Birth Story

On the 11th of April 2008, Kelvin and I decided it was time to have another baby.
It was the 21st of February 2011 until we got one.
After 13 months of unsuccessful attempts at conception, we sought help, and found that I had adhesions in my uterus. One quick procedure, and they were gone. I fell pregnant with Sybella within 2 cycles. Sybella died. The most unfair thing about her death, apart from her being a beautiful little girl who never had a chance at life, was that she was so desperately wanted. We wanted her so badly, we dreamed about her and loved her. Some people are unhappy about their pregnancies, they do all the "wrong" things throughout, or they may terminate. I am not judging, because I never know anyone's personal circumstances, but to work so hard to get your baby and have her taken...well, it made me want to lob my shoe at the drug addict/negelctful/abusive mothers.
Another 9 long months, and we finally held our longed for baby...not without his own hiccups, of course. Who would we be without soap opera drama surrounding us? When it comes to our kids, there seems to be no such thing as straightforward.

The crippling anxiety was making me completely dysfunctional at home and I waited and waited for my baby to stop moving. I had no faith that our little boy would make it here alive. My fear was affecting my everyday life, and so I was admitted to hospital for a second time, and this time I would stay until his birth. I made the most of my time in hospital and rested as much as I could. The midwives and doctors were most understanding and kind. I spent my time watching Eastbound and Down, reading Russell Brand's My Booky Wook and crying with guilt over leaving Jack at home. He was in great care, I know. But I was still missing him. These were his last days of being an "only" child (physically, as of course, he has a sister already) and I wasnt nurturing him like I should have been.
The last two days before the birth were the longest. They dragged and dragged. The night before, my heart raced and I called for CTG's quite a few times. By morning, I was bleary eyed but could not believe that our day had arrived. Everyone involved was incredibly excited. Two midwives came to collect me with beaming grins. Kelvin was happy and couldnt wipe the smile off his face. I walked from the ward and it seemed like I had a midwife guard of honour. Unfortunately, I still couldnt share their excitement and could barely bust a smile.
Things happened pretty quickly from there. I had opted for a scheduled c-section on February 21st 2011, at 38 weeks. I did not want to have surgery, it was painful and frightening. But I had two options. A section at 38 weeks, or a natural spontaneous labour at term, whenever that may be. The thing was, I couldnt go past 38 weeks. I had enough trouble getting to 38 weeks without a breakdown. I couldnt be induced for a "natural" labour because I had had a previous caeserean with Jack for breech presentation and they wouldnt induce a live baby. So...caeserean it was. A small price to pay for my sanity. Maybe it was selfish of me to have a section purely to alleviate my own fear. I felt terrible, knowing that the baby had no idea he was being born today. He was about to be pulled out of his warm little pocket without any knowledge of it!
I was prepped for the surgery. I had a gorgeous anaesthesiologist called Jeff who inserted my cannula and was just the right balance between comedic and sincere. As it turned out, he too had just had a stillborn daughter. He must have been strong man to endure that, then return to his job as an obstetric anaesthesiologist.
Then it was time to walk into the actual operating theatre. You can leave your dignity at the door here. On the table, I was instructed to hold a very specific pose as the spinal block was inserted. This took a while and every attempt was terrifying. Finally achieved, I was helped to lay down on the table, where my blood pressure promptly dropped to something ridiculous over thirty. I thought I was dying. DYING. It is what I imagine it to feel like. When I started to vomit too, I was really proud. Something was pushed through my drip and I felt much better.
The anaesthesiologist stood by my head. "So, can you feel anything?" he asked and I shook my head. "Good" he replied. "Because they started two minutes ago."
Before I knew it, he was here.

Archie.

A little cry and a glimpse of his purple body was all I got at first. I saw him moving and staff were exclaiming with delight over how beautiful he was. I thought I would be overwhlemed with emotion and cry everywhere, and maybe I would have been if the fear didnt kick in straight away. The fear that began with "he's okay, Stephanie, he's just having some trouble."

