Monthly Archives: February 2015


Then She Was Three

Her birth

The morning of her birth, I never expected it, she was given 2 weeks, not three days.
A three-minute warning from hoping I could eat, only to be told I was going into theatre.
It was meant to be 2 weeks.
John had to let go of my tightly gripped hand to get scrubs.
I had to keep breathing.
People around me, paper flying in front of my face for a signature or two.A syringe here, tablets there. I had to remove my Eyebrow bar.
All I had wanted was some toast.
I was helped into the wheelchair, Where was John? I couldn’t go without him. He arrived just in time.
Inside the theatre was full, a sea of blue, I could barely see the equipment. I sat on the trolley bed; shaking, terrified. What would come next?
A midwife checked the heartbeat, we could hear it very faintly; then made her way to stand near my head.
“Please don’t tell me the baby is sleeping” 
I begged over and over.
I had to keep breathing.
She entered kicking and squeaking.
A girl.
670g. 1lb 5oz baby girl.
They asked us her name.
After what seemed like a lifetime (5/10 minutes), they brought her over to us, for a brief view.  She was tightly wrapped in a towel, to keep her snug, we could only see her little face.
Then she was gone again back into her incubator, off she went.
Would I see her again alive?
All I could do was keep breathing.
I was stitched back together, although I didn’t feel very whole. I needed to see her, but I was too numb and sore to move. John was allowed to see her, but I had to patiently wait for a photo, some news. I needed to know she was still with us.
Proud Dadders! Beaming from ear to ear he returned with photos and a video.
She was stable. And so incredibly tiny.
I couldn’t wait to see her face, I knew there was to be at least a 10 day wait before she was off her ventilator; at least that was what we were told.
But she was stable. For now. We had two visitors;  one of my oldest friends, he was planning a visit that afternoon anyway to cheer me up, from my stay in hospital; only we were showing off our new baby too. He was keen to look. And I felt proud.
 My other visitor, a family member, however, point blank refused to look at her. This hurt terribly. She’s a baby, he turned away from her. My beautiful new baby and he turned his head
“Nah, you’re alright”
Why? I do not know, was my baby not beautiful?
I met her many hours later. I couldn’t really touch her, as I was wheelchaired and had wires everywhere. I was terrified to touch her. What if my touch broke her? Or scared her?
I’d already had a daughter in NICU, but nothing prepared me for being a micro preemie’s mum.
I cried.
Remembering to breathe.
I was now a mummy to three children.

Third Birthday

I never got to watch her open a present.
Or watch her take a step.
She never made a sandy footprint.
Or splashed mud into her hair.
Today I have to speak about her.
Just as I would my other children.
She was here and not a dream.
I wish I could give her an actual kiss today,
not some latex full of air.
I wish I could have a day with her, a day off from missing her; you know the type of day when you want a babysitter?
A break, where you want to do something else. Well, I’d like someone to hold the shitty bereaved torch so I can have a day off.
To be with our should have been 3-year-old daughter.
But of course, I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone.
Mine and her dad’s pain is no one else’s it is how we hold on to her, how we keep her with us.
So instead of wrapping paper and dresses.
She’s getting cement for her garden.
Just what a three year old wants.
All we can do on her third birthday
Is to keep breathing. 
Happy Third Birthday 

Memories – The Waiting Game

Saturday 25th February 2012

These memories I hold onto they’re ours – they’re her story – her memories.
I’d had my second lot of steroid injections. We were to have a tour of the neonatal unit. In preparation for when the baby arrives in 2 weeks. But John had yet to arrive.
The baby was becoming less active, but I could still feel it – just.
I was put on the CTG machine, but after a while, it was decided I would need a scan as soon as possible.
The baby didn’t seem overly happy.
The scanner took a long time to turn on. It wasn’t the usual scanners as it was the weekend; this to me meant something was really wrong.
The Dr tried to reassure me that she was just sleeping, maybe having a rest.
I wasn’t convinced
We had been offered a tour of the baby unit, the time had arrived, the place appeared huge, I felt like an inch big. 
I’d already had one baby in NICU, but her gestation was nothing compared to what this baby would be. 28 weeks compared to 36/37 for me there was no comparison.
So many questions, yet nothing came out.
We were told baby had 80% of survival, which was a massive relief and that she was expected to be a ventilator for at least 10 days. She had the best chance because she was a girl
Amazing odds, we had hope.
The tour soon ended, it was good they took the time to talk to us.
The baby’s movements had a significant drop, again I was hooked up to a CTG, over two hours this time, to try and get the baby moving.
John had gotten a lift sorted, ready for the end of visiting.
But there was something not quite right. I felt out of sorts but no idea why.
My head hurt, my stomach felt strange, dizzy my eyes fuzzed.
I was beginning to feel scared. I sent John to get a midwife
The baby also hadn’t moved for an hour, not even with a cheeky Turkish delight. I had no idea what was happening.
The decision was soon made for me to transfer to one to one care. Even John was asked to stay, this in itself had me worried.
In fact, I was terrified.
I was placed on to the CTG again, BP and urines were checked hourly.
This was going to be a long night.
I really didn’t feel well
Would our baby last the night? 
baby loss, grief

Valentine’s Day. One of Those Days.

One of those days.

It was in 2012, our first valentine’s day as a married couple, I was pregnant with my third child and our first baby together – our Honeymoon Baby. All I had on my mind was how to make the night special. The most exciting part would be having our wedding album on that day too, life just couldn’t have gotten better.

Valentine’s Day Excitement

I went shopping that day, I needed some last minute presents for my husband, I wanted to spoil him, I was excited to be buying a card with ‘husband’ on it.
Stopping for a bite to eat, that in itself felt like a luxury, as I had been suffering from hyperemesis – severe nausea and vomiting.
As I sat down to eat, my hands began to hurt, and my face felt hot and fuzzy.
I looked down at my hands, they were swollen, so much so that they were beginning to split, they were painful.
I knew I had to phone for advice, so I managed to get a Midwife appointment.


I returned home, where we received our much-awaited wedding album, but it was pushed to one side, I felt worried. Making my way to the Midwife and I was greeted by a locum, not my usual one.
I explained that I had swelling, showing her as I spoke, and I that didn’t feel ‘right’.
To which she replied with,
“You do not get pre-eclampsia before 28 weeks, you’re barely 24 weeks, it is almost extremely rare to get it before 28 weeks”
She wanted to send me home, I explained again I didn’t feel right, I’d had pre-eclampsia in my first pregnancy, I knew the symptoms and I wanted to be sure, with a reply,
“It’s too early for that”
I had to ask if she could just dip my urine sample for peace of mind, where I had 3+ protein in, only then she did my blood pressure.
” Well, YOU must be an exception”
She was blunt while muttering, far it was far too early, under her breath.
She phoned ante-natal, where I needed to go immediately, then listened in briefly, asking if we knew the baby’s gender; where I replied with no, we didn’t want to know the sex.
“Baby’s fine sounds like a girl”
I felt so guilty, silly for being there. I didn’t want to be an exception, all I wanted was to be told it was pregnancy chub, that I had eaten too much.
All I wanted was our perfect Valentine’s night with my husband, I wanted to look at our wedding album.
That album remained closed for several weeks.
That Valentine’s Night, rather spending it with my new husband I was diagnosed with early pre-eclampsia.

Our final normal day, before being hit by the shattering news, we wouldn’t get to full term…..

Valentine's Day


I’m not keen on Valentine’s Day; it is one of those days, but it makes up her story.