As I was being moved back to the maternity ward we passed a team of doctors in the hallway, discussing blood transfusions and transport to Hobart. I knew instinctively that they were talking about Ellie. I wanted to scream at someone to tell me what the hell was going on, but I was in so much shock I couldn't find any words.
I was dumped in my room and left there alone. I could hear a doctor in the hallway explaining to Drew what was happening, and I was just laying there balling my eyes out. The next thing I heard was a nurse say "has anyone spoken to the mother yet?" and thats when I was finally told first hand what was going on.
The paediatrician came in with Drew and I was told that she was currently breathing with the help of a tube to keep her airway open, and being given a blood transfusion. He said she needed to be airlifted to Hobart for further treatment, and the team would be there in a few hours to take her.
All I wanted to do was get out of that bed and hold my baby. I didn't want them to take her without me first getting to see her. I didn't want them to take her at all. I was promised that as soon as I could be moved in to a wheelchair they would take me in, and Drew was let go through to take photos for me in the meantime.
Drew left not long after so that he could get some sleep before driving down to Hobart himself first thing in the morning. suddenly I was alone again, trapped in that tiny room not knowing what was going on. All I could do was lay there and stare at the blury photo on my phone of the precious little girl down the hall fighting for her life.
The new paediatrician who had taken over came in every half an hour to tell me what was happening, and without that regular contact I think I would have gone crazy with fear.
Around 2.30am I could feel my toes tingling, and I asked to be taken through to special care to see her. The nurse wasn't sure but I was adamant, I said she could take me in a chair or I could drag myself along the floor, and she got me my wheelchair. Standing up that first time, only hours after surgery, was easily the most horrific pain I've ever felt. There was a massive gush of blood as I finally stood, and I colapsed back on to the bed so that I wouldn't fall on my face. With a lot of help from the nurses I made it into the chair without passing out.
The nursery was very quiet when I was wheeled in. I think there was two other babies in there, but the one I was focused on was laying under a heat lamp with the doctor holding an oxygen mask over her face. She looked so very tiny laying there, just in her nappy and a tiny white beanie on her head. I was scared to touch her but the doctor said it was fine, and I reached out to hold her pale little hand.
I'm not sure how long I sat there like that. It must have been a while though as my eyes started to get heavy and I could feel the weariness starting to set in. Eventually the doctor said I should go back and get some rest, and that she would come and get me before the neonatal transport team arrived.
Getting back out of the chair was even worse than getting in to it, and the nurse left to get me some morphine for the pain. I was terrified that if I fell asleep the transport team would come and take her without telling me, so I tried my hardest to stay awake. The pain helped in that, the morphine seemed to do apsolutely nothing to help and I was in agony. More time passed, and soon the doctor was back to say the transport team were there.
Again we went through the process of getting me in to the wheelchair, and while I didnt feel like passing out this time I did scream. it was 5am, only 6 or so hours since my surgery began, and there is no way I should have been making my second trip outof bed that soon.
When I arrived in the nursery the transport team already had Ellie moved in to the transport crib. She had been intubated for the trip so that if her stats dropped she wouldn't need it done in midair. I wasn't able to touch her one last time, and so I just sat in the background as the team gathered everything together and cried. The doctor from Hobart in charge of the transport promised to take care of her, and off they went.
Back in my room I was given another shot of morphine and told to get some sleep. The nurse on duty said she wasn't sure what would be done but she thought I would probably be discharged in the morning rounds and left to travel down to Hobart by myself. I couldn't figure out how that would work: it would be less than 12 hours since I'd had major abdominal surgery and I could barely move from the bed to a chair, so how could I possibly be released from the hospital? I quickly messaged Drew and told him he'd need to come back to the hospital before he left for Hobart in case he needed to take me with him.
After that I lose massive chunks of my memory. I don't know if I was falling asleep from exhustion or passing out from the pain, but there are huge black holes in the next 24 hours that I've only been able to partly fill from talking to people that saw me and reading my messages and facebook posts.
Drew came back and I don't think I'd ever been so glad to see him. It had been tourture stuck in that room by myself all night. Not long after he arrived I think is when Doctor Hingston, my high risk obstetrician, came in to see me. I was glad to see her too, and she had an answer to what had gone wrong. She was able to tell us that ellie had suffered from a massive heamorrage through her umbilical cord, something called a fetomaternal heamorrage. She said we were extremely lucky, and if we'd waited even a couple of hours longer to come in she probably wouldn't have made it.
She also said that while there would be tests done to find out why it happened, it was unlikely that we'd ever get an answer. All she could say was that there was definitely no relationship between the cleft and the heamorrage, they are seperate things. My head was too fuzzy from the stress, lack of sleep and of course morphine, so I wasn't thinking to ask any questions at that point.
The latest plan for getting me to Hobart was discussed then as well. I was told an ambulance would be there around lunch time to take me down to the Royal Hobart Hospital, where I would be admitted as a paitent. She left, saying she'd like to see me when I returned from Hobart. I assumed this meant there was something else she needed to discuss but didnt have the energy to worry over it.
Drew headed off to start the journey down south and my phone started ringing off the hook. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, and the tears started anew as I tried to explain to everyone what had happened without really knowing anything myself. I was blown away by the support though, especially from members of Drew's family that we see very rarely.
Not long after Drew left Bec arrived with Sophie. It must have been incredibly strange and scary for her; mummy and daddy had left the night before without any fuss and hadn't come back. And then mummy was in the hospital and in a funny chair with wheels. I wanted so badly to give her a cuddle but the pain was too much and I was scared that she might hurt me by accident.
While Bec was there I had my catheter removed and was able to waddle in to the shower. Just moving the short distance from the bed to the bathroom was too much for me though, and I had to sit down on the shower chair so that I didn't pass out. I washed myself as best I could, and Bec had to come in and help me dry off and get dressed. I was in so much pain I just wanted to die at that point.
Mum came in soon after, around 11am. Stupidly I was still trying to put on this brave face in front of everyone, because I knew that other people were looking to me to judge how they should react.
The paitent transport ambulance arrived at 11.30am. My nurse said that I would be given another morphine shot before the trip, but all I was handed was a packet of sandwiches and the smallest bottle of orange juice I had ever seen.
I waved goodbye to my family and was loaded into the back of the ambulance. I was out cold within minutes.
I woke up with a jolt after what felt like hours. I thought we must have nearly been in Hobart, but as I looked out the window and saw the overpass at Devonport my heart sunk. I could feel every little bump in the road as if someone was grabbing me and shaking me. It was horrible and I soon passed out again.
I kept waking up and thinking we were nearly there, only to see we'd made hardly any progress each time. My phone had gone flat and I had no way of knowing if Ellie had made it safely or if Drew was OK. I was very lucky to have two amazing ambo's with me though, and they managed to keep me talking and not crying.
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