Having children never crossed my mind at that age. I had always assumed that I'd pursue a career, do what I wanted to do with my life before I was tied down, and then settle into a life of clichéd suburbia.
My reaction to the thought of never having children was a surprising one. I was panic stricken.
My biological clock was ticking down quicker than the Countdown variety. It was now or never. Project "make a baby" had started.
Having what I'd say was a pretty profound knowledge of human reproduction, and a short temporary position in a sexual health clinic, I knew all the tricks in the book to get knocked up fast!
12 months/cycles later, and a handful of "chemical pregnancies" - all the tricks in the book had been exhausted beyond recognition, and I had given up. Might as well do one more cycle for the road.
I'm going to bypass most of the pregnancy.. I was in and out of hospital, had developed severe symphysis pubis dysfunction, and had gained 10 stone.
The midwives let me get to 15 days overdue before inducing me, something they shouldn't have done. I had experienced a deflated feeling in my bump, but everybody had insisted that my waters were still intact and that I should stop worrying.
Labour during induction is ghastly when hooked up to a Oxytocin drip, the human body just isn't designed to cope with synthetic hormones driving the contractions. They hurt. ALOT. I experienced back to back contractions for about 3 hours, with no more than a 30 second break inbetween. Zero dilation.
Midwives thought manually breaking my waters would help my cervix dilate. A female consultant had the pleasure of carrying this out. After proclaiming that she'd rather do it with her fingers, I began screaming like I was being murdered. The midwives had to hold me down as I was being torn from the inside by the biggest bitch from hell with a MD. She couldn't do it. Why? Because there was no water membranes to break.
I then started showing signs of infection. The baby was showing signs of distress. The baby then did it's first bowel movement inside of me, an indication that it was under stress.
This next part happened in slow motion. I was uncontrollable, I was rolling about in agony! I just wanted to die. I hadn't slept in 48 hours. The baby was stuck.
The bitch with the MD came back in with some MASSIVE looking rotating forceps, this time accompanied by a jolly looking, more qualified consultant. Legs akimbo, the bitch tried easing the forceps into my lady area. I let out a YELP. The jolly consultant then said in front of everyone, "Oh you're a small one aren't you! You're going to need an epidural."
In waltzed a lovely anaesthetist who looked like Adrian Edmondson and gave me an epidural. That didn't work, so he tried again. I can tell you - having to keep 100% still while contracting like a bastard is certainly NOT easy. One slight twitch and I'm paralysed.
That worked, but only numbed one side of me. Surprisingly, I was still in considerable pain.
Then all the alarms went off and I was rushed into the operating theatre. The epidural was pulled out of my back and it was replaced with a full spinal. I hadn't a clue what was happening to me.
My legs were put into stirrups, and the numbness from the added spinal was creeping up too far up my body, almost reaching my chin. I couldn't even feel my chest to breathe.
The bitch with the MD gave me an episiotomy and stuck the forceps in. The room filled with about 20 people running about. I was drifting in and out of consciousness and had uncontrollable shakes, still not knowing if I was breathing on my own.
Everything went black and white.
Then suddenly a limp blue baby covered in black meconium was plonked on to my lap. It's mouth wide open, it's eyes glaring straight at me. This baby wasn't alive.
I then heard somebody shout, "NEONATAL CRASH TROLLY! MOTHER CRASH TROLLY!"
Everything went dark.
I woke to the sound of somebody talking to me. They said that the baby was a girl, and they had successfully resuscitated her. She was very ill and had been taken to the Special Baby Care Unit.
I was then taken to the recovery ward. Still not being able to move from the neck down, I was pissed off that I couldn't even reach to get a glass of water, and kept sliding sideways almost off the bed. A lovely nurse popped in through the curtains and helped me get myself upright and filled me in on what damage was done to my lady bits. A third degree tear, 3C to be precise. I was offered many painkillers for when my numbness left me, but I declined, much to their annoyance. I had already ODd on pain relief thankyou.
8 hours later, I was told to come down the the SCBU. I was still a bit numb, but lied. I had my catheter taken out and was wheeled down. I regretted declining the pain killers, but I was far too stubborn and far too ashamed as a mother to ask for them anyway.
When I arrived. I was told that it was touch and go. The place felt so warm, yet so cold at the same time. I was wheeled into the room, and I knew which one was Lily. I had the image of that lifeless baby staring back at me imprinted into my brain, and I still do to this day. She was hooked up to so many machines, all of them making a horrible beeping sound. Her legs and hands so black and bruised from the needles and cannula. I asked if she was going to die. A cold looking woman looked back at me with a blank face and said, "It's 50/50."
I looked into the little plastic box encasing my offspring. Did I feel love? No. I felt complete and utter fear. I didn't want to love her in case she was snatched from me.
I didn't even want to touch her. I couldn't do it. I talked to her so she knew I was there. I didn't want her feeling like she was alone. After a while, I got the hang of knowing what was a bad "beep" and what was a "normal" beep. Certainly helps not shit one's self that's for sure.
Lily had severe perinatal asphyxia from the birth which left her brain damaged. She also had liver trauma from the birth. Added to the list was renal failure, neonatal thrombocytopenia and infection.
.... more to come. I'm knackered,
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