anotherpage-inthe-book

[anotherpage-inthe-book]

March 30th - April 25th

April 5th 2023

Apologies in advance cause this post is going to be lonnnnnnnng but I have chosen to share something very personal and real. So here it goes;

I always knew I wanted children. I have known ever since I was old enough to comprehend what having children & a family would actually mean. I was always set on having a baby the good old fashioned way. Toughing it out and delivering vaginally. Of course, I always understood that things could happen and that circumstances could change. Although, that couldn’t happen to me... right? Wrong.

When I first found out I was pregnant with our daughter, I was in disbelief. I think I bought about seven or eight pregnancy tests because I was in such disbelief at the first one. The initial feeling of ‘oh my god’, quickly turned into, ‘OH MY GOD I’M HAVING A BABY!’. I went into our room and told my partner (let’s call him J) I needed to talk to him about something. After he had finished up on his computer, I held out 3 positive pregnancy tests. J said, “Why are you showing me your positive COVID test”. He quickly realised it wasn’t a COVID test and he was over the moon.

Fast forward to being 33 weeks pregnant; I had done all of my scans. Which showed normal growth, normal sizing, and most importantly, a healthy baby. I had done not one, but two glucose tolerance tests. I found them not to be as bad as what everyone says they are. It just tastes like really strong lemon cordial. I had all my blood work come back normal, with just a minor iron deficiency. This is very common in pregnancies because bubba gets majority of it. I had just finished at my last growth scan and was headed home. I was feeling good, I had just seen my baby girl and was told/shown that she was measuring well and was healthy. As to be expected, I had gained some weight from being pregnant. Although, I was just happy that our baby was getting the nutrition she needed.

It was about 9:30, just after my Mother was due to start work, when I started to get a headache. So I had some water and went to bed. I woke up around midnight with a pounding headache, seeing stars in my vision and just feeling unwell and not myself. I messaged Mum and told her what was going on. She told me to get J to help take my blood pressure, have some Panadol & water and lie down with calming rain sounds to help. J helped me do my BP, which I thought was relatively okay (given I was a tad agitated and in pain from my headache). So I did what Mum told me to do and went to sleep. Woke up the next day and was feeling my normal self, so I went about my day as normal.

That evening, I started to feel the same way that I felt the previous night. This time, I kept it to myself. I thought it would go away just like it did the night before. Around 5/6pm, I went outside and sat in the pool because this strange feeling just wouldn’t go away. I spent a good 30-45 minutes out there. I went inside for dinner and to chill out whilst I tried to figure out what was causing me to feel so off.

Mum and I sat in the lounge room, watching TV, when she asked me if I wanted her to do my blood pressure. She asked because I was looking agitated and uncomfortable. She did it, and when I looked at her to ask how it was, she had this smile on her face. It was the type of smile one gives another person when they are trying to dull down how serious a situation. I asked Mum if it was good or bad. She just said, “I think you need to call the hospital and see what they say.” My blood pressure was 180/100mmHg. Which is very, very high.

I rang the maternity ward at the hospital. Sure enough, they said I needed to come in as soon as possible. We quickly packed a small bag with all the essentials for a SHORT hospital stay. I thought that we would only be in overnight and maybe the next day. When J and I got to the hospital, the first thing they did was reassess my blood pressure, take a urine sample, and some blood tests. All came back elevated. My blood pressure remained alarmingly high. My urine test came back with elevated protein and my bloods were marginally worrisome. I just kept asking if the baby was okay. I kept asking if this was causing her distress and what we could do to stop it. I was given medication, after medication, to try and bring my blood pressure down. However, nothing was seeming to work definitively. After multiple doses of anti-hypertensives, my blood pressure started to plateau around the 140-150’s. This was still not ideal, but better than what it was. I was feeling like rubbish at this point because of the anti hypertensives, pain medication, antacids, and anti nausea medications I had been given.

Our doctor came in at around 1am. She was was able to give us some news that, quite literally, made me sick to my stomach. It was from nerves, stress, and an entire range of other emotions. I was diagnosed with sudden onset severe pre-eclampsia. She told me that, if left untreated, could be fatal to Bub and I.

