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Samson’s birth and pregnancy story

Finding out I was pregnant was the happiest day of my life.  After 5 years and countless negative tests we had lost hope that a pregnancy would happen naturally (if at all) and so even though my period was over 2 weeks late I was still unwilling to take a test,

I was finally convinced too take one, because other people around me where noticing several changes.  My boobs where huge, and sore.  I was feeling sick and being sick a lot!  I thought I just had a tummy bug.  I was certain my period was just about to show her ugly head because I was all crampy and feeling pre-menstrual.  I know now that this is also an early pregnancy symptom.

I took a test just to be on the safe side but fully expecting a negative result.  I waited till morning when I would be alone.  For some reason I always tested alone, because then I could cry my eyes out at yet another negative result, pick myself up and get on with my day without having to face anyone else.  I sat on the toilet with my little dip stick and collection cup.  I placed the stick in my urine and then put it down on the side of the bath trying not to look at it because like the many times before I would wait the 5 minutes until the test had finished then go back and check.  However out the corner of my eye I saw it already looked positive.  I took a double take, held it up and looked at it again.  Then got the instructions out to double check that I wasn’t’ seeing things.  I started to physically shake the test was definitely positive.

It is the first time in my life that I’ve been so happy that I am crying, so happy that I feel sick.  I wanted to tell Chris straight away but because I had decided to test when he wasn’t home he was at work.  I considered waiting till he got home but the news wouldn’t keep and so I dialed the number of his work and demanded to speak to him immediately.  We were ecstatic, terrified, excited, worried, and in total shock.

The next weeks and months passed in a blur of morning sickness and baby shopping.

I was happy to be pregnant but I was very ill.  Constantly being sick and feeling sick, cramping on and off and there where several scares,

The first was bleeding at 7 weeks.  I discovered on inspection in the toilet red smearing on my knickers and of course immediately panicked.  There was no pain, but I was convinced that this was the start of a miscarriage.  We saw on scan that everything was fine, and our little bean though tiny had a good strong heartbeat.

The second scare came at 12 weeks when a scan revealed that there might have been a problem with the baby’s bladder,

We waited and hoped, nobody told us what to expect, it was always just a case of waiting.

By week 13 I was bleeding again, though this time in considerable pain.  I woke up one morning with waves of contractions bursting through my belly.  A feeling not unlike being kicked in the groin.  I climbed out of bed and sat on the floor on my hands and knees for a bit until the pain was semi bearable.  Every instinct in my entire body was telling me that something was very wrong.  I lay down on the sofa because it was too early to call the doctor and I waited for a couple of hours hoping that maybe the pain would go away.   I must have fallen asleep for a short time but was woken with a massive wave of pain and a gush between my legs.
The beginning of the end.

I held my stomach and heaved myself into the toilet to confirm that the gush was indeed blood.  I was horrified to see the toilet bowl turn red and some stringy clots glued to the inside of my thighs.  I carefully picked them off inspecting each one making a mental note so I would be able to explain everything to the doctor when I eventually saw her.  I called the hospital convinced that this was the start of a miscarriage and then I called Chris to tell him to come home.  I’d cried when I saw the blood, but by now I was starting to feel slightly numb. I felt like someone else was starting to take over and deal with this mess and I could take a back seat and grieve.  I did not dissociate far enough back so I was unaware what was happening because it felt necessary that I stay focused but enough that I could do what was necessary to get medical help and transport to the other end of the city without being an emotional wreck.  My Mum agreed to drive me to the hospital and within 10 minutes I was sat in her car frantically twirling my hair and searching for any feeling in my belly despite it being pointless because at this point it was still too early to feel my baby move.

When we got to the hospital I was bewildered.  Nobody seemed very concerned at all.  The doctors and midwifes seemed nonchalant.  As if there was no hurry to see me, the pain I was in wasn’t real and the bleeding wasn’t concerning.  We where placed in a little room with a hard back chair for Chris and an uncomfortable examining table for me to sit on and then we waited.

I have no idea how long we waited probably hours.  Time seemed to stand still.  I paced, I rocked, I had Chris gently hold the bottom of my back, but eventually the pain started to ease and the bleeding was slowing.  The midwife came in to check on us and explained she was going to listen to the baby’s heart.  I lay down and waited some more when she tried to find it.  I felt in my heart that the baby was already gone, I knew she would not be able to find the heart my baby was dead.  There was no way I could lose all this blood and feel this kind of pain and my baby be alive.

In the next moments came the loveliest sound I have ever heard.  I can only compare it to a swooshing, like water running back and forward very quickly in a small container,
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
My baby was alive; despite everything my baby was not dead.  I felt relieved, and confused.  The midwife seemed pleased and continued to do some general checks, my cervix was closed and there was no signs that I was about to miscarry and so I was told that I should go home and rest.

I wanted to be relieved, happy that everything was ok and this was just another scare but I couldn’t relax.  Something was telling me that this wasn’t right.  Everyone around me seemed so relaxed after hearing the heart and I started to feel like I was being paranoid so I agreed to go home and hoped that I was wrong.

Chris left me that night to go out with friends.  He had no reason to stay because everyone had told us that things where normal and I was fine.  I said goodbye to him with an uncomfortable knot in the pit of my stomach.  I continued to push my doubts to the back of my mind.  Repeating in my head that everything was ok the babies heart was beating, the baby was not dead so it would be ok.

There was a steady build and release of pain that evening along with a dull ache that I was constantly aware of reminding me that something was wrong. Periodically I’d feel waves of what felt like contractions.  Except, I knew it couldn’t be contractions because I had been told that everything was fine.  The doctors had checked me over and said I was ok so how could I be having contractions?  That night I tired all sorts of things to alleviate the pain.  I took painkillers, I used a hot water bottle on my back, I rocked back and forward on the chair, I lay down, I paced my living room and I sat on the toilet.  Nothing I did reduced the pain.  By the time Chris got home I was at my wits end.  Yelling at him for leaving me even though he had no idea how bad I felt and crying because I didn’t know what to do.  He asked me if I wanted to go back to the hospital but I felt like if I did I would be wasting there time, nothing had changed since the morning.  I decided to wait and see what happened and if it got worse I would go back.

The next morning there was no change expect for the fact that the bleeding had subsided.  I took this as a positive sign and decided to wait it out and see what happened in the next few days.  There was still that constant dull ache and an instinctive feeling that was screaming at me that something was wrong.  I kept pushing that to the back of my mind and making myself hope that things would work out ok.

I feel like my body and my mind where trying to tell me that this pregnancy wasn’t right.  The entire pregnancy I always had a feeling that something was wrong with the baby.  Like any pregnant woman I didn’t want to believe that those feelings could be real because I wanted my baby to be ok but I cannot deny the fact that I never felt safe.  I tried to go out and buy baby clothes, I tried to make plans for the future and be happy that I was going to be a Mum but I always felt uneasy.  I would tell myself that I would feel better after the first trimester, and then after my scan, and then after I could hear the babies heart or feel the baby move but there was never a time that I actually felt like everything would be ok.

I had many dreams about being pregnant or giving birth and in every single one of those dreams the outcome was never good.  Sometimes I’d give birth to a dead baby.  Sometimes there would be someone telling me that they where here to cut the baby out.  The most disturbing dreams where when I would hold the baby then look under its blanket and see that it was very deformed.  I often dreamed that I was in a room full of people that I knew who where dead and those people where holding my baby and for some reason I could not get near it.  No matter how much I tried to put these dreams out of my mind in my waking day they disturbed me deeply.

It was a few days after my first trip to the hospital that I started to notice a dribble of liquid that was most definitely not urine when I visited the bathroom.  It seemed every time I checked there was a little bit more.  It didn’t’ feel normal, and the pain was still intense so I decided that I had to listen to my intuition and go back to the hospital no matter how much I felt I was wasting there time.  We made the trip once more, like déjà, me sitting in the car frantic and then the long wait at the hospital before finally getting a quick check and being told nothing was wrong and “go home”.  I asked about the liquid discharge and was reassured that it was perfectly normal discharge for pregnancy.  I asked again if they were sure it was not my waters breaking and I was told that this could not be the case.  By the time they where asking me to go home we had sat in the hospital for more than 5 hours, Chris in an uncomfortable chair and me sitting on the hard examining table in pain.  I had no energy or will left to fight with them.  I felt like an idiot, a time waster.  I was also starting to believe that I might actually be imagining everything.  I think only to shut me up they sent me home with even stronger painkillers and told me to come back only if the bleeding got worse and so the waiting at home began again.

By 14 weeks I started to feel some fluttery feelings in my stomach that where the most reassuring feelings in the world.  At least when I felt those no matter how sporadic I knew my baby was alive.

The pain was chronic, and I took the extra strong painkillers and tried my best to ignore it.  Then the bleeding started to gush.  It was enough that I was filling a pad once an hour and feeling like I was about to faint.  I felt stuck.  I was panicky about going back to hospital because I felt they assumed I was wasting there time but I was also afraid to stay at home bleeding out with the possibility of losing my baby.  So I decided that my baby was more important than how apprehensive I felt going back to the hospital and we made the journey again.  It was much the same as before except this time I insisted they look at the pads to see how much blood I was losing.  As soon as they found the babies heart they repeated that everything was ok.  Feeling distressed we questioned them asking what the possible cause of the bleeding could be.  They kept repeating that they would not rule out miscarriage but there was nothing else they could do to find out where the bleeding was coming from.  After another 5 or 6 hours we took the hour and half bus journey home with me still losing blood and barley able to stand up.  I swore that this was the last time I would go back, it just seemed so pointless.