Trouble? Fluid in the lungs, apparently. They were using some equipment to remove this fluid. He wasnt crying, but I could see him moving. I was in a dream state. This wasnt happening. He was just meant to cry, be brought to me, and then go to Recovery for cuddles and breastfeeds. We were meant to call everyone ecstatically with our happy ending. But for sixteen long minutes, the paediatrician worked on him, attached an oxygen mask while everyone else stood around looking sombre. Occassionally someone would come over and explain what was happening, but I couldnt believe it when they said he was okay. I could tell by their faces that it was serious...they just didnt want to worry me. I must have been in some kind of shock because I felt insanely tired. My eyelids were heavy and I couldnt keep them open. I lay there "sleeping" while my son fought for breath. And eventually, he was taken to Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

I was taken to Recovery, where I began to shake uncontrollably. This was a combination of anaesthetic and nerves. It lasted for thirty minutes.

I was wheeled in to see my baby and the sight was beautiful but terrifying. He was hooked up to monitors, a feeding tube and nasal ventilation equipment called a CPAP. We sat for hours with him and doctors explained about Archie's respiratory distress. He was going to be okay, but he just needed this bit of extra help. This kind of thing happened to lots of babies, I was assured. I looked around, and Archie was the only full term baby there. All the others were tiny little preemies, at 26 or 27 weeks. I dont know where their parents got the strength from.

I was taken back to my room...against my will, I must add. We still hadnt told anyone that he'd been born, we wanted to exclaim our news without a "but, he's in the NICU."

Eventually, we made tentative phone calls and decided that we would bring Jack in for a visit. Upon visiting the NICU again, with Jack this time, we were met with a lovely surprise, which was that Archie's CPAP had been removed and he had been "downgraded" from NICU to High Dependancy Care. Apparently his breathing had stabilised and that was a good sign, obviously. But now his glucose levels had dropped. I did not have Gestational Diabetes in my pregnancy, but apparently, babies with respiratory distress often have low levels of glucose. As a result, breastmilk alone was not sustaining his glucose levels. He needed top ups of formula. It took three days in the Special Care Nursery to get Archie's glucose levels to normal. I was running to the nursery every 4 hours for feeding with a c-section wound to contend with. I was in trouble with the nursery staff for not being there on time, and I was in trouble with the maternity midwives for not resting properly. I couldnt win!

I have to say, though, the paediatric nurses in that NICU were amazing. Their skills are second to none.

Once Archie had stable glucose levels, he was able to return to my room in Maternity with me. That made things easier. After ten days in hospital, Archie and I came home. We had a slow start to breastfeeding and I "gave up" for a while. The kid had absolutely ruined my nipples and the pain was excruciating. Not only that, his blood sugar seemed to drop whenever he went without a formula feed. I allowed my nipples to heal and now he is back breastfeeding full time. Occassionally I give him a bottle if he is particularly unsettled, and I have learned that we all do what is best for our kids and in this case, formula was needed to keep Archie's glucose up.

Right now, he is doing beautifully. Of course, none of us sleep much, but this newborn period goes so fast, I am so aware of that.

But we made it. We have our family: Jack, Sybella and Archie.

Thank you for your support and kindness.

Week 38

Introducing Archie Patrick

21st February 2011

8lb 14oz ~ 55cm

Totally in love.

Birth story to come!

Week 37

This is all too hard now. Last night I had an honest to goodness panic attack, despite having had a CTG six hours before. I went to bed at 9.30pm, woke at 11pm and could feel nothing. I tried all the usual, drinking water, eating a chocolate biscuit. But my heart was racing and tears were dripping down my cheeks. Even if the baby was moving, I doubt my perception was all that anyway, and I was convinced he was gone. I engage in all this magical, superstitious thinking. The night that Sybella died, something was "different." I dont know what it was, but I remember being so weak and fatigued and tired. I was only 33 weeks, but I felt like I was days away from giving birth (which I was, unknowingly). I got Thai food for dinner that night because I couldnt muster up any energy to cook.
Last night, I had that terrible tiredness again. I again got Thai food for dinner. Then remembered that it had been the same routine on that terrible day I lost Sybella. So I was convinced that Rainbow Baby would die last night. Of course, my tiredness this time is attributed to running up and down the freeway for appointments, crippling anxiety and fear and no sleep. Oh, and the 8lb kid inside me.
My plan is to be admitted to hospital again this week. I will return in two days time and stay until the birth. I am just not coping at home. Jack's school drop off wipes me out for the rest of the day. My house is a disgrace. I want to nest, but am too scared. I am hoping that someone will hire a cleaner for me before I bring the baby home...(hint, hint...someone want to forward this post to Kelvin?!)