Preeclampsia is a complication of pregnancy which is detected by women having high blood pressure, high levels of protein in their urine (that indicates kidney damage) and/or other signs of organ damage such as epigastric pain (indicating the liver damage). The doctor then told me that I would be staying for almost 2 weeks. However, it ended up being a few days longer. It was all starting to make sense and fall apart, simultaneously. My general feeling of being unwell, the headaches, the rapid weight gain and fluid retention (I probably tripled in size within a week due to fluid retention which was a big yikes), the blurred vision and visual disturbances; the lot. And I was sick, I mean physically I threw up after we were told. I think it was from anxiety but it was probably because of all the medications I had been given. Our doctor reassured us and tried to calm our nerves, but I know I was out of my mind worried about bubba. As was J. Funnily enough, our daughter was healthy and unaffected by what was going on & it was my body that wasn’t coping however that very well could’ve changed at any given time.

That first night I would like to say was the worst it got. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. I was admitted to the maternity ward the next day where we received nothing but the best from the midwives. They were kind, caring, and were always checking in on us to see how we were coping. I think it was because they could see the mental and physical toll it was taking on not only me, but J and my Mum as well. During my stay on the ward, I had multiple different tests and scans to monitor by blood pressure, kidney, liver functions, and my overall health. I won’t lie, I really was unaware as to how unwell I was and how serious the situation was.

Due to the severity of my preeclampsia, we were told that our daughter would probably have to be born early around 37 weeks. At 37 weeks, a baby is considered to be full term. They have fully mature lungs, as the baby is getting ready to be born. I had asked the doctor, and the midwife, if it was still possible to follow our birthing plan of having a water birth. Unfortunately, as we were now a ‘high risk’ pregnancy, a water birth was out of the question. Then came the question of, "will I be able to have a vaginal birth with our baby?". This was an aspect of pregnancy that I was actually very eager to be able to experience. Originally, I wanted a water birth with as minimal medical intervention as possible. I felt like, as painful as Labor may be, it would be equally as beautiful to be able to bring our daughter into the world this way. My treating doctor told me that, although labor was not impossible, it was highly unlikely that I would be able to safely go through labor. She explained that I would likely need to have a caesarean. I was obviously 100% on board with whatever our little baby needed to be happy and healthy, but it still felt like I was stripped of having the birthing experience that I wanted.

It was a few days after I was admitted that we were informed that we wouldn’t be able to make it to 37 weeks. The doctors were worried my body and organs would give up due to the stress they were under. I said to the doctors I would at least get to 34 weeks (which was 4 days away). They were hesitant to wait that long. I thought I would be able to, because it was only just a bit of high blood pressure right? Clearly I was in a bit of denial about everything. Over the next few days, I had multiple blood tests, CTGS and vital signs attended. All showing that my body was struggling. My liver functions were declining. My kidneys were struggling. I was struggling to move due to the fluid retention. I was having issues breathing and doing everyday activities that I usually would’ve been able to do independently. My blood pressure, although much more controlled due to being on two different anti hypertensives 4-5 times a day, was still elevated. The CTG’s weren’t bad, but they weren’t good. So I was sent for an ultrasound to check on the baby’s measurements & they showed that the baby was measuring smaller than expected. Meaning she wasn’t getting everything she needed to grow healthily. That’s where I actually became concerned.

It all came to a head the morning of the 05/04/23, after a shitty sleep and another 2-3 hour CTG tracing. Mum had stayed overnight with me (she and J often took turns doing this). I turned to her and said, “I can’t do this anymore”. She could already see how exhausted I was (physically and mentally). I made a decision to let the treating team know that I needed something to be done that day. We weren’t seen by the initial obstetrician. Another obstetrician (let’s call him Doctor A) who works along side the obstetric team came to review me. Straight away, he asked how long the CTG trace had been trending that way. He asked how long it had been on for, if anyone was monitoring it, and what was the point if nothing was being done about it. The doctor asked me a few more questions about how I was feeling. They asked if I was I struggling, coping, etc... I told him that I was trying to make it to the 34 week mark, but I was unsure how much longer my physical and mental health could last. He left to discuss things with ‘the team’ and to see if a decision would be made that day. Around lunchtime, Mum and I had just taken a bite of our sandwiches when Doctor A came back. He asked how I felt about having a baby that afternoon. It was a definitive ‘let’s have a baby’. Mum and I (more so Mum who is a midwife and wasn’t letting on just how unwell and dangerous my situation was) felt relieved. Someone had decided on a plan, instead of just sitting and waiting.