I couldn’t keep that promise because now every time I visited the bathroom not only did I have to contend with the blood and pain, but also the smell of rotten meat.  This I was sure was definitely NOT normal but I had no idea what to do about it.  Do I go all the way back to the hospital to get it checked knowing that I will probably waste an entire day waiting around only to be told that nothing is wrong and to turn around and go back home again?  Or do I sit at home worrying myself senseless.  Chris persuaded me to go back because he could also smell this putrid smell and he did not think it was something that should be ignored.  So once again we made the trip all the way across town to the hospital.  They took swabs, and they did all the usual checks but they seemed too busy to take any time to talk to me properly and after waiting about for another afternoon we where allowed to go home.  I had no treatment, and I was told that the results from the swabs would take a few days so sit and wait.

The baby was moving a lot even though I was just 15 weeks.  It seemed early for me to be feeling movement so often but I was grateful for it because it was the only contentment I got.  I could not believe in my heart this baby was going to make it.  My insides were constantly churning with fear and I just knew that this would not end with a healthy live baby.  Even so those little kicks were precious to me.  No matter what the outcome would be this was my baby and for now it was still alive and safe in my womb.

I had sat in the house for over 2 weeks doing as little as possible because I was in so much pain.  The pain would come and go as well as the bleeding but I decided finally on Sunday evening that I would venture out to a social event.  It wasn’t until I got out of Chris large T-shirt and into my own clothes that I realised that I was starting to look pregnant.  My first thoughts about this were not happy, I was afraid.  I knew that the more pregnant I got the harder it would be when the baby died.  I felt morbid for thinking along those lines, but I couldn’t help it.

It was nice to be out and with friends.  Feeling like a normal sane person and not some hermit stuck indoors 24 hours a day, but I was nervous.  I felt like I was enticing fate. I was far from home, far from the hospital it would not be easy to get back in a hurry.  Moving around was making the pain worse and the bleeding slightly heavier and I felt guilty for being out in the first place like I was putting myself before our baby.  I tired my best being social and trying to forget all the worry and pain.  I even avoided going to the bathroom so that I didn’t have to deal with the blood.  There were some small gushes that I continued to ignore but before long I had to pee.

I sat down at the toilet and peered uneasily at the pad sticking to my knickers.  As I suspected it was full; I was bleeding heavy again.  It didn’t worry me any more than I had been over last few weeks.  I bent down and started shuffling through my bag to find another pad to change with when my entire lower belly contracted.  I felt the urge to push which terrified me because I thought that I would pass the baby right there and then in a pub toilet completely on my own.  I couldn’t ignore the urge or suppress it so I let it out.  There was a slow plop into the toilet and then the contraction passed.

I sat very still after in silence just listening to my own heart beat and feeling my eyes well up with tears.  In my head there was a narrative of unnerving voices shrieking at me to do different things but I felt frozen.  I slowly eased myself up and started to attempt to clean the blood off myself with a tissue.  I put the tissue down at the side because I didn’t want to cover whatever had fallen into the toilet but I also didn’t want to look down the toilet yet.  I pulled my knickers and trousers up and then I looked.  There was definitely something sitting at the bottom of the toilet along with a lot of blood but I wasn’t sure what it was.  I looked too small to be the baby but to big to be a clot.  My mind couldn’t make sense of it, I knew I needed to get it out of the toilet but I couldn’t bear to put my hands in and fish it out.  What if it was some part of my broken baby?  In that moment I desperately wanted to feel anything from my belly even a slight movement or flutter to let me know that it was still in there and alive but I could feel nothing at all except empty.

The only thing I could think of to do was get Chris because he was the only person I knew who would understand what I needed done.  I left the toilet hoping that nobody else would use the cubical when I was away and found Chris.  I could scarcely get the words out to explain to him what was wrong and I just kept repeating over and over that I needed him to come with me.  He protested at first thinking I was being my usual neurotic self but when he realised I wasn’t going to give up and I was getting more distraught he came.  When he finally did understand what was wrong I could see that he was worried.  I think he half expected to go into that toilet with me and find a tiny baby lying dead at the bottom.  It was hard to explain to him what it was I needed him to get out the toilet because I didn’t know myself so all I could tell him was that I had felt the urge to push and something had come out.  Whatever it was I planned on taking it with me to the hospital so that maybe this time they would take me seriously.

He fished through my urine and blood to get the thing out and we put it on a tissue and both stood for a bit examining it.  It did not look like a part of my baby.  I thought it could be a giant clot, or a bit placenta, all sorts of disconcerting thoughts where going through my mind.  I was thankful it was not the baby but for the first time I realised how completely depleted I was with the whole pregnancy.  I really was sure that I would miscarry I just didn’t know when and at that moment I wanted it over.

I put the massive clot in a tissue and sat down.  A friend came over to see what was wrong because it was obvious that something was bothering me.  I explained about the clot, and everything that had happened over last 2 weeks.  She tried to calm me but I think she really didn’t know what to do or say and in the end she brought over another friend who worked in the medical field.  It wasn’t someone I am especially close too but it was someone I trusted and by that point I felt kind of hopeless so I showed him the massive clot I had passed and explained about all the pain and discomfort.  He was kind, and gave me good advice.  Mainly that I should transfer my care to another hospital because it didn’t seem like I was getting proper treatment were I was.  I sat for another hour waiting because we where relying on someone else to give us a lift home and I didn’t want to make a scene by announcing that I needed to leave immediately.  The bleeding had come so often now over the last few weeks that it didn’t even feel urgent anymore.

It was so late at night that we had to go back to our usual hospital.  This time we had a doctor who took me a bit more seriously.  Mainly because I had brought the massive clot for her to see for herself and even she acknowledged that this was not normal and along with all the pain and bleeding over the past few weeks she was concerned.  No matter how badly I wanted to hear that everything was ok it was much more of a relief to have someone actually listen to me and believe me.  She was worried about the blood loss and wanted me to stay overnight in the hospital and have a scan in the morning.  I was not keen on staying because I knew I’d get no sleep and because I felt the place had such a negative atmosphere.  Chris would be sent home and I’d be left on my own.  I was afraid for him to leave my side because I felt so sure that something was going to happen soon.  I wanted him with me because he made me feel safe.  He was the only familiar thing in this hospital and I was not allowing him to leave without me.  There was no way he could be permitted to stay with me and so I made the choice to go home and come back in the morning for a scan.  The doctor was unhappy with this but agreed to let me go on the understanding that I phoned an ambulance if the bleeding got any worse.  At 3am we left.

As instructed I telephoned the hospital first thing in the morning to arrange a time to come in for the scan.  They couldn’t give me a time and told me to phone back in an hour.  When I called back I was still given no appointment time and told they would call me back.  An hour after that someone called.  I was informed that they would not be giving me a scan, that I had heard my baby’s heart on several occasions and that a scan was only given in emergency situations.  I was not to come back to the hospital next time I was bleeding and instead go and see my community midwife or GP.  Before I had any chance to ask questions the line went dead.

I was angry but not surprised.  I really wondered if this amount of bleeding was not considered emergency then what exactly would count as an emergency?  I also made the decision that I would be transferring my care to the other hospital.  For the next day I lay on my back at home having what felt like contractions about every 15 minutes.  I was really starting to believe that I must be a drama queen, losing my mind with total paranoia because every single doctor I had seen seemed to think nothing was wrong.

The contractions continued into the night, they where painful but not enough that I thought I was in labor.

After another night of nearly no sleep I called my own midwife in the morning (only because I wanted the reassurance of hearing the baby’s heart).  I knew that there would be nothing more she could do except check that and since I could no longer go back to the hospital that was about as much help as I was going to get.  I hadn’t spoke to her in a number of weeks because I had been dealing with all the doctors and nurses at the hospital instead so when I called I gave her an update on everything that happened.  She seemed very surprised that I was at home, and had been asked to see her instead of going to the maternity ward but she was happy to check the heart for me.

I had 2 contractions on way to see the midwife and I realised that they where getting closer together which was a bit scary considering I was only 4 months pregnant and should not be having them at all.  My own midwife was one of the few medical professionals who actually listened to me and seemed to care.  We checked the heart and found that it was in a normal healthy range for the baby but my own heart was racing and half way through her checking I had another contraction.  When it was over she said that most definitely was not a good sign and that I really needed to go back to the hospital immediately.  I refused and explained that I had went so many times to that hospital and they did nothing I wasn’t going all the way there again to be told there was nothing wrong.  She asked me if I would go to the other hospital if she transferred my care to them now and I agreed.  Though in honesty I wasn’t very hopeful they would do anything different I just expected that all hospitals would be the same.

I got an appointment at the new hospital within a couple of hours.  Chris was at work and I decided not to disturb him because I’d called him out of work so many times to go to the other hospital and nothing ever happened more than a few checks so for the first time I went alone on the bus.  I don’t remember having any contractions on the bus so they must have eased for a bit, but I could feel the definite release of blood and by the time I arrived at the hospital I had soaked through a pad, my knickers and my trousers.  The only thing that made me feel better was that the baby was still moving around.  When I got to the hospital I had to give them a run down off everything that happened in the last few weeks.

