Real Stories from our Recovery Partners

Due date: 31stof October 2021

Date my son was born: 21st of October 2021

After five negative pregnancy tests, I went to the doctors, and they carried out blood tests which concluded that I had an elevated level of Testosterone. I insisted that the doctors refer me for a scan. At the time, I was having awful sensations in my womb, awful migraines, and a very strong hankering for Quavers and hummus with carrots. After you eliminate the obvious and you don’t know what is happening, your mind naturally starts to wander. 

The night before my scan, I remember feeling so anxious and scared, not knowing what was going with my body and asking myself, should I prepare myself for bad news?

When you’re twenty-three, this is a path you don’t want to consider.

The morning of the scan arrived. I had to grab a nurse to direct me to the scan department in the hospital, as it was like a rabbit warren, and I had no idea where I was going. So, after having an initiation of how Alice felt when she was entering Wonderland, I arrived in the correct department, booked myself in and did the usual – got a Harry Potter book out of my bag and started reading.

All these people around me had their friends and family with them and there was me thinking, ‘I wish my partner was here’. But it had said on the letter that no one should come with me due to COVID restrictions, which I appreciated. 

Then my name was called. I was only waiting for five minutes, but it felt like two hours because of the level of anxiety. So, I walked into the room where they were going to do the scan and a member of staff introduced themselves to me and explained what was going to happen. Which, as we all know, is a freezing cold pressure that they put on your lower abdomen/stomach to examine what’s going in inside, but when you have no idea what’s happening you feel a crushing anxiety, like a huge wall is enclosing around you. Within the next two minutes, little did I know that my life was going to change forever…

As the member of staff was male, he asked if I required a chaperone, and I said yes. A female nurse came and sat with me and sensed that I was anxious so she held my hand. 

Moments later, he asked, “Miss, are you pregnant?” with eager enthusiasm in his eyes.

“That’s not possible,” I told him, thinking that was something that would never happen for my partner and I, as we had previously had a miscarriage.

He turned the screen around. “Oh my god, hi,” I said, putting my hand on the screen and rubbing my belly.

The nurse and I cried together.

I was eight weeks pregnant.

I wandered out of the room. I was so happy and couldn’t wait to be picked up by my partner, so that I could tell him the good news. However, there was one issue stopping me from making that phone call – I couldn’t get out of the hospital. I was walking down the same corridor as before and I found the same nurse that had helped me previously. When I went outside to the green in front of the hospital, I called my partner. He knew somehow what I was going to tell him and said, “Don’t you dare tell me over the phone.” He came and picked me up and took us home.

In our lounge, I showed him the photo I took on my phone. “I want you to meet someone.”

Throughout the pregnancy of our first born, I suffered from reflux and severe back pain, which doesn’t come as a surprise when you’re 5ft 2” and have what the midwives had anticipated would be a huge baby (like saying that would really help with my anxiety!). Alongside a UTI, which was the result of me doing too much at thirty-four weeks, like attending two weddings in the space of one week that felt like they were at opposite ends of the country. 

Let’s skip ahead to when I was 37.5 weeks pregnant, and I started feeling an awful sensation at the top of my abdomen and started to feel really weak. My gut was telling me that something was wrong. Luckily, my other half was finishing work early on that day and my friend who had children of her own was on the other end of the phone on labour watch.

As soon as my partner came home, we packed the folder and our hospital bags into the car and then put me in the car. It honestly felt like a military operation when you’re feeling that level of anxiety and stress. The not knowing really starts to make you feel awful on the inside.

When we approached the maternity unit at our local hospital, they had a bed ready for us. 

We briefly explained to midwives why we were there and what was going on. They sent over an assistant who introduced herself, took my blood pressure and did other checks. This happened intermittently over the five hours we were there. About an hour before we left, we spoke to a consultant who diagnosed me with pre-eclampsia. We agreed that I would be induced the next day because my blood pressure was so high.

Later that morning we were due to return and see a different consultant, who elaborated on my condition and sent a urine sample to the maternity ward. Later, a midwife called to tell us my levels and tell us to go to the hospital again.

And once again, my partner packed everything into the car and he said when getting in, “Let’s go and have a baby.”

Day 1:

We chose the bed and seat in the corner because it had more space and because we’re antisocial. We settled ourselves in and un-packed our bags until a midwife came over, introduced herself and talked us through the procedure regarding being induced. 

A little after mid-day, when my blood pressure had been taken several times, the midwife came in. I held my partner’s hand – he was being so supportive – and then she inserted the pessary.

Throughout the rest of the day, I felt no contractions. My partner and I just played UNO and waited for something happen. Which it didn’t for the rest of the day. 