That afternoon, after a quick phone call to J telling him to get his ass to the hospital ASAP, I was prepped. We went downstairs where we were about to meet our little girl. After about 45 minutes of trying to be cannulated, I was wheeled into the theatre room. They told me what the process would be, how long things would take, etc... It was time for me to have a spinal anaesthetic (that thing with the big needle. The one that numbs you so you don’t feel anything. Yeah... That thing...). I will admit that it was not as bad as I expected. It took two tries, but the most unpleasant part of it was losing feeling and control of my legs so fast. I still had to try and move around to get into position, but that’s just me whining. It all happened pretty quick after the spinal anaethetic. Or that’s how it felt to me at least. The anaesthetist asked us what we would like to listen to, music wise, whilst the procedure was happening. Obviously, it was a no brainer. The 1975 was the only option. Before we knew it, the doctor was telling us to "look up... look here....", and there she was. Our little girl. She was looking like a “mandrake” from Harry Potter, but she was healthy, breathing on her own, and squawking.

I think I was in some kind of trance or something, because it was all feeling so surreal. I mean... This little bundle of love wasn’t due for another month and a half. Yet here she was wrapped up in a blanket and in her Dad's arms. It's safe to say that I was in a bit of shock, but the best kind. It was a pretty quick ending of the caesarean. I was stitched back up and sent round to recovery, whilst Dad and Bub went to the special care nursery. This is where we would spend the next few weeks. I think I was delirious after everything happening so quickly, but I was stable. When I was taken back to the ward, the first thing I asked was "When can I see bub?" and "How is she doing?". Being wheeled back into an empty maternity ward room without my husband, my mother , or baby was very confronting. I felt alone, but not upset, because I knew they were with my baby girl. I felt really good. I think it was the best I had felt since I had been in the hospital.

However, after I returned to the ward, my midwife attended my vital signs. My blood pressure and other symptoms resulted in her calling a medical emergency. I was given more medication and they increased my observations overnight. Unfortunately, I had another medical emergency. They sent me back to the birth suit for 1:1 care. I had a 24 hour magnesium sulfate infusion running (to help bring down my blood pressure). I had a catheter re-inserted (was not a happy little Vegemite) and I spent the next 24hours having half hourly vital signs, hourly catheter output/input measures, and barely any sleep. This entire time, I hadn't even been able to hold my baby yet. I had minutes with her briefly, after she was born, before she was wrapped up and sent up to the special care nursery. It was a lot to internalise. I felt guilty because I hadn’t been able to cuddle our little girl since she had entered the world. During the night spent in birth suite, the midwife that took care of me was nothing but an angel. She could obviously see the toll that not being able to see (or hold) our baby was having on me. She could see how uncomfortable I was with being pricked, prodded, and my catheter blocking. I think it was just after 11pm when, after checking my blood pressure, our midwife said we could go and see our daughter. She would have to accompany us as I had IV’s running and I would have to go in a wheelchair, given my recent surgical wound and how unwell I was.

Seeing our little girl in the incubator, with an IV line in (along with all the other lines), was the hardest thing I think either of us have had to see. Seeing a little baby with lines and tubes in is hard; but when it is your child, I think it just stings that little bit more. Our daughter weighed 1780 grams when she was born. Our daughter had a nasogastric tube inserted, as she was too little to breastfeed or bottle feed. This was another blow, as I felt like I was letting my baby down by not being able to breastfeed. She was given IV glucose drips until she decided to yank her IV out. Just like her mother, she gave the doctor’s a challenge to reinsert the IV. Ultimately, they gave up because she was doing so well on just her 3r hourly feeds via the feeding tube. Her feeds were majority expressed breast milk, but in the beginning days (when my milk supply was just coming in) she had formula as a substitute. It was a relief that once my milk did start flowing. I was able to express and bottle it for her without any issues. I think we had about 6-7 litres of frozen breast milk in our freezer at one point. It was one less thing to worry about, given everything we had going on. Our daughter spent almost 4 weeks in the special care nursery. She recieved the absolute best care possible. I cannot thank the nurses and midwives enough for the care they gave my daughter & I. After those four weeks, we brought our little girl home. She looked a little bit funny sitting in such a big car seat.

