In my last post I had forgotten to mention a few things, please forgive me, these things become a bit of a blur! Not only had I had the worst flu I have ever known, but 24 hrs before I went into labour, I had been in A&E. Turned out that I had pulled a muscle between my ribs – but the pain was horrendous. I went to A&E when I got to a point that I couldn’t breath. The pain was so bad, I ended up stood in our kitchen, unable to move a muscle. I was on my own, in masses of pain and scared. I didn’t know what it was, it didn’t feel like pulled muscles normally feel. I then started hyperventilating and panic spread. Mr R was asleep upstairs, following a night shift. Thank goodness he sensed something was wrong, he heard me and came down. We spent the day in A&E, which is why he hadn’t slept when I did go into labour the following night. I had been rushed in as they suspected a pulminary embolism, luckily that wasn’t the case.
Then during my operation, my bladder had to be removed, because of scarring. Well, not actually removed, just taken out of me. They had to remove as much scar tissue as possible and then they ordered a bottle of baby milk, held my bladder in the air and put the milk into it. They wanted to watch my bladder working and make sure there were no holes! That part isn’t needed in the story really, but I thought the medical staff, among you, may like that – it was rather amazing! (MedicJP1)
I was wheeled into the recovery room. I felt OK, considering! Mr R had waited with our baby, for me to return. Then we decided to put some clothing on him. I watched Mr R, filled with pride, begin to dress our little boy. As men do, he held up each item to check ‘it matched’ and was the ‘right’ one. Once he got the nod from me he began. I looked over and had a strange moment. During labour, we had both agreed on a name for him. The name had been bugging me throughout the whole pregnancy, I didn’t want my baby to have no name for the first few days, yet we couldn’t decide on one. Well we did, I don’t know what I was thinking, but we settled on the name ‘Bertie’ (Mr R just agreed with anything to keep me smiling, I think!) When baby was pulled out, they asked his name so that they could write it on his hospital band. I had said I wasn’t sure and could we wait a bit…
Mr R lifted our little boy up, he was naked and perfectly formed. I saw his little pink body in full, and my eyes transfixed on his face. His little face just said something to me, and I thought…’he looks like a Mini Rural’ (Not a Bertie – Name has, obviously been changed here for privacy purposes) I also noticed that he was calm, quiet and peaceful.
He was dressed in his little blue and white, striped, Mickey Mouse baby grow. He looked gorgeous and was passed over to me. I asked the midwives why he was so quiet. They told me he was a ‘good boy’ and we continued to coo over him. A few minutes later I said to Mr R that something didn’t feel right. I asked for some milk as I wanted to feed him. I told the midwives again that he was too quiet, something was wrong, he was getting sleepier and sleepier. As someone was sent to get some milk, a lightbulb suddenly lit in my mind.
“It’s the Gestational Diabetes, nobody has checked him for it, he’s not right, help my baby quick!”
He laid in my arms, not moving, not crying and not opening his eyes. He was breathing and warm but I knew he wasn’t OK. Staff now seemed worried too and, finally, checked his blood sugar levels. (They should have done this as soon as he was born, but it had been missed and I had reminded them). His level was 0.5 – it was dangerously low.
We tried to get him to feed, but he didn’t respond at all, we couldn’t wake him and I knew what needed to be done. They took him, swiftly, down to the special baby care unit. I told them to do it fast, I knew he needed to go there…and then I was left alone, in a recovery room. Nobody around and my baby was gone…I was scared.
It took about 15 minutes before anyone came back in, whilst that doesn’t sound long, trust me – it was! Every second was long and I suddenly felt so, so ill again. I could no longer sit up and talk as I had been doing, I felt awful and I missed my baby, I needed to be with him.
I wanted nothing more than Mr R to come and comfort me and tell me what was happening, but I had told him to go with our son, Mini needed us and I couldn’t be there. Staff told me to sleep, I hadn’t slept more than an hour a night for about a week. I had been awake for about 28hrs, was poorly and had just had major surgery. I tried to rest, I really did. I knew Mini was in the right place and that his Daddy wouldn’t let any harm come to him, but I just couldn’t. I was getting upset, as I knew my body couldn’t take much more, then somehow I drifted off…just for 15 minutes or so.
I woke to find a picture in front of me. I looked at the picture and cried. Staff had taken a picture of Mini for me and bought it up so that I felt nearer to him. He had a tube through his nose so that he could be fed. I know it was just a feeding tube, but the image was so upsetting to me. It just reminded me of really poorly babies that you see on TV, I cried and demanded to be taken to my baby. I needed to see him, I longed to be with him. Staff wouldn’t let me go down yet, I still needed to be monitored in recovery as I hadn’t settled yet. I couldn’t get up and walk, it was impossible for me to do so. I told them I wanted a wheelchair…in the end they said they would bring one up soon…..To be continued.