WARNING. I'm talking about my section below, please don't read if it will trigger you or you're worried about a future birth.
I wrote this on my Instagram on the last day of cesarean awareness month as I thought it was the right time to also talk about my experience of an emergency general anesthetic c section.
I've previously mentioned my mental health issues because of this, but I'm not sure how much people know about my experience, and now it's Materal Mental Health Week I thought it was the perfect time to look at launching a blog, something I've wanted to do for years.
My aim I suppose is for people to not be scared, but to understand that whether you have a crappy pregnancy or a relatively easy one like mine, you never know what's going to happen and I wish that had been communicated better to me.
I'd had a fairly good pregnancy, kept fit throughout (I'll do another post on this) and was just excited to meet our little bundle (we didn't know what we were having - though I always knew he was a boy in my heart). Of course I had all the concerns about the pain everyone does, but no other concerns - it had been some sickness at the start, heartburn and some tiredness, but nothing out of the ordinary.
38 plus 4 weeks pregnant and heading to my final Fitsteps class for 15 weeks
So my pain started 8 days overdue. 6pm, Saturday June 29. The Killers were playing Glasto while I sat with a hot water bottle. For me, it was mostly in my back and I don't know now whether I should have mentioned that when I called the birth centre at 3am after I couldn't sleep, because of what would follow.
Anyway, fast forward a few hours and a midwife came out and tried to do a sweep on Sunday morning, June 30. But I was still only 1cm dilated and my inner cervix was still closed, so Phill went downstairs and I stayed in bed with the tens machine from my brilliant friend Gemma (who helped me navigate motherhood more than she knows). He brought me squash and biscuits.
I'd found an app on my phone to time contractions so was trying to keep up with it but I was tired too so would fall asleep now and again.
Around 2.20pm, I had a really bad contraction and got out of bed to rock it out on the floor. I felt something coming away from down there and assumed it was my waters.....until I felt and looked down to see blood everywhere.
I screamed for Phill but had to ring him because he was in the office room and couldn't hear me. While I waddled over a shower curtain into the bathroom, there were calls to the Neath Port Talbot Hospital Birth Centre, Singleton Hospital in Swansea, the Welsh Ambulance Service and a call back from the birth centre, who were sending a midwife to the house (it's 5 minutes away from us). When she arrived, she checked baby heartbeat which was fine, the first responders arrived and then the ambulance and paramedics. I got in the ambulance while Phill got the bags and put them in the car to follow.
In the ambulance the contractions were coming faster and I was trying to breathe my way through them. The midwife was with me and the paramedics were both women, so it was a situation all to familiar to them all. At this point my concern was still for the baby and I stupidly thought birth was just progressing faster.....we got to Singleton Hospital and went straight to the Labour Ward. By this point the bleeding had slowed right down. But as soon ad the consultant examined me, it was like a flood and I heard her say placental abruption and section. I was disappointed but knew it had to be done. Phill still hadn't arrived by this point and I was praying for him to turn up. I signed a load of paperwork and he turned up not long before I was wheeled out to theatre without him, because I had to go under. All this is a bit of a blur, but I'll never forget the anaesthetist Rhys. He stroked my face and told me he was sorry when I said I felt sick. The next thing I remember was hearing my baby's sweet cry and that he was a boy. Little did I know at that time all the drama I had caused (not him) after Alex was born healthy at 4.03pm. It wasn't until the next day that I realised I'd lost almost 2 litres of blood while the team was cleaning me up after the op and it wasn't until a few days later did I realise Phill had been told what was happening, but was then left alone. No baby, no me. I don't know what he must have been feeling. Thank the lord it all turned out well and we are all still here and safe, but that was the main source of my PTSD and pain in the months after Alex was born. Which is just typical me, always thinking of everyone else.
I remember waking up as I was being wheeled into the recovery room, hearing Alex cry and being told in the state I was in that I had a boy. I remember the midwife saying she was going to show Phill how to feed Alex, but reassuring me not to worry and that we could try breastfeeding the next day (we did - see below).
First photo with Daddy
In the months since, I've been angry, sad, disappointed and grateful all at once. I kept myself so fit and healthy during my pregnancy that the chances of that happening never entered my head. Even though my mother had an emergency GA section with me. I know we are told to prepare for anything, but that just didn't enter my head. I was angry at my body, but then I remembered my body is strong and in the end refused to go anywhere. Since then my body has fed my child for 10 months, even though when I had the section I was scared that I wouldn't be able to try. Thank the lord for Enfys, the ward sister on Labour at Singleton who helped us start our breastfeeding journey the following morning, breastfeeding midwife Christine and the support groups in Neath and at Swansea Uni that I attended.
My scar is a constant reminder that I can fight my way through anything. I am strong. I am healthy. I am fit. I am loved. I give love (too much sometimes). It's ok to be angry that it didn't go as planned and that neither of us got to experience Alex's entrance to the world. Because we get to experience so much more over his lifetime because of that section, which brought him into the world safely and the amazing doctors who saved my life. At a time when we all are amazed at the NHS (for future reference, I write this at the time of the Coronavirus pandemic), I can say they have always played a huge role in my life. Getting me born safely, saving my mother's life, bringing my baby into the world and saving my life.
While I'm writing this, I'm thinking of everyone I've spoken to since Alex was born who has told me I'll change my mind about wanting another. I'm not saying I don't feel guilty about not wanting to give him a sibling. But I couldn't go through another pregnancy worrying that I might lose my life again. So I hope everyone can now understand when I say he will be my one and only. I can't risk him not having me and Phill not having me.
Maybe one day adoption will be on the cards (but not at this particular moment with a crazy busy 10 month old), but right now I just want to concentrate on Alex, Phill and our little family of 3. That's enough for me right now.
#cesareanawarenessmonth #csectionmum #csection #csectionbaby #babyboy #10monthsold #southwalesmum #mummydiaries #mybeautifulboy #mybirthjourney
First family photo. I look the best I ever have. haha.