12 weeks.

It's hard to believe just 12 weeks have passed.
That's the length of one trimester.
The first 2 months were the longest, but this last month has passed at almost a normal speed.
Things are starting to feel almost normal again.

I miss him every single day, not a day goes by where he isn't on my mind and I have days where my grief overwhelms me.

I don't feel guilty for being happy. I promised A I would allow myself to. I think if I didn't make all these promises to him, I would.
Maybe.

I can look forward to things again.
I can see his stuff and not feel that wave come towards me.
I can hear my 3YO say "he's in the box not in your belly" and not feel sad anger that he says that about his baby brother instead of laughing at him giggle.

A would be giggling now, maybe even rolling over. He would be a chunky baby, fat rolls all over.
He would be nursing often, spending the days nestled in my arms or a sling.
He would be snuggled up to me in bed, keeping me warm and I would be tired, desperate for sleep.
We would be just coming out of the 4th trimester...

Except he isn't. He never will. Wrapping my head around that took time.

I still hate it though.

Maybe I will get a rainbow to go through these things with, maybe just to quieten the voice in my head that keeps reminding me of what I am missing.

Thoughts. Grief. Adjusting to a new life.

I wont bother editing. I know this is all over the place but, so are my thoughts. Just bear with me.

He would be 24 days old. These last few weeks have felt like years.
Grief is very individual, I knew that, but living it is something so different.

At first I was just numb, I could speak about what happened and barely tear up. Like I was no more than an observer in someone else's tragic life.
The first shopping trip to our local supermarket, was ok. Nobody we knew saw us.
Second trip, they did.

I feel like I am drowning in sadness sometimes, other times I feel anger, and other times I just need to look at photos over and over and over.

It took about two weeks after his death to process it, to the point where the numbness was going away and every mention or sign of him would set me off. Today I am in-between deep aching sadness and frustration. I keep having these horrendous dreams where A would come back to life... they are so cruel. I wake up crying most mornings now. I didn't dream for a while at first, and the first one I did have A came back to life and I took him home. I am so angry that not only did I have that dream, but it was what seemed to wake me from the numbness so that I began to feel it all.

Our local fruit and veg family, a family we have essentially become a part of due to how long we have known them. They were so broken, they didn't know what to say, nobody knows what to say. As soon as I looked at them, I started tearing up so I got a big hug.

Then it was the pharmacy, I hadn't even told anyone so I assume someone's big mouth not only announced MY news of my baby's birth, but death as well. One of the ladies (again, we know them well, we have been coming to this particular place for 9 years now) just put her hand on mine, she asked if I was ok. I've began just nodding, or being honest and saying no. I just couldn't look in her eyes.

Our pharmacist could barely look me in the eyes, he could barely speak. The sadness was written all over his face. He's a father too, so I hope he went home and held his kids tight....

It was such an awkward experience, I absolutely hate crying in front of people.

At school pick up, the first time I went (first day back, I wasn't going to make my partner face everything alone) one of our mum friends had the biggest smile on her face as she walked up to me, only for her face to fall and say no, no?, no! over and over, before giving me a long hug. She said she was expecting to see a baby, some good news, of course there was anything but. I was pregnant and still waiting for labour the last time we spoke. We never got to bring our baby home, as a baby. She's heartbroken, only a couple of weeks ago she announced her pregnancy. I showed her a photo of A, my beautiful little baby and she said he was beautiful. I am so eternally grateful for heartfelt, without these photos, I would only have either a couple of birth ones or ones where he was covered in tubes and wires, or the ones when his body was just an empty shell.

I prefer to show the nice ones, even though I barely remember him like that. She loved his name too. It feels kind of wrong to say his name, I wish we had told people it before birth so that it doesn't feel like I'm talking about someone else's child.
I never truly felt like his mum, I never got to do the proper mum things like change his nappy or feed him throughout the night. I never got to dress him until he was dead, the most I did do was put his little hat on. So much was stolen from us.

My partner later mentioned seeing two other mums sitting where we usually did, ones we talk to quite often too, look like they'd been punched in the stomach when the other mum approached us and our reaction. They knew, without needing to be told. It will get around the school pretty soon I'm sure.
My 5yo's teacher came across the school yard to tell us she was told what happened, and she was utterly devastated. She was pretty excited for us, and knew bub had a heart defect but like us, expected the first surgery to be months away, not that he wouldn't even live to see the first. She got flowers the next day and sent them home with R. I don't care what the books say, live flowers are nice to receive as a grieving mum, even if they do die. The vivid colours, and having something living to take care of is nice.

Then yesterday, another mum, one I haven't spoken to but I've seen her around school, town and even the hospital, always has the brightest happiest smile. She knew I was pregnant, and I saw her eyes go straight to my belly as she passed us, she processed it for a second and walked away really fast. It was obvious she either realised I don't have a baby anymore or that he's sick still in hospital. You can see the shock, the sadness.

Then at the shops, another lady we saw often had the biggest smile on her face and looked at my belly. Her face fell when I shook my head. She started to tear up and wanted to give me a hug but I shut down. I wanted a hug, but couldn't bring myself to walk to her. She felt so bad, but all I could do was choke out the words 'it's ok'. Another milestone I guess. Can't even talk about my baby, it just hurts too much.

I can't imagine what it must be like so see someone pregnant, and suddenly not; with no baby.
From my perspective, it is not only alienating, but isolating. However, I prefer that than other's doing things they think will help, not knowing that I only see it as them making themselves feel better. I don't need constant visits, or people asking how I am all the time, it's it obvious? My baby died, I will never be ok with that, I will never be ok again.
Counselling is something I have already sought, I have spoken with SANDS. Saying I need counselling to my partner 'out of concern for me due to my history of depression' downright sucks. Do people not realise one of the first things the social worker did when A died was get me folder with information for bereavement, things in general and specific to SA. How to speak to the kids, how to take care of myself, what counselling is available and what to expect when I am ceasing lactation. Nobody is alone with this, and to assume I don't have support I need and want goes to show how much this topic isn't spoken about....
At first, I took everything I accepted all help, I ate food that was brought to me even though I didn't actually want to eat. I even sat down and looked through the bereavement folder after walking away from the hospital that next morning. I sat on my bed and read through how best to talk to the kids about death. I know at least in my grief, I did the right thing and told the kids the right way.
I knew to be honest, and straight to the point.
I sat the kids on the bed, the one I spent the night in with A. The kids tried to look in the cold cot, but we redirected their attention. They had no idea we'd just taken their dead brother to the mortuary just before. I said to them, you know how the baby was sick, that's why we are here. Yesterday he got sicker and his heart stopped working. He died.
My older two immediately broke down already knowing something was up because I could see the dread on their faces. The younger two didn't quite get it, they are too young. My daughter was so upset she could barely breathe.

They are ok now, I see the sadness but we talk about A a lot, and we talk about the things he did, I show them photos and video. We made sure to let them know to talk about their feelings if they want to, and to not hide how sad they are. Not to hold everything in. Our daughter, that first night, broke down again but at first it seemed like she was holding it in. My partner gave her a hug and told her to let it all out, that it is ok to cry so cry she did. She didn't want to be held, she curled up in a ball and cried and eventually fell asleep. I wanted so badly to cuddle her, but I knew I had to let her grieve in her own way. I couldn't handle being touched by others. I got so frustrated with my mum hugging me eventually, I couldn't handle hugging my in-laws when I saw them. I still don't want to be touched by anyone but my partner and kids, and even then, I struggle. I should be cuddling my baby.

Every night since A died, I have slept with his bunny, wrapped in the blanket my mum took when he was still alive knowing I needed something of his to sleep that second night. His smell is virtually gone, and that sucks, but having something of his, is as close to having him with me as I can get. His box of ashes used to be beside the bed, we had him with us when we had a shot of Icelandic vodka a few days after arriving home, having made the promise during pregnancy that we would; when we brought him home. Now he sits on a shelf, surrounded by his foot and hand prints, the letters we were sent from the hospital since coming home. I had the battery operated candles I had on during labour around him. I had more new ones delivered to day, so I've taken the original ones away and will put them somewhere special.
I have the end of the cord that I clamped after cutting him free, it wasn't needed but I still did it. I have been waiting for it to dry like I would have on his belly (had it been there, as his never fell off, he was cremated with his cord tie) it's got some mould starting because it has been wet and cold here the last few days and I am devastated. I don't know how it will be now that has happened. I hope I can prevent it rotting... at the very least.

I am grieving, I am not going on antidepressants for a normal human emotion, I am processing things, I am writing, I am talking. It's not abnormal to want to distance myself right now. I don't want to see anyone, pretend I want guests or even go out for coffee with my best friend. I barely want to talk to people and acting like I SHOULD want to be surrounded by people isn't nice. I just don't. Respecting my space is what I need from people. I had a mum bring food, and that was very much appreciated. I had my mum visit, mostly because I was barely handling the kids because it all hit me the day or so before.

Babies flood my Facebook feed because of my line of work and interests, I used to have a pang of jealousy before I got pregnant, then when I would see happy healthy babies I'd be excited to meet my own, and now it's just feels like a constant kick in the guts. I see all these babies that were born in the weeks before mine, and it kills me. The unfairness. I should have a baby to be snuggling in bed, I shouldn't be dealing with postpartum recovery alone, I am supposed to have a baby, I'm meant to be happy, not grieving. I have avoided social media for long enough that my friends are beginning to notice, going by the message notifications I'm getting but ignoring....

I am angry, I have moments of rage. Why MY baby. This kind of shit isn't meant to happen to people, but it does. Why did they get all the echos so badly wrong? How did they miss the atrial septal defect Why wasn't I warned properly that my baby might die straight after birth when I am sure they knew. I remember a cardiologist saying babies with this condition, without surgery don't live more than a few days, I had no idea at the time he was hinting to my baby's condition. I didn't hear the official diagnosis of Heterotaxy until we had been in Melbourne a few days. I expected my baby to have surgery sooner. Although I know now that this would have happened anyway, the surgery that was planned would not have removed the factor that ultimately took his life.

Why didn't they tell me that although surgery happens, they still don't usually survive. Even though I did research Right Atrial Isomerism at 34ish weeks, it didn't mean I could recall that information. I wish they didn't go around the facts when they sat with me and discussed our options - my partner hadn't even left Adelaide so the decision was on me. My partner trusts me 100% with the health and wellbeing of our children, I know that he would never try to decide, he doesn't have the medical background that I do, and he knows I would always, even if it hurts me, make the right decision for our children. It didn't feel like a burden, and it doesn't now. But I do wish he was with me on that day.

I remember mixing up some of the statistics, and relaying them in a way that we both had more hope than we should have. I still told him he HAD to come sooner than he planned, I can't imagine what I'd be feeling if they weren't in Melbourne that day and I had to say goodbye to my baby alone, never showing his siblings his little face and giving them the chance to touch his little head. I hate the thought that my partner may have only seen his baby boy for a day, never to see him alive again after we left for Melbourne. I am glad A waited, I am glad we got to say goodbye together.

