25th September 2011
I woke up this morning after quite an unsettled night due to pins and needles running down my arms. My left arm had been quite painful in the night and both my hands were puffy and sore. When I got up to go to the toilet I realised that my face was also puffy. I haven’t felt any movement from my baby for at least 24 hours – that is I haven’t felt any kicking, I am still aware of her shifting position. I asked John to take Sam to church for me so that I could rest but I felt so awful I couldn’t sleep. When he got home I decided we should go to hospital to get checked over. I packed some makeup just in-case I was admitted – I know what my track record is like! We arrived at hospital at about 1pm and were seen in the assessment room at around 2 pm. The midwife measured my abdomen and tried to find a heart beat with the CTG machine – she couldn’t find a heart beat so used a smaller sonicaid instead although was still unsuccessful. Eventually they called for a scan machine to look for our little baby’s heart beat. Through some coincidence our consultant was walking past the assessment room at that moment and saw our name on the board. Thankfully she came in to see what had happened and was able to carry out the scan for us. I watched her intently as her brow furrowed at the image and I knew exactly what she was going to tell us. After a few minutes she looked up and said ‘I’m so sorry Claire but your baby has died’. No words can describe how I felt at that moment and I began to scream. The next few minutes are a blur as I remember being taken out of the assessment room and helped down the corridor to another room. With each step I took my legs seemed to cripple more and I could feel myself sinking lower to the ground. Eventually we got into a special room for such situations and we were advised to let someone take Samuel whilst we talked. I screamed and panicked at the thought of them taking away my little boy – my little girl had already been ripped from me but I was told it was for the best to avoid him seeing us in such a state. I can’t really piece together the next minutes and hours of the day – them seemed to pass in a haze of panic and dread. I had, at some point, realised that our baby dying meant she was still inside of me and that we would somehow need to get her out. I began to have another panic attack at the mere thought of having to give birth to her and begged the doctors to allow me to have a caesarean. They explained that this would not be the best option for me due to recovery time and urged me to have an induction instead. They explained that I would be given a tablet to block progesterone release into my womb and then would come back 2 days later for induction to begin. 2 days?!! How was I going to sit at home for 2 whole days pretending that nothing had happened and knowing that my beautiful baby was dead inside me. Again the panic set in. Eventually I was told that my blood pressure was dangerously high and that there was protein in my urine indicating pre eclampsia and that I would need to be induced as early as possible.
Once I had stopped panicking I asked John to call our Church leaders and let them know what had happened. Unbelievably they all came out to the hospital to spend the afternoon with us. I don’t know what we’d have done without them as their presence was so loving and supportive. I think the panic would have continued for the whole day as we bounced off each other but I am certain that the fact we were able to talk to them meant that alot of our terrified emotions were contained on the first day prior to delivery. Thank goodness!
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