I felt more at ease at this hospital.  I felt like the doctor was taking the time to listen to everything I was telling her and she didn’t seem rushed.  After checking me over and listening to the babies heart again she told me I would have to be admitted, that there was to much blood loss for her to feel ok about sending me home and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.  I told her that I had been bleeding like this before and had always been sent home again but she disagreed.  It was arranged for me to have a scan as soon as possible and then I was given a bed and left to rest.

It wasn’t long after that I was told to go down to the scanning department.  I don’t recall feeling nervous.  I was feeling the baby move and I had only just heard the heart so I was certain at least my baby would be alive.  I wasn’t sure what else they could find in a scan but I hoped that they would find where all the bleeding was coming from and it would be something they could fix.  I got settled on the scanning table and felt the familiar cool jelly being spread across my belly.  Soon the image of my baby popped onto the screen.  I saw a quick wiggle that assured me it was indeed still alive and then the screen was turned away from me as the sonographer did her job checking everything was normal.  I stared at the wall hoping that she would be able to find something to indicate why I was having so many problems and that it would not be something untreatable.  When I looked at her again I saw a hesitant expression pass across her face that made me feel insecure.  So I asked if everything was ok.  She said that the baby had a heart beat and that was good, but was measuring a bit smaller for dates and she was going to recommend I got another scan in 2 weeks.  I asked her why all the bleeding and pain and if she could see anything and she said that she didn’t know where the bleeding was coming from but she would talk to the doctor.

I went back to the ward to wait.  I was still on my own but I knew Chris would be coming to drop off some things for me in a couple of hours.  I had some more contractions when I was waiting but not enough to bother anyone for pain relief and I managed to doze off for half an hour until the doctor came to talk over the scan with me.  It did not occur to me that I would get bad news there and then.  I felt in my heart that it was inevitable I would lose this baby but I did not think that they would find anything here and now.  2 doctors arrived at my bed.  One young blonde woman and another older Indian lady.  They asked me if I would come to one of the side rooms with them.  I immediately realised that this was bad news.  There faces, the fact that they would not tell me at my bed, and the fact that there where 2 doctors all made me think that whatever they where going to tell me was not something I wanted to hear.  Walking down the hall to the side room I even considered running away.  I didn’t want to know anymore and I didn’t want to find out some horrible news when I was totally on my own.

I took a seat, the doctors stood.  They put a box of tissues on the bed next to me.  I was saying over and over in my head “Oh my god, Oh my god” and trying to stop myself from crying.  They where both looking at me with poignant faces and I just said “its not good news is it?”  One of the doctors sat down.  I started to shake.  They asked me if anyone was with me and I told them that my partner was on his way.  They asked me if I wanted to wait until he got here which to me was absurd because clearly something dreadful was wrong and I knew that now so sitting about waiting to find out exactly what would not be any less traumatic than hearing it when I was on my own.  I found it ironic that this was the first time I had gone to the hospital without Chris completely on my own and yet here I was about to be giving some dire news.

The other doctor introduced herself as a consultant and said that no it was not good news, there where several problems;
My baby did not have enough fluid around it, indicating that my waters had already broken which explained the loss of fluid I had experienced a few weeks previous.
There was something wrong with the kidneys, bowel, and bladder,
It was still alive but had stopped growing about a week ago,
The placenta had torn away and was no longer giving nutrients,
There were so many things wrong with this baby, that even if it made it to term which was highly unlikely it was not ever going to live.  She was very frank about that, I almost begged her for some tiny glimmer of hope but she said there was none.

There was no stage of denial I accepted what she said instantly without doubt.  I felt like I had known this all along and now I just wanted to find out what we did next.  I had several options.  I could wait and give birth naturally which it seemed my body was already trying to do.  Or I could have a termination.  I was warned that it could take several weeks for my body to go into established labor.  The idea of termination made me feel sick.  I wanted the pain and bleeding to end badly enough that I was considering it as a real possibility but I also knew that if I agreed to something like that I would always feel like I killed my baby.  I asked for some time alone to think and take the news in.  Sitting alone in that little room I felt another flutter of little kicks that made me feel furious.  It was like a reminder that I was pregnant but my baby was going to die.

I couldn’t abide the idea of carrying this baby inside me anymore.  Seeing my pregnant belly and feeling the baby move but knowing that it was slowly dying.  I can’t explain the attachment a pregnant woman feels for her unborn baby.  I think only a woman that has been pregnant can fully appreciate how intense that bond is.  Going back a few weeks before I found out this news and I tried to explain this feeling to Chris.  I told him that even though I had never met our child I would honestly die for him or her.  I could grasp now why there are woman who will delay there life saving cancer treatment to save there unborn babies from damage.  If I had a choice between saving my own life or the unborn babies I would choose the baby.   In those moments when I was taking in that dreadful news I wished I had that choice.

I decided to call Chris because I needed him with me now.  I knew if I called and simply said that he needed to come immediately he would know anyway that something was seriously wrong and although this was not the kind of thing I wished to tell him at all let alone over the phone I decided I had too.

The phone call is a haze in my memory.  I was crying so hard I could scarcely get he words out but the state I was in told him everything he needed to know.  I asked him to call our parents and let them know and then come to the hospital as soon as he could. The doctors came back in and told me they had a private room that I could stay in with my partner until we decided what we wanted to do.  Then I had to hold it together long enough to walk down the hall of ward ten, to get to this room passing pregnant woman, and new born babies, midwifes and doctors.

The room was large and homely– It was more the size of a small ward than a side room.  The first thing I noticed was the sofas and coffee table set up in a way that people have at home.  So it felt more like a living room than a hospital side room.  There was a double bed to the left hand side.  One side of the bed had lots of monitoring equipment and medical stationary and the other side was for the partner of whatever women happened to be using this bed.  There was a television, a music player, fridge, and dining table.  To the side there was a door leading to a small toilet and shower area. There was also a corner of the room sectioned of with a curtain when I later looked round the curtain I saw it was full of Moses baskets at all different sizes, baby clothes and things.  It was obvious to me then that many woman had lost babies in this room and had cradled there dead babies and soon that would be me.  There was no reason for me to leave this room at all and go out back onto the ward I had everything I needed at hand.  I curled up on the sofa to wait for Chris and the nurse left me alone but told me to buzz for her if I needed anything at all.  Everyone was being considerate and compassionate, I felt thankful that I had transferred to this hospital because it felt like the people here had the time to look after me.

I sent a few messages as I waited to let some close friends know what was happening.  It occurred to me that id have to let a lot of people know that the baby was going to die.  So many people knew I was pregnant if I didn’t get the word out then people would be asking me how the baby was, how the pregnancy was going next time I saw them and I wasn’t sure that was something I could deal with.  I sent a message to my best friend and then I curled myself up into as small a ball as possible on the sofa.  I cried quietly to myself for sometime.  Not hysterical sobs just quietly sitting with tears streaming down the side of my face.  Time was out of whack for me it stood still then would suddenly move very quickly.  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there when the nurse came back to tell me that a friend was here to see me.

At first I wanted to say send them away because I couldn’t think who it was.   I hadn’t asked anyone to come and hadn’t told anyone what ward I was on.  I asked who it was and she described a girl with bright red hair and I knew that it was ok because it was my oldest most trusted friend, Jana.  I had stopped crying by the time Jana got to the room and I was determined that I didn’t want hugs.  I was grateful she was here because it would take Chris at least another hour and I wasn’t enjoying this time on my own.  I kept feeling the baby move and I really wanted a distraction from that because every movement made me feel sick knowing that this baby would be dead very soon.

At some point another doctor came to talk to me.  He explained they would keep me in and monitor me but that it was unlikely that I would deliver this baby naturally and that I should have a think about termination.  He said there was a chance that the baby could carry on for week’s maybe even full term but that it would still be too sick to survive outside my uterus.  I told him that I thought he was wrong I felt like my body was trying to pass the baby and that it could happen naturally I just needed time.  He gave me a sympathetic look and he agreed to come and talk to me again when my partner got here.

I decided there and then that I had to trust my body.  I knew that I would be able to go through as long as I needed too in order to get the baby out naturally without any intrusive medical help.  For some reason it was so important to me to be able to do that.

Chris had let my Mum know what was happening and the nurse came to tell me there was a phone call.  I sat on the phone not really having anything to say but glad to hear her voice.   I wanted my Mum with me but she couldn’t be there because she had Swine flu and so all I could do was cry to her on the phone.  When I was on the phone to her Chris walked in with his own Mum brother and sister.  I hugged him feeling overwhelmed by all the people that where suddenly around me but grateful that they cared about me and about our baby.  We sat in the room and talked frankly about everything that was and would happen.  The doctor came back and explained more to Chris and in-between all the talking and crying my contractions started to get worse.

They where just on the verge of becoming unbearable and I decided I needed more pain relief.  The midwife's were quick to help me and started me on tramadol.  By this point I was pacing the room every time I got one and each getting more intense.  I felt sure that this was a sign I would pass the baby soon.