I was going to go through with the surgery if he lived, I wanted my baby to have whatever help was available and if then he didn't live, then he was given every chance. I wasn't going to 'give up' and choose palliative care without a good reason. My baby was stable, happy, receiving milk through his NG and getting regular cuddles. When bub was hypoxic, it felt like he was already dead. He started to go cold from extremely low oxygen levels, his heart was beating above 160bpm, at times as high as the 180sm, the oxygen pumping so fast at 106% with absolutely no effect. The drugs they were giving him, again having no effect. I knew the moment I walked into his room that day, seeing staff everywhere, hearing noises and seeing the sats. I knew my baby was leaving this earth, and as much as I begged him t keep fighting, his little heart was just not working properly. Those pulmonary veins were just too obstructed.

If I knew sooner, that the time I had with him was more precious than I imagined. I would have embraced every second, I would never have left for lunch that day when he began to crash in front of my eyes. I would have spent less time away from him, not that it was much and I truly needed to sleep. I did what I felt I needed to at the time, I thought I needed to care for myself because my baby would need me. The night before I cut our cuddles short because I didn't want to be walking across the park alone, I also needed to be out of those walls, to spend time with my family, having not left he hospital since arriving, except for getting the keys that day.

I knew he wasn't great that morning before I left for lunch. I was noticing he was needing more suctioning, putting the blame on him being moved for cuddles. I thought he would be ok. I was in a delusional place thinking there was no way my baby will die, he will get stabilised with this medication and I'll get another cuddle this afternoon.
I did, but not the way I expected. I didn't know that afternoon, I was going to be holding my baby as he left this earth, I didn't know that night I would be crying and cuddled up to the shell that was my baby's home.

Nobody knows what to say to me now. I feel ostracised.
It feels so wrong to be pregnant, to wait over 40 weeks and then suddenly not be with no baby to show for the 7.5 hours I laboured with him, the 5 days I spent at his bedside.
My body is changing, I am no longer making milk and my tummy is going. Once upon a time this 'snapping back' would have been a blessing, but now it's traumatic. My body is erasing his presence, his existence.
I am still sore from birth, from pregnancy yet it feels wrong. I don't feel like I had a baby so recently, it feels like it has been years. I have to remember I am still postpartum, and it has only been weeks. He wouldn't even be a month old, even with the births that were easier on my body I was still recovering. A's birth was so fast, and I didn't feel like I had a baby until the shock wore off. I feel it all now, and sometimes I am glad. Lochia is stopping, and that's painful emotionally.
Time is almost at a standstill, the hours drag by whereas I know if he was here these moments would be gone in the blink of an eye.

And to top it all off, I am flaring again. As if two hospital admissions during pregnancy wasn't bad enough, and now to deal with extreme physical pain along with my emotional pain.

Yesterday I tried to buy a new bra or two, now that I am no longer lactating, I am back to my pre-kids size. Something I literally have not been since I first got pregnant with my eldest. I walked around the shop, knowing now that I can actually get a cheap bra because I'm not so large to need them specially ordered or from a specific place. I got overwhelmed trying to look. It was just something I couldn't handle. Even looking for shirts. Just being there doing something differently to what I was supposed to be doing was too much. I was meant to be buying more maternity bras, loose shirts, comfy things to cuddle my baby wearing... instead I'm looking for a bra that will make me feel a little better about my new physical shape, and clothes that don't remind me constantly that my baby is gone. I had to leave the shops.
Things are going to take more time than I even dreamed. I know I need clothes, I lost a lot of weight during pregnancy and have next to nothing to wear, but I also hardly care.
I just want to lie in bed, do nothing and cry.
I miss my baby so much...

Baby A.N.C 2/7/18-7/2/18

My baby was born. He is no longer here, he passed away at 5 days old.
I will write everything as it happened, there will be things you may not want to read, especially the death of my baby boy.
It was not the journey I anticipated.
The birth was as good as it could get, but my baby was not well from the very beginning.

The last weeks of pregnancy I was asked a few times about induction, and I listened to my gut instinct to say no. At 39 weeks the consultant ran though the reasons but respected my decision to wait for labour and wait I did.

From 38 weeks I started experiencing prodromal labour, it was frustrating and uncomfortable, I kept worrying that I would not get signs of early labour and accidentally birth at home. My body knew what it needed to do though. I need to remember that.

At 40 weeks and 1 day, I noticed a couple of small, very small gushes. I assumed it was either a small leak or just usual end of pregnancy discharge so I ignored it and kept on with my day. We went for a long drive that night and I was once again dealing with prodromal labour, but I had a feeling that it was going to become something. Just something instinctual.
When we got home, I lied in bed and noticed a few more small leaks, but once again ignored them. I watched the movie Sunshine, every few nights I would watch a movie or a show to distract myself from the prodromal labour and eventually fall asleep. I was up and down what felt a million times to pee, more so than usual, which was really often anyway. At 1030pm that night, after the movie had finished I went to the toilet and noticed the leak was pink tinged. I smelled it and knew it was my waters. I knew my baby was going to be born very soon.

My partner went to bed around this time, I hesitated saying anything because I was in a bit of denial, but said 'heads up, I think my waters are leaking so I will just wait for some proper contractions' and we went to bed.

At 2am I noticed I was getting some waves, with a bit more kick to them than I had been having. They were similar enough to my last baby, where the pressure was down low instead of sharp pains across the lower part of my belly. I focused on these waves and noticed they were not regular but coming and seeming to get a little stronger at times. I got out of bed and peed again, noticing more pink fluid. I was uncomfortable enough that I went to lie down on the lounge for a bit. With more back and forth to the toilet. My bowels cleared, and then I knew, I was in early labour.
I noticed the contractions were getting stronger and at around 420am I decided to download a contraction app and time my contractions. I don't usually do that when in labour but I knew it would be helpful information for the midwife when I called.

I timed them from 0421 to 0437 and they were between 5 and 3 minutes apart, lasting between 30 and 50 seconds. So I decided to snuggle into bed next to my partner and wake him, I told him I was in labour but I didn't know when to call his mum who would come watch the kids. He decided to call straight away and it was a good thing he did.
He made a comment about getting what I mean about my waters, he said I smelled like kittens. That birthy smell.

While we waited for his mum, I got my bags ready and texted my student midwife and then called the women's assessment. I said to the midwife I was coming in, I was having contractions and felt they became proper labour around 2am when I woke up but I had suspected I was leaking fluid from about 10pm, and that baby had a cardiac condition so I wasn't going to wait for them to get stronger. She said since this was my 5th baby I knew what I was doing and that she would see me when I arrived.

My MIL arrived and we left almost straight away, the contractions were getting stronger, although not by much or any closer.
I didn't have many in the car on the way, being almost 5am it wasn't a long drive, we were there quite quickly. When we got to the hospital I had one contraction as I was getting out the car, and two more on the walk to women's assessment where I was taken in and put on the monitor. The contractions fizzled, I started to doubt it was labour until I got one good one every now and then.
I was on the monitor maybe 20 minutes before I was moved to my room. It was huge not the claustrophobic room I had been shown during my pregnancy, I felt pretty comfortable and my student was there waiting.
The midwife introduced herself and we found out she had the same name as my daughter, and that she was fine with me having bubs heartbeat checked every 15 minutes instead of constant monitoring, but she got the wireless ones anyway just in case there was a sign that meant CFM was a good idea, I was fine with that. We discussed what would happen when I needed to pus, I was surprised with the fact that there would not be just one or two extras, but 4, a paed, two other drs and a NICU nurse. I asked if they would wait behind the curtain until we needed them and that was fine. I would definitely let them know when I was feeling an urge to push so they would be ready and waiting.

We just chatted for a bit, I went through what early labour was like and that I was pretty sure I was leaking. I stood for a while and eventually got on the birth ball. Things were just so easy, I kept thinking how odd this labour was and that it just wasn't picking up like I expected.
Shift change happened an hour in, and I met my new midwife, she was just as lovely and used to work with the MGP and did homebirths so she was definitely the right kind of midwife for me. She was reassuring and kept telling me my body knew what it was doing for my baby's condition. Things I wasn't thinking myself, and it was definitely the kind of support I needed.

I watched the sun rise, and the OB came in and introduced himself, he basically said he was happy with my birth plan and wanted to know if I would be open to changing things if something happened and I just said of course I was, I was in hospital for my baby, and I would do what it took to make sure he arrived safely. I was still having such random contractions, I swear every 10 minutes I would get a good one and then they would go weaker again.
I lied in bed for a little while and then decided to get out and have a shower, I was having the occasional strong contraction that made me make a lot of noise.
I was crying at this point and cried harder when I was in the shower. I was starting to get very emotional and ended up bawling in the shower. I just had this overwhelming sense that something was not right. Baby was doing fine but I felt so strongly that he wouldn't be. I was in the shower for a while and the irregularity and lack of intensity of the contractions were bothering me a lot. They seemed to stop altogether for a while. I checked myself and when the midwife heard me say I had, she asked what I thought I was, my guess was about 8. The drs came in and were waiting, getting everything set up knowing I would surprise them with the speed of how fast I birth my babies. In hindsight I was complete. It was a few contractions where I started to doubt myself and checked again, I felt what I thought was a 2cm cervix and lost control, I said I didn't think I was 8 and that it was gong to be a long time. We sent the drs out. Little did I know at the time, I was actually poking my baby's mouth.
I had enough of the shower, thinking birth was a long way off I got back into bed, my back hurting s lot. My student midwife got me a heat pack and held it to my back while I lied there and tried to nap. I was so exhausted, I kept crying about how tired I was, the contractions never really got to a point where I felt things were moving along. I started to worry that I would end with a cesarean because bub would get distressed.
Then my waters went pop, very loudly and I didn't feel a gush but pushed ever so slightly and felt the water come out a little. The next contraction hurt a lot, I started to panic. The pressure was intense and between contractions I looked at my partner and said, I think I am pushing. he immediately sprung into action and started putting the blankets on the floor, surprising everyone in the room. I got down and immediately needed to push hard. I couldn't control it. I held onto my partner and panicked even more and it wasn't until I heard the midwife coach me into breathing that I managed to calm down. I pushed hard again and tried so hard to fight it, I felt bubs head move down. next push babys head came out, the urge didn't go so I kept pushing and he just slipped out into my hands. I heard a collective woah and then someone said he was tangled, but I said no, his cord was very short. He was also very small, it didn't seem real.