I was at an appointment the other day, listening to Rainbow Baby's heartbeat, when another pregnant woman started talking to me. Now, I am particularly irritable these days. And I dont hide it well. I made it clear that I wasnt interested in talking, not by being rude, but by answering in monosyllabics and lacking engagement.
"Humph" she groaned. "I am so sick of these appointments. Twice a week! TWICE A WEEK!"
I look at her. "How often do you come?" she asks me. "Every day" I answer. "EVERY DAY? Why? What is your complication?"
I respond with "Previous stillbirth. You?"
She doesnt seem peturbed or affected by my answer. "Oh. Cholestasis. Gestational Diabetes. You know." I nod. Look away. "But I cant work, because I'm HERE all the time. And I had to take my daughter out of childcare. It's so inconvenient."

Yes. Yes it is. About as inconvenient as picking out a baby coffin, I think.

"What..." I ask.."is the outcome if your pregnancy isnt monitored accordingly?"
"Ummm, stillbirth" she answers.
"I've had a stillbirth" I reiterate."In April. Trust me, do your monitoring. It's not as inconvenient as stillbirth."

Normally, I wouldnt be so blunt. But I have had it. I cant be nice anymore. I dont know why I find it so hard. I'm stretched to my limit. I hope I can become nice again when my Rainbow Baby is born.

See Baby This Week

Week 36

One thing I hate is dumbarse doctors at obscure medical clinics, who ring and tell your husband that his serology is all negative. Then ring back three days later and say, "no actually, you need to come in for a re-test. You may have Parvovirus." Parvovirus. Slapped Cheek. Fifth Disease. That I am not immune to. And that causes stillbirth. Excuse me for my first swear in all of my blogging history. But FUCK.
I spent a whole day at Maternal Fetal Medicine, having heart tracing, ultrasounds, counselling, blood tests, talks with doctors. The good news is that there was no evidence of anemia or hydrops fetalis, which is what leads to the baby being stillborn if the mother contracts Parvovirus while pregnant. I have not come down with anything yet, no rash or fever, so lets hope that I somehow did not contract it from Kelvin. Anyway, by the time the virus were to cause any problems in the baby, I would have delivered. Still...I was hoping for as little drama as possible for the next couple of weeks.
I am blurrily getting through each day. I dont know how I am doing it, truthfully. I want to believe we are meeting Rainbow Baby in a week or so, and I feel confident about this..I can "see" him in a way I could never "see" Sybella. However, I still havent gotten anything ready. All I have done is pull out Jack's old baby clothes, washed them, folded them messily and shoved them in a cupboard. I have no cot mattress, pram, bouncer or anything like that. I have no mobiles, carseat, books or stuffed toys. I did buy nappies. That's it.

You can see what a difference a stillbirth experience makes on one's confidence levels.





The first picture is Sybella's room, all done up by the time I was 32 weeks pregnant. The second picture is the same room, "prepared" for Rainbow Baby, and I am edging towards 37 weeks now. Just for funsies, here is a picture of me at 36 weeks pregnant. I actually had a woman say out loud "Oh my God, wow" as she walked past me.

Based on the ultrasound, the baby is 7lb 15oz already. Thank goodness for that vaginal bypass.

See Baby This Week

Week 35

Ah, respite. I have never felt so safe. I had a room to myself, a bed to myself and a bathroom to myself. Better than at home...
My meals were brought to me, my sheets were changed daily and I had the CTG machine on demand. My biggest responsibility was winning Solitaire on my iPhone.
I had few visitors, because I hadnt made it public that I was in hospital. Kelvin didnt even visit, because he had broken out in a rash. He wasnt sick, he had no fever, but just this non descript rash all over his body. Out of responsibility to the other newborns (I was in the maternity ward...not as harsh as it sounds...I only saw one baby the entire time) I told him to stay away. I revelled in the solitude. I missed Jack but I loved being alone. I loved having no responsibilities and running by my own schedule. I showered at odd times, slept at odd times and had the CTG at odd times...once at 4am. The midwives were beautiful and sympathetic. I had all day to lie there and do kick counts. And if movements werent up to scratch, the CTG was right outside my door.
The Boss returned from holidays and rang me. Now, this was the man, who, at the beginning of the pregnancy, said I could do whatever I needed to feel safe. Ring anytime, visit anytime, come to hospital if I need to. Well, he must have forgotten these promises, because he decided it was appropriate to question why I had been admitted. I wonder whether his ego was bruised that I had pursued different avenues for reassurance. I had gradually stopped relying on him for care, as he seemed irritable and unapproachable whenever I rang or visited. This, of course, could have been my own perception, and perhaps I was oversensitive. But the day he told me my anxiety was "abnormal" was the day I stopped putting my emotional trust in him. Since when was grief and anxiety part of a formula? What was "normal" in response to grief and trauma? I was clearly suffering from PTSD, based on a book that a hospital psychiatrist had given me. These symptoms, from Anxiety Australia, explain exactly what my day to day life was consumed by:

