As Lydia’s first birthday draws closer, I find myself thinking back to the day she was born, and acknowledging the terror and confusion of those moments after it all started to go wrong after her birth, in a way that I don’t think I have done before.
In the days and weeks after Lydia was born, I was too busy concentrating on my newborn baby than to bother thinking about what happened to me after her birth. Other than to make sure I was taking my iron tablets and not overdoing it, I was just happy that I narrowly escaped blood transfusions; other than that the memories and associated emotions were pushed aside. Not forgotten, just diminished and disregarded.
I read historical romances where the heroine is almost lost to severe bleeding after their babies are born, or one of the characters’ mothers “died in childbirth,” and I know that so many women used to die in the period these are set, from the “complication” that caused my baby to be whisked from my arms and a dozen people to appear in the room. They performed the procedures required to stop the bleeding like a well rehearsed dance, each person knowing exactly what they needed to do to keep me alive.
When I remember my daughter’s birth day, I remember the frantic activity the most. The horrifying feeling of my baby being taken quickly from me mere seconds after we decided on her name, and the terror of losing sight of her and James as the room filled with people.
Only after remembering this do I recall the moment she was first put into my arms; even if her initial cuddle with me was brief, it was a truly magical moment. I held my baby girl and I knew she was my little Lydia. I fell in love, again.
Then I can remember the calming of the storm, the gentle decline in the number of people in the room until just a few remained, making encouraging noises about how the blood had “hopefully” stopped, for now at least.
I remember… Looking down on myself, covered in blood and deathly pale. A first feed with Lydia and watching James cuddle her before she fell asleep and he was sent home. The bed bath with the friendly orderlies who made me laugh even when I vomited on them half way through.
Being moved to the ward with all my drips and tubes, and being far too weak to get on the bed on my own, and finding just moving around incredibly difficult. Spending the night being so very ill and finding it so hard just to get to the bathroom constantly. Trying to feed my baby with cannulas in both hands and tubes all over the place getting tangled. It was a very long night!
In comparison, the hours before Lydia arrived are a blur. The night was difficult and the morning was worse, with an induction drip and gas & air to ease the pain making my memories foggy and confused.
I do remember the vivid blue eyes of the young nurse, whose sole job during the scary chaos after Lydia was born, was to sit by my head and talk to me. Keeping me calm and telling me everything that was going on, even though I was too bewildered to understand. She helped me with gas & air when I needed it, and told me my baby was safe. I was so happy every time she said “your baby is fine,” and looked into my eyes with those clear and bright blue ones.
It’s strange, the things you remember.
I couldn’t tell you all the things they did to me to stop that life-threatening bleeding, but I can recall the moment I looked towards a very worried looking James and saw the top of Lydia’s head as he held her, the rest of her body obscured by the equipment between us.
James and I made the decision not long after Lydia was born, that we aren’t going to have any more children. We are happy with two; our family feels complete and I have no wish to have another 9 months of stress about my damned placenta! Thinking back on that day, I am relieved that I won’t have to go through that again. A small part of me wonders how much of the decision is a reaction to the fact that 27th February 2013 was a wonderful day, but also one of the scariest of my life – especially as we know that I’d be a high risk for PPH reoccurrence. It’s no wonder I steer clear of shows like “Call the Midwife” and “One Born Every Minute”!
What I do know is this: I am so thankful to those people who were with us on Lydia’s birth day, and I am incredibly grateful for the NHS. It may be flawed and we should complain about the problems and improve the things that need to get better, but it is brilliant nonetheless. Just brilliant.
And my heart will ache, just a little bit, every time I read a book where “his mother died in childbirth”… even though I know it’s fiction!
Fantastic post Zoe. This almost exactly describes what happened during my PPH too. I also had a wonderful nurse who held my hand and kept me calm while the team worked to stop my bleeding and I remember looking over at my partner and our daughter too,although, apparently I kept saying ‘sorry’, not sure why!
It was quite an emotional read for me. I still don’t have a clear idea of what happened, or why. and it’s enlightening to read someone else’s account.
Thanks for your comment Pippa, it’s nice to know that there are others out there with very similar experiences as yourself!
I know what you mean about not having a clear idea of what happened or why, a lot of it seems like a blur still and I don’t think they really knew what caused it. xxx
I had pph for my first one. It is always so scary.
You have a beautiful family and two children are prefect!
It is a scary thing to go through – I think partly as you don’t really know or understand what has gone wrong.
Thank you… my two girls make me smile every day 🙂
I’ve been blessed with 5 very straightforward births and I know I’m the lucky one. When I was 12 (30 years ago) a neighbour who helped her husband run the greengrocers died in childbirth from PPH and it broke my heart every time I saw him. He was a broken man for such a very long time. He stayed for a while and when his daughter was a toddler he moved on, I often wonder even now what happened to him.
No-one remembers every second of the birth, your brain resets so much of it, otherwise no-one would do it again. Being there afterwards is what’s important x
I am envious of your straightforward births! Both of my labours were long and had their issues.
What a sad story about your neighbour… it must be awful for a baby to grow up never knowing their mother – and probably feeling guilty that it was their birth that killed her.
I think it’s probably true that people wouldn’t do it again if you remembered everything with perfect clarity! To be fair, half my haziness is probably down to the gas & air – I wasn’t exactly timid with it. 🙂
What a traumatic birth. I had a life threatening haemorrhage when I miscarried a few months ago, never been more scared in my entire life. It makes you see things differently when you’ve been through something like that x
Absolutely, when you think about it you realise how lucky you are to have survived it. If I had been having a home birth I always think it could have been so much worse, for example. Thanks so much for commenting x
It is very scary when things don’t go to plan. Obv you know what happened with Ali’s birth (very much not to plan!) but roo’s was scary too. Even though it was a planned section, all the complications before hand then passing out whilst they tried to get a cannula in place, the 3failed spinal attempts meant I was very ill when they finally cut me open. They never told me what, but something went wrong with me after he was out, there was no offer to cut the chord, just baby thrust in Chris’s hands and then the nurse at my head keeping an eye on me as I was starting to pass out. I think I had a large loss of blood too as I kind of remember alot of hushed shouting asking for ‘packing’ and the one time I saw my notes there was a note about ‘significant bleed’ but they didn’t tell me anything.
After months of therapy it’s made me realise how strong I am for coming through these birth traumas. It’s still scary if I read about it, so I totally get where you’re coming from there, but think about how amazing and resilient you are for surviving that (both physically and mentally) xxx
The things we go through to have our babies! Thank you for commenting x
I had two traumatic births and my boys are not nearly 9 and 7 and I love CTM and OBEM now. I couldnt have watched them for a long time after through.
I used to enjoy OBEM and I expect I will do again in the future… it all happened less than a year ago, and that really isn’t that long ago I think. Thank you for commenting x
Oh I welled up reading that. Tears in my eyes for you. I had two textbook pregnancies, two amazing homebirths and no complications. Little Man and I had to be transferred to hospital an hour after his birth as his breathing wasn’t perfect but other than that everything was fine. I cannot imagine going through what you went through and I can completely understand you not wanting to go through it again.
I hope in time that Lydia’s Birthday will be about her birth for you rather than the aftermath. Sending love x
How wonderful for you two have such lovely birth experiences, I must admit I am envious! I love my two girls but getting them out was difficult in both cases.
I think on Lydia’s birthday I will be only thinking of her – writing all this at the start of the week definitely helped me to process it and then put it away, if that makes sense. Thank you so much for your comment xx
Wonderful post, reading it gave me the shivers. I’m just so glad things turned out so well for you, thank goodness for modern medicine eh? #mbpw xx