I didn’t have a planned pregnancy. I found out I was pregnant and was immediately horrified. I was so terrified I’d miscarry after 3 mc's that I didn’t want to think about a potential baby. The timing was shocking. We had almost finished renovating my house, I was getting married in 4 months, I had a high-powered job, we had no money, my diabetes was a disaster zone, I was overweight and stressed to hell. Everyone was thrilled but me. (My now) husband, Gordon, and I were still not getting on after a dreadfully stressful time having our house renovated and we were still rowing. It was hell.
I got taken into hospital by the diabetes team at 6 weeks to "control my sugar levels" and put through hell. I fell through the cracks of hospital administration and was refused insulin for 2 days. I came to within hours of slipping into a coma. I had chronic thrush, cystitis, kidney pain, vomiting, night sweats. I started slipping into a serious depression. I tried to book an abortion in the UK. I couldn’t handle it. Finally, Gordon and my Mum checked me out of hospital and I set about trying to manage it without help from anyone but a couple of internet friends. I never had a chance to enjoy my bump because from the very first appointment my diabetes "support" team kept telling me my baby would be deformed. I "didn’t deserve to be a mother" and the team "could refuse to treat me but we don’t want the death of a baby" on their hands. I did my best and did bloody damn well. I got some serious therapy and continued to try and organise my wedding, finish my house, manage my diabetes, keep my weight under control etc. The only spanner in the works was my bi-weekly appointments in the hospital that broke my heart as they repeatedly told me my baby was going to be unwell when she was born. I would have to look in my own file to see my test results and I would always know if my results were good or pleasing because they wouldn’t tell me how bad I was doing
I got to my pre-wedding time (September 27th) and things were going ok. I'd lost my job and was miserably broke but we'd done ok financially. We had a good wedding but the upset caused by some "well meaning" family knocked the wind out of us but also gave me a huge kick up the hole. We went off on our honeymoon and we decided not let them ruin our life together and my potential to be a good mum. We won really! We had a great honeymoon, re-found ourselves and started to feel our baby wiggle and kick. We even made love
I got diagnosed with high BP and the start of PET on the 11th December. Gordon was having a massive, potentially life-changing and life-threatening operation on the 12th and I wasn’t going to be able to look after him because I was on bed rest. He discharged himself on the 13th with 60 stitches in his throat and unable to talk or eat properly. The only choice we had was to move to my mums and live on the couch. We did ok and aimed for Christmas but my BP wouldn’t come down. On the 23rd of December my BP was still high and my consultant was worried so he admitted me. I was so worried at that stage that it was a relief to be in hospital. They monitored my BP every couple of hours but it was still all over the place. On the 29th of December my BP came down a lot and the team (not the diabetes team obv.) said I was good to go home the next day. Gordon and I were over the moon. Maybe we'd spend our first NYE together in our home.
At 2.30am a midwife checked my BP and it was very high (don’t remember numbers this long on). I remember she ran out the door of my room. They gave me industrial amounts of beta blockers etc. but my levels were still very very high. I had massive amounts of protein in my urine and I started to vomit and have headaches. At 5.30am I was told that the consultant had been contacted and he wanted to deliver me that morning. I rang Gordon and told him to come in immediately. Mum followed. I was readied and prepped for surgery and brought to ICU to have my BP lowered in preparation for delivery. I was 30wks 2days.
Hell ensued. I was given 4 drips and an arterial line. They lost my baby's heartbeat a number of times. I was given so many medications that I lost count of the injections. Gordon says that I drifted in and out of consciousness and my face swelled so much I couldn’t see out my eyes. He put little finger stalls filled with cooled water on my eyes to soothe them. I stopped wee-ing. I cried constantly, I was so scared. I was brought to surgery at 12.15pm.
Isabella was born at 12.45 on the 30th December 2007 weighing 1.27kg and had an Apgar of 9 and then 10.
The next couple of days are a total blur. Firstly, the paediatrician looking after Isabella when she was born wouldn’t show her to me and I got so upset they gave me a huge dose of sedative. I was so ill that I kept zoning out and then teams of people would rush in to my ICU room. All I saw of my daughter for nearly 36 hours was a blurry picture of a bundle of wires around a vaguely red thing. When I eventually saw her she was terrifyingly small and there was no way I could love her because she was going to die. That was it. She was too small, I hadn’t ever heard of a baby born that small that could live. Then I held her and it was very overwhelming and terrifying - how could I ever look after her, I can’t be her mum - this is all wrong - I can’t do this - I’ll pretend it’s all ok and maybe in a while, after she dies, I’ll be ok and I can have a chance to be a mum properly and do it all right this time. Then she got bigger and I could see her face when the wires went and she was beautiful. That was good, but still no bond. People telling me she was beautiful was good - I liked her now
Then I went home from hospital and it was a chore to go in to see her but I kept doing it - I realised I was starting to enjoy it but it then she got sick and the breath was knocked out of my body. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t think and I couldn’t see any reason for anything. When she got better I started to feel like she was mine and every day a bit more. I had a huge struggle to try and express but it wouldn't work and I couldn’t get help and with the support of family and friends, I gave it up and suddenly started to feel a bit better about it all.
On the 18th of February I was allowed to bring her home. I was so happy I didn’t know what to do so I just cried and hugged someone in a corridor. I think she was a cleaner.
Isabella was so small I could fit her hand into my wedding ring, when I couldn’t even get it onto my own finger. I could lift her out of the moses basket with one hand and no effort. She was 5lbs.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siFb_UEfjls is her daddy winding her. That’s him burping
Most of you have been through that entire journey with me and it’s been really hard but oh my god I wouldn’t change a hair on her head. She's utterly utterly beautiful and the best baby you could hope for.