Chris was allowed to stay with me as long as I was in the hospital and sleep beside me in the double bed provided.  Had I been in the other hospital this might not have been the case and it made me extremely grateful that I had decided to transfer my care because I cannot imagine going through this without him.  The doctors where still convinced that I would not pass the baby on my own but I think the midwife's who where seeing me have the contractions felt that there was a chance that I would.  The tramadol didn’t help at all and the pain and blood loss where starting to make me panic.  The next contraction I pressed the buzzer for a midwife and they gave me a shot of morphine.

Morphine made everything foggy, and it dulled the pain.  I remember Chris curling up beside me in bed.  Every hour or so I would have to get up again to go to the toilet and change the pad which would be soaking with blood and then I would sit on a little plastic bowl in the toilet and let myself bleed into it and Chris would take it to the midwifes on night duty for them to check what was coming out of me.  It was unavoidable that I got everything covered in blood, the bed, myself, Chris, it was everywhere and I remember feeling ashamed that I couldn’t seem to keep anything clean.  As the first shot of morphine wore off well into the night the pain started to get unbearable again.  At this point Chris was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him but the midwife who was assigned to me came and sat next to me at my side of the bed and held my hand.  She gave me another shot of morphine and offered me gas and air.

The gas and air gave me something to do through each contraction and definitely made the pain more bearable.  The midwife must have realised how terrified I was because she sat with me for several hours just talking to me.  Talking about anything to take my mind of the pain.  She explained to me what would happen when I passed the baby.  That the contractions would get closer together and eventually just like any full term labor I would feel something pressing down on my pelvis and then I would get the urge to push.  She told me that the baby would be small but it would look like a real baby with eyes, a nose, ears, hands and feet.  It would be delicate and the skin would be somewhat transparent.  I didn’t have to see my baby but if I wanted to I could.  I asked her if they would take it away and clean it first because I was afraid to look and I wasn’t even sure I could look.  She said that they would do whatever they could to make it easier and that they would prepare the baby for me so that it looked nice for us.

The bleeding was getting severe coming out of me in gushes.  I had experienced nothing like this before and along with the pain it was making me feel weak.  When I got up for my next visit to the toilet I appreciated how incapacitated I was because I could no longer support myself, my legs where trembling and the room was spinning.  Chris or a midwife had to accompany me to the toilet incase I got the urge to push, or incase I passed out.  It was to the extent that I couldn’t even clean myself, even reaching down to pull my own knickers up was hopeless.  All I could do was hold onto the railings when other people helped me.  There was no room for shame I just had to let them because I was so helpless.  It gave me a whole different perspective on things.  In my job I am usually the one supporting people in the bathroom and trying to maintain dignity in those clients and here I was with the roles reversed.  Now I was the one having other people do my personal care.

The doctor came to check my cervix at 7am and told me that even though I was having the contractions close together it was scarcely opening and it could take some time before the baby was ready to come out.  She offered me something to help my cervix open which I was reluctant to take. It felt to much like a termination if I did anything medical to speed up the labor but she explained to me that if I didn’t take it I could be like this for several days and I realised that it would be less distressing for myself and the baby to take the help.  She also offered me some extra pain relief that would have to be inserted rectally.  My WORSE nightmare however no matter how badly I didn’t want anything put up my bum I was desperate enough for the pain relief that I let them.

Whatever they put up there, along with the morphine and the gas and air it helped allow me to sleep for several hours.

Chris had to visit our house again during the day to collect the dogs and give them to his sister to look after and when he was gone his Mum sat with me.  I was still doped up with painkillers and I can’t remember the first thing about what we talked about or if we even talked at all but I was grateful for her being there.  I remember at some point a doctor coming to tell me that there was an infection in my womb and that I needed antibiotics and they stuck a canula in my hand which would mean I didn’t need separate injections every time I needed morphine.  I remember how respectful the midwife's and doctors where.  They must have changed my bedding about 5 times during that day because I kept bleeding everywhere but they never seemed annoyed or stressed and anytime I was on my own even for a few minuets if they saw that my family where not in the room with me then a midwife would come and sit with me until they came back.  Through all of this the baby was still moving though the movement’s where becoming less frequent or less obvious to me through all the pain.  I was very aware though that my baby was still alive.

Jana arrived late evening to sit with me and the rest of Chris family left.  I was receiving shots of morphine every couple of hours and had managed to inhale 1 and half canisters to gas and air to say that I was doped up to my eyeballs would be an understatement so I can’t imagine the conversation would have been flowing but just having people around me that I was familiar with and felt safe with made a huge difference to my state of mind.

At around 7pm I started to feel pressure on my pelvis and remembering what the midwife had explained to me the pervious night I understood that meant that the baby was getting ready to come out.  Even the morphine was not actually making much difference to the pain and I was now starting to feel a slight impulse to push.  I also noticed that I needed to poo which I found horrifying because I was scared if I pushed the poo out my baby might come out as well.  The midwife sat with me while I was in the toilet and I did my poo into a plastic bowl that she could check for “fetal parts” thankfully there where none.  As I was supported back to bed I was hit by another potent contraction and an even bigger urge to push.  The midwife offered to examine me and found that the baby was close to coming out my cervix was almost fully dilated.  She could feel the baby at the top of the birth canal.

This was the part I found most terrifying.  After this everything would be over.  No pregnancy, no baby, nothing for all this pain.  Nothing for 2 days of labor because my baby would die as soon as it was born.  I didn’t want to push because I didn’t want it to come out but my body was making the choice for me and the urge to push was overwhelming, not something I could fight.  I was lying on my back and the pressure on my pelvis was extreme in this position so I turned over onto my hands and knees and felt something pop.  I realised that the baby was coming out very very soon and started crying for someone to help.  I kept crying for my Mum even though I knew she couldn’t be there and wouldn’t be able to do much for me even if she was.  2 midwifes came in the room, Jana stayed at one side holding my hand and Chris was on the other side.  I needed to be sick and a bowl was handed too me and my hair held back as I vomited and pushed at the same time.  As I was pushing I lost control of my pelvic muscles and peed all over the bed.  I was to far gone with the pain to be humiliated I truthfully didn’t care.  At 10.23 on 29th of July 2009 Their was one enormous contraction and I could hear myself making a noise in my throat I’ve never heard myself make before or after and it was over.  I felt something slither down between my legs and I heard a thud on the bed and I knew that it was out of me.

I heard myself crying and repeating over and over; “I killed my baby” One of the midwife's picked it up and took it out the room.  Nobody had seen him except the midwife's.  I thought that it would be over now and that at least the pain would stop but the contractions kept coming.  The midwife explained to me that the placenta still had to pass and it seemed that my cervix had closed and was retaining the placenta.  So my body was confused still contracting because it knew something else had to come out.  I spent the next hour in agony trying to push the placenta out.  After a while the doctor was called and it was decided that I would probably need to go into theatre to get the placenta out.  At this stage I just wanted the pain to end so bad that I was begging them to put me to sleep.  I remember them putting a drip up for me to help me contract more to get the placenta out which of course caused me more pain.  They kept saying that surgery would be dangerous and it was better for the placenta to pass on its own I had 5 more minutes and then they would take me to theatre.  When the finally decided it was time the doctor asked me to lye back on my back so she could check internally what was going on and as I lay on my back I gave one more final push and it came out.

I was given more morphine and I fell asleep covered in blood and completely drained.  Chris lay down on the sofa and Jana went home.  I slept for 3 hours but to me it felt like about 10 minuets.  When I woke up I suddenly realised that I my baby was in some room all alone and I hadn’t even seen it.  I woke Chris up who was not impressed to be woken from sleep when he had so little in the past 48 hours.  His irritated reaction to me waking him seemed to trigger off a wave of emotion and I started to cry.  He held me and I told him I just had to see my baby now.

They brought him threw in a tiny Moses basket.  He was wrapped in a little white shawl and to me he looked perfect.  I looked at his little face, and eyes and I feel completely in love with him.  The fact that he was dead did not stop me wanting to hold him.  His skin was very delicate, a reddish color and transparent but he looked like a baby.  He was not just a bundle of cells or some kind of alien he was my baby just very tiny.  The midwife opened the blanket and explained to us that it looked like a boy but that we could not be 100 percent sure of this until the postmortem.  I held him in my hands and all I could think was how badly I wanted him to wake up.  Chris held him and we cried.  It was the most devastating feeling in the world to hold my baby and know that he would never cry, that I could never dress or feed him and he would never get the chance to grow up.  In those moments when we where holding him everything in the world stopped.  There was just a quiet deathly nothing. I have never felt grief like I did in those moments.  I wished that I had died with him or instead of him I’d have given anything to have him back alive inside me.  The midwife took him away again and Chris took me to the toilet to help clean and change my night clothes.  The bed was changed again due to it being covered in blood and we where able to climb into bed together after and I fell asleep with him holding me.

The next few days where a blur of paperwork and funeral arrangements.  We found out after the postmortem that it was definitely a little boy and we named him Samson.  He was buried in the baby rose garden in a tiny white coffin with his name on.  There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think about him.  I am constantly reminded of how pregnant I should be by now and there seem to be pregnant woman and babies everywhere I look.  Life goes on and I have to move on.  Standing over his grave crying is not going to bring him back.  My life is never going to be the same again.  I am always going to be missing something, missing him.  It’s hard to believe we actually had a son no matter for how short a time and that he is gone forever and cannot ever come back to us.

