The Six Days of Isaac - Day 3. 27th July 2012

My darling boy,

So, here is the story of your birth. It's the one blog I've been dreading because it was a day of the most amazing highs, and the most terrifying lows.  It started out as a good day though.

I woke up early on Friday 27th July 2012. Your Daddy had taken the day off work and we were going for your last scan before you were due to be born a week later. We had planned to go out for lunch after to 'Giraffe' restaurant. They did a mean hot dog, which I had been craving all week! It's funny, as I remember thinking you hadn't moved very much that morning and I had a slight pain in my stomach. I presumed it was wind, one of the many delights of pregnancy!  I wasn't worried though. I knew in a few hours we were having a scan, and the day before I had a midwife appointment where we had listened to your perfect heartbeat together. I wasn't concerned in the slightest.

So, off to the hospital we went. The scan was fine, if a little uncomfortable. The pains were a little worse, but the sonographer said everything was fine. Daddy said that the next time we saw you, you would be in our arms. We didn't know then we'd be meeting you sooner than we thought.

We left the scan room and proceeded to walk through the anti natal area. Thoughts of the hot dog filled my mind!  I'm not greedy, honestly I'm not!  It's just that the last few years I had been surviving on 1000 calories a day just to keep my weight down whilst we were going through the IVF treatment. The novelty of eating 'normally' was one of things I enjoyed about being pregnant! Thoughts of that hot dog quickly evaporated in to nothing when I felt what I can only describe as a ‘gush’

I was convinced it was my waters breaking. I quickly hurried to the toilets in the hospital. Before I made it though there was another gush. I realised then it was blood. I knew this wasn't normal and went straight to the labour triage unit. By the time we got there my legs were covered in blood.  I was scared and my pulse confirmed that!  Even though my blood pressure was fine, my pulse was racing. The midwives hooked me to a fetal heart monitor, and Daddy and I knew something wasn't right.  Your heartbeat was much lower. I was seen by a doctor who suspected it was a Placenta Abruption. If only we knew what that was then!  If we knew what it was we would have demanded action sooner. However, no one seemed that concerned that I was bleeding so much. Actually, let’s be honest, I was haemorrhaging. But why should we panic if the experts weren't? 

However, there was a major reason to panic. As your heartbeat dropped it meant you were running out of oxygen. An hour later I was moved to the labour ward. The doctors explained that you needed to come today and that it wasn’t urgent enough to do a c-section so they tried to break my waters.  Now I wish I had walked myself to that operating theatre and demanded they do the c-section there and then.  But I didn’t. I didn’t realise that was what they should have done. The doctor’s sense of urgency was minimal and I was just annoyed about being in pain! This selfish thought is one that still haunts me today. However, a few seconds after they broke my waters all pandemonium broke loose.

I was thrust a consent form to sign for a c-section.  I was wheeled quickly to the theatre while Daddy chased behind.  My clothes were being ripped off me and I had no idea how things had so suddenly progressed to this!  Daddy was screaming ‘what’s happened?’, while I was trying to fight back the tears.  The answer we got was that your heartbeat had dramatically dropped and they must operate now!  I heard the anaesthetist ask if there was time to do a spinal block.  “No time” was the answer given by someone.  I was told I would be put under general and everything would be okay.  I heard Daddy ask if he could give me a kiss but they said no and threw him out.  Daddy understood why, but I had no idea at the time.  You had no heartbeat my darling.  They had left you for too long inside me.  1 hour and 50 minutes to be precise.  They had all that time to save you before it had come to this, but they didn’t.  The last thing I remember was my hand being held by a kindly male midwife, and then nothing.

