Six months ago I gave birth to my beautiful daughter Noah Eva Heron, 3 months premature, in some very difficult, very scary circumstances. Finding the right words to begin this post isn’t easy. I’ve been sitting here staring at a blank screen wondering what exactly I want to say. I’ve been in two minds about whether to even write this at all as it isn’t your typical heart-warming birth story; it’s a story of trauma, of heart-break, of fear and anxiety. But I have decided to write it anyway for two reasons: one, because it might just help other women who have experienced something similar, and two, in the hope that it might just help me to process what happened. So here goes.
Sunday 14th June
It all started when I was 27 weeks pregnant. My husband and I had been isolating for a while because of COVID and had just finished a zoom call with friends. We were getting ready for bed when I noticed a small amount of blood in my urine when I went to the toilet. I’d had some bleeding early on in the pregnancy and everything had been ok then, so I tried not to panic and called the midwife to ask what we should do. She advised me to head to the maternity triage unit at the hospital to get baby checked out, but she added not to worry. It was just a precaution. So we packed ourselves into the car and headed to the hospital. On the way I texted around to the family to tell them not to worry, but could they please pray that everything was ok. The hospital was only about fifteen minutes away but I remember it feeling like the world’s longest journey ever!
When we arrived, I headed in without my husband as, because of COVID, he wasn’t allowed in with me. I was used to doing it alone by now as we had been doing this for months, but I still felt my anxiety creep up a little as I knew I would have to try and relay everything to him – he was just as anxious for news as me. Immediately the baby’s heartbeat was checked and everything looked absolutely fine; she was still moving around and kicking happily in there – in fact she got even more active around the beeps of the machines! This was reassuring but didn’t fully ease the anxiety I felt as I waited to see the gynaecologist.
Once I saw the doctor, they decided to keep me in over night. They had done a speculum exam and found blood clots (as expected) but also some clear fluid which they were worried could be amniotic fluid. The doctor said, although it was unlikely, that I should be prepared that they may have to deliver the baby early. This news shook me! She was so early. I was admitted as an in patient and stayed in hospital overnight, trying not to worry. I didn’t sleep well.
The next morning, all of mine and baby’s observations looked good; her heartbeat was strong, her movements were good. They sent me for an ultrasound and the amniotic levels were still at an acceptable level, so I was sent home with the instruction to rest. I remember thinking, ‘all I’ve been doing is resting’, followed by relief that ‘thank goodness she isn’t coming this early!”. I went on with my week, trying to slow down as much as possible.
Monday 22nd June
The following Monday, I was 28 weeks and 2 days pregnant. I’d spent the night tossing and turning with mild, period-like pains and when I got up that morning, I realised I’d had another small bleed. Again, I tried not to panic and called the midwife for her advise. As before, she asked me to head into hospital for monitoring, so off we went again. The baby was monitored and she was doing ok; her heartbeat was strong and she was still moving around a lot. I had various tests and was assured that everything was still ok – I reassured myself that pains in pregnancy were normal, she was just growing! And so we headed home once more. I spent the day resting on the sofa while my wonderful husband waited on me hand and foot – maybe this pregnancy thing wasn’t so bad after all…
But that night the period pains began to get stronger and started to come in waves. I was terrified that they might be the beginning of contractions, so I did what any 21st century mum does and figured there was an app for that. My husband and I began to use it to time my contractions as they were keeping us both awake. They varied between every 5 to 6 minutes, so in the morning we headed back to the hospital.
Tuesday 23rd June
By now the pains were getting pretty intense. The baby was monitored and her heartbeat was still strong. The doctor diagnosed the pains as a result of a UTI (although the test results from my urine sample were not back) combined with braxton hicks contractions.
Everything I had read online (Dr.Google) said that braxton hicks contractions were not usually painful, and these contractions were definitely hurting, but the doctor did another physical examination and assured me again that I wasn’t in preterm labour. I was more than happy for this to be the case, she still had so much growing to do. So I reassured myself that they knew what they were doing and followed their instruction. I was prescribed antibiotics for the infection and sent home again.
