One!

My dearling Harland. 

I remember your birth like it was yesterday.


They called your daddy into the hospital as it was time to meet you. You decided you didn’t want to be inside anymore and made it known. A little early, but you couldn’t wait. The twisting and turning was horrible, but it was time. 

My doctors and specialists and  anesthetists gathered and made the decision to bring you into the world, kicking and screaming. I think I did most of the screaming. You didn’t. You needed a lot of help to get going. We could have lost you…glad we didn’t. 

You were so so tiny. 

You were safe under the watchful eye of your daddy while the team worked on me.  Trying to stop things that were bleeding, trying not to damage anymore organs, calling out for the on call team to come and fix the mess created when you entered the world. 


But no matter how much blood I lost, or holes in organs that were created, I made it through to be with you. 

The first day I only had your photo. I wanted to reach out and touch you so much. You looked so snugly wrapped up. Daddy had the cuddles while I couldn’t. It broke my heart not being there for you. Only a floor away but it felt like miles.  

The first time I met you I cried. You were such a little thing. I was so weak there wasn’t much I could do for you except hold you. Someone else was feeding you. Changing you. Talking to you. It wasn’t fair. 

Over the next week and a bit I gained some strength and made sure I was there more.  A few ups and plenty of downs but nothing was keeping me from you. You got more and more of my milk. I pumped like a mother. You needed me so I pushed on. 

Leaving hospital when you were just 13 days old was extraordinary. It felt like a jail break. I just wanted to be home with my family. 

We had a few crazy weeks with me healing and many hospital visits. But we got there and finally everyone was well. 

I have loved you before I met you. You have been an amazing addition to my life. Your brothers love you. Your daddy loves you. You have your moments but I couldn’t imagine life without you. 

Happy first birthday Harland. Keep amazing us. 

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Day 3: hit by a bus

Then times that by about 68. That’s how I feel right now. 

What a fucking nightmare the last week has been. A roller coaster for sure, but scarier than you’ve even been on. 

It all went pear shaped on Saturday night. I’d been having small bleeds on and off since Tuesday but Saturday they decided to take me back upstairs for monitoring. Lucky they did. 

Around 10.30 (I think-things are quite groggy still) I sat up and started bleeding like a horror film. Covered the bed, the floor and it just wasn’t stopping. My husband was called in and we were told one more bleed it would all be done and surgery would happen. 

I didn’t bleed again but I started getting hot and sweaty and blacking out and vommitty. Signs things weren’t going well. The doctor made the right decision to call time for surgery. 

Of course I lost my mind. Baby is too small, I was totally not ready, but it had to be done. 

They worked amazingly fast to get me prepped. Once I was wheeled to theatre they had to get more cannulas in. Bigger ones. One thing I’ve learnt being in hospital is my veins don’t work. I was already up to 4 cannulas with 8 attempts in 5 days. After me screaming in pain the head lady kicked everyone out of the way and got a needle in. Said the rest can be done later. I’ve since counted 25 holes in my arms.  Not including my central line in my neck. 

the damage done to my arm during surgey. getting blacker by the day.

 Then the next thing I knew I was crying and being put to sleep. 

Waking up with a tube and oxygen is scary. My neck is still sore from it. I spent the first day in icu. It’s all a blur but I remember having the physio telling me to breathe deep and cough. Don’t know what that was about. I couldn’t see straight let alone cough! But that’s about it. My mum and husband were there and rightfully worried. 

I lost 5 litres of blood during the operation. That’s really all you have! So my blood belongs to others and for that I am eternally grateful. As the doctor said ‘you’re lucky to be alive.’ Pretty terrifying to hear that. 

When they got to my cervix to remove it, I was dilating and at 3cm. So the need for surgery was right. They couldn’t wait. It could have gone even more wrong!! I thank the doctors on that night for making the choice and being on the ball. 

They performed a hysterectomy, which we knew would happen, and I’m ok for now about it, but once they started removing my uterus my bladder was damaged along with my ureters. They have been repaired for now but who knows the on going issues I’ll face. 

Baby wasn’t breathing due to me being under general anathestic. But they got him going after 12 minutes apparently. But his oxygen levels were always good so there shouldn’t be issues. 

