeated. Dinner came, I ate and I was given my anti blood clot injection as normal.
30 minutes later the doctor decided to move me to the labour ward for closer monitoring. Nothing to worry about, just closer monitoring.
They wheeled me up on the bed like an invalid, I started to feel mild panic.
Once on the labour ward I was introduced to Debbie, my midwife for the evening. She hooked me up to her fancy CTG and we settled in for a simple evening. I could see the most glorious fireworks going off at Leicester Cathedral – it was the day of Richard iii internment – so we enjoyed those while we waited. After a while, the doctor was back with a colleague. They both checked the CTG and conferred.
“There’s a lot of decelerations”
“True but I can hear baby moving, that’s a healthy baby but best get another opinion just to be safe”
They barely acknowledged me and then they vanished. A third doctor arrived, chatted with me for a few minutes and interrupted me
“That’s too many decelerations. I bet baby has got itself tangled in the cord. Bet it’s round a limb or something”
I asked how they could find out for sure. Clutching each threadbare straw I could.
“We need to deliver baby. Tonight”
I started shaking.
“It’s too early” I wobbled. Too early. Debbie held my hand. She explained that baby had an excellent chance, they would take baby straight to the intensive care unit and it’d all be ok.
The moments that followed are a huge blur of questions, about when I last ate, what time did I have the anti clotting drugs, did I have nail varnish on and faces introducing themselves Dr such and such who is the anesthesiologist, Dr Jo Bloggs who will be doing blah de blah until Dr Sharp. Brett had just arrived having broken the sound barrier to get there and I was mid text to Claire, a family friend who lived close to the hospital. I’d been told that as I’d had the anti clotting drugs an epidural could cause me to bleed into my spine and paralyse me so a general anesthetic was the only way forward. That meant Brett couldn’t be in the room with me so I was asking Claire to come sit with him.
Dr Sharp told me off for texting, and explained the mile long risks yet again. This guy was a no bollocking or sugar coating kind of guy. I trusted him immediately.
They got me into a gown, and wheeled me off to theatre. All the while, Debbie and another midwife who’s name I forget were chatting and cracking jokes with me, giving my hand a squeeze and letting me know what was happening.
Theatre. The smell alone made me want to vomit. But there was no going back. I was introduced to another doctor, he reminded me of someone and I relaxed a little but then Dr Sharp put a huge mask over my face and pinned me down. I could feel someone at my legs wrapping them in what felt like air bags, then I heard Debbie tell me she was popping in my catheter (attractive) my arms were held down as drips and an arterial line were placed. My BP had sky rocketed again, all the time I was begging Dr Sharp to take the mask off but he wouldn’t. No sugar coating on this guy. He was calm, rational and squeezed my shoulder supportively. He kept pumping me full of drugs to bring down my BP and got someone to hold my hand. He was so supportive even though I was quite demanding and having a panic attack. He wouldn’t start the procedure until he had my BP under control and that took a fair while. But, eventually, it did. The next thing I remember is Dr Sharp telling me I was about to go under and then the next he was shouting me awake, telling me that it was all done and Tiddler was in neonatal.
“Is the baby ok?” I croaked.
“Baby is very very small but SHE is fine”
She. A girl.
“Where’s Brett?” I stammered, Debbie then popped up and told me he’d gone to see the baby. She told me how beautiful and strong she was.
“You’ve got a fighter there” She smiled.
I blinked back tears and hoped Brett would be with me soon. Drugs can be deceiving buggers, I drifted in and out of conscious and then Brett arrived.
All decked out in fetching burgundy scrubs. He looked as white as a sheet and nervous. But kind of giddy.
“Is she ok? Why aren’t you with her? Did you take any photos?” The tears came flooding out with my concerns.
“She’s fine!” He laughed, he repeated how small she was and that she needed help to breathe by way of a ventillator and the team were putting her on a few drips (antibiotics, glucose and caffine) but he’d not got any pictures yet.
Of course I demanded he hop down there immediately and get me one. He wouldn’t, he was determined to make sure I was ok first.
Once I’d convinced him I was ok he nipped off to change out of his scrubs and visit our girl. Our teeny tiny girl.
Born at 31 +2 on 27th March 2015 at 22.15. She weighed 2 lb 6 oz – 1155 grams.
My sweet baby
Friday, I’m in love.
I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, occasionally pushing the magic button that released a dose of morphine. I had an IV of magnesium sulphate to stop any fits, and I still had oxygen. Brett sat next to me in his fetching burgundy scrubs, he looked paper white from lack of sleep but he wouldn’t leave.
At about 8 am I called his Mum, she had Edward there overnight and I needed to hear his voice.
All through the pregnancy he was certain he only wanted a brother, so I avoided telling him that he had a sister. I explained that his baby was here and that when I felt better Daddy would bring him to see me. He seemed unfazed but happy.
Debbie left us at around 7 am, her shift over. Then around 9 am I was moved from recovery to another room. I needed to have the magnesium IV for 24 hours so I was monitored closely. Brett left then to get some sleep and check on Edward. The morphine drip was removed, but the nurses were able to give me a plethora of painkillers which I found really hard to swallow. I was still nil by mouth besides 80 ml of water each hour, all thanks to the magnesium IV. But then I got a painkiller stuck in my dry throat and that tiny amount of water wasn’t enough to shift it. So I downed as much water as I could, but that made me vomit. Thankfully, a lovely couple in the next bay alerted the nurse and I was given a good old bed bath! It was actually quite refreshing, but a little embarrassing.
I was just daydreaming about having a cuddle with my beautiful girl soon when a nurse wheeled in an iPad and told me I could skype with the baby! She dialed and up popped a incubator with a tiny little bird snuggled up inside. Nothing prepared me for the wires. I’d seen her picture, starred at it until her image was burnt into my retina but actually seeing her lying there with all these extra bits keeping her alive was a shock. Then I noticed the beeps. Machines whirring and pinging occasionally. All these machines doing the jobs my body couldn’t.
I lay there for hours, watching the screen until a nurse popped into view her voice dragging me back into reality.
‘Hi Mum, we’re just going to sort out her wires and things. You get some rest and you can see her soon’
Not long after I had a visit from my Dad, Brett and his sister. All eager to see our little bird. Brett’s sister was already in tears – I knew she would be, it’s a running joke that all she did from the moment she found out baby had been born was cry (tears of happiness) My Dad looked worried but relieved all at the same time. Brett took them both off to see baby. I was so jealous that they could see her and I was still hooked up to drips so unable to move.