But despite taking the antibiotics, the pains continued to intensify. The contractions were happening regularly every 5 minutes. Again I did some googling and braxton hicks were supposedly irregular – these were definitely very regular! I was also curled up on the floor because it was so painful. And I’m no stranger to pain, my tolerance is pretty high as I have been through three brain surgeries and recoveries. I was really beginning to worry that this was not just a urine infection.
By the time it got to that evening, I was pretty anxious. I broke down in tears and my husband took me back to the hospital; trip three in only two days. They monitored the baby again for about half an hour and could see the contractions on the monitor, yet still they assured me it was only braxton hicks and a UTI. I was given Oromorph for the pain, prescribed codeine to take at home, and sent away for the third time.
Wednesday 24th June
The next day, the pain continued to get worse and became almost unbearable. I was pretty scared at this point as the contractions were now really intense and regularly every 4 minutes. As I was sat on my sofa at home, I felt a warm trickle of water into my sanitary towel. It continued to trickle slowly throughout the day. I wasn’t sure, but I thought my waters might have broken, although it was nothing like you see in the movies so I wasn’t sure. I soaked through several sanitary towels, but it was such a slow process that I thought it was maybe just something to do with my UTI (the waters were not clear as I had seen in the movies either but a pinky colour). I described it to the midwife and said I wasn’t sure if it might be my waters – this was all knew to me as a first time mum.
For the fourth time, I headed back to the maternity unit that evening. After a brief examination, the intensifying pain was put down to the infection spreading – it was suggested it may be kidney stones or a kidney infection – and, instead of being sent home I was transferred from the maternity ward to A&E for further tests. I was put into a room on AMU (the Acute Medical Unit) and examined by the doctors there. My heart rate was high (I was tachycardic) and an ECG was performed. I was given paracetamol through an IV for the pain, but it barely made a dent. The contractions were now happening every few minutes and I was crying out in agony every time.
Thursday 25th June
Early hours of Thursday morning I was on the phone to my mum who was helping me breathe through each contraction. I had no idea that in the space of a few hours, my life would be turned upside down. At 02:00am I was sent for an x-ray of my chest, because of the tachycardia, and on the way the porter who was transporting me said “I think she’s in labour”. I panicked, but the nurse dismissed this and explained that it was my kidneys.
When I got back from my x-ray, the contractions began to intensify rapidly. I suddenly felt like I needed to use the toilet urgently, so I quickly pushed my way over to the commode in my room, IV trailing behind me, as I screamed for a nurse to come and help me. I immediately knew something was wrong and I was so frightened and confused – the pain was unbearable. Suddenly my body took over and I began to push. I was giving birth alone, in the dark, into a commode. And I was screaming. A nurse came to my assistance, but almost immediately ran off again to call for help, leaving me alone once more, as I screamed that my baby was coming. I panic called my husband and screamed down the phone that she was on her way. I was terrified knowing that he wouldn’t make it but I needed him there – noone else seemed to believe me.
The nurse tried to get me to move to the bed but I was frozen on the commode – my baby was already half way out and I could feel her moving as she came further out with every push. I was terrified to move, terrified to push, terrified that I was doing it all wrong. I had never given birth before. I was supposed to have a C-section because of previous surgery. There was no midwife there to help me. But the contractions continued, there was no stopping it now. I wasn’t ready for this. Baby wasn’t ready for this.
I begged the nurse to look and check whether my baby was doing ok, but she just said all that she could see was blood.
One more push and my precious baby was delivered into the commode. The pain stopped. There was silence.
Noah Eva Heron arrived
Thursday 25th June 2020 02:30am
weighing just 2lb 9oz (1.3kg)
When Noah was born she didn’t make a sound. There was no reassuring cry that every mother hopes to hear. I didn’t get to touch her, or even see her come out of me. I didn’t even know if she was alive.