Description
Samson’s birth and pregnancy story

Finding out I was pregnant was the happiest day of my life.  After 5 years and countless negative tests we had lost hope that a pregnancy would happen naturally (if at all) and so even though my period was over 2 weeks late I was still unwilling to take a test,

I was finally convinced too take one, because other people around me where noticing several changes.  My boobs where huge, and sore.  I was feeling sick and being sick a lot!  I thought I just had a tummy bug.  I was certain my period was just about to show her ugly head because I was all crampy and feeling pre-menstrual.  I know now that this is also an early pregnancy symptom.

I took a test just to be on the safe side but fully expecting a negative result.  I waited till morning when I would be alone.  For some reason I always tested alone, because then I could cry my eyes out at yet another negative result, pick myself up and get on with my day without having to face anyone else.  I sat on the toilet with my little dip stick and collection cup.  I placed the stick in my urine and then put it down on the side of the bath trying not to look at it because like the many times before I would wait the 5 minutes until the test had finished then go back and check.  However out the corner of my eye I saw it already looked positive.  I took a double take, held it up and looked at it again.  Then got the instructions out to double check that I wasn’t’ seeing things.  I started to physically shake the test was definitely positive.

It is the first time in my life that I’ve been so happy that I am crying, so happy that I feel sick.  I wanted to tell Chris straight away but because I had decided to test when he wasn’t home he was at work.  I considered waiting till he got home but the news wouldn’t keep and so I dialed the number of his work and demanded to speak to him immediately.  We were ecstatic, terrified, excited, worried, and in total shock.

The next weeks and months passed in a blur of morning sickness and baby shopping.

I was happy to be pregnant but I was very ill.  Constantly being sick and feeling sick, cramping on and off and there where several scares,

The first was bleeding at 7 weeks.  I discovered on inspection in the toilet red smearing on my knickers and of course immediately panicked.  There was no pain, but I was convinced that this was the start of a miscarriage.  We saw on scan that everything was fine, and our little bean though tiny had a good strong heartbeat.

The second scare came at 12 weeks when a scan revealed that there might have been a problem with the baby’s bladder,

We waited and hoped, nobody told us what to expect, it was always just a case of waiting.

By week 13 I was bleeding again, though this time in considerable pain.  I woke up one morning with waves of contractions bursting through my belly.  A feeling not unlike being kicked in the groin.  I climbed out of bed and sat on the floor on my hands and knees for a bit until the pain was semi bearable.  Every instinct in my entire body was telling me that something was very wrong.  I lay down on the sofa because it was too early to call the doctor and I waited for a couple of hours hoping that maybe the pain would go away.   I must have fallen asleep for a short time but was woken with a massive wave of pain and a gush between my legs.
The beginning of the end.

I held my stomach and heaved myself into the toilet to confirm that the gush was indeed blood.  I was horrified to see the toilet bowl turn red and some stringy clots glued to the inside of my thighs.  I carefully picked them off inspecting each one making a mental note so I would be able to explain everything to the doctor when I eventually saw her.  I called the hospital convinced that this was the start of a miscarriage and then I called Chris to tell him to come home.  I’d cried when I saw the blood, but by now I was starting to feel slightly numb. I felt like someone else was starting to take over and deal with this mess and I could take a back seat and grieve.  I did not dissociate far enough back so I was unaware what was happening because it felt necessary that I stay focused but enough that I could do what was necessary to get medical help and transport to the other end of the city without being an emotional wreck.  My Mum agreed to drive me to the hospital and within 10 minutes I was sat in her car frantically twirling my hair and searching for any feeling in my belly despite it being pointless because at this point it was still too early to feel my baby move.

When we got to the hospital I was bewildered.  Nobody seemed very concerned at all.  The doctors and midwifes seemed nonchalant.  As if there was no hurry to see me, the pain I was in wasn’t real and the bleeding wasn’t concerning.  We where placed in a little room with a hard back chair for Chris and an uncomfortable examining table for me to sit on and then we waited.

I have no idea how long we waited probably hours.  Time seemed to stand still.  I paced, I rocked, I had Chris gently hold the bottom of my back, but eventually the pain started to ease and the bleeding was slowing.  The midwife came in to check on us and explained she was going to listen to the baby’s heart.  I lay down and waited some more when she tried to find it.  I felt in my heart that the baby was already gone, I knew she would not be able to find the heart my baby was dead.  There was no way I could lose all this blood and feel this kind of pain and my baby be alive.

In the next moments came the loveliest sound I have ever heard.  I can only compare it to a swooshing, like water running back and forward very quickly in a small container,
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
My baby was alive; despite everything my baby was not dead.  I felt relieved, and confused.  The midwife seemed pleased and continued to do some general checks, my cervix was closed and there was no signs that I was about to miscarry and so I was told that I should go home and rest.

I wanted to be relieved, happy that everything was ok and this was just another scare but I couldn’t relax.  Something was telling me that this wasn’t right.  Everyone around me seemed so relaxed after hearing the heart and I started to feel like I was being paranoid so I agreed to go home and hoped that I was wrong.

Chris left me that night to go out with friends.  He had no reason to stay because everyone had told us that things where normal and I was fine.  I said goodbye to him with an uncomfortable knot in the pit of my stomach.  I continued to push my doubts to the back of my mind.  Repeating in my head that everything was ok the babies heart was beating, the baby was not dead so it would be ok.

There was a steady build and release of pain that evening along with a dull ache that I was constantly aware of reminding me that something was wrong. Periodically I’d feel waves of what felt like contractions.  Except, I knew it couldn’t be contractions because I had been told that everything was fine.  The doctors had checked me over and said I was ok so how could I be having contractions?  That night I tired all sorts of things to alleviate the pain.  I took painkillers, I used a hot water bottle on my back, I rocked back and forward on the chair, I lay down, I paced my living room and I sat on the toilet.  Nothing I did reduced the pain.  By the time Chris got home I was at my wits end.  Yelling at him for leaving me even though he had no idea how bad I felt and crying because I didn’t know what to do.  He asked me if I wanted to go back to the hospital but I felt like if I did I would be wasting there time, nothing had changed since the morning.  I decided to wait and see what happened and if it got worse I would go back.

The next morning there was no change expect for the fact that the bleeding had subsided.  I took this as a positive sign and decided to wait it out and see what happened in the next few days.  There was still that constant dull ache and an instinctive feeling that was screaming at me that something was wrong.  I kept pushing that to the back of my mind and making myself hope that things would work out ok.

I feel like my body and my mind where trying to tell me that this pregnancy wasn’t right.  The entire pregnancy I always had a feeling that something was wrong with the baby.  Like any pregnant woman I didn’t want to believe that those feelings could be real because I wanted my baby to be ok but I cannot deny the fact that I never felt safe.  I tried to go out and buy baby clothes, I tried to make plans for the future and be happy that I was going to be a Mum but I always felt uneasy.  I would tell myself that I would feel better after the first trimester, and then after my scan, and then after I could hear the babies heart or feel the baby move but there was never a time that I actually felt like everything would be ok.

I had many dreams about being pregnant or giving birth and in every single one of those dreams the outcome was never good.  Sometimes I’d give birth to a dead baby.  Sometimes there would be someone telling me that they where here to cut the baby out.  The most disturbing dreams where when I would hold the baby then look under its blanket and see that it was very deformed.  I often dreamed that I was in a room full of people that I knew who where dead and those people where holding my baby and for some reason I could not get near it.  No matter how much I tried to put these dreams out of my mind in my waking day they disturbed me deeply.

It was a few days after my first trip to the hospital that I started to notice a dribble of liquid that was most definitely not urine when I visited the bathroom.  It seemed every time I checked there was a little bit more.  It didn’t’ feel normal, and the pain was still intense so I decided that I had to listen to my intuition and go back to the hospital no matter how much I felt I was wasting there time.  We made the trip once more, like déjà, me sitting in the car frantic and then the long wait at the hospital before finally getting a quick check and being told nothing was wrong and “go home”.  I asked about the liquid discharge and was reassured that it was perfectly normal discharge for pregnancy.  I asked again if they were sure it was not my waters breaking and I was told that this could not be the case.  By the time they where asking me to go home we had sat in the hospital for more than 5 hours, Chris in an uncomfortable chair and me sitting on the hard examining table in pain.  I had no energy or will left to fight with them.  I felt like an idiot, a time waster.  I was also starting to believe that I might actually be imagining everything.  I think only to shut me up they sent me home with even stronger painkillers and told me to come back only if the bleeding got worse and so the waiting at home began again.

By 14 weeks I started to feel some fluttery feelings in my stomach that where the most reassuring feelings in the world.  At least when I felt those no matter how sporadic I knew my baby was alive.

The pain was chronic, and I took the extra strong painkillers and tried my best to ignore it.  Then the bleeding started to gush.  It was enough that I was filling a pad once an hour and feeling like I was about to faint.  I felt stuck.  I was panicky about going back to hospital because I felt they assumed I was wasting there time but I was also afraid to stay at home bleeding out with the possibility of losing my baby.  So I decided that my baby was more important than how apprehensive I felt going back to the hospital and we made the journey again.  It was much the same as before except this time I insisted they look at the pads to see how much blood I was losing.  As soon as they found the babies heart they repeated that everything was ok.  Feeling distressed we questioned them asking what the possible cause of the bleeding could be.  They kept repeating that they would not rule out miscarriage but there was nothing else they could do to find out where the bleeding was coming from.  After another 5 or 6 hours we took the hour and half bus journey home with me still losing blood and barley able to stand up.  I swore that this was the last time I would go back, it just seemed so pointless.