4 weeks of visiting the hospital at all hours of the day. The hours spent holding our baby girl, giving her the tube feeds, changing her nappies, leaving the hospital in tears, feeling like the world was against me and sleepless nights at home wishing our baby was at home with us; it was a very tough time. I remember speaking to J in the hospital cafeteria “I feel like the world is against me, like I’m the butt of a bad joke and it’s not fair”. The guilt I felt over leaving our girl... I would leave the hospital either in tears, or angry at the world for our situation. I felt a lot of emotions at once. I was feeling guilty for not being able to hold my new baby and have a normal first interaction with our daughter. I missed out on the first few hours of skin to skin contact... Just because I was sick? I was angry at myself for being unwell and I felt like I had let our daughter down, beause I wasn’t there. I still get angry at times over this and it’s still something I have to deal with on the daily.

I take my hat off to all midwives, special care nurses, and neonatal nurses. I could not do what they do. Our daughter received the absolute best care from the most beautiful people in the special care nursery. We were reassured and checked in on every time we were there. They had offered support, given education, and assisted with her care when it was our turn to take the ropes. Those amazing people will always hold a special place in our hearts. I will never forget the kindness and care given to our family, especially when I wasn’t well enough to be able to.

I spent two weeks in hospital being pricked with needles, having constant CTG’s to monitor the baby, multiple blood tests, scans, and had numerous sleepless nights. I even had two emergency calls due to my BP being elevated. I had sudden weight gain and large amounts of swelling all over my body. The swelling was not just in my legs, but my arms and fingers as well. My hands still tingle from time to time due to the swelling and carpal tunnel I experienced. I was retaining large amounts of fluid, which was shown by my size and by how difficult it was for me to physically move. I have never felt so humiliated and disgusting. I relied on others to be able to help me move, wash, and do everything I am usually able to do.

I have never thought so lowly of myself. I refused to look in the mirror in the bathroom because I thought I looked disgusting and gross. I still felt this way after being told it wasn’t actual weight, it was the oedema that caused me to get so big. I have to continue to remind myself that the strectch marks and baggy skin is a normal part of pregnancy. I have bruises and scars from constantly being stuck with needles, multiple cannulas, and having blood tests. My liver functions and renal functions are only now starting to improve. However, I’ve had multiple follow ups with doctors from different departments and my GP to monitor these. I physically feel weaker. I can feel when my muscles are close to giving up, but that is slowly starting to change since I started exercising again. I struggle with anxiety from leaving the house, wondering if our daughter is unwell, and taking her out in public. Although, I am starting to slowly get better at managing these anxieties. I am still struggling to deal with how my body looked/looks now. Body image has always been a big issue for me. It will be an ongoing process, but one step at a time. Walking by myself, and walking with our daughter, has helped me cope with a lot of these negative thoughts. It has helped my mental and physical health immensely.

I’m slowly learning to accept that, while I might not have experienced giving birth how I would’ve liked, I am so very blessed and thankful to have a healthy and happy baby girl. She is thriving and becoming her own (very small) person. I have been left with some physical and mental scars from this entire ordeal, but I remind myself everyday about how lucky I am. I'm a Mum and our baby made it home safely. It has taken my almost 3 months for me to finally finish writing this. It brought back a lot of negative thoughts and upsetting memories, but getting my thoughts out on paper has helped me process this traumatic (yet wonderful) experience. It’s also made me so thankful that our little girl, who is just like her Mumma, is tough and resilient. Seeing her smile and laugh, makes everything I went through worth it.