He didn't cry immediately, he made some noises but I wasn't happy with them so I rubbed his back and talked to him like I would normally do regardless of where I was. I remember looking up and seeing the paed in front of me and after a little while she asked to check his oxygen, I said yes and she jumped up and got the little monitor and stuck it on him and sat by me. I saw the levels were in the 60s and so I asked what she was looking for, she said 80s and asked if she could take him to NICU. I started to cry, because I felt like the moment I handed him over it was it. I said yes, my partner got the cord tie, I handed bub as best as I could with his short cord in my partners hands and I tied it on and then cut the cord, my midwife took photos for us.
As soon as he was free, I gave him a kiss and then handed him to the paed, and watched them all almost rush out of the room with my partner. It felt so sudden. It was just 20 minutes after birth that he was gone out of the room.
I focused next on the placenta, I waited nearly an hour but after talking with my midwife and sitting on the birth stool when the paed came back in, she asked me some questions and told me baby wasn't well so I decided to have the shot. My midwife was gentle, she talked the whole process with me and gently applied some traction while I pushed, it was surprising how much I needed to push! the placenta was absolutely tiny, I found out it weighed about 200g. I lost about 100ml of blood, which is next to nothing. As soon as I inspected the placenta and both my midwife and I were happy with it being intact she said she didn't see any tearing, just small grazing, I had no idea she was able to see tearing when the placenta came out, so I never needed to be touched. It was rather healing after my last experience. I got up, grabbed my clothes and had a very quick wash before walking to NICU where bubba was having an echo.
I don't remember how things went from here on, I just remember that bub was on CPAP and his colouring wasn't great. I got to have a hold and I remember my partner saying it wont be long and bub will be snuggled up in bed with me. I knew he was wrong. I knew bub wasn't ok. They did so many tests, I don't remember what. I did ask how big he was and he was a teeny 2.6kg, 47cm long. Very small for a 40+2 weeker. Definitely IUGR, I remember being angry they stopped the scans at 34 weeks and that would have been picked up. But I also felt very strongly that he was better off being born when he was.
After a while they swapped his CPAP to a tube under his nose, and I asked about feeding. The dr wasn't sure and wanted to observe his noises, he was convinced enough that feeding should be ok so I breastfed him. After a while my partner went home to the kids.
About 5pm the cardiologist came to tell me bub needed surgery, very soon and that they would transfer to Melbourne within the next 24 hours as soon as a bed was available. I had the nurse talk to my partner, i was in shock. Then i called my mum, I hadn't told her bub was born yet, and one of the first things i had to say was he wasn't well and we're going to Melbourne, and get her stuff organised because she would be coming with me.

The cardiologist or another dr, I don't remember said they would call at 6am to see if there was a bed. I stayed with him and had as many cuddles as I could. It felt like an eternity but it was only one night. I was back and forth feeding bub and bringing colostrum for the next 10 hours, unfortunately his blood gasses weren't good so when I came back for a feed after next to no sleep to find him back on CPAP. I still got a cuddle but I never got to feed him again.
I stayed with him from about 4am onwards, fighting sleep deprivation waiting for them to call and hear about the bed. they called at 6 and there was no bed, so I decided to go for a nap. I didn't get much so I was back again not long after. I got another cuddle, still fighting the desire to sleep, and my student came to visit before her shift began. my partner was on his way. he arrived around 8 I think.
When he arrived, I was cuddling bub, and then we decided to go get a coffee and have a toilet break. We went back to my room for a little while, around 10-10:30  I don't remember, only to get the cardio nurse come and say Melbourne rang and that they have a bed, they were flying him out at 12 and MedStar were there and they were about to intubate him. She was telling me they could get me a flight at 1, and gave me paperwork. It happened so fast. I went down and wanted a cuddle before they intubated him, I didn't want to see that. There was a rush of people, MedStar in their red uniforms and the isolette type cot they would transfer him in. It was then that it set in how sick my baby was. Everyone was telling me things and I barely remember what they said. I cuddled my baby, ever so quickly hovering over his bed before I had to leave for them to intubate.
We went back to my room and I called mum. I just cried with my partner and we waited for the nurse to come with the paperwork I needed to fly and the discharge papers.
As soon as I got them, we left for the airport, mum on her way and planning to meet us there. It was 1130 when I left the hospital.
We drove to the airport, and on the ramp going in mum pulled up beside us, perfect timing.
We went to check in, and then we waited at the gate for the flight which would leave just after 1. we didn't think to watch for the royal flying doctors who would fly bub out, we could have seen them through the window but we were trying to distract ourselves.
Saying goodbye to my partner when it was time to go was the hardest thing I have ever done.
The flight was fairly quick, only an hour and 20 minutes. When we landed we got a taxi and went straight to the royal Melbourne childrens hospital and when we got to the Butterfly ward we found bub had literally just arrived 5 minutes before we did, and the first thing I did was go over to him. it felt so surreal, I didn't like seeing the intubation tube but it was in his nose not his mouth like I was worried it would be.
Things are kind of a blur from here on, I stayed with him as much as I could and pumped as often as I was able. I started to get an awesome supply despite worrying about pumping antenatally.
We stayed in the new mothers room, I hardly ever left my baby. when he was 3 days old I broke down and cried behind the curtain and complained about not being able to do anything for my baby. it want long after that they let me have a cuddle, it was so scary with all the wires and tubes. but it felt so good to finally hold him.
Every time I held him I had an overwhelming sense of exhaustion wash over me, I tried so hard to stay awake. I held him for hours, only ever leaving to pump, toilet or eat, and sleep for about 2-3 hours.
I almost never left his side.
on Wednesday they did a CT, to see how his heart was. I was to find out what was going on after they had a good look and would talk to me the next day about what surgery will need to happen.

On Thursday I had the specialists all come and have a chat with me, mum by my side. And they told me everything. My baby didn't have a very good prognosis, and that I had the option to redirect his care to palliative care. I couldn't handle it. I wanted to give him a chance and i wanted him to have surgery. The surgeon told me of the statistics, out of 19 they were able to study, 4 survived. It was not looking good for my baby. I called my partner in the parents room and tried to remain positive, I refused to give up hope. He was driving over the next morning, I needed him to be there and bring the kids.
I remember sitting with my mum, and saying to her I felt it within my soul my baby wasn't going to make it. I just knew. It was so painful to admit it but I just knew.
My dad and sister arrived that night but due to visiting hours they picked mum up while I was holding bub, mum stayed with them that night so I had a night on my own, I didn't leave bub until after 1130 after cuddling him for several hours fighting sleep. I went back to my room, started writing in a diary mum bought specifically to write out his journey, I stopped for a moment and when I put my hand near my face and smelled him and lost it. I cried for hours, and went back to him after a couple of hours sleep.
The next day I cuddled bub for a while again, and then my parents and sister arrived. I brought them in and they met him.
I spent much of the day with my bub, I almost never left his side. The only time I did was to organise my room at Ronald Mc Donald house for when my kids and partner arrived, so we could all stay together and to hire the breast pump.
That afternoon, my partner arrived and I decided to not bring in the kids yet, I was going to do that the next day. My kids stayed with my parents for a little while and while my partner and I were with bub the surgeon came and we signed the consent forms for surgery that Monday. My partner took the kids to the room and I stayed with bub and had more cuddles, after a bit I needed to put him down nd the cardiologist came for a chat, and bub had a sudden, very quick episode of tachycardia and his rhythm changed momentarily. it happened so fast that neither the nurse or dr reacted in time to freeze the recording to take a look. I felt nothing but panic, they seemed so relaxed that I thought maybe it was nothing but I felt something wasn't right. I started to worry more.
That night, around 6 I think, I went back to the room and spent time with my family, I pumped and cried because double pumping was HARD, my back hurt and I cried because I had this gut feeling my baby was never going to get that milk. I spilled some and cried even more, eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up fairly early that Saturday, we took our time to go see bub, we had a coffee at the cafeteria and then I left to go see him. After a bit my partner brought the kids up and I came to get them 2 at a time to meet their little brother, I got photos, I took a video of him being given a little milk through his NG tube and then they left for a small break and I stayed with bub for a little bit (I think I pumped) before I went to get my lunch as they provide meals for breastfeeding mothers, and it was a sandwich with avocado and a kiwi fruit, neither or which I eat (kiwi allergy) so I came back to the room where I left my bag to get my wallet so I could go buy some McDonalds.
While I was there he had a sudden episode again of his sats dropping and the drs came to do an xray and we saw that he had fluid in his lungs. They gave him midazolam and a diuretic and he stabilised, with his oxygen in the 70s, not perfect but the nurse suggested I go get food so I did.
I sat in the food court and started eating the chips with my cheeseburger meal, my partner and kids came to join me not long after and then we walked to subway to get them lunch. I was sitting down about to start m burger when the doctor called me, she said something about an echo and they need a parent bedside. I immediately jumped up, said I had to go and RAN. 5 days postpartum and I ran most of the length of the hospital and was out of breath when it got to the elevator.
As soon as I arrived at his room I knew it wasn't good. It was full of people, they were pumping oxygen into him at a very high rate and his colour wasn't good. The cardiologist I hadn't met yet shook my hand and gently suggested I wait outside the room while they work out what was going on.
I walked out and I felt my heart break.
The surgeon came to talk with me, I asked to call my partner and walked out of the ward and called him, then I sent a message to mum to come asap to wait with the kids.
The surgeon met me and my partner at the door of nicu and said he didn't think bub had a very good chance, but if he stabilised he would operate the next day, but that what was happening wasn't a good sign at all. I saw his face, he was far from hopeful. I knew from his face that my baby was dying.
We sat in a room with the drs and they basically told us they felt it was hopeless operating. It was then that it hit me and my partner hard. He nearly vomited and I just cried.
We went back to our baby's room and watched the team continue to try to stabilise him.I kept begging him to give me better o2 levels, please give me 60, please. Then it was give me 65 please. They were all over the place, his ventilator going crazy. I knew there was nothing to be done, what they were doing wasn't working. he was literally dying in front of me. I kept talking to bub and kissing him, but at one point I said to him, if you cant fight anymore, goodbye.
They started talking amongst themselves about heartfelt, they were trying to get in contact with someone.
My partner refused to accept what was happening, at least at first. He didn't listen to the dr when she said what they were doing wasn't working, and eventually I just said, even if he makes it, he will be brain damaged from lack of oxygen. It was that point when I just broke down and begged them to let him die in my arms. They said of course, and eventually they heard about heartfelt, he would only be able to come for half an hour, from 4:15pm, and I remember thinking does this mean my baby will be dead within that time, but so relieved that we would get nice photos of our baby to hold onto.
Then we started to get things moving, they started unhooking things and got his bed ready to wheel down the hall where we would say our goodbye.
The photographer was there and waiting, he introduced himself and I don't think I reacted, all I could do was hold my baby's hand and I didn't want to let go.
I sat down on the chair after ripping off the belly wrap I had been wearing, they started to get things ready so I could have skin to skin with him before they took him off the oxygen. They got me a gown and I stripped off, not really caring about being seen, but they held up a sheet anyway. As soon as they placed him on my chest I felt some peace. We cried, we talked to him, we kissed him and loved on him so much. I played him a song which I had played a lot throughout my pregnancy, I wanted it to be the last thing he heard. It was 21 pilots cover, I cant help falling in love. I tried to sing along, breaking into tears too much to sing. After it finished, they asked if we were ready to take his tube out. And they did, I couldn't look, neither could my partner. As soon as that tube was gone I got to see his face without anything on it for the first time since birth. I pressed my nose against his, and gave him a kiss as I cried. My heart has never known so much love and heartbreak.
We didn't know how long it would take so we kept talking, kissing him. The photographer took some beautiful pictures, giving some suggestions like having both out hands on his head. One of those is one of my favourites. I passed him to dad, I wanted him to hold him.
The photographer eventually left, so all the photos he took were when he was still alive.
They left alone with bub, at one point we kept listening to his heart, beating slower and slower. I was never able to see him take a breath so I suspect they were very small. The doctor came in and had a listen, and said he still had his heart beating. We were getting quite distressed, waiting for him to die was so painful. It was dragging out, but we were also so grateful for each moment. He was heavily sedated, on a muscle relaxant so he was already floppy. It wasn't nice, it was like he was already gone.
Then we heard a breath, one I know well from my aged care training. His last breath. We knew at that moment, he was gone. We both tried to listen for his heart beating, and didn't hear anything. My partner got up and got a stethoscope and tried to listen, then I tried. we heard nothing. The doctor must have been watching because she came in and asked if we wanted her to have a listen. It felt like an eternity. She turned to us and said softly, 'He's sleeping' and we broke down.
We sat together for a while, I decided to get his little jumpsuit that flew with him and put him in it and then the social worker came in and asked if we wanted the kids to come in. I said no, I don't want them to remember their brother like this. She asked about fineral arrangements and i knew i wanted him cremated, I wouldn't want to be buried myself, I wanted to keep his ashes and have jewellery made so he never leaves me. I said to get my parents so they could say goodbye.
This was hard, as soon as mum came through that door she was in tears. Dad broke down. They both had a cuddle and said their goodbyes. I have never seen them so broken.
Then my partner couldn't handle seeing our son like that, he was cold, the colour was going. The social worker said to me, if I have any doubt about leaving then stay, and stay I did.
My partner went back to our room and stayed with the kids, he needed to be with them and I understood.
The nurses came to do footprints, in clay, ink and some stuff they had to heat up. They were so compassionate, it was surreal but the nicest way for things to have gone. He was starting to get stiff, the calcium was leaking into his muscles so when they did his prints his little fingers had curled a bit and weren't easy to get straight. I didn't know it would happen that fast. She talked to him, and held him when I had to pump, the compassion was overwhelming, I am so grateful for her. I wish I remembered her name.
I stayed with my baby all night, I had a fold out bed where I took him to bed with me and cuddled him as I fell asleep. When I woke a couple of hours later it hit me, and I cried and asked why my baby. I had a moment where I felt like I was watching myself and thought, this cry is one I have never heard before, this is a cry of grief, the cry I imagine all mothers would cry. I have never cried like that before.
His colour was changing, where his face was resting on my chest he went white, he was very cold so there was no doubt that he was gone. It wasn't easy, but I kept kissing him and hugging him. I got the little jacket, booties and mittens I made him and put them on, rigor mortis was kicking in more and I found that very hard to deal with. I got my phone and played him the song again, and was able to sing more of it to him. Still occasionally breaking down.
I never let him go except for the toilet, the nurse held him while I pumped. That was so hard to do, pumping now knowing for sure he was never going to have it.
I promised him I would watch the sunrise with him, like I did while I laboured with him. I told him how much I loved him. I made the decision to let him go when it was the time of his birth, so he came to me the same time he left me. I had been thinking about it for a while, I had started to notice the smell of death, it is a smell I have come across before and didn't want to remember my baby in that way. Unfortunately, I always will remember, but I do not regret a moment.
Morning came, and my partner came to see us, I shielded his face not knowing what his reaction would be, it was hard for me and I watched the change. He told me his mum was flying in, and would arrive soon. He hadn't told the kids, we would tell them together that morning, after I hand my baby over. It wasn't too long and then he had a cuddle, he even took some photos with him. I hesitated commenting on the smell, but I did, my partner did notice but like me, hesitated saying anything.