I couldn’t keep that promise because now every time I visited the bathroom not only did I have to contend with the blood and pain, but also the smell of rotten meat.  This I was sure was definitely NOT normal but I had no idea what to do about it.  Do I go all the way back to the hospital to get it checked knowing that I will probably waste an entire day waiting around only to be told that nothing is wrong and to turn around and go back home again?  Or do I sit at home worrying myself senseless.  Chris persuaded me to go back because he could also smell this putrid smell and he did not think it was something that should be ignored.  So once again we made the trip all the way across town to the hospital.  They took swabs, and they did all the usual checks but they seemed too busy to take any time to talk to me properly and after waiting about for another afternoon we where allowed to go home.  I had no treatment, and I was told that the results from the swabs would take a few days so sit and wait.

The baby was moving a lot even though I was just 15 weeks.  It seemed early for me to be feeling movement so often but I was grateful for it because it was the only contentment I got.  I could not believe in my heart this baby was going to make it.  My insides were constantly churning with fear and I just knew that this would not end with a healthy live baby.  Even so those little kicks were precious to me.  No matter what the outcome would be this was my baby and for now it was still alive and safe in my womb.

I had sat in the house for over 2 weeks doing as little as possible because I was in so much pain.  The pain would come and go as well as the bleeding but I decided finally on Sunday evening that I would venture out to a social event.  It wasn’t until I got out of Chris large T-shirt and into my own clothes that I realised that I was starting to look pregnant.  My first thoughts about this were not happy, I was afraid.  I knew that the more pregnant I got the harder it would be when the baby died.  I felt morbid for thinking along those lines, but I couldn’t help it.

It was nice to be out and with friends.  Feeling like a normal sane person and not some hermit stuck indoors 24 hours a day, but I was nervous.  I felt like I was enticing fate. I was far from home, far from the hospital it would not be easy to get back in a hurry.  Moving around was making the pain worse and the bleeding slightly heavier and I felt guilty for being out in the first place like I was putting myself before our baby.  I tired my best being social and trying to forget all the worry and pain.  I even avoided going to the bathroom so that I didn’t have to deal with the blood.  There were some small gushes that I continued to ignore but before long I had to pee.

I sat down at the toilet and peered uneasily at the pad sticking to my knickers.  As I suspected it was full; I was bleeding heavy again.  It didn’t worry me any more than I had been over last few weeks.  I bent down and started shuffling through my bag to find another pad to change with when my entire lower belly contracted.  I felt the urge to push which terrified me because I thought that I would pass the baby right there and then in a pub toilet completely on my own.  I couldn’t ignore the urge or suppress it so I let it out.  There was a slow plop into the toilet and then the contraction passed.

I sat very still after in silence just listening to my own heart beat and feeling my eyes well up with tears.  In my head there was a narrative of unnerving voices shrieking at me to do different things but I felt frozen.  I slowly eased myself up and started to attempt to clean the blood off myself with a tissue.  I put the tissue down at the side because I didn’t want to cover whatever had fallen into the toilet but I also didn’t want to look down the toilet yet.  I pulled my knickers and trousers up and then I looked.  There was definitely something sitting at the bottom of the toilet along with a lot of blood but I wasn’t sure what it was.  I looked too small to be the baby but to big to be a clot.  My mind couldn’t make sense of it, I knew I needed to get it out of the toilet but I couldn’t bear to put my hands in and fish it out.  What if it was some part of my broken baby?  In that moment I desperately wanted to feel anything from my belly even a slight movement or flutter to let me know that it was still in there and alive but I could feel nothing at all except empty.

The only thing I could think of to do was get Chris because he was the only person I knew who would understand what I needed done.  I left the toilet hoping that nobody else would use the cubical when I was away and found Chris.  I could scarcely get the words out to explain to him what was wrong and I just kept repeating over and over that I needed him to come with me.  He protested at first thinking I was being my usual neurotic self but when he realised I wasn’t going to give up and I was getting more distraught he came.  When he finally did understand what was wrong I could see that he was worried.  I think he half expected to go into that toilet with me and find a tiny baby lying dead at the bottom.  It was hard to explain to him what it was I needed him to get out the toilet because I didn’t know myself so all I could tell him was that I had felt the urge to push and something had come out.  Whatever it was I planned on taking it with me to the hospital so that maybe this time they would take me seriously.

He fished through my urine and blood to get the thing out and we put it on a tissue and both stood for a bit examining it.  It did not look like a part of my baby.  I thought it could be a giant clot, or a bit placenta, all sorts of disconcerting thoughts where going through my mind.  I was thankful it was not the baby but for the first time I realised how completely depleted I was with the whole pregnancy.  I really was sure that I would miscarry I just didn’t know when and at that moment I wanted it over.

I put the massive clot in a tissue and sat down.  A friend came over to see what was wrong because it was obvious that something was bothering me.  I explained about the clot, and everything that had happened over last 2 weeks.  She tried to calm me but I think she really didn’t know what to do or say and in the end she brought over another friend who worked in the medical field.  It wasn’t someone I am especially close too but it was someone I trusted and by that point I felt kind of hopeless so I showed him the massive clot I had passed and explained about all the pain and discomfort.  He was kind, and gave me good advice.  Mainly that I should transfer my care to another hospital because it didn’t seem like I was getting proper treatment were I was.  I sat for another hour waiting because we where relying on someone else to give us a lift home and I didn’t want to make a scene by announcing that I needed to leave immediately.  The bleeding had come so often now over the last few weeks that it didn’t even feel urgent anymore.

It was so late at night that we had to go back to our usual hospital.  This time we had a doctor who took me a bit more seriously.  Mainly because I had brought the massive clot for her to see for herself and even she acknowledged that this was not normal and along with all the pain and bleeding over the past few weeks she was concerned.  No matter how badly I wanted to hear that everything was ok it was much more of a relief to have someone actually listen to me and believe me.  She was worried about the blood loss and wanted me to stay overnight in the hospital and have a scan in the morning.  I was not keen on staying because I knew I’d get no sleep and because I felt the place had such a negative atmosphere.  Chris would be sent home and I’d be left on my own.  I was afraid for him to leave my side because I felt so sure that something was going to happen soon.  I wanted him with me because he made me feel safe.  He was the only familiar thing in this hospital and I was not allowing him to leave without me.  There was no way he could be permitted to stay with me and so I made the choice to go home and come back in the morning for a scan.  The doctor was unhappy with this but agreed to let me go on the understanding that I phoned an ambulance if the bleeding got any worse.  At 3am we left.

As instructed I telephoned the hospital first thing in the morning to arrange a time to come in for the scan.  They couldn’t give me a time and told me to phone back in an hour.  When I called back I was still given no appointment time and told they would call me back.  An hour after that someone called.  I was informed that they would not be giving me a scan, that I had heard my baby’s heart on several occasions and that a scan was only given in emergency situations.  I was not to come back to the hospital next time I was bleeding and instead go and see my community midwife or GP.  Before I had any chance to ask questions the line went dead.

I was angry but not surprised.  I really wondered if this amount of bleeding was not considered emergency then what exactly would count as an emergency?  I also made the decision that I would be transferring my care to the other hospital.  For the next day I lay on my back at home having what felt like contractions about every 15 minutes.  I was really starting to believe that I must be a drama queen, losing my mind with total paranoia because every single doctor I had seen seemed to think nothing was wrong.

The contractions continued into the night, they where painful but not enough that I thought I was in labor.

After another night of nearly no sleep I called my own midwife in the morning (only because I wanted the reassurance of hearing the baby’s heart).  I knew that there would be nothing more she could do except check that and since I could no longer go back to the hospital that was about as much help as I was going to get.  I hadn’t spoke to her in a number of weeks because I had been dealing with all the doctors and nurses at the hospital instead so when I called I gave her an update on everything that happened.  She seemed very surprised that I was at home, and had been asked to see her instead of going to the maternity ward but she was happy to check the heart for me.

I had 2 contractions on way to see the midwife and I realised that they where getting closer together which was a bit scary considering I was only 4 months pregnant and should not be having them at all.  My own midwife was one of the few medical professionals who actually listened to me and seemed to care.  We checked the heart and found that it was in a normal healthy range for the baby but my own heart was racing and half way through her checking I had another contraction.  When it was over she said that most definitely was not a good sign and that I really needed to go back to the hospital immediately.  I refused and explained that I had went so many times to that hospital and they did nothing I wasn’t going all the way there again to be told there was nothing wrong.  She asked me if I would go to the other hospital if she transferred my care to them now and I agreed.  Though in honesty I wasn’t very hopeful they would do anything different I just expected that all hospitals would be the same.

I got an appointment at the new hospital within a couple of hours.  Chris was at work and I decided not to disturb him because I’d called him out of work so many times to go to the other hospital and nothing ever happened more than a few checks so for the first time I went alone on the bus.  I don’t remember having any contractions on the bus so they must have eased for a bit, but I could feel the definite release of blood and by the time I arrived at the hospital I had soaked through a pad, my knickers and my trousers.  The only thing that made me feel better was that the baby was still moving around.  When I got to the hospital I had to give them a run down off everything that happened in the last few weeks.

