On Wednesday 25th November 2020 I attended my 28 week scan and, during this routine appointment, it was discovered that my blood pressure was super raised (around 170/100). I was sent for a four hour blood pressure profile on the assessment ward. During these four hours, it was apparent my blood pressure was not lowering so I was admitted overnight for review and discharged the next day with an appointment for another profile on the Saturday.
Saturday came, and I was confident all would be OK as I felt fine in myself. Much to my distress, it wasn’t. I was readmitted, I stayed, and I stayed an “indefinite” inpatient with four hourly observations. During this indefinite stay, they did tests until Saturday 12th December when I was bought back in for another profile.
I can’t remember exactly what happened clearly, but during my initial 29 week appointment it was discovered that the flow from my placenta to our baby was intermittent, the Dopplers were raised, and the resistance levels caused the room to fill suddenly with multiple doctors and nurses who told me that our daughter was at risk and potentially need to come within the next 48 hours. The pre-eclampsia I was about to be properly diagnosed with was effectively malnourishing her. She was measuring behind at 26 weeks for weight and size. Along with this shock came fear for both of us, as we had no idea whether she would make it when born and our world came crashing down around us. We’d had a miscarriage in January the same year and she was our brightness in all the darkness that surrounded us during the pandemic.
Moving forward, I had Doppler tests three times a week, four hourly observations and blood tests every 48 hours to monitor everything my body was going through, including my kidney function, which eventually had started to deteriorate.
On Sunday 13th December, when I’d returned for another “MOT”, I was admitted to the ward for hourly observations. Within a couple of hours, I was transferred to labour ward for 15-minute observations and I was left overnight with a machine monitoring my blood pressure even whilst I slept! By 5am, I complained because my arm and hand were both swollen and red from the six-hour observation and I was given a reprieve. I was booked in for a scan that afternoon to check the Doppler flows but by 9am I had asked for the mental health midwife. I was already suffering from PTSD and this whole experience was not doing me any good. I felt deflated, like a failure (my mind turned to thoughts such as “This is the one thing I’m supposed to do to help her before she comes to this world and I’ve failed her? How can I fail at something so natural?”) and I felt resentful towards her and my own body. Fortunately, the midwives were incredible, my partner was everything I needed and he encouraged me to see the mental health midwife.
That afternoon at the scan, the Doppler tests showed as reversed and it was time to pull the alarm and abandon ship. By the time I’d made it back to my room on the labour ward, the decision was made – lower emergency c-section first thing the next morning at 31 weeks and 3 days.
At 4am I was given magnesium (pure then diluted) to help her neurological system and starved! From there, everything became a slight blur and I think I’ve blocked some things out so I’m sure I’ve missed a few parts of the story. I remember having two panic attacks, one before leaving the room and a second while on the table before anaesthesia. Laying on the table, I didn’t even realise she had been born until my partner pointed her out; the anaesthesia worked a little too well, but it really was the best I’d felt in weeks!
She was born at 10:14am on Tuesday 15th December 2020, and so began our six week NICU journey. The first time I held her was around 6pm that night, after I’d fought with the nurses to take me up to see her.
She was ventilated with so many wires and she was so tiny. I’d already had the two steroid shots so her lungs should have been fine, but the next morning I was told she needed more medication to help them.
Whether I could see her or not depended on my blood pressure playing ball, but nothing was stopping me!
Five days later I was discharged, and on Christmas Eve I was discharged from the community midwives following a few good blood pressure reads.
Unfortunately, three weeks into our journey on Tuesday 12th January 2021, my stepdad died of COVID-19. He never got to meet our daughter physically and it was heart-breaking to not be able to help my mum. I could not risk seeing her, putting myself and my delicate yet strong daughter at risk.
There were a lot of ups and downs, and staying on the ward without my baby, while surrounded by women with their babies crying was a pain I can’t describe. I was broken, angry, I cried, and I screamed internally every time a beautiful baby cried.
After being discharged and going to the NICU to see our daughter, I left the hospital feeling sick and angry but holding it together…until I saw her car seat and crib. It’s amazing what family can do for you and my SIL had been a rock, stocking me up in hospital to keep me comfortable and then rushing around to make me comfortable at home, as well as moving our daughter’s stuff out of the way. The biggest cuddle and cry was something I needed and she was just perfect for it.
Six weeks later we got to bring her home and I finally felt like she was mine. She came home to us and we were finally real parents.
The histology from my placenta showed maternal arterial mal-perfusion, which is associated with poor presentation and pre-eclampsia, which is in turn associated with Intrauterine Growth Restriction (IUGR) and that has a poor outcome. Our daughter shouldn’t be here, but despite all odds, she is.
We are so lucky to have her here with us to grow and shine. Our journey has been one I would not wish on anybody, but we have made some amazing new friends via the NICU and we have seen a different side of life to give us a new appreciation for the miracle that is a baby.
We are still healing, still grieving the loss of our pregnancy and the trauma. I am a firm supporter of men’s mental health, so for me it is important my partner gets to have his voice heard when he wants to talk. He might be the man, but he is still a human with feelings and they should always be acknowledged. We work as a team to keep going.
I’m not sure how, but I hope our story offers some hope to others.