Then my mother in law arrived, right about the time I wanted to hand him over, but I waited and let her say her goodbye. Coincidentally, the time that I handed him to the paediatrician after his birth.
The nurses came back when I was ready, I wrapped him up and tucked him into my gown and then we walked out of the room. We had to go down the hallway, the only one in and out, I got scared because I would have to walk past the kids, but they didn't see us pass. We got the elevator, went downstairs and I carried my baby all the way down to the mortuary door. We passed a few big doors on the way and just outside the locked door and I gave him more kisses and then I handed him to the nurse and walked away. I couldn't bear to watch her walk him in that room, knowing exactly what that room was. When the door shut behind me I collapsed, I fell to the ground and cried. It hurt so much to have to walk away, my MIL and partner had to pick me up off the floor. It was so hard to walk away.
We packed out stuff in the room we said goodbye as fast as we could, we got the kids in and I had to tell them their brother died. My daughter and eldest son broke down, my heart, already broken, broke even more. My younger two didn't quite understand, death isn't something they know much about, they're a bit young.
I spent the rest of the day incredibly numb. I vaguely remember walking away from the hospital, sitting in our room with our family around us and wanting nothing more than to be alone. I couldn't stand being touched, or spoken to. My mum dad and sister decided to leave, I think they drove home that day.
My MIL stayed with us, we went out for lunch because we couldn't stand to cook. We needed a distraction. I cried almost the whole time.
That night we were alone, just the 6 of us. I felt so empty, I cried all night. Pumping was difficult. I hated every second.

Monday we went to the funeral home, the lady was so compassionate and we found out the hospital is paying for his cremation. They said don't give us the invoice, we only knew they were going to pay part, not all. It was a fair surprise, we would have had no problem paying, cremation isn't expensive, but it was a really nice gesture.
Tuesday I took back the breast pump I had hired and picked up the frozen milk stored. I got the last of the paperwork and got a call saying bubs ashes were ready to be picked up the next morning. The social worker I met earlier in the week met up with us, she told me HeartKids wants to put some money towards memorial jewellery which blew me away. It's amazing the kind of support you get, I'd only sent a message to the HeartKids representative that morning telling her our baby didn't make it.
Later that day I called MFM and spoke to my favourite midwife, she didn't know and it was so hard to tell her. Fortunately they kept my placenta so I picked it up on the Thursday.
Thursday was a blur, and Friday my partner went back to work. I had to let my GI know my baby didn't make it, I sent a message to his nurse and he called me straight away, he asked if I had the baby yet and I said yes, and then his next question was how are we... I had to say he passed away at 5 days old. That was hard. I haven't been well with my Crohn's since birth, so I am being seen on the following Thursday.
Today is Saturday. A week since my baby died. It's 4pm, so in 2 hours it will be exactly a week. I don't know how I am managing. I go between absolute rage and then devastation, much of the time I am numb. I don't know how I am feeling to be honest. I had 20 weeks to prepare for this, even though I never truly believed it would happen. I thought I would have 3-6 months with him, not 5 days. I am angry it was my baby but after reading his report, he had no real chance, the odds were against him, I was very lucky to get 5 days with him, let alone him survive to birth.

His diagnoses were:
#Complex Congenital Cardiac Disease
- Right atrial isomerism, ASVD common atrium large VSD
- balanced ventricles
- double outlet right ventricle (DORV) side by side great vessels with aorta to right of PA
- subpulmanory stenosis, small PV annulus (4.5mm) with good sized branch PAs
- TAPVD, supracardiac, partially obstructed, 3x connections to systematic circulation
# Heterotaxy with congenital asplenia
# IUGR
# Rib anomaly - 12 ribs left, 11 ribs right.

a new mindset

Today I am 34 weeks pregnant, perhaps only one moon cycle away from bringing forth a life earthside. My sweet little warrior baby, the star child that chose me to be his guardian in this wondrous dream we call life. It won't be too much longer until his body has grown as chubby as it can, the moment when his little lungs are ready to take on the outside world which begins the cocktail of hormones flowing through my body ready to bring baby earthside.

I have rediscovered the spirituality of birth, something I disconnected from when I lived through a less than pleasant experience. I feel like the magic within me has risen again, ready to go on a journey to the stars to greet my baby.

I have begun to reflect on my knowledge about birth, to get myself into the vital stage of mental preparation now that I feel ready. I am excited to feel the euphoria that comes with having a baby, despite the underlying worry that my baby may not be ok. I have decided I have spent enough time worrying, gentle nudges from the universe have reprogrammed my thinking and for that I am grateful I felt those nudges.

You see, in our culture it is normal and expected to feel anxiety about birth, about the condition of the baby and whether or not there is anything that they could do to prevent that. For most women, the fears of the unknown surrounding birth is a given, they worry that birth wont go well or that their baby will not cope with labour, even when all things point to everything going smoothly. These are fears I never truly experienced, in life my philosophy is 'why worry when there's no need to', so that when it was my time, I surrendered to the hormonal and physical dance that is birth and it unfolded as it needed to.

It is different now of course, there IS a reason to worry, but I need to let go again and put myself back into trusting the universe and whatever plans that come to me. I'm not a believer in fate to be honest, but I do believe that the energies that flow in the universe will always balance out. Whether there is a reason or not for what I am about to experience, I know that there will be joy to balance the despair.

I was asked a good question recently, about how I have now decided I will allow labour to begin naturally, 'how would I feel if something went wrong because of my choice not to be induced?' my answer was probably more simple than the asker expected.

I would feel less guilt than if something went wrong as a result of me being induced, at least I know it wasn't something I did. If I was induced and needed a cesarean due to fetal distress, I would always feel the anger and resentment at having been induced, because that is the outcome nature didn't have in store for me and then ultimately it was my fault. I prefer to be upset at the cards I was dealt by the universe and nature than the science available to me and my decision to go with that instead. 

Not many people feel this way and it is isolating to say the least.

I have been asked to write my birth plan, and saying simply 'leave me alone until I ask' won't be enough. I know what I don't want, and I can only hope I will be listened to. I have already dealt with the frustration of a midwife who doesn't understand me. I don't know how many times in the time it took to do a blood pressure reading, I said I was not doing the GTT, that I have chosen to monitor my levels over nearly 2 weeks. I had already done it, yet she kept insisting I needed to get the bloods done, make an appointment because it would take an hour and that I would have to drink that nasty drink. I got my point across, but me saying I'm not doing it several times was too many. If I end up with a midwife like her, you bet I'll be demanding the shift coordinator comes to replace her with someone who will actually listen. It has affected my feelings about the midwife who will care for me, because I do not know who that will be or their comfort with my choices.

So now I have to write a plan, and introduce it so that I'm not met with defensiveness. I want the midwife who will be watching over me, to understand me, to trust me and let me do my thing until I need or want her. Essentially I want a midwife who will be happy sitting knitting in a corner, while I do what I am built to do.

I have spoken to the paediatrician, I have seen NICU and SCBU in the unlikely event he will need to spend time there, I have been reassured that the tests can wait and that I will at least be in my postpartum bed before they will want to assess him so our magical first hours shouldn't be rushed without a medical need. I have been reassured that we will not be separated, and if we are he will not be separated from his dad. I am comforted in the knowledge that a lotus birth isn't something they have never heard of, not that I plan to do it. I feel quite confident that my request for cord ties over clamps will be respected.

I am ready for this birth. I will try my hardest not to allow my fears to take over me again.

... labour worries..

I've never been afraid of birth before, but now I am absolutely terrified.

I am having nightmares every single night.

The unknowns are what scare me, and the knowns scare me more.
I suffer from PTSD so the thought of having procedures done to me, trigger that.
I don't want my water broken, I definitely don't want syntocinon, I don't want people touching me, I don't want to be watched... literally everything that causes me extreme anxiety are necessary for an induction... I might be lucky and avoid the drip but I don't like my chances, Cochrane says there isn't enough evidence to prove AROM is adequate to start labour, it's most often used with syntocinon (Pitocin/artificical oxytocin)
I have worries because I don't want to stress my baby out unnecessarily with that stuff, I also don't want to deprive him of natural oxytocin, while there isn't strong evidence to say the lack of it causes issues, it's linked to problems I would rather not contribute to.
I'm also petrified of a cesarean, I've had surgery before and it wasn't nice, never mind dealing with a sick baby, 4 other kids and my own disease with an extremely high risk of infection, one that could take my life.