I felt more at ease at this hospital.  I felt like the doctor was taking the time to listen to everything I was telling her and she didn’t seem rushed.  After checking me over and listening to the babies heart again she told me I would have to be admitted, that there was to much blood loss for her to feel ok about sending me home and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.  I told her that I had been bleeding like this before and had always been sent home again but she disagreed.  It was arranged for me to have a scan as soon as possible and then I was given a bed and left to rest.

It wasn’t long after that I was told to go down to the scanning department.  I don’t recall feeling nervous.  I was feeling the baby move and I had only just heard the heart so I was certain at least my baby would be alive.  I wasn’t sure what else they could find in a scan but I hoped that they would find where all the bleeding was coming from and it would be something they could fix.  I got settled on the scanning table and felt the familiar cool jelly being spread across my belly.  Soon the image of my baby popped onto the screen.  I saw a quick wiggle that assured me it was indeed still alive and then the screen was turned away from me as the sonographer did her job checking everything was normal.  I stared at the wall hoping that she would be able to find something to indicate why I was having so many problems and that it would not be something untreatable.  When I looked at her again I saw a hesitant expression pass across her face that made me feel insecure.  So I asked if everything was ok.  She said that the baby had a heart beat and that was good, but was measuring a bit smaller for dates and she was going to recommend I got another scan in 2 weeks.  I asked her why all the bleeding and pain and if she could see anything and she said that she didn’t know where the bleeding was coming from but she would talk to the doctor.

I went back to the ward to wait.  I was still on my own but I knew Chris would be coming to drop off some things for me in a couple of hours.  I had some more contractions when I was waiting but not enough to bother anyone for pain relief and I managed to doze off for half an hour until the doctor came to talk over the scan with me.  It did not occur to me that I would get bad news there and then.  I felt in my heart that it was inevitable I would lose this baby but I did not think that they would find anything here and now.  2 doctors arrived at my bed.  One young blonde woman and another older Indian lady.  They asked me if I would come to one of the side rooms with them.  I immediately realised that this was bad news.  There faces, the fact that they would not tell me at my bed, and the fact that there where 2 doctors all made me think that whatever they where going to tell me was not something I wanted to hear.  Walking down the hall to the side room I even considered running away.  I didn’t want to know anymore and I didn’t want to find out some horrible news when I was totally on my own.

I took a seat, the doctors stood.  They put a box of tissues on the bed next to me.  I was saying over and over in my head “Oh my god, Oh my god” and trying to stop myself from crying.  They where both looking at me with poignant faces and I just said “its not good news is it?”  One of the doctors sat down.  I started to shake.  They asked me if anyone was with me and I told them that my partner was on his way.  They asked me if I wanted to wait until he got here which to me was absurd because clearly something dreadful was wrong and I knew that now so sitting about waiting to find out exactly what would not be any less traumatic than hearing it when I was on my own.  I found it ironic that this was the first time I had gone to the hospital without Chris completely on my own and yet here I was about to be giving some dire news.

The other doctor introduced herself as a consultant and said that no it was not good news, there where several problems;
My baby did not have enough fluid around it, indicating that my waters had already broken which explained the loss of fluid I had experienced a few weeks previous.
There was something wrong with the kidneys, bowel, and bladder,
It was still alive but had stopped growing about a week ago,
The placenta had torn away and was no longer giving nutrients,
There were so many things wrong with this baby, that even if it made it to term which was highly unlikely it was not ever going to live.  She was very frank about that, I almost begged her for some tiny glimmer of hope but she said there was none.

There was no stage of denial I accepted what she said instantly without doubt.  I felt like I had known this all along and now I just wanted to find out what we did next.  I had several options.  I could wait and give birth naturally which it seemed my body was already trying to do.  Or I could have a termination.  I was warned that it could take several weeks for my body to go into established labor.  The idea of termination made me feel sick.  I wanted the pain and bleeding to end badly enough that I was considering it as a real possibility but I also knew that if I agreed to something like that I would always feel like I killed my baby.  I asked for some time alone to think and take the news in.  Sitting alone in that little room I felt another flutter of little kicks that made me feel furious.  It was like a reminder that I was pregnant but my baby was going to die.

I couldn’t abide the idea of carrying this baby inside me anymore.  Seeing my pregnant belly and feeling the baby move but knowing that it was slowly dying.  I can’t explain the attachment a pregnant woman feels for her unborn baby.  I think only a woman that has been pregnant can fully appreciate how intense that bond is.  Going back a few weeks before I found out this news and I tried to explain this feeling to Chris.  I told him that even though I had never met our child I would honestly die for him or her.  I could grasp now why there are woman who will delay there life saving cancer treatment to save there unborn babies from damage.  If I had a choice between saving my own life or the unborn babies I would choose the baby.   In those moments when I was taking in that dreadful news I wished I had that choice.

I decided to call Chris because I needed him with me now.  I knew if I called and simply said that he needed to come immediately he would know anyway that something was seriously wrong and although this was not the kind of thing I wished to tell him at all let alone over the phone I decided I had too.

The phone call is a haze in my memory.  I was crying so hard I could scarcely get he words out but the state I was in told him everything he needed to know.  I asked him to call our parents and let them know and then come to the hospital as soon as he could. The doctors came back in and told me they had a private room that I could stay in with my partner until we decided what we wanted to do.  Then I had to hold it together long enough to walk down the hall of ward ten, to get to this room passing pregnant woman, and new born babies, midwifes and doctors.

The room was large and homely– It was more the size of a small ward than a side room.  The first thing I noticed was the sofas and coffee table set up in a way that people have at home.  So it felt more like a living room than a hospital side room.  There was a double bed to the left hand side.  One side of the bed had lots of monitoring equipment and medical stationary and the other side was for the partner of whatever women happened to be using this bed.  There was a television, a music player, fridge, and dining table.  To the side there was a door leading to a small toilet and shower area. There was also a corner of the room sectioned of with a curtain when I later looked round the curtain I saw it was full of Moses baskets at all different sizes, baby clothes and things.  It was obvious to me then that many woman had lost babies in this room and had cradled there dead babies and soon that would be me.  There was no reason for me to leave this room at all and go out back onto the ward I had everything I needed at hand.  I curled up on the sofa to wait for Chris and the nurse left me alone but told me to buzz for her if I needed anything at all.  Everyone was being considerate and compassionate, I felt thankful that I had transferred to this hospital because it felt like the people here had the time to look after me.

I sent a few messages as I waited to let some close friends know what was happening.  It occurred to me that id have to let a lot of people know that the baby was going to die.  So many people knew I was pregnant if I didn’t get the word out then people would be asking me how the baby was, how the pregnancy was going next time I saw them and I wasn’t sure that was something I could deal with.  I sent a message to my best friend and then I curled myself up into as small a ball as possible on the sofa.  I cried quietly to myself for sometime.  Not hysterical sobs just quietly sitting with tears streaming down the side of my face.  Time was out of whack for me it stood still then would suddenly move very quickly.  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there when the nurse came back to tell me that a friend was here to see me.

At first I wanted to say send them away because I couldn’t think who it was.   I hadn’t asked anyone to come and hadn’t told anyone what ward I was on.  I asked who it was and she described a girl with bright red hair and I knew that it was ok because it was my oldest most trusted friend, Jana.  I had stopped crying by the time Jana got to the room and I was determined that I didn’t want hugs.  I was grateful she was here because it would take Chris at least another hour and I wasn’t enjoying this time on my own.  I kept feeling the baby move and I really wanted a distraction from that because every movement made me feel sick knowing that this baby would be dead very soon.

At some point another doctor came to talk to me.  He explained they would keep me in and monitor me but that it was unlikely that I would deliver this baby naturally and that I should have a think about termination.  He said there was a chance that the baby could carry on for week’s maybe even full term but that it would still be too sick to survive outside my uterus.  I told him that I thought he was wrong I felt like my body was trying to pass the baby and that it could happen naturally I just needed time.  He gave me a sympathetic look and he agreed to come and talk to me again when my partner got here.

I decided there and then that I had to trust my body.  I knew that I would be able to go through as long as I needed too in order to get the baby out naturally without any intrusive medical help.  For some reason it was so important to me to be able to do that.

Chris had let my Mum know what was happening and the nurse came to tell me there was a phone call.  I sat on the phone not really having anything to say but glad to hear her voice.   I wanted my Mum with me but she couldn’t be there because she had Swine flu and so all I could do was cry to her on the phone.  When I was on the phone to her Chris walked in with his own Mum brother and sister.  I hugged him feeling overwhelmed by all the people that where suddenly around me but grateful that they cared about me and about our baby.  We sat in the room and talked frankly about everything that was and would happen.  The doctor came back and explained more to Chris and in-between all the talking and crying my contractions started to get worse.

They where just on the verge of becoming unbearable and I decided I needed more pain relief.  The midwife's were quick to help me and started me on tramadol.  By this point I was pacing the room every time I got one and each getting more intense.  I felt sure that this was a sign I would pass the baby soon.