He’s doing great. I think he’s so tiny but my other boys have weighed over 4kg and this little guy is only 2.68kg. So a good deal less. But real baby size. I’m happy I make big baby’s. He came at 34.2 weeks so he’s got a bit of growing to do. He’s sleeping and eating and popping and I don’t have to do any of it. I’ve only had 3 cuddles so far as we are still trying to work out pain management. I am not tolerating the medications so it’s all a balancing act right now. 

Getting up and moving has been a huge struggle. I’m currently in a chair but feel like I could just fall on my face any moment. It’s a horrible feeling to be so out of control. But to get me better, to start breastfeeding and to get us home I’ve got to move. 

This won’t defeat me, I’m stubborn and this is just the next chapter in this insanely weird time of my life.  

 

Week 32: the count down is on

I’ve always had the belief that babies should a) be pushed out and b) choose their own birthday.

Being an almost third time c section mamma, I know this is not always possible and things don’t go to plan. Fuck, zero of my births have gone anywhere near the plans I wanted. It makes me wonder why I even bothered with the “birth plan” I was told to write. 
When Marshal was born and I started getting sick, I remember feeling pretty shitty that this wasn’t in the plan. I was supposed to push baby out and walk out and take him home. A lovely bitchy midwife snapped at me “well what does this tell you? Don’t plan!” She was the same midwife who was there for my first breastfeeding experience. 5 years on I still want to punch her. 

So today when I was given the delivery/operation date, I actually had no idea how to feel about it. Both my boys have come when they wanted. Yes, Marshal was late and Maverick came early, but they were ready. Yes, both ended in c sections, but it was when they were ready. 

I’m glad there is a final date set and I can now plan and count down the days. But it just feels weird/odd to have your babies birth date chosen. They get to chose nothing else. Their name is given, how they are fed is decided for them, the day they come into this world should be up to them. 

And I know there are circumstances that need medical intervention, like accreta, previa and more and yes, I am thankful for modern medicine otherwise I wouldn’t be here to have my third baby. But it doesn’t change my beliefs. 

It’s been hard enough coming to terms with never having a natural birth, and I still get upset about it. I’m still allowed to have beliefs about how I think things should go, no one can change that. It might seem hypocritical to think one thing and have gone through a totally different situation, but mine wasn’t by choice. I have never tried harder at anything than I did to get those baby’s out. 

I guess this time the plan is simple. Get baby out and don’t die. I’m sure the rest will fall into place on its own. 

I’m actually glad that I NEVER ever have to go through anything like this again. No more ‘oh no’s’. My beliefs can stay with me, and I never have to plan another birth again. 

Jealousy is a curse

disclaimer: in no way is this meant to make anyone feel horrible, or guilty. Especially my friends who read this and have pushed out a baby. This is purely how I feel and I had to think a heap about posting it. I’ve been wanting to cry all afternoon with these thoughts. So here goes.

Today a friend had a baby. Well, very early this morning. Her 3rd. And I can not be happier for her and her family. Her 2 boys are my 2 boys age and they all get along so well, I can’t wait to meet the new addition and give cuddles. A baby always bring joy to a family. I wish them many nights of sleep…if they get it!

But it got me thinking at 2.30 this afternoon. She was probably home already, no medical issues, already settling in. 

Then I felt sad. For me. I’ve never had that. My births have been shit. Both of them and number 3 is gearing up to be a cracker. Going out with a bang. (Will explain surgery details next year when it’s all confirmed.)

After Marshal’s birth went horribly wrong, I blamed my body and my mind for letting me down. After the failed VBAC for Maverick’s birth, I again blamed myself for failing, not trying hard enough. Not being woman enough to push out a baby. Cursing my body. And now with this one, I am yet again feeling like I’ve let myself down. Let my baby down. 

I’m never going to experience birthing a baby. It’s a fact. Not going to be able to give it another go to get it right. I’d hope for third time lucky. Maybe I’m just not made to birth babies how they should be birthed. I was told that 50 years ago, I would not have survived childbirth. Not something a high risk complicated pregnant mother wants to hear. Truth hurts….

So today I felt jealous of my friend. Jealous that she pushed out her third, jealous that she walked out of the hospital hours afterward, jealous that she gets to sleep in her own bed, in her own home and not have to stay in hospital for days and weeks. 

Women keep telling me that birth is overrated. That it sucks. Why would I ever want to do it? C sections are easy, you don’t need to do anything. 

But why can’t I find that out for myself? Please stop telling c section mums that it’s overrated. It actually hurts deep down inside that I will never get to find it out. That my womanly rights are medically taken away. 