Intrusive Symptoms:

• Distressing thoughts or images (recurring images of Sybella, dead in my arms, or in her coffin.)
• Nightmares about the event (nightly.)
• Feeling or acting as if the traumatic event were recurring (whenever the baby had a sleep, I was sure that he had died. I also "remembered" Sybella's last movements, and kept thinking that the baby's movements were the same, and therefore the last ones, too.)
• Intense psychological distress when exposed to something that triggers memories of the traumatic event (I panicked when I drove past the funeral home that cared for Sybella. I cried every time I walked into the hospital, because the smell reminded me of her birth. I burst into tears in David Jones while shopping for baby clothes for Rainbow Baby.)
• Physical symptoms such as sweating, muscle tension and rapid heartbeat when exposed to things that trigger memories of the traumatic event (as simple as seeing the same model of pram that we had for Sybella.)

 Avoidance Symptoms

• Avoiding people, places and activities that trigger memories of the traumatic event (I wouldnt take Jack to the library, as much as he begged, because we went to the library on the day Sybella died. I wouldnt eat at restaurants that I ate at while pregnant with Sybella.)
• Losing interest in, and enjoyment of e.g. leisure activities, study, work or stop participating in such activities altogether (I enjoyed nothing. All I did was rush around, doing my chores in minimum time, so I could lie down and kick count, or visit the hospital.)
• Feeling detached from other people (I stopped answering the phone, returning texts, emails or facebook messages. I was constantly irritable with people that I normally got on well with.)
• Not be able to see a future for themselves, they don't expect to get married, have a family , live a long time (I had absolutely no faith or confidence that Rainbow Baby would emerge from my body alive. A live baby was a completely foreign and surreal concept.)

 Physical Arousal Symptoms:

• Sleep disturbance (I slept for 3 hours each night, and that sleep was fitful.)
• Irritability or anger (constantly.)
• Impaired concentration (I havent read a book in months. I can watch a movie for ten minutes. I finish half a job and wander off to do something else.)
• Being always on the alert for signs of danger (hypervigilant about movement. It consumed my day and night.)
• Being easily startled (I jumped at Kelvins's sneezes. My heart pounded at the sound of an ambulance siren.)

How can you tell a PTSD sufferer that her response to stillbirth and a subsequent pregnancy is "abnormal"? Apparently, I "behaved worse" than other women in my position. I was "extreme". So wouldnt that indicate a duty of care to ensure that I was okay, rather than judging me for what I was expressing? There were so many variables as to how women behaved in the same situation. How did their baby die? Was the cause known? Did she suffer from pre existing anxiety? How long between pregnancies? Did she have other kids?
I felt like asking him how many of his children's ashes did he have sitting on his mantelpiece? How many times had he pushed out a perfect, beautiful little baby girl who never opened her eyes? Did he feel lucky that he got to age 46 without planning a funeral for his daughter? Because I was 29 when I had to do it. And Jack was 4 when he attended the funeral of his sister.

But I digress. And I rant. But I make no apologies.. I am doing what I have to do just to get by day by day. My four days in hospital were a blur of true peace and comfort. I think I will be returning for more respite prior to the birth.