Chris was allowed to stay with me as long as I was in the hospital and sleep beside me in the double bed provided.  Had I been in the other hospital this might not have been the case and it made me extremely grateful that I had decided to transfer my care because I cannot imagine going through this without him.  The doctors where still convinced that I would not pass the baby on my own but I think the midwife's who where seeing me have the contractions felt that there was a chance that I would.  The tramadol didn’t help at all and the pain and blood loss where starting to make me panic.  The next contraction I pressed the buzzer for a midwife and they gave me a shot of morphine.

Morphine made everything foggy, and it dulled the pain.  I remember Chris curling up beside me in bed.  Every hour or so I would have to get up again to go to the toilet and change the pad which would be soaking with blood and then I would sit on a little plastic bowl in the toilet and let myself bleed into it and Chris would take it to the midwifes on night duty for them to check what was coming out of me.  It was unavoidable that I got everything covered in blood, the bed, myself, Chris, it was everywhere and I remember feeling ashamed that I couldn’t seem to keep anything clean.  As the first shot of morphine wore off well into the night the pain started to get unbearable again.  At this point Chris was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him but the midwife who was assigned to me came and sat next to me at my side of the bed and held my hand.  She gave me another shot of morphine and offered me gas and air.

The gas and air gave me something to do through each contraction and definitely made the pain more bearable.  The midwife must have realised how terrified I was because she sat with me for several hours just talking to me.  Talking about anything to take my mind of the pain.  She explained to me what would happen when I passed the baby.  That the contractions would get closer together and eventually just like any full term labor I would feel something pressing down on my pelvis and then I would get the urge to push.  She told me that the baby would be small but it would look like a real baby with eyes, a nose, ears, hands and feet.  It would be delicate and the skin would be somewhat transparent.  I didn’t have to see my baby but if I wanted to I could.  I asked her if they would take it away and clean it first because I was afraid to look and I wasn’t even sure I could look.  She said that they would do whatever they could to make it easier and that they would prepare the baby for me so that it looked nice for us.

The bleeding was getting severe coming out of me in gushes.  I had experienced nothing like this before and along with the pain it was making me feel weak.  When I got up for my next visit to the toilet I appreciated how incapacitated I was because I could no longer support myself, my legs where trembling and the room was spinning.  Chris or a midwife had to accompany me to the toilet incase I got the urge to push, or incase I passed out.  It was to the extent that I couldn’t even clean myself, even reaching down to pull my own knickers up was hopeless.  All I could do was hold onto the railings when other people helped me.  There was no room for shame I just had to let them because I was so helpless.  It gave me a whole different perspective on things.  In my job I am usually the one supporting people in the bathroom and trying to maintain dignity in those clients and here I was with the roles reversed.  Now I was the one having other people do my personal care.

The doctor came to check my cervix at 7am and told me that even though I was having the contractions close together it was scarcely opening and it could take some time before the baby was ready to come out.  She offered me something to help my cervix open which I was reluctant to take. It felt to much like a termination if I did anything medical to speed up the labor but she explained to me that if I didn’t take it I could be like this for several days and I realised that it would be less distressing for myself and the baby to take the help.  She also offered me some extra pain relief that would have to be inserted rectally.  My WORSE nightmare however no matter how badly I didn’t want anything put up my bum I was desperate enough for the pain relief that I let them.

Whatever they put up there, along with the morphine and the gas and air it helped allow me to sleep for several hours.

Chris had to visit our house again during the day to collect the dogs and give them to his sister to look after and when he was gone his Mum sat with me.  I was still doped up with painkillers and I can’t remember the first thing about what we talked about or if we even talked at all but I was grateful for her being there.  I remember at some point a doctor coming to tell me that there was an infection in my womb and that I needed antibiotics and they stuck a canula in my hand which would mean I didn’t need separate injections every time I needed morphine.  I remember how respectful the midwife's and doctors where.  They must have changed my bedding about 5 times during that day because I kept bleeding everywhere but they never seemed annoyed or stressed and anytime I was on my own even for a few minuets if they saw that my family where not in the room with me then a midwife would come and sit with me until they came back.  Through all of this the baby was still moving though the movement’s where becoming less frequent or less obvious to me through all the pain.  I was very aware though that my baby was still alive.

Jana arrived late evening to sit with me and the rest of Chris family left.  I was receiving shots of morphine every couple of hours and had managed to inhale 1 and half canisters to gas and air to say that I was doped up to my eyeballs would be an understatement so I can’t imagine the conversation would have been flowing but just having people around me that I was familiar with and felt safe with made a huge difference to my state of mind.

At around 7pm I started to feel pressure on my pelvis and remembering what the midwife had explained to me the pervious night I understood that meant that the baby was getting ready to come out.  Even the morphine was not actually making much difference to the pain and I was now starting to feel a slight impulse to push.  I also noticed that I needed to poo which I found horrifying because I was scared if I pushed the poo out my baby might come out as well.  The midwife sat with me while I was in the toilet and I did my poo into a plastic bowl that she could check for “fetal parts” thankfully there where none.  As I was supported back to bed I was hit by another potent contraction and an even bigger urge to push.  The midwife offered to examine me and found that the baby was close to coming out my cervix was almost fully dilated.  She could feel the baby at the top of the birth canal.

This was the part I found most terrifying.  After this everything would be over.  No pregnancy, no baby, nothing for all this pain.  Nothing for 2 days of labor because my baby would die as soon as it was born.  I didn’t want to push because I didn’t want it to come out but my body was making the choice for me and the urge to push was overwhelming, not something I could fight.  I was lying on my back and the pressure on my pelvis was extreme in this position so I turned over onto my hands and knees and felt something pop.  I realised that the baby was coming out very very soon and started crying for someone to help.  I kept crying for my Mum even though I knew she couldn’t be there and wouldn’t be able to do much for me even if she was.  2 midwifes came in the room, Jana stayed at one side holding my hand and Chris was on the other side.  I needed to be sick and a bowl was handed too me and my hair held back as I vomited and pushed at the same time.  As I was pushing I lost control of my pelvic muscles and peed all over the bed.  I was to far gone with the pain to be humiliated I truthfully didn’t care.  At 10.23 on 29th of July 2009 Their was one enormous contraction and I could hear myself making a noise in my throat I’ve never heard myself make before or after and it was over.  I felt something slither down between my legs and I heard a thud on the bed and I knew that it was out of me.

I heard myself crying and repeating over and over; “I killed my baby” One of the midwife's picked it up and took it out the room.  Nobody had seen him except the midwife's.  I thought that it would be over now and that at least the pain would stop but the contractions kept coming.  The midwife explained to me that the placenta still had to pass and it seemed that my cervix had closed and was retaining the placenta.  So my body was confused still contracting because it knew something else had to come out.  I spent the next hour in agony trying to push the placenta out.  After a while the doctor was called and it was decided that I would probably need to go into theatre to get the placenta out.  At this stage I just wanted the pain to end so bad that I was begging them to put me to sleep.  I remember them putting a drip up for me to help me contract more to get the placenta out which of course caused me more pain.  They kept saying that surgery would be dangerous and it was better for the placenta to pass on its own I had 5 more minutes and then they would take me to theatre.  When the finally decided it was time the doctor asked me to lye back on my back so she could check internally what was going on and as I lay on my back I gave one more final push and it came out.

I was given more morphine and I fell asleep covered in blood and completely drained.  Chris lay down on the sofa and Jana went home.  I slept for 3 hours but to me it felt like about 10 minuets.  When I woke up I suddenly realised that I my baby was in some room all alone and I hadn’t even seen it.  I woke Chris up who was not impressed to be woken from sleep when he had so little in the past 48 hours.  His irritated reaction to me waking him seemed to trigger off a wave of emotion and I started to cry.  He held me and I told him I just had to see my baby now.

They brought him threw in a tiny Moses basket.  He was wrapped in a little white shawl and to me he looked perfect.  I looked at his little face, and eyes and I feel completely in love with him.  The fact that he was dead did not stop me wanting to hold him.  His skin was very delicate, a reddish color and transparent but he looked like a baby.  He was not just a bundle of cells or some kind of alien he was my baby just very tiny.  The midwife opened the blanket and explained to us that it looked like a boy but that we could not be 100 percent sure of this until the postmortem.  I held him in my hands and all I could think was how badly I wanted him to wake up.  Chris held him and we cried.  It was the most devastating feeling in the world to hold my baby and know that he would never cry, that I could never dress or feed him and he would never get the chance to grow up.  In those moments when we where holding him everything in the world stopped.  There was just a quiet deathly nothing. I have never felt grief like I did in those moments.  I wished that I had died with him or instead of him I’d have given anything to have him back alive inside me.  The midwife took him away again and Chris took me to the toilet to help clean and change my night clothes.  The bed was changed again due to it being covered in blood and we where able to climb into bed together after and I fell asleep with him holding me.

The next few days where a blur of paperwork and funeral arrangements.  We found out after the postmortem that it was definitely a little boy and we named him Samson.  He was buried in the baby rose garden in a tiny white coffin with his name on.  There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think about him.  I am constantly reminded of how pregnant I should be by now and there seem to be pregnant woman and babies everywhere I look.  Life goes on and I have to move on.  Standing over his grave crying is not going to bring him back.  My life is never going to be the same again.  I am always going to be missing something, missing him.  It’s hard to believe we actually had a son no matter for how short a time and that he is gone forever and cannot ever come back to us.