And c sections are not easy. Yes please, cut me open and hope I don’t bleed to death….sounds so delightful!

Last week at my scan and check up, I asked how long the recovery would be. The doctor joked and said “well, you won’t be going home on day 3.” I’ve NEVER gone home on day 3. I didn’t get the joke. I actually almost burst into tears. 

Let’s hope they can get me home in under 20 days. I’d be happy with that…

It’s complicated!

I’m now being referred to as complicated and high risk. Not words you want to hear from medical professionals. Maybe from puzzle experts or bungee jumpers. NOT medical experts.

But we have hit week 15. Normally the “safe” zone. The time you shout the joy from the roof tops. And with the other pregnancies I did. I loved sharing with people we were expecting. Friends were excited too.

This time it just seems like a chore. A huge effort to even feel happy about it, knowing everything could go pear shaped tomorrow. Being scared out of my brain at every niggle, every ache and pain. Not knowing what will happen. Thinking my uterus will just fall out when I get up in the morning. I KNOW that won’t happen. But the thoughts are there.

It’s pretty scary.

I’ve managed to find an online support group with women from over the world who are dealing with accreta, or have been there, done that and kicked it’s stupid arse and survived. These are amazing women, strong, determined and brave. Ever so brave. It gives me hope that I can fight this monster and live to tell the tale.

Women need to be more aware of it. Until 2 weeks ago, I’d never heard of accreta. And I bet most of you didn’t either. It’s rare, but it’s a threat to women all over the world. And its more of a risk to women with c sections. Why don’t the doctors warn you? Why are they pushing women to have so many unnecessary c sections? With the rate sky rocketing, no one tells you this is a possibility for future pregnancies. That you can potentially put your life at risk. I know every pregnancy is risky anyway, but women need to be made aware of these issues that can arise.

My advice, if there is a healthy pregnancy, push that baby out. Shit in front of your husband. Leave your dignity at the door. Don’t opt for the “easy” option. It’s not easier, it’s major surgery, it’s horrible and unnatural, it’s harder. You can’t pick up your baby after birth, you’ve waited 9 months to cuddle them, have them straight away. Enjoy them straight away. Why wait because you are too scare to push it out. Labour sucks the big ones, but it’s not called labour because it is easy.

And I hope my aunt isn’t reading this as I’m still yet to tell her. Wish there was an easy option for that…

My heart is breaking

Today I wanted to share something happy with you all.

We are 13 weeks pregnant!!

Before you all jump up and say “yay congrats” or “how exciting” or “3 kids are you insane?” I want to stop you. It’s not all good news.

We had our NT scan this morning and the results are not good. Worse than not good. Bad, horrible…heartbreaking. Baby seems fine, apart from a higher NT result everything seems good. We saw it’s little heart beating, its little legs kicking, it rolled and mooned us. Happy times.

Then we got the results. I’ve been diagnosed with Placenta Praevia Stage 4 and Placenta Percreta. Yeah, I hadn’t heard of them either. Glad the doctor wrote them down. For all us dummies out there it’s pretty much this:

Placenta Praevia – the placenta stays in the lower portion (part) of the womb, and either partially or completely covers the cervix (neck of the womb). This is known as placenta praevia. Grade 4 – (major) the placenta completely covers the cervix (most serious type of placenta praevia). I had it with Mavericks pregnancy but my placenta shifted during the pregnancy.

Placenta accreta occurs when all or part of the placenta attaches abnormally to the myometrium  (the muscular layer of the uterine wall).

  • Percreta — chorionic villi invade through the myometrium.

Meaning my placenta has broken/is breaking through my uterus wall which is not good. And there is no exit hole for baby to escape! This could be due to having 2 c sections and getting an infection which didn’t help with healing. But it’s all guesses at the moment. I’m sure they won’t be able to find a cause, except it happens.

Which basically means I’ve now got to go get more tests to see how bad it really is and what can be done, if anything to save the pregnancy.

But I’ve cried, a lot already. First stage of grieving I guess.

I was really hoping everything was fine, but we never really know. Modern medicine is amazing and this has been picked up early. Let’s hope it’s all going to be okay, and the outcome will be “mum’s doing fine.”

I’d even made a cute announcement photo. Now no one will see it.

And I’ve really got to stop googling these things…makes it 1000 times worse.