I was in complete shock and couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to do. I begged the nurse to check the commode again, knowing in my heart what she would see – she looked and said ‘oh! there is a baby there”. I asked if my baby was dead, bluntly, no messing around. I needed to know. She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say.
I started sobbing uncontrollably. I started to yell out, over and over. “My baby’s dead”. I was in agony again, but this time it was emotional pain, pain that I had never felt before. I was overwhelmed with grief, believing that she was gone. That I would never get to meet my little girl.
Noah was left in the commode not breathing. Not moving. No one was doing anything to help her. Everyone appeared to be in shock, not knowing what to do.
It was the darkest five minutes of my life.
Then the midwife arrived and she sprung straight into action, trying to get Noah breathing by rubbing her back with a towel (this was exactly like to movies!). She needed to clamp umbilical cord as Noah was still attached, but there was no equipment around. We were in AMU and not the maternity ward – it wasn’t equipped for this kind of thing. The nurse offered her a pair of scissors from her pocket for goodness sake!
The rest of the neonatal team arrived soon after and started working hard to get her breathing. She didn’t have a heartbeat. Her little body looked so tiny and frail on the floor in front of me. I started to pray – God please save my baby, please don’t let her die. The once quiet ward was now frantic with action as the team did everything they could to save my baby. There was still hope! They were the longest 10 minutes of my life!
Finally someone said “she’s breathing” and the knot in my chest started to loosen. They gave her oxygen and placed her into an incubator. I got one final look at her and she was rushed to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). It would be 15 hours before we got to see Noah again. I had to give birth to the placenta. I had to have stitches as I had a second degree tear (due to having no midwife present). I had to wait to be seen by a doctor. I felt helpless and exhausted. And to be honest, I was afraid what we would find when we were finally allowed to see her.
But once we saw her I felt an overwhelming relief. I barely even registered the wires, the ventilator, the beeps, the chaos. My baby was alive.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing
With hindsight, it’s easy to recognise that I was in labour for 3 days. With hindsight its obvious that the pain i was feeling was contractions. That my waters broke. That she was on her way.
But in the moment, as I was experiencing it all, as the doctors and nurses around me were telling me it was something else, it didn’t feel so obvious. I didn’t want my baby to be on her way that early. I was hurting, confused, exhausted and I accepted what the medical professionals were telling me. In fact, I grabbed onto the alternative explanation with both hands.
You are not your greatest advocate when you are in pain.
It’s hard to think clearly. It’s hard to make the right decisions. And it’s hard to make your voice heard. The problem was that, because of COVID, I was having to attend all of these appointments by myself, without my husband to advocate for me, on my behalf.
We can’t do life on our own. We need each other – to walk together, support each other, fight for one another, and pick each other up when we fall down. Because life has a habit of knocking us down. We often don’t see it coming. We often don’t understand why God allows it. But it happens. And when it does, when we are at rock bottom, broken and hurting, unable to fight for ourselves, we need people around us who will advocate on our behalf. When we are in pain, unable to think clearly, we need wise people around us to speak into our situations, helping us to make the right decisions, and bring clarity where there is confusion. When we are at the end of ourselves, unable to fight the fight and carry on, we need others around us to lift up our arms, helping us to hold on, keep going, stand firm, and sometimes just put one foot in front of the other (Proverbs 31:8-9.
Not the birth I was expecting
I look back on Noah’s birth like it was some strange, hazy nightmare, rather than a memory from real life. All my life I’ve dreamed of the incredible moment my baby would be placed on my chest after birth, when I would see my little girl for the first time, hold her for the first time, looking up at my husband with glassy eyes as we marvelled over the new life we’d created together. The reality is far from that idyllic picture. I didn’t even get to hold her until a week later, attached to wires, afraid that she was going to break.
Our journey was far from over; this was just the beginning of Noah’s fight to be in this world. The next 12 weeks were the most challenging and terrifying of our lives as we watched her fight hard for her life, time and time again. It’s not easy to have faith when things don’t go how we expected. It’s even harder to have faith when things look hopeless. But when things look hopeless, miracles happen.
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