I'm quite angry at times that I have to deal with this, that my baby is the sick one, that I am fighting my crohn's yet again, that I am in a position where control over my body is gone.... I'm sick of feeling like an experiment, like I am nothing more than a gestational carrier.

To be quite honest, sometimes I regret getting pregnant in the first place...

I just don't think I can do this anymore. However, it is way too late now.

I'm scared I will run away or hide in the bathroom the moment I get to the labour room.
I'm scared I will refuse consent to induction and be bullied into it and shut down.
I'm scared of having a complete stranger attend me, and touch me.
I'm scared there will be a midwife who doesn't like me, and treats me like a spoiled child.
I'm scared the midwife will have an accent that makes understanding them difficult.
I'm scared of the OB who will watch over and make decisions without my consent or input.
I'm scared I won't have anyone from MFM able to come and do things that need to be done.
I'm scared they will demand on an IV placement as soon as I arrive, rather than later.
I'm scared labour will start and I birth unassisted with a floppy, unresponsive baby.
I'm scared that labour wont start and I need a cesarean.
I'm scared of them breaking my water and nicking a vein causing a massive bleed, or worse, causing a cord prolapse.
I'm scared my baby will go into distress.
I am scared of a cesarean.
I'm scared if I need a cesarean it will be an emergency not emergent so I get put under.
I'm scared they will take my baby away even if he is fine, and send him to SCBU for hours.
I'm scared they will have to stab my baby multiple times unnecessarily, without my consent, bullying my partner into consenting.
I'm scared they will force me on the bed to push.
I'm scared they will try to coach pushing, and decide on an episiotomy for no reason.
I'm scared I will be frightened and end up pushing hard causing a massive tear,
I'm scared they will not allow any delayed clamping.
I'm scared they will rip out my placenta again.
I'm scared they will try to control me, control how I birth without a need because it's just how things are done.
I'm scared we will have to travel interstate straight away after birth.
I'm scared bub won't be ready for birth and ends up with related complications.
I'm scared we will miss the first breastfeed, or that it will be interfered with so much that we don't succeed and have to use formula.

I'm scared of freaking everything... I'm well educated, I know what can go wrong, I'm worried what can go wrong will go wrong.

I don't know how I can be ok with an induction, despite having a student midwife on my side. I feel so alone and isolated, I feel shut down every time I want to talk about it because 'you have to do it for the baby' even though I am unconvinced induction is a better option than going into labour naturally.... how do we even know labour will go fast!!!?? the anxiety I feel about his condition at birth is enough to make for a longer one for sure. I highly doubt it will be 20 minutes, because even then I had early labour.... plenty of time to get to the hospital...

Everything feels so unfair... and I still have about 10 weeks to stress about this...

a new normal

life has changed so much lately. there's always moments in life where there is something significant that happens and it becomes a defining moment. We have had a few these last few months.
I'm now in my third trimester, 28 weeks and one day today. I am feeling huge.
A few weeks ago we noticed bub wasn't growing as well as he could, so we had growth scans booked fortnightly to monitor things.

On the Thursday I saw my gastroenterologist and he decided since my crohns is active, we need to admit me to hospital and get treatment. I wasn't happy but considering bubs condition, I knew it was for the best. I managed to avoid being admitted that afternoon, preferring the coming Monday when my partner had time off work so I didn't have to rely on the in-laws to watch the kids.
That Monday I also had an echo booked, apparently in error because it wasn't meant to be until this week but we got more information from it. I had a growth scan booked the day after and an antenatal, the Tuesday. It wasn't fun having to taxi between the hospitals...

The most that happened when I was admitted for my crohns that Monday is they put in a cannula and drew blood. I arrived after my echo, where they decided while I was there they would do the growth scan too, to save me coming back the next day, even though I was already having to come back - what I didn't know was I could pop into MFM whenever, we're family now apparently, so I didn't have to come back the Tuesday... even though I did. My crohns is not ok right now, I have been passing blood and that's unacceptable even not pregnant. they started me on steroids on Tuesday night but decided on Thursday, the day I was discharged, they weren't happy with me on them and switched to doubling Humira and back on budesonide, the crap that hasn't worked for me at all so far... I'm still frustrated, I'm still in agony and I'm still passing blood. The midwives and OB have decided they will get a physician to see me next antenatal, see if they can do something on their end.

the echo was interesting, I saw nothing overly new, there is a concern baby doesn't have a spleen and his liver is central instead of to the right. Now there's the possibility bub actually has a condition called right atrial isomerism, a condition with a 40% survival rate, but the cardiologist said he wouldn't say his is that low because his heart is in much better shape than they would hope. This condition would explain the other malformations, and has a risk for gut malrotation where it could unexpectedly twist, surgery is a necessary preventative, I'd rather it done before it becomes an emergency situation. It would also explain why his heart appears to be 'right sided' as in, why the major arteries are on the right and why there are blood vessels that are meant to be on the right are on the left. If he doesn't have a spleen (there is the possibility its just not being seen rather than not there) he would be on antibiotics for the rest of his life.... this scares me, I know way too much about superbugs, and for him to be on antibiotics puts him at huge risk...

basically right atrial isomerism is where very, very early on in development, when he was nothing more than about 20 cells, they would normally be 'told' where to go, be the right side and be the left side, there was a communication error and they both became right.... the only way to know if he has this condition is to have scans and a blood test at birth, until then it's just a possibility, one I am hoping isn't a reality.

Because they did the growth scan, I got the opportunity to have pics of the ultrasound. I saw his little face, his little nose and mouth looks exactly like R. I'm beginning to bond with him more, I have been a little detached because I am so scared I'll lose him.... I don't think its going to hurt less if we do, but I think it's instinctual. I have no real control over it.

When I went for the antenatal the next day, they noticed his growth was dipping a little, it could mean he is just little or he is restricted in some way, despite good blood flow from the placenta. So we had scans booked fortnightly from then on. Every day from then I asked him to please grow, to please not stop growing because things will be hard enough on us all and if he has to be born premature, it would break my heart. I ate non stop, still do, every calorie is hopefully helping him get bigger. I want him to be as big as he can be.

This was about two weeks ago, I had the next growth scan/antenatal on Wednesday and he has grown, he will just be a little baby. He was just under a kilo at 27.5 weeks, not low enough to worry but low enough that the scans are necessary. My eldest was a tiny baby, but he will be a little smaller.... I'm hoping he grows enough, I'm hoping they're wrong and he has a growth spurt during the last trimester and is a decent size....
I wont give up hope.

Next antenatal I meet the student midwife, I spoke to her on the phone last week and I feel she is a great fit for us. She's as naturally minded as I and I cant wait to meet her in person. I didn't get this vibe from the other students I spoke with, or even the heartkid mum/doula. She has a background in nursing, is a natural practitioner and acupuncturist with her own practice so, I'm going to ask if she is able to bring acupuncture to my birth to help labour along before moving onto more intervention. I'll throw all the money I have at her if I need to haha I want to try absolutely everything before moving on to the artificial oxytocin, I'm still not ok with it, and want to avoid it at all cost.


I feel like I have more to say, and should probably edit for spelling and grammar errors but I've got insane rib pain and need to get moving... plus E has put on an awful kids show and I need to turn the TV off before my brain dies....and I have to feed the little ones... so editing is far less important :P

When it rains it pours...

So much has happened in the couple of weeks I wrote my last post. I'm not sure how I have managed to cope...

Where oh where to begin..


I might as well start at the beginning of this scary rollercoaster ride we cannot get off.

I had my 20 week scan booked at a local hospital radiology clinic and  which was the 19th of February, I was unusually nervous because my GP wrote the referral and he messed up the 12 week one. I was worried they wouldn't do the scan, and nearing midway through my 21st week, I knew it was best to get it done sooner rather than later. I was not desperately hoping for a girl, but it did cross my mind a lot.

We arrived, my bladder refusing to co-operate and fill up so I was basically empty so I tried to drink water in the waiting room, and then the tech called me in for the scan. My partner and E were with me and we walked together to the room and I lied down with my belly exposed ready to be scanned.
Of course, my bladder was pretty much empty but that didn't stop the scan, the lady started off as they usually do and then asked if we wanted to know the sex, I knew it was a boy, and when she said it was a boy, I was disappointed but my next thought was, just please be healthy.

The scan was taking a while, she was having troubles getting good pictures of the baby, he was refusing to budge out of my pelvic floor, like it was a hammock. She was spending a fair amount of time looking at his heart, and I could see the blood flow wasn't the same as I was used to seeing. I started to get a little nervous, but thought it was purely his position.
I was asked to roll from side to side as she poked bub to move, then getting me on my hands and knees to wriggle bub out of my pelvis. Then she asked a second tech to come in and be a second pair of eyes. Things didn't click at this time, I'd had a second paid of eyes during a scan before so I thought nothing of it.
Due to how long they had taken trying to get a good look, they decided to ask me to go for a walk and see if I could get more water in and see if I could get him to budge. We went to the café and had a coffee and I paced around our table trying to wriggle bubba around.
When it was time to go back, we were called through and we began again, my bladder had barely filled and he hadn't moved enough to get a good visual on his heart. I still thought very little about it as this had happened twice before with my other babies.
Then they started looking very closely at his heart, and decided to call a Dr in to see what was going on, saying to me they just cant get a good picture so they wanted the Dr to see in real time and explain to me what they were seeing.
I still didn't work out something was up... it seemed normal, they were a little confused but this seemed normal enough.
The Dr came in, and as he was watching the scan I noticed a change in the room. They were seeing something that wasn't normal, and I started to worry.
Then the Dr started talking, he began to explain they could see a defect with baby's heart and that it would need an echo to determine exactly what was going on, I thought not much of it, babies are born with holes in their hearts and they don't always need surgery so I assumed it was something minor but I would need an echo done within a week.
In that instant things began to change for me, my gut feeling that something wasn't perfect was confirmed and I was pretty numb initially. They told me to see my GP asap to get a referral to the hospital for an echo which would have to be done at the hospital. I hadn't even had an antenatal appointment at this point so I was worried they wouldn't fit us in.
With this new information, we walked out of the room and I began to cry for the first time, my partner tried to reassure me but I knew something was wrong. They just had no way of telling us exactly what. We got to the car and I made my partner call my go to make the appointment, they managed to fit us in that afternoon.
When I saw my GP I knew very little, I told him what I was told and he immediately got the report and then made a referral to the hospital, faxing it and then asking me to see them either that night or the next day. I chose to wait the next day, and it was a good thing we did... we were completely unprepared for what was to come.
I read the report as my GP gave me a copy, it detailed the problems with bubs heart and it didn't look good, they had queried Tetralogy of Fallot, a pretty severe combination of heart defects. I tried as hard as I could not to google it, thinking the absolute worst, and when I finally did google, I was a little reassured baby's heart was an easy fix.


Tuesday morning I woke up, I hadn't slept well out of worry. I wanted to get to the hospital as soon as we could that morning and find out exactly what was going to happen and what was wrong with my baby. We arrived around 10, not thinking we would be there all day. We were though.