So, we ate food and chilled out.

That evening when everyone was in bed, I had awful back pain and could not sleep. At first, we tried paracetamol, which did nothing, and then I took some codeine, where I went to my happy place, sang Three Little Birds, and then went to sleep. 

I had some other awful pains and then woke up again, so the midwife gave me some pethidine which was an immediate relief. But suddenly I looked at both my partner and the midwife and said, “I’m going to vomit.” I’ll leave that there.

Day 2:

After breakfast we went through all the normal checks, and then at the same time as the day previous another pessary was inserted.

Throughout the course of the day, I felt a few contractions. Those continued intermittently alongside lots of walking up and down the corridor, but still nothing. Which was so frustrating when you hear lots of other women going to the delivery room. The anxiety started to settle in.

We went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night and was in awful pain and the feeling of danger in my stomach was just intense. The midwife was concerned because our son’s heartbeat was erratic, so we needed a scan. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and now my blood pressure wasn’t good either. 

The sonographer and midwives gave us an option and explained that, because the pessary had not worked, that a caesarean would be the way forward. A consultant offered us the option of having it done immediately or later.

I wanted him out of me, so he could be in our arms, safe, secure and warm. So, we decided to have the caesarean immediately. I then became very overwhelmed - it was all happening so fast that I asked my partner, “Are we going to die?”. He said, “No, lovely,” as we were both getting changed into our scrubs. 

First, they inserted an IV drip ready for surgery. The first attempt did not go well. Blood dripped everywhere. The doctor was not happy and said the midwife needed to clean up her mess and then he himself inserted the needle.

They then wheeled me down the corridor, my partner right beside me. We went down the darkest corridor I’ve ever seen with this overbearingly bright light at the end of it. 

Without going into gory details, they got me ready for the surgery.

Day 3:

At 04:15 on 21stof October our son was born by means of a caesarean section. His heart was still erratic because of the umbilical cord around his neck, and the pre-eclampsia was elevating the pressure on the cord. When he was born into the world, he had to be resuscitated.

My partner held him first and then I did and then I sang One and Only by Ed Sheeran to my new baby. 

Not too long after this he was taken to the NICU for two days. Although I knew he was in a safe little cubby and being looked after, it was awful being separated from my baby, like a part of me was missing. Later, I woke up from sleeping and vomited.

My partner went home to shower. Meanwhile, two midwives came in and got me ready for the day and told me they would be moving us to the post-Natal Ward. I went down to the NICU and met my partner and baby.

I still remember touching my son’s belly for the first time and holding him so close I didn’t want to let go.

I was trying to express to the nurses for the rest of the day that I was in pain, wanting to go home to our safe haven, and missing my baby – I was only able to see him when we went down to the NICU.

That night was awful. My partner had to go home because of COVID restrictions and I was alone, haunted by all of the crying babies around me. I just wanted mine close to me so that he could feel warm and protected.

That night, one of the student nurses took me down to see him, because I missed him so much and she thought that if I was lonely, then he must be too.

The day after this, my partner and I were diagnosed with COVID 19 and moved to a separate room. By this point our son was returned to us and we all went down as a unit.

Two days later…

After some feeding difficulties, our son was finally latching. I decided that we’d had enough and that we were going home. I packed all our bags, kept calling the midwives for progress updates, and that afternoon we came home.

We came in through our door, my partner and I gave our son a tour of our flat, and we all cried together. 

One month later, I was diagnosed with gallstones. Due to the agony they were causing me, my gallbladder was taken out on New Year’s Eve that year. I had to give up breast feeding two days after this, and we started to feed our son formula.

It was one of the most traumatic things I have ever been through. This wasn’t the birth I had planned for our boy, but he is here and I am thankful for that every day. If I had to go through that again to ensure he was here, I would. 

Today:

Our beautiful son is now a toddler, running riot in our home and we wouldn’t change him for the world. I am wanting to train and become a peer support worker and will work with women and families who have been in a similar situation to ours.

I have been through CBT, am on medication to help me with my PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression, and am being supported by the perinatal support team and my only regret is not reaching out sooner. 

It’s okay that it didn’t happen the way that you wanted it to. 

Myself and my now ex-partner are no longer together, however my son and I are adapting to our new 

life. Although this chapter hasn't at all been easy, I take comfort in knowing that life has a way of taking away things, so that your future is better. Remember, just because something didn't turn out the way you thought it would, doesn't mean to say the next chapters are not going to be more beautiful. 

It’s okay if you need mental health support and need someone to talk to and support you.

We are always here. 

Let’s face it together.