Maternity leave

I haven’t written here for ages and my excuse is a miserable pregnancy and a traumatic emergency caesarean section 4 weeks prior to my due date but we’ll just call it maternity leave.

Bryony has brought so much to our lives in the 18 weeks since her birth.  I don’t know if it’s because we are older or because we waited a long time for her or because, at 36 weeks, we thought we may have lost her.  There were occasions during my other two pregnancies that I would think to myself that the baby hadn’t moved much and then eventually I would get a kick, a punch or even just a wriggle but it was enough to convince me that the baby was fine.  The night before Bryony’s birth I led in bed thinking I won’t wake Mark just yet, she’ll move soon.  By 4:30am I gave up trying to sleep and decided that coffee, rich tea biscuits and a stroll with the dog might wake her up.  I was beginning to think all sorts and had already started to blame myself, I had a dental abscess earlier in the week and although the midwife had told me to take stronger painkillers I couldn’t help thinking that they may have harmed the baby.  That was my first thought when the midwife mentioned stronger pain relief but, quite frankly, I have never felt pain like it!

6:30am came and still no movement so I woke Mark who immediately phoned the hospital then started making Childcare arrangements for Jamie and Carys – of all the days to have a training day! We arrived at the hospital at about 9 o’clock where I was hooked up to the monitor.  They eventually found the baby’s heartbeat but it wasn’t fluctuating at all which indicates poor or no movement.  About 20 minutes later a consultant arrived and told us that he couldn’t guarantee the safety of our baby and that he would recommend an emergency caesarean section.  I signed the consent forms and Mark reappeared in scrubs and said they were just waiting for a paediatric doctor as they wanted one present in theatre.

A midwife took us to theatre and told me to sit still and stay calm so that the anaesthetist could set the epidural up.  It was at this point that it dawned on me that the monitor wasn’t picking the baby’s heartbeat up at all and that the midwife was frantically trying to find it but failing.  At this point I was thinking that she hadn’t made it.  I was also thinking about 4 years previous when we lost a baby at 9 weeks.  Although hard, we dealt with it but how the hell would we deal with losing a baby at 36 weeks – she would still have to be delivered, she would have existed in the real world, we would see her, hold her yet go home without her.  Everything was a blur at this point but I do remember thinking about my Grandmother.  She lost her youngest daughter to cancer in July of 2012, and although I hadn’t met my youngest daughter yet I suddenly realised how my Gran feels and I started to question how my Gran deals with that – my respect for my Gran was great before, it’s immeasurable now! 

At 11:07, Bryony was delivered.  The midwife told us that she was fine but needed the all clear from the paediatric doctor.  I still wasn’t convinced, she hadn’t cried and we hadn’t seen her.  I clearly remember Mark saying ‘fuck this, I’m going to see her’.  My first thought was please just come back and tell me she is ok and my second thought was that Mark never ever swears.  He returned, minutes later, with a crying baby and streaming eyes.  As worry and anxiety turned into relief and love I realised how awful I felt, declared how sick I was feeling and then had a complete breakdown.  I was given an anti-sickness jab, Mark laid Bryony next to me and theatre became a warm, calm place – it was cold and chaotic before.

Bryony, 1 hour old

 

Bryony weighed in at 7lb 4oz so, although not massive, a good size for a ‘pre term’ baby.  Her blood sugars were a little erratic but of no great concern.  She seemed shocked, appeared vulnerable and had a constant look of worry about her.  We had a brief discussion about names when I declared that I didn’t really care, she was here and was safe, and that’s all that mattered.  That was all that mattered but I did care about names, I’d wanted to call her Niamh ever since our 20 week scan but Mark hated it – I thought he might have taken pity on me on this occasion but he had clearly pulled himself together by this time too.  “You had better go and ring my mum” I said to Mark.  “No need” said the surgeon, “she has been stood outside my theatre doors for the last hour!”  As they wheeled me out of theatre and into recovery my mum shouted “I’ve been ringing your mobile”…..it was at that point I decided it may all have been a dream!

We took Bryony home 48 hours later and knew immediately that this time was going to be different.  When Jamie and Carys were babies we tried to get them into a routine as soon as possible, we tried not to pick them up and cuddle them all the time – we didn’t want them to be clingy.  I couldn’t give a bugger if Bryony did become clingy, she still had a look of vulnerability, was probably as traumatised as I was and somehow she just deserved to be cuddled…..for most of the time……all of the time. 

Even now, at 18 weeks, I make  what Mark calls ‘special allowances’ for Bryony.   She really is old enough to face outwards when in the baby carrier but I feel that she is safer facing me, she is closer and more secure.  Jamie and Carys were both in their own rooms by 18 weeks and although Bryony sleeps between 13 and 14 hours a night, she is still tucked up safely in the cot next to our bed.  I almost sound as if I never put her down or that I never leave her but I do and she is happy to sit in her chair and watch what’s going on around her and she is happy to go to other people so I really do feel as if I’m having the best of both worlds.

Bryony, 18 weeks old

 

Having said all that, what really makes it different this time is that I will most definitely not be doing it again!