I got to women's assessment because my GP literally had no clue where to send me, and I gave them the report saying I was told to come in. The midwife at the desk had a read and said to sit down and wait so she could call the right people and see where I should go.
After a few minutes, she came back and said I need to go to the maternal fetal medicine office (MFM), and speak to a midwife called C. So we did. We walked up and told the lady at the desk I was there to see C.
We were led into an office where C read the report and told us they don't do echos every day, only Mondays and Thursdays so they would get a referral in and I would have one either that Thursday or the Monday to come, and then we would know more. She did say there was a doctor on that day who could do a quick scan and see for themselves what was going on so we agreed. We would have to go wait for a little while so we went for a coffee, and then came back when the dr was available about an hour later.
They took me to the ultrasound machine, a brand new one that they were still teaching the OBs to use, the representative was in the room and was explaining how to use it. I had several people in the room at the time, two OBs, one cardiologist and the teaching lady.
They started having a look and said at the beginning, depending on the severity of the heart condition, I may have to give birth interstate at the major hospital next to the children's hospital where the specialist cardiologists are. I began to cry because I had no idea things were that serious, I'd barely wrapped my head around a hospital birth let alone a different state!
It took quite a while for them to finish the scan, saying the only way to know what was going on for sure was when the paed/fetal cardiologist was in to do the echo, but what they were seeing was severe. I was numb.
My baby has a severe heart defect.
The head OB and the other doctors sat us down and explained what they were seeing, and that I would need to birth in hospital and be monitored closely. They explained that sometimes heart defects could indicate a genetic abnormality and suggested an amniocentesis which I agreed to immediately. I knew what was involved and the risks but this was one of those times the information we could get from it was more important. What I didn't expect was practically as soon as I signed the consent form they began to prepare things to get it done. I was asked to get bloods done, this was to confirm I was a negative blood type and see if I had been sensitised, so they could access the anti-D injection post amnio. I was certain it was necessary, despite not willing to have it unnecessarily, I figured if this was so bad that this baby was incompatible with life, I wanted the option to try for another baby... even though this was an extremely painful thought. I'd been feeling my baby move for a couple of weeks, I had a decent belly already and was so scared of having an empty belly with no baby to show for it.
I got the bloods done, my partner had to go get the kids from school so I was alone, met the doctor at the radiology clinic in the hospital, fortunately I didn't wait long. A few moments before I was called in, a friend of mine successfully freebirthed her vbac baby and I was barely able to congratulate her before the dr came to get me, so I was torn between absolute terror and joy...
I got to the room and was greeted by the cardiologist (non specialist one, the one that was with us during the initial MFM scan) and the head OB who was to do my amnio, as well as my midwife C, one of the two MFM midwives. I was starting to get scared, not so much of the needle but what this all represented. I didn't expect that morning to start off like it did, let alone me having an amniocentesis that afternoon, the day after I was given the news my baby had a heart problem.

My midwife held my hand, and they scanned my belly to see where a good pocket of fluid was, and see where baby was. Then they wiped the gel off and sterilised my belly, and I started to get scared.
They quickly scanned again, and baby was out of the way, and then the dr went for it, and oh my freaking gosh, it hurt more than I expected. They pierced me just above my pelvic bone, roughly where a cesarean incision would be but to the left. I panicked, they talked to me and reminded me to breathe, and it felt like it went on forever. I was relieved when it was over, but I was hurting quite a lot. It really did feel like I had been stabbed, despite the needle being extremely thin.
My midwife helped me get up, and they gave me a quick reassurance that baby stayed out of the way, even though I felt him kick like mad during the amnio. I was asked to check the vials of fluid, and sign them, feeling so strange seeing something I would not normally see for many more weeks... the vials were warm, which was confronting... this was my baby's fluid, in my hands, in a little glass vial.
Realisation began to hit me then, I knew things were far more serious than we could have imagined.
I sat with my midwife for a little while and talked about things from birth to past trauma which may affect my care, she is absolutely lovely, I feel so safe in her care. It's amazing what the right person can do despite a really sh*tty situation to make you feel ok.
I had a coffee and she got me a tray of food because I hadn't eaten that day, I was cramping a bit and was waiting for my partner to finish with the kids and come pick me up from the hospital.
It was uncomfortable to walk down to meet him, and I had to be extra careful when I got in the car. But I was relieved we would get answers. I'd be getting a phone call the next day to tell me if I was having the echo the Thursday or Monday, other than that I just went home, cried a lot and was made to sit on my bottom and do nothing but rest. I had my mum call me and I told her not only that I was pregnant (i'd been keeping it quiet, just because I wanted my little secret a little longer) but that baby had a severe heart defect we were assuming was tetralogy of fallot (TOF) we cried together and talked about a lot of things. It was a relief that she knew, and that she would have us in her thoughts. I then posted on my facebook that I was having a baby, with a heart defect, and was overwhelmed with the love and support from my friends all around the world. It was bittersweet, being congratulated, but at the same time them expressing their sadness that this is what my poor baby had, knowing surgery is a definite.

I got the call saying the echo was the Thursday morning, and we began to get nervous. I was looking forward to the cardiologist explaining what was going on, I just didn't expect him to be taken by surprise.
We arrived at radiology that morning, and then after a short wait (we got there early) we were called in and the ultrasound tech was there getting some pictures while we waited for the specialist to arrive, he flew in from interstate that morning, the poor guy had to run off to pee mid scan he was that busy.
I expected to have him talk about what he was seeing as the scan was done, but he and the tech were umming and aaahing, trying their absolute best to see what was going on with bubs heart. It was so long my partner took our toddler out of the room to get lunch from the cafeteria. It seemed like forever they were muttering between themselves trying to work out what was what and what went where. Finally he said a big, ah! and put the wand down, and asked me to come to the next room to explain what was up.
My memory is a little fuzzy here, because so darn much info was given, but basically baby's heart is unique, it had similarities to TOF but some problems were entirely different.
The bottom of his heart, where it is meant to be two separate sections, is just one, the valves where the aorta and pulmonary valve go are on the one side, not where they are meant to be, and his major arteries are on the one side with the flow not going where it needs to. He needs multiple, not just one or two, multiple open heart surgeries. And he may need to have them as early as a newborn, 4 month old or maybe stretch it out to 6 months. It is a combination of severe defects, severe enough the dreaded T word was mentioned.
That's right, it is so bad, his little heart is so messed up, we had the option to terminate the pregnancy.
They can't tell us what repairs will be done, what they can even do for him, whether or not he will need a heart transplant later in life or whether he will be ok at birth. We don't even know if he will have issues outside of his heart. So many questions, and no answers. I was 21 weeks and 5 days, I had until the day before 23 weeks to decide to terminate or not, at 23 weeks baby is viable and therefore it's not allowed to terminate a pregnancy that late.
It didn't feel right to make a decision, but we were open to it if there were other genetic abnormalities that would make for an incredibly sick child with little chance of a halfway decent life, which would destroy our family as it is now. My older kids don't deserve to have their mum and dad taken away from them permanently, as a result of another baby. I am sure they would grieve their baby brother if we did decide to terminate, but it would be less painful in the long run.

We saw the doctors after the echo, so they could explain a little more about what the cardiologists understanding of our situation was, and what it means for us, for antenatal care and so on.
I'm having another echo done at 28 weeks, which is about 5 weeks away now, and another at 34 weeks to ensure he is growing well, his heart is growing the way it needs to given its uniqueness, heart babies sometimes don't grow well, and that's something we need to be aware of otherwise I will have to give birth interstate, much earlier than anticipated.

My birth plan has figuratively gone out the window.
I will need to be induced, so that the right staff are onboard at the time of birth if he isn't ok, and to ensure I am in hospital to me monitored just in case he doesn't tolerate labour, although I have been assured heart babies tend to do well, it's birth that things get iffy. I will have freedom to labour how I want but I have to be aware they may need to take him soon after birth to go to special care for medical help. I am beyond scared, I only know unhindered birth, so the birth I am facing could not be more opposite, and fortunately the MFM team understand and will accommodate my needs and wishes as best as they are able. I may be lucky and only need AROM to start off labour, otherwise I'd be having, at least initially, artificial oxytocin, with the promise they can turn it off if I need/ want. I have been told I can labour freely, with wireless monitors, and access the shower (if I had longer labours the bath would have been acceptable but I don't, it's too dangerous to birth a heart baby in water) which I am ok with, I don't really like water birthing very much, I need to feel grounded and I don't have to go near the bed if I don't want to, I can birth him on the floor and catch him myself if I want, I just have to be aware there will not only be two midwives at the actual birth, but a specialist or two to assess bubba when he's out just in case he has to go to the nursery sooner.. I am anticipating him going for an echo soon after birth, hopefully I have the golden hour and can go with him in that circumstance, but my partner won't be leaving his side.
On Tuesday, we went back to the MFM team for an antenatal, the first official one, and I spoke with the midwife about all the things on my mind at the time. Then we were waiting for the OB to come chat with us, so we went to the labour ward as I asked to see it, only for all the rooms to be full except one, the one room I'm pretty sure she said I wouldn't be put in. It smelled so clinical, and it began to trigger my PTSD. I started to doubt continuing the pregnancy was a good idea, Could I even go through with this pregnancy knowing what potentially greets me at the end? She told me some policies, such as it's policy to have a managed 3rd stage with any type of induction although I am free to refuse that, policy isn't law I quoted which she agreed. I asked what I was facing with a basic induction, and I didn't like one thing I heard... more triggers from my past, having no choice as to what happens to me and my body... I started to feel like I was nothing more than a vessel for a sick baby... a sick baby that in my mind had a 50/50 chance at life.
We got back to MFM and I was beginning to hate the idea of being pregnant. I'd been having some moments where termination was what I wanted, what was best. This was one of these times... when the dr came to see me, I let it all out and gave her the impression I was very sure I wanted to end it but didn't know how to tell my partner. She said she wanted to speak with us both, and make sure we are both aware of how serious this situation it is, and that either decision would be supported. I asked her about termination, what would be involved, and that was enough to shock me. I asked about induction and whether I could be free to wait more than an hour or so before beginning the drip if labour didn't start soon after AROM and she assured me they are willing to work with me, and aren't there to demand things or try to overly control a situation that has to be somewhat controlled.
I started to feel a little better but promised to come back the next day to chat with them and my partner. And make a final decision, I had 3 days to decide to keep the pregnancy or not, which is nowhere near enough time, and we were literally in the dark when it came to baby's condition, whether he was 'fixable' or not, we were asked to make an incredibly difficult decision with half the information, and bugger all time but it was all we had. I was devastated.
I got picked up and we started talking about our situation, that there are heart problems, and then there are heart problems... his is as severe as you can get basically, it's not just a plumbing issue.

We got home and some more, we were utterly heartbroken. We ended up going to bed very early, and I cried myself to sleep. As I saw it, I would either guarantee I was a mother of a dead baby, or a mother or a sick baby who could die, or a mother or a sick baby who can still lead a relatively normal life. I kept going through my head what the termination would be like, and the thought of them taking away my tiny immature baby, who I allowed to take his last breath in my presence, possibly attempting to cry before dying, as a result of MY decision. It broke me, I've never cried so hard in my life, of course I couldn't say this but my partner held me tight as I cried. I didn't think letting my baby die was the right choice, whatever faced us couldn't be as bad as me willingly killing my baby... no matter how sick he was. The sadness I felt was as heartbreaking as actually losing a baby, I certainly grieved for a healthy baby I had been expecting prior to the scan.

