As my daughter is fast approaching 18 months of age, the baby question has resurfaced.
So, are you going to have another?
I really wanted to be standing with both feet firmly in one camp here. I wanted to be clear and have no doubts. The truth is, we are still undecided. Neither myself or my husband, are overwhelmed with excitement, at the prospect of another pregnancy. We are not running to join the One and Done club either. So what’s the problem?
The Previous Pregnancy
We conceived our daughter easily after 4 months of trying. The pregnancy however was rather a different story.
I had lots of bleeding in the first trimester. Each occasion resulting in a hospital visit and thorough exam. The last bleed was at 18 weeks and it was substantial. My husband and I held each other, as we sat on the bathroom floor, both convinced our journey had ended. My husband held my face in his hands and said ‘We were enough before. We will be again. I love you’
At the hospital, preparing for the confirmation, we were shocked to hear the heartbeat of our baby. Emotional rollercoaster doesn’t quite cover it. Our 20 week anomaly scan followed and we were all systems go. Due to all the early bleeds, we were scheduled for an extra scan at 34 weeks, to check placenta placement.
A private 4D scan at 28 weeks, revealed we were definitely having a girl. The nurse commented on how chubby our baby looked already. I watched our unborn child’s face intently on the screen. She smiled just like her Daddy. I was in love. Our baby girl was perfect.
I had the usual pregnancy crap. All day nausea. All day heartburn. Chronic back pain, that would eventually require physio and I needed to pee every 20 minutes. It’s such a beautiful experience. The tiredness and nose bleeds came later. At 34 weeks, I took my mum with me to my scan. We were on the final lap and I did not have a single worry in the world. The placenta had moved and was now in the perfect position for my scheduled c section. The nurse took some routine measurements and that is when it all went wrong
Our daughters tummy was measuring big. This was a marker for gestational diabetes. This was confirmed with a blood test that same week. I was diabetic!! They could not control my blood sugar so I was put straight on insulin. Learning to inject insulin and test my sugar levels 4 times a day was scary. In amongst this, my hands and feet started to itch. The hospital demanded I came back in for tests immediately. I was tested at noon. I waited…and waited. At 8:30pm, I finally received my results. I had Obstetric Cholestasis. A rare liver disorder, where the liver does not filter your bile acids properly so they build up in your body instead. I was given medication to stabilise my bile acids. Baby scans and blood tests, were carried out every two days. I was no longer going to have my baby at full term (40 weeks). She was going to be delivered at 37 weeks. The risk to me and the baby was high. The risk of ‘fetal death’ was real. My baby could die.
The next three weeks were a blur of tests, scans and new birth plans. My old birth plan was gone. My time to nest was spent in the hospital. I left my job and was in hospital the next day. Each hour went by like a week. I was so scared that her movements would stop. I had been warned. It’s all my brain could think about.
No feet up. No rest. No baby moon. No nursery. No nesting. I was an exhausted, stressed out pin cushion…
Labour Day
8am at 37 weeks gestation, I was gowned up and heading to theatre. Hubby looking fantastic in his scrubs. I wish we had brought that gear home with us. That’s one sexy look, hat and all.
The C Section was amazing. Before I knew it, my precious angel was lying on my chest. We had made it.
Our girl was not breathing well and after 30 minutes, they took her from me as she needed to go to SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit). When they lifted her, they realised her tummy clasp had fallen off, so she had lost a lot of blood too. This was all over me – I was distraught. My poor husband didn’t know what to do first. I knew what needed to happen. “Be with our baby, I don’t want her to wake up alone”. After a short time in recovery. I was back on the ward. Surrounded by mummys and daddy’s holding their babies. It was in that moment, I realised, that I was all alone. I called my Dad. He and my mum were with me within the hour. The emotional mess that I was in at this point was immeasurable.
We were in hospital for a week. Each day, I would wait for the pain relief trolley to come round, then we would leave to sit beside our daughter. I didn’t hold her again until she was 2 days old. I ached for her. Her crys were comforted by nurses. Her hunger was satisfied with tubes. My heart shattered each hour that passed. Each day another new mummy and daddy were discharged from hospital with their child. We watched from the sidelines. My body had gone into shock which made breast feeding impossible. By the time we were ready to come home, I was a broken shell of a human.
Home at Last
My husband had recently started a new job so no paternity leave was available. I was on my own from day one. At the time I lived miles away from family so their involvement was limited. I did have a local friend who did pop in every day for the first 10 days. She would watch the baby while I took a nap or had a shower. I’m not sure I would have survived that first fortnight without her. She was a kind and very religious woman. After a while her good intentions were of more benefit to her than me. I felt suffocated by her. I didn’t want to go to church or meet her church friends. I wasn’t ready to attend her party but my words were never heard. I went. I cried in her hallway surrounded by strangers while my baby was passed around like a parcel.
I wanted company. I wanted someone to talk to me. Not to pat me on the head and take over. I wanted my friends and family. Not strangers. This was one of the reasons we moved areas.
The Move
When our baby was 6 weeks old, we moved house. Not sure how we survived a job change and a house move in the same month as having our baby. I don’t recommend it. I was in a new area with a baby. My health visitor was lovely but for the first few months, claimed to not know of any groups I could attend. When we first moved, I didn’t have access to a car and we were not on a bus route either. We were local to family and friends but our current predicament meant they would have to come to us. They didn’t. Sleepless nights and colic quickly followed. The stress and isolation was immense. Post-natal depression was in full swing. Those early months were horrendous.
Apparently all the stress and trauma of a pregnancy and birth gets forgotten. I’m still waiting for all this to fall out of my head. I remember each week with total clarity. So when that delightful question comes at me;
So, are you going to have another?
I sift through the clarity with speed and give the same non committal response…I don’t know.
I do want another baby but I don’t want to repeat that experience. Will I regret that decision later? Is my indecision, my decision? If I really wanted a baby, I would be having one, right?
I don’t know.