It's hard to say when it all really started. I guess it was probably the Friday before that I noticed her movements had slowed down. But I'd read that this can happen as you get closer to your due date and mum said we all virtually stopped conpletely before we arrived so I didnt worry about it.
On Sunday night I lost a huge part of my mucus plug. There were no fluids and no blood, so I went to bed thinking things might be happening but not expecting anything too soon. On Monday morning I woke up with more mucus in my undies, and strong period pains. I called the midwife to see if I should come in and she was unhelpful to say the least. The best she could offer was that it might be labour but probably wasn't, so I should come in if I thought it was. What I really wanted was someone to tell me what to do. I decided to stay home and see if contractions started.
Around lunch time I realised that I couldn't remember feeling her move at all that morning. I had a cold drink and lay down for a while and eventually I got a couple of kicks. I was still cramping but I just continued to assume that everything was fine.
Mum and Bec were both trying to get me to go to the hospital but I was still hessitant. I didn't want to get there and end up being kept in for observation until friday when our csection was scheduled. So instead I pretended I was less worried than I really was and promised to go the next day if nothing changed.
I kept quiet about the lack of movement though. I knew everyone would freak out about it, and Drew proved me right when I finally confessed to him that I'd only felt her a couple of times that day. I calmed him down by playing it down and telling him it was normal, and we went to bed.
Tuesday was much the same. By 2pm I'd had no movement, and I tried the laying down trick again with very little success. Now I was getting worried.
Bec and Ash came to cook tea for us, and once she found out that I'd had only the one kick for the day she demanded that we go to the hospital. Even though I was worried I still didnt want to go but she threatened to call the midwife so off we went.
We were laughing and joking in the car on the way to burnie. I fully expected to spend an hour hooked up to a monitor and be sent home with a clean bill of health. I really thought we were all just over reacting.
When we got to the hospital it was very quiet. It was 7.45pm as we arrived at the desk and all the mums and bubs were tucked up in bed and resting. Why is that one of my strongest memories?
I explained everything to the midwife and as expected we were taken through to an observation room and I was hooked up to a monitor to check for movement, contractions and bubs heart rate. We were still smiling and enjoying hearing that beautiful heartbeat.
I noticed that one of the numbers on the screen kept skyrocketting, and when it did the heartrate dropped. The midwife came back in after half an hour and when she saw this things got a bit more busy. She said I was having contractions even though I couldn't fell them, and with each one bub's heartrate dropped dangerously low. She restarted the monitor in case it was just a glitch and left to find an obstetrician.
Meanwhile I was more concerned. The sound of words like bracycardia and distress will do that to you. I didnt want Drew to worry though so I put on a brave face and we started joking that the doctor was taking so long because he was stiching up someone's poor vagina.
Around 10pm the doctor finally arrived. I knew things were bad when the midwife said "she was going in for a section on Friday." I thought "was?!?". I was still having the invisible contractions and the heartrate was still dropping.
Everything from here on happened at lightning speed. The doctor explained that he thought she might be putting pressure on the umbilical cord with the contractions and our best option was to get her out now rather than wait until Friday.
I could feel the tears coming but was trying my hardest not to let them out. I thought up to that point that I was prepared for her arrival and the cleft but all of a sudden I wasn't sure if I was ready. All I could think about was the damn cleft.
I was holding it together right up until the man came in to put in my IV line. he was completely incompetent, and with each painful jab I lost a little bit more control. by the seventh attempt when he finally got the damn thing in I was balling my eyes out, but I couldnt tell anyone why. I didnt want people, especially Drew, to know how scared I was about what was happening.
It seemed like only seconds had passed from the time I was told I needed an emergency c section, to being rolled in to theatre. I was seperated from Drew while we waited for the anethistist to come and do my spinal, and for the longest time it was just me and my team of nurses, with me silently crying away on my bed.
When the anethistist arrived he was fantastic and calmed me down and got me laughing again, so that by the time Drew was allowed in I was back in control and if not ready, then at one with the idea of meeting our little girl.
Just like with Sophie's delivery, I didnt realise we had started until I felt the pushing and pulling of her being removed. I saw someone bring her around to the resus table but everything was earily quiet. I wasn't too worried - Sophie didn't cry straight away either and needed her airway cleared. But as the seconds ticked by and there was still no sound I looked over and I could see this tiny little white figure laying there. I knew then that something was really wrong.
She was so pale, I've never seen anyone that colour before. The nurses were trying to intubate her, and I heard the surgeon very quietly say that she'd had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck five times. I was keeping very quiet, I didnt want drew to pick up on how serious things were because I didn't want him to get upset and freak out.
One of the nurses eventually came over and told us that she was breathing, but having trouble keeping her airways open by herself, and that she was very anemic for some reason. She also said that she'd been in distress and had "done a poo" inside me. this is when I started crying again I think.
The paediatrician (when did she arrive?) decided to get her out to the special care unit, and I told Drew he should go with her. Even though I didn't want to be alone I also didn't want Ellie to be alone either. So off they went and I was left behind on the operating table, unable to feel anything from my neck down and not knowing if my baby was going to make it.
The next part took forever. the only person that spoke to me was the head anethistist and he was still trying to keep me calm as best he could. Towards the end I could smell this terrible smell, and I realised it was my own flesh being burnt. thats how I knew that my placenta had been acreted. I wasn't worried about myself though, they could have chopped my legs off at that point and I wouldn't have cared as long as Ellie was ok. I kept thinking, "her name is Eleanor. She has a name. Her name is Eleanor." Like I had to acknowledge her in that way because no one else was.
Finally the operation was over and I was wheeled back out to the corridor. As he was leaving the obstetrician said that yes, my placenta had been acreted and I had lost as significant amount of blood. He also said they'd found a lot of the babie's blood inside me but didn't know why. I was then left to wait to be wheeled back on to the ward.
At this point I knew nothing about my baby. I looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was 1am. was she born on Tuesday or Wednesday? How much did she weigh? Was she alive? It took another 20 minutes for me to get back to the ward.
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