I was able to verbalise some of what I was feeling the next morning over coffee, he agreed, to terminate a baby that might cry and die, was like murder, it was killing our baby and we couldn't see how it was an ok decision to make.

The next day we arrived early, and met with the team again. This time we talked things through and came to the decision that although we knew we were facing an incredibly difficult time ahead, and knowing our baby was in for multiple surgeries, with no way of knowing if he would be ok. We know we will be relocating interstate for at the very least a few weeks to a few months. Our family life will be very much disturbed, we don't know when for anything, but we know that we want to give our baby the best chance at life, we wont be able to live with ourselves if we don't.
The cardiac nurse came in and gave us a run down of how the transfers will happen, what charities are available to us, and that accommodation will be subsidised. I know that if baby has to be flown straight away, its likely I will be able to go with him, and if I'm not well enough my partner will. They will fly two people so I could bring my mum if my partner has to stay with the kids before driving them over. Either way, we're not alone in this, it's just working out the logistics of this and it depends heavily on his condition during the pregnancy and immediately after birth. I'm not giving up hope he is stable and can go home with us and we wait for the surgery to be scheduled later rather than sooner.

So where we are at now, I got a phone call with the remaining amnio results, and everything came back normal. It is a huge relief. I'm 22 weeks and 5 days, and I am looking forward to continuing being pregnant, seeing my belly grow and to love this little baby however long we are blessed with him. I am crocheting him a little blanket to keep with him when he has his surgeries, hoping it's later rather than sooner.
I have another antenatal on Tuesday, I have requested to have regular appointments even if it's a quick scan to see baby is doing ok at that time. I will need all the reassurance I can get.

I am so very scared for my baby, and for his future. I have so many worries and questions nobody can answer. However, I have hope. Hope that he will be fine and fight like a warrior through whatever difficulties he faces. I love him so very much already, I already cannot imagine life without him.

Odd dream

I had a really odd dream this morning, it felt so real yet it was so ridiculous!

I was in my parents lounge room and I realised I had to push, so I started demanding towels and something plastic to go under the towels. Then I demanded everyone leave the room. I pushed my baby out gently (none of that stinging) and not long after the placenta came out, with a gentle tug on the cord from me because it was sticking to me inside. The odd thing is the placenta didn't look like a placenta, more a steak haha it was squarish and no defining features that make it look placenta like, not even a cord, cotyledons were missing and no sign of a sac. So odd.

My life journey since E was born

It has been some time now, since I wrote last. A lot of things have been happening and I have been on a journey of self discovery since the birth of my last baby.

First thing is first, my immediate postpartum experience was traumatic and took me years to get into a better headspace. I didn't talk about it much when I shared his birth story. His actual birth was pretty good, no real complaints other than I chose to have the wrong people at my birth.

I love my family with all my heart, but they're from a different mindset than I am, and unfortunately that shone brightly when my baby was born. The first issue was I felt very much observed and like I had to be a hostess instead of focusing within and labouring away.

I remember sitting on my gym ball, bouncing away while chatting to my sister and mum, my partner and dad were outside. the contractions were coming fairly often, although irregular and barely painful. I knew I needed to focus within, but I was constantly made to focus on what was going on around me. Occasionally I was able to ignore everything and focus on the labour sensations, but as soon as it was over, bam, back to reality. I never went off into labour land, a place I am very familiar with and feel safe.

I remember wanting a drink so bad, and I was (looking back) obviously in transition. If I was in my 'right mind' I would have never considered sending my partner to go to the shops into town more than 15 minutes away for something ridiculous like a Gatorade, especially since I was in labour and usually cannot stand him being in another room, I needed his presence.

In hindsight, I prepared my family badly for the realities of homebirth. I never explained that I would be asking for things that are impossible, or inappropriate at the time and to think more into what I was asking. I'm asking for a drink, because I was thirsty, not because I needed Gatorade from the shops.

I remember the contractions intensified and my mum and sister watching, during a contraction mum took a photo, and then a short video. I laugh about my comment at the time, I know I asked for video, at the time I was like 'why are you recording' to have mum reply 'you wanted a memento right?'. True, I did, and I am glad I have that footage because it was taken less than 20 minutes before baby was here, she's used it as 'proof' you can't tell when someone is literally about to have a baby when they go all textbook saying usually they're quiet, screaming and unable to talk... I was chatting, laughing and pacing around. Never trust a precipitous birther basically, labour isn't textbook.

For some reason, which still bothers me, my dad and partner were out the front talking, obviously thinking I had hours to go. I remember sending mum out to make them (in my mind I'm thinking just dad, leave my partner here with me) go get me a drink from the shops, and in the short time she was out of the room my waters went. Pop, trickle, trickle. A strange sensation since I was always either pushing when this happened or my midwife had broken them (first birth).
I assumed I was still in early labour but on my waddle down the hallway to the bathroom I felt pressure. My sister rushed outside to tell them my waters broke, my partner knowing immediately it's go time, rushed in and started filling the bathtub while I'm kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet.
While the bath was filling, I checked myself in front of my sister and mum, they didn't understand what I was doing at the time, but that's the moment I realised baby was coming much sooner, and less painfully than my other births.

The pressure was insane, it's all I felt during and in between contractions and when I had a contraction it took all my focus. I remember leaning against the bath and listening to the quiet chatter only breathlessly say to them to be quiet. I needed absolute silence, and I needed to hold my partner's hand. He kept me grounded.
When the bath was full, my partner tried to help me up, I didn't really want to move but the idea of the water was too enticing.
When I got in the bath, I felt an immediate release of tension.
I took of my crop top, joking about pooping in the bath, and when everyone except my partner left, my body just went for it. The Foetal Ejection Reflex is no joke.
I remembered thinking I had to take it slow, but I also remembered thinking, quick get this baby out before someone comes in. I pushed his head out, feeling myself tear, and waited for the rest of him to follow with the next contraction. All I could think was, keep him under the water I don't want him to drown.
Whoosh, out came baby. At that time my family came into the room, but I didn't notice. I was wondering why I couldn't pull him to my chest and saw a nuchal cord, my partner and I working seamlessly together (because this was not our first nuchal cord birth) and flipped him in a way that the cord fell away, and I brought him to my chest.
The rush of oxytocin flooded my body and I cried joyfully.

Then things went downhill....


Due to the speed of the birth, bub was a slow starter, and that is entirely normal. I knew as long as that cord was intact, he was getting oxygen. So I didn't try rubbing him to get him to cry like they do in the movies, he was making faces, wriggling upon my now empty womb and colour was slowly coming to his little body. I said hello to him and soaked in his littleness.
I was in awe of this tiny little body who's home was my womb.

Mum rushed over and grabbed a towel, one I don't think was even clean, definitely not one I had aside for the birth (I had a pile in the lounge on my bookshelf, along with other things for the birth like a receiving blanket) and began to rub his head, to make him cry. She did it for only a couple of seconds, I can't even remember if he cried because I was wondering what on earth is she doing, I said he's ok a couple of times and she backed away. I know the speed of the birth shocked her, and her medical training kicked in, so I wish in hindsight I had prepared her.
I do remember hearing a cry, and dad relieved saying that's what we wanted to hear. I snuggled my little boy, but the initial euphoria was gone and replaced with a sense of extreme vulnerability. I looked up to my family for the first time and announced his name, tears in my dads eyes. It was a happy moment, just not the euphoric birth I had with my other children. It's not anyone's fault, because this birth was a shock for us all. I had barely 10 minutes to comprehend I was actually about to give birth and suddenly I was doing it.

Because I felt vulnerable, I wanted out of the bath. I had help getting up, and they helped me sit on a chair. I felt a little weak, as you do after a precipitous birth.
I showed my little ones their new brother, I gave him his first breastfeed and soaked in his little adorable face and swollen little ears.
Mum covered my back with a towel, I must have been shivering except I wasn't cold. You almost always get the shakes after birth, no matter how the baby came out, as it's a rush of hormones flooding your body (I say almost, in case there are people who haven't experienced it, yet I have seen it in 100% of my clients, friends and birth videos I have seen as well as experiencing it first hand).

I started feeling pretty weak, I needed to lie down and asked to be helped to the lounge. I had it in my mind that there would be an adequate amount of towels and I would be helped to lie down, but instead there was one towel, and I was placed to sit on it. I kept trying to lean back, wanting to put my feet up. I wasn't in the headspace to say anything, but I will remember it forever for future births, whether it's mine or a birth I attend as a doula.
I started feeling super thirsty, so mum gave me an orange juice, and then I started feeling really dizzy, and was seeing stars. I knew this could mean I was having an issue with bleeding, and since the placenta wasn't out yet it was possible there was bleeding behind it and we wouldn't get any symptoms besides the symptoms I was experiencing.
I asked mum to check my BP, and it was significantly low (80 over something) and in that moment, I decided to transfer to hospital. I knew nobody in that room was going to be able to help me if I was haemorrhaging behind the placenta, and I had to act fast. I was getting very strong contractions but the placenta wasn't coming like it had in the past.
I asked mum to help me cut the cord, and they covered me with my favourite dressing gown. dad and my partner were getting the car ready and we were on the way to the hospital within minutes of me making the decision to go...
We arrived at the hospital, and unfortunately dad drove us to the emergency side not the birthing side, and they rushed me in.. this is where my trauma took place. I knew I made the right decision to go, but I wasn't prepared for what was to come.

They dragged me to a bed, one that was high and narrow, and mum held my baby. The small cubicle was full of at least 5 people. The midwife rushed in and took over, making demands and I heard my partner say I didn't want the needle for the placenta because they were discussing how to get it.
She started pushing on my belly and pulling the cord, it hurt a lot. I said please stop, and she did, momentarily, only to grab the cord and push my belly once again. I don't remember how many times she did this, but I kept asking her to stop and kept looking around the room for someone to tell her to leave me alone. Someone was with my family looking over my baby, nobody was focusing on me... I was merely a placenta that needed to come out, no consideration to how much pain they were inflicting on me or the fact that I had asked them to stop. I was so scared I was going to start bleeding because she was attempting to rip out a placenta that wasn't ready to come out, especially because I hadn't had syntocin to speed up the process, I would have consented had I know how desperate they were to rip it out.

MY blood pressure was normal, so I knew I wasn't actually bleeding out, my BP at home would have been a result of standing, and sitting instead of lying down.

The only angel in the room said the one thing I had hoped for, 'why don't we put baby to the breast and see of that helps the placenta release'.. whoever she was, she got my baby back to me, I needed him so much.
The midwife kept pulling and pushing, until I felt a massive RIP within me and intense pain as she pulled my placenta out.. I was relieved it was out, because it meant she would stop touching me, the exact words I said were "Thank f*ck for that" to hear panicked shushing... like I didn't deserve to be relieved, like they didn't want to admit I was a person... I was wrong in thinking she would leave me along, she tried to examine my vagina, I kept trying to close my legs. She said I had a tear that needs stitches, and they'll get the doctor to stitch me up. I thought yeah, fine, it will be like my second birth where they gave me some local and it was a painless experience.

They tried to take away my placenta once they had examined it and established it was intact. I said no, I want to keep it, so they wrapped it in the absorbent cloth and handed it to me once I was sitting in a wheelchair. It was warm and quite heavy, definitely thicker than my last placenta. They wheeled me to the maternity ward, I don't know who carried my baby with us, but I am pretty sure it was my partner.
Everything was a blur, I was glad to be away from that midwife. Although to this day, I'm not even sure whether there were one or two and if the midwife who ignored my requests to not be touched was the one who followed.