See Baby This Week

Week 34

Here I am. Week 34. The gestational week I found out that Sybella had died.
Truthfully, week 33 seemed worse, in hindsight, as it signalled the anticipation of approaching week 34.
Still, though, I was badly anxious. Badly. My stomach was in a constant knot. I wasnt sleeping. One particular night, I woke up, heart pounding, sweating, and desperately trying to feel him move. He didnt move for about twenty minutes. For those twenty minutes, I was convinced he had died. I cried and beseeched "please move...please move." Eventually, he did and the relief then made me break out in new, cold sweat. In the morning, I had an appointment at 11am for heart monitoring, but I woke early, jumped in the shower and was physically sick from nerves. I gagged and retched under the water, shaking all the while. "This is not normal," I told myself, and I knew it well. I arrived for my appointment at 9am, two hours early. I sat there, jiggling my foot, until the midwife eventually let me in before my appointment time. Once attached to the monitor, I relaxed slightly but watched the baby's heartbeat like a hawk. My trace finished, so I went to the hospital cafeteria to have lunch. That made me nervous, as there wasnt much to choose from. I went with Subway, only salad and cheese, toasted and microwaved (mmm, hot, soggy lettuce) and a chiller drink from Gloria Jeans. Milk drink products seemed to fill me up, as I wasnt tolerating proper food all that well. Before leaving, I went to the bathroom. I noticed on the toilet paper, a tiny reddish-black blob. Clot like. But tiny, like a matchhead. I went to the car and sat there for a while, wondering what to do. Should I go back and tell a midwife? Or go home and see if anything else happened? After speaking to Kelvin, he told me to go back and tell someone, otherwise I would panic all night.
I did that, and found myself at L&D, strapped to a monitor again, and getting a speculum exam. Nice. No obvious bleeding was seen, and my cervix was closed. Good stuff. But on the machine, the baby's heart was racing. "Tachycardia" was the word they used, which is a horrible word. For a good two hours I sat there, having horrid Braxton Hicks, watching the heartrate stay twenty beats above the normal baseline. In my mind, I envisioned cord accidents, fetal hypoxia, and the tachycardia being the beginning of the baby's distress. Needless to say, that night I was a mess again. I didnt sleep, I just lay there, frozen, counting movements and googling "fetal hypoxia."
The next day, I gave up. I rang my midwife and asked to be admitted to hospital. I needed emotional respite. I needed to be free of responsibility. I needed to sleep.

See Baby This Week

Week 33

33 weeks was the actual week that Sybella died. She died at 33 weeks and 5 days, approximately. She was born at 34 weeks and 1 day.
This week was so consumed by anxiety that I wondered if I was losing my mind. My stomach was in a constant knot. I couldnt keep food down. I stopped sleeping, after hearing that most babies die at night, when the mother is asleep because thats when her blood pressure drops. Constipation pain became a placental abruption, in my mind.
I turned up to hospital daily. Some staff were more than understanding. Others wanted me to get my act together. One particular midwife told me "I'm just a midwife. I cant cope with your anxiety. I dont know what to do for you." My response? "All you have to do is put the transducer on. That is all." I dont want anyone to have to "cope" with my anxiety. I know it's irrational. No-one can take it away, and I think that many midwives think that I want them to. I dont. All I want, is to turn up for heart monitoring without resistance or questions. I dont want to explain myself. I just want to say "I am anxious today. I am having a bad day. Can I please hear the baby's heartbeat?" Then I want them to agree, and hook me up, and leave me alone to concentrate on that beautiful thudding.
At 33 weeks and 6 days, I saw an obstetrician, not The Boss, as he was on holidays. I saw his replacement. I spilled everything. I told her I wasnt coping. She set me up with a hospital psychiatrist, who was lovely and helpful. We discussed an inpatient admission to the Maternity ward. Although the thought was alluring, logistically, I have Jack's birthday and first day of school coming up and dont want to miss those.
I am deeply fearful and am doubting more and more every day that I will birth this baby alive. Instinctively, I know he is okay. I know he is strong, and I can "see" him. But I am so profoundly affected by Sybella's death that my confidence and trust is completely shot.

There is even a point now where I wonder if too much movement is an issue! For the last two days, Rainbow Baby has had 15-20 minute bursts of energy (usually after a meal) where he doesnt stop wriggling at all. He calms down after a while and goes back to his normal pattern. But of course, I wonder "is he okay?"

I have a c-section booked for Feb 21. I wont feel at peace until then. 