When I woke up, I was hooked up to all sorts of machines.  I had a group of consultants around me crying.  Daddy wasn’t there and neither were you.  I was confused, in pain and completely terrified.  I asked where you were.  The looks on the faces of the consultants gave me my answer.  You were dead.  I was sure of it.  They didn’t say anything for what seemed like ages.  Again I asked, crying now.  Too scared to ask if you hadn’t survived, I asked where you were, again.  They explained I had had a Placenta Abruption.  You had been born still but were resuscitated.  They had given up trying to find a heartbeat after 19 minutes, and were going to ‘call it’ and did their final check.  They heard a very faint heartbeat at that point and then started work on you again, this time to keep it going.  They had taken you to NICU and Daddy was with you.  Stunned, I asked them what I had done wrong.  Why had this happened to you?  They tried to reassure me that I had done nothing and that ‘these things happen’.  These things happen?!  Why?  To us?  Why?!  No answer was given.  Then Daddy was by my side and I asked again what had happened.  Daddy was in tears but gently explained in some more detail that you were here, you were a boy, but you were very poorly. I can’t believe I didn’t even know you were a boy until then! You were unable to breath for yourself and had begun to fit due to abnormal brain activity.  You had suffered brain damage because of a lack of oxygen.  This had happened because the placenta, your oxygen and food supply, had come away from me while you were still inside.  I didn’t understand what that meant.  I made Daddy tell me that it meant you may not survive.  He looked crushed as he said those words.  My darling Isaac, I cannot even remember what I said in response.  I couldn’t tell you how I felt at that point.  The world just seemed to shatter and I was beside myself.  I wanted to see you straight away, but I was too poorly and in a high dependency unit.  Apparently I lost a lot of blood, and at one point blood wasn’t being pumped around my body properly and my blood pressure had gone in to crisis.  Daddy told me there were around 40 people in the theatre when they eventually let him in to see you.  There was a wall of doctors and nurses around me while they worked on me, and a wall around you while they tried to make your heartbeat stable.  I just couldn’t understand.  It seemed only minutes ago you were still inside me and I was being told everything would be fine!  Now we were here, in the darkest of places imaginable.  The Paediatrician came in and suggested I should be taken to see you ‘just in case’.  It would be easier to move me than Isaac.  I do remember crying “what does that mean?”, and I was told to “prepare myself for the worst”.  God forgive me, but at that point I didn’t want to go.  I couldn’t face seeing you if you weren’t going to live.  I couldn’t bear to let you see me - the woman who had done this terrible thing to you; the woman who is meant to be your mother but hadn’t taken care of you properly.  Daddy convinced me to go, and I was wheeled in to the NICU.  I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

 Yes, you were fitting and were hooked up to more machines than I had ever thought humanly possible, but I saw past that easily.  There you were, my beautiful blond haired little boy.  You were perfect, tiny, and precious.  I couldn’t believe Daddy and I had made someone so very beautiful.  They let me touch your hand and your skin was softer than anything I had ever felt before.  I sat mesmerised but your sheer beauty, and fell in love with you right there and then.  Nothing was important apart from you now.  Nothing would ever be as important as you.  Darren asked if we should call you ‘Isaac’, the name we had decided on if you were a boy.  It seemed the right thing to do, and that was your name.  It couldn’t be anything else other than Isaac.  It suited you from the moment we decided on it – a strong name for our miracle boy.  Years ago, my close friend Rachel was expecting a baby.  We talked about names, and I said I liked the name Isaac.  I made her promise she wouldn’t use it.  It’s funny how that thought came in to my head at that moment, but I understand why now.  Rachel passed away a few years ago, and the thought of potentially loosing you made me think of how it felt to lose such a good friend at an untimely manner.  I prayed that you wouldn’t be meeting Rachel anytime soon.  Now you’re not with us, I take some comfort in knowing a good friend up above is taking care of you.  Still, at that point Isaac, I was refusing to believe you would be joining her.

They then made me leave you just a few minutes after seeing you for the first time, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again.  I wouldn’t say a ‘proper goodbye’ though, as I was determined that we would meet again soon.  You were going to be transferred to St.Thomas’ NICU unit as they had a special treatment called ‘Brain Cooling’ which could help to minimise brain damage.  I convinced myself it would work and that in no time at all I could be a proper mum and make it up to you.  Daddy had to leave me and go with you.  I was so glad Daddy would be with you to make sure you were okay.  There is no other person I could have trusted to take care of you.  And then you were gone.  I was alone in my room, without you or Daddy.

What happened when you got to St.Thomas’ is unfortunately not something I can tell you, but I know from what Daddy said you were well taken care of.  They put you in to your brain cooling suit, which we nicknamed your ‘spacesuit’, and they make sure you were no longer in any pain and stabilised your fits.  Daddy rang me every hour to update me, and that was the first of many nights neither of us slept.  Even though I couldn’t be with you, and I knew Daddy was taking such good care of you and he promised me he would tell you all about your Mummy too.

I was due to be transferred to St.Thomas’ to join you, but the hospital made a number of mistakes which meant I couldn’t be with you till the early hours of Sunday morning.  After a multitude of arguments, and eventually threatening to discharge myself, bossy Mummy got her way and I was by your side as soon as I got there.

I may not be literally by your side right now, but I know one day I will be.  Until then, know you are the first thing I think about every morning and the last thing every night, not to mention all the minutes in between that!  You came in to this world in such a dramatic fashion, and certainly in a way that we never wanted to happen.  But not one moment would we ever change meeting you as that was the day I realised what it truly meant to love with every being of my body and soul.

Love always,
Mummy.  XxX