I was in a bed, wearing a gown, while the midwife fussed over my baby. I remember he pooped and mum started gathering things to wash him, like a flannel and some gentle soap, and the midwife so rudely said 'no, it's my job' taking the things out of her hands. She began using toxic Johnsons & Johnsons baby wipes, very roughly cleaning my baby. I was so stunned, I wanted someone who loved my baby to care for him, and seeing how rough she was with him, was horrifying. Mum was visibly upset, I was too stunned to say anything. I started to get angry. I haven't been able to let that anger go.
She did the usual checks and made me feel like I couldn't say no to the vitamin k injection, something I was not wanting. She stabbed him, he cried and I had to detach myself from that moment. She bundled him up and handed him around the room to my family, I'm not even sure if my partner got a cuddle until I was being examined again.... I have photos from this time, I faked a smile while I lie feeling dead inside with my baby being handed around... I was happy my parents got to have a hold, but I wanted him first.

My parents realised I would need clothes so they left the three of us to buy me something special, and because my gown was thrown away covered in blood. My partner, I think, was finally having a cuddle and the midwife came in and said the doctor was coming to check on me. she started breaking down the bed and got the stirrups up and put my legs in them. I said how on earth could anyone give birth like this, it was demeaning!! I don't think she liked my comment.....She covered my vagina with a sheet, turning on the spotlight and walked out to get the doctor, not without saying first "you're on display now" I still feel disgusting at this comment.

The doctor came in and they gave me gas and air, I started to panic when he started to touch me because I realised he was going to examine me and then stitch me with no pain relief, gas is in no way adequate for stitching such a sensitive area. He wasn't gentle, and the midwife held me down 'comforting' me, while I was squirming away due to the pain. Her attempt at comforting me was the worst thing she could have done to someone with a history of being held down in hospital.. it triggered my PTSD from when I had a severe bowel obstruction and they were shoving a NG tube down my nose saying I had to let it happen or I'd die leaving my newborn baby girl without a mum.
I begged them to stop, and it took way too long for him to leave me alone. they kept telling me in needed stitched and to stay still, but I was already triggered. I wasn't having any of it and refused treatment. The doctor spoke to me like I was a child, and sais to be don't come in crying with a damaged pelvic floor because I refused to let him stitch me. I thought who cares, you weren't going to numb ne up and I cant even see how bad the tear is to know whether to agree with his opinion that I even needed stitches. I'm of the opinion he would have stitched a graze if it was there, I've heard nasty things about him from other people who have had him at their births.

The midwife had released me, he took a step back, and asked if I was sure I didn't want to be stitched, when I said yes he rudely sighed, turned around and ripped his gloves off, waving his hands in the air as a sign of rude defeat before leaving the room. The midwife may have said something but I didn't care. I was getting some of my confidence back.

I was so angry.

The midwife tried to make excuses but I ignored her. I had enough and wanted to go home.
She left the room to do paperwork.
They hadn't even offered me a drink, yet I was to be there for 7 hours before I was discharged. After the midwife left the room I asked my poor stunned and horrified partner to go get a drink from the vending machine, while I held my baby. We had been separated way too long, I'm not even sure if I tried to breastfeed him again.
While my partner was getting a drink the midwife popped her head in the room and asked about my crohns and medication, I told her I was on Humira as my Crohn's is severe, she snaps back 'you got all your bowels?" I said yes, not bothering to mention I had a resection due to a perforation when I was a child, unrelated to my crohns, she says rudely "you don't have it bad then" and walks out... I started to cry at that point... She in just 2 seconds managed to invalidate the enormous amount of suffering I had gone through prior to and during my pregnancy. I was only on biologics to avoid surgery, she had no idea how close I was to losing a good 15cm of my terminal ilium, had no idea how many times my disease tried to kill me nor the amount of pain I was tortured with for 8 months. I wasn't just angry anymore, I was pissed!!
My partner came back and gave me a drink, he had to search the hospital for a machine and was utterly horrified at the comment the midwife made and how she had left me. We insisted on discharge as soon as she came back, I'm not even sure why she came back. I wish I had a second midwife I could have asked to not allow her back into my room.

My mum and I think my brother came to see us, as she gave me a cute little set of pyjamas to put on after I had a shower, I was uncomfortable having my brother in the room but it was not an issue at all after what I had been through. I took a 5 second shower because the water pressure was awful, a complete waste of time, considering I had the kind nurse from ER wash my legs for me. I got dressed and was anxiously waiting to leave. SEVEN FREAKING HOURS I was locked up in that torture hole.
The midwife helped us get to our car, acting like she had done the best thing in the world for us, and I just wanted to run away from her. I was so relieved to be sitting on my sore and swollen behind, on my way to my safe space...
I was numb for a while, I remembered I should announce my son's birth, not realising my sister had already mentioned it on Facebook, taking away yet one more thing from me that day... something I find unforgiveable. I couldn't go into the birth details, I wanted to forget so I merely said it was a fast birth but we were ok now. When my family got me settled they left, telling me how proud they were of me. Not knowing that inside I was a broken person. I ripped off the armband the hospital put on me as fast as I could, I threw it away even though I have a weird thing with collecting them.
My brother in law was notified and he came for a quick visit, I just wanted to be alone and I could tell he realised that. When I was on my own I started to break down, but I kept a smile on my face when anyone saw me. The kids didn't need to see how broken I was.

I didn't sleep that night, I kept reliving every moment. the pain, the rude comments, being held down... I cried and cried while I held my newborn son skin to skin, I knew I was going to find it difficult getting over that experience. I was grateful I birthed my baby at home on my terms, instead of being induced with a midwife I didn't truly trust, I was grateful he was healthy and was breastfeeding well. I tried to tell myself I should be happy, but I was anything but.

I spent the next few days in a sleepless daze, my only saving grace was my sweet baby boy. I shared a selfie the morning after the birth and mum commented on how exhausted I looked and begged me to get some rest. She didn't know yet, that I spent that night awake and crying.

It was maybe two days before I called the hospital and made a formal complaint and the midwife was incredibly compassionate, I am forever grateful she listened to me and validated my feelings.

A few days later I got a letter from the hospital with the birth details on it to give to my GP when I went in for a check-up (although I never do them) and the details were all wrong. It said it had been 2 hours before the placenta had come, the birth time was wrong and it stated I had a second degree tear... the very thing I had asked about when they insisted I needed stitching, although they refused to give me information. I know exactly what 1st, second, third and fourth degree tears are, I assumed at the time they used a different grading system... they didn't, they just withheld information from me.

I panicked, tried checking my tear and seeing if it really should have been stitched and couldn't tell so I panicked even more and called the hospital, imagining a gaping hole in my vagina where it was now too late to heal properly (as the best time to receive stitches is within 48h).
I requested the head midwife, the one I had spoken to days before when making my complaint and she said to come in and she will see me herself. So I did, I felt safe, I knew she actually cared.

When I arrived I found I was curling myself up, almost shielding myself from the hospital itself. my voice barely worked as I asked to see the midwife and when she came to get me I overheard the other midwife comment very quietly on how upset and scared I had looked, the midwife I was there to see said I'd had a very difficult time and that was why I was there....  validation once again.

She took me to the birth centre, a completely different part of the birth ward, where there was a double bed and a birth pool. We chatted about why I was there and more in depth about the disgraceful treatment I received and she was horrified. She said to me I was absolutely right about cord traction and pulling the placenta could definitely cause the bleeding I was so afraid of. She said I was obviously well informed and know what I was talking about. I was promised the midwife would be reprimanded and she would call a staff meeting to remind them about consent and non-consent. I didn't even have the energy to go into the Doctor's attitude... I got a letter a few weeks later explaining the action that was taken.. she kept her job only because she wasn't a regular member of the staff.

She checked my tear and said she wouldn't have bothered stitching me up and was surprised they wanted to, I was reassured that it was healing and I won't have issues with it at all. Having the opportunity to debrief with someone who had access to my notes took some weight off my shoulders, when I went home, I finally got some sleep.

It was still a looong road of recovery. I had bouts of rage and had nothing but flashbacks on his birthday. Every time I looked at the clock I was remembering what had been happening at that time and I was relieved when his birthday was over. I'm glad it was only his first birthday, he will never remember not having a cake. When he was 18 months old I had enough and started antidepressants, the first lot I was given I had a severe reaction to, I tried to kill myself even though I wasn't suicidal. Then I went on another class of antidepressants and slowly, the pain within was fading and I was able to see things from a different perspective. I was able to celebrate his second birthday with no flashbacks. I started a course in Aged Care, wanting to take a break from birth for a while, and I was in a pretty good place for a while.
I finished my course and did my work placement, which went alright, I was gaining confidence thinking about getting a job there until I was told to feed someone who should never have been fed by a student. She choked, her face went blue and although I was able to resolve the issue and was praised with my professionalism, but with that experience, all my confidence was gone. I knew I would not be able to work in aged care, I struggled enough as it was to go in every day and see people near to death.. birth is where I am meant to be.

I took a couple of weeks to process what happened and with my partner's full support we decided although I spent over a thousand to do the course, I was not going to work in aged care, and I would pursue my certification as a birth doula.

So, as of the end of January, I have been a student of Childbirth International, slowly making my way through the course. Not long after I was getting requests to be their birth doula and I was ecstatic! Throughout the year I went to a few births and some beautiful relationships were formed. I witnessed so much joy and I decided to start weaning myself off of the antidepressants late August. It was hard, oh so hard, whenever I was almost weaned I would get intense itching all over and many times I took another tablet just to stop it. It took a few weeks but I got myself off, and I didn't slip back into depression. In September I had the opportunity to start the Stillbirthday course, to become a bereavement doula, I want to be able to support my future clients if the unfortunate was to happen, I would not want to abandon them in a way and not be able to give the support I know they deserve, I am not certified yet, I've got a little ways to go before that happens.

Fast forward to now, I'm doing really well and eagerly anticipating the 3rd birthday of my littlest, the 5th birthday of my first planned freebirth bub, the 9th birthday of my daughter and the little boy whose birth changed me forever by being impatient and coming after just 90 minutes of labour at home in my bathroom, will be turning 7.... I cannot believe how much my life has changed and how awesome it is right now.

That isn't all though, as of today (Saturday the 3rd of Feb), I am 19 weeks with our fifth child!!!! We are beyond excited, I have been quite sick this time around. I actually got bad enough to need a few admissions into hospital for rehydration, as recently as last week I was given 3 litres of fluids!! I am feeling better though this week, yesterday was the first time I didn't throw up, although today I haven't been as lucky today.
I have delayed seeing a care provider, so at this point in time I am unassisted. I am honestly afraid of having to go back into a hospital for pregnancy, even though this is a different hospital which I know and like.

I am nervous and excited, I am once again hoping for a little girl but right now I only care that the baby is healthy, and developing as they should be. I'm fully intending to have another freebirth, unless something comes up that means it would be unsafe.

I will update occasionally, as currently there has been little change week by week except for my belly getting bigger :)

This ended up far longer than I had planned, if you managed to read all the way through, thank you. I may have to go back and review this, but at this moment I am just clicking publish with my thoughts as they are.

Namaste x