See Baby This Week

Week 32

I think from now until the birth will be exactly the same. A rollercoaster of manic emotion and fear. I have tried to keep a lid on my anxiety, but I have given up. Let them think I am a lunatic. Let them worry about me and discuss how to handle me. I'm past it, beyond caring. I openly admit to hospital staff: "I am not coping." I turn up for fetal heart monitoring for no reason now, and dont even bother making up an excuse. "I want to listen to the heartbeat," I say. Unapologetically. At Maternal Fetal Medicine, I request ultrasounds unashamedly. I am always accomodated, which I do appreciate. If anyone dares to question my mental state and whether I am overreacting, God help them. I have terrible visions of the same thing happening all over again. My heart starts to pound when I imagine the possibility of my baby boy coming out, sleeping...having to go through it all over again, the funeral, the grief, the pity, the explanations for Jack. Oh, Jack. He is old enough now to really understand that there is a baby coming soon. If something were to happen...the burden of Jack's pain alone would be enough to send me into eternal catatonia.
He talks to the baby, sings to him. The fear of my boy living through the death of two of his siblings is unbearable.
All of this is what pushes me past my embarrasment of presenting to the hospital so often. If I can do anything to ensure this baby's health and safety, I will.

Even though most people are nice about it, some of them really dont understand.
All I can say to them is: "This is my child. My child."

See Baby This Week

Week 31

My 31st week coincided with the horrid lack of routine of Christmas. Kelvin was home, everything was a constant mess in the lead up to Christmas. Jack was hysterical with excitement and his sleep routines were off.
I dont cope well in this environment. I cope best when I know that Tuesday is cleaning day, Thursday is grocery day, Wednesdays are appointment days etc. When my routine is thrown, my anxiety levels hit the roof. And that, they did, this week.
I knew that Maternal Fetal Medicine were not open through Christmas, and The Boss was not readily available...all the public holidays were confusing, and that void of time between Christmas and New Year was horrendous.
This also co-incided with the information that my 1 hour Glucose Tolerance Test came back with elevated sugar levels. As a result, I needed to have the 2 hour challenge. As I waited for the results, I was advised to stick to a low GI diet, that included wholemeal rubbish. The sudden lack of sugar in my diet affected the baby's movements, as I had previously used sugar to get his movements kickstarted. Now there was virtually no sugar in my diet, I am sure he was very annoyed! I could just picture him, rolling his eyes. "Muuuuuuu-uuum! What's this Basmati crap you keep sending down? Water? Water? What about orange juice??"
So, yes, he was very quiet, and coupled with the fact that I didnt have my usual tools of reassurance readily at hand, I lost my mind over Christmas.
I went to the hospital for fetal heart monitoring every second day, on average. Once I even went twice in a day. That day, I noticed alarm bells going off with the midwives. They were getting "worried." From the outside, I could see, that as professionals, they had every right to be concerned. My behaviour was irrational. It was beyond normal boundaries. I knew that too. But didnt care. Because 8 months ago, I held a funeral for my baby. Because I have my baby's ashes on my mantlepiece. Because my husband has a tattoo of her name on his arm. When I go back to that place, my irrational behaviour doesnt seem so irrational.
It so happens, that my 2 hour Glucose Challenge was normal and within range. I amped up the sugar again (not really!)...and Rainbow Baby seems much happier. His movements have changed again. Rather than jabs, he rolls and pushes. I remember Jack doing that. It is reassuring.
I lay in bed this very morning, feeling him roll around. I had been taught how to find the head, and I had my hand over the hard area that was Rainbow Baby's head. I palpated softly, amazed that I could feel the head so clearly. Suddenly, the hard area was no longer "hard"! It gave way and became soft. It was such a disconcerting feeling that I verbally exclaimed "ooooh!" I immediately started thinking that I had pressed the fontanelle...I had poked out an eye...I had dented his forehead. Although I hadnt been pushing that hard, the "dip" I felt was very real and overt. I was told repeatedly that the most likely scenario was that Rainbow Baby got irritated by the pressing and slid his head out of the way. I definitely had not pressed harder than The Boss or any midwife who had palpated my abdomen previously. I kept telling myself that I couldnt have done anything too horrendous to the baby with skin, uterine muscle and amniotic fluid in between us! That's the nature of pregnancy after loss, though. You worry about every little thing.

See Baby This Week