The day our lives changed for ever.

7 months pregnant with my boy, a baby brother for Ashleigh, the perfect picture of a happy family. Everything was well, baby was healthy, I felt great, life couldn't get much better than this. The biggest things I had to worry about in life were rediscovering my feet and figuring out how something so big can possibly get out of 'that' hole. Little did I know how much our lives were about to change.
I had started to attend my antenatal appointments regularly as I was nearing D day. There was never anything to report other than this baby getting big!
Remembering how big Ashleigh was when she was born, I started to feel a little concerned that the size of this baby could cause problems. When I had Ash, she was a lovely bundle of pink with a blonde topping. She was perfect, but she was a little bit stubborn on the coming out. She had a shoulder dystocia, but with a bit of a twist and poke in the right places, she was born. Our happiness was short lived though. She started to have a few breathing problems and was a bit cold, but a couple of days of extra oxygen and mastering the technique of breast feeding, we came home.
As our boy got bigger and bigger, the memory of Ashleighs delivery haunted me, and with every antenatal appointment came the question "please can I have a C-section"? annoyingly met with "no".
Apparently there was no reason for me to undergo surgery, even though my then smaller baby got stuck, and this baby was only getting bigger, running the risk of becoming more stuck. But my concerns fell on deaf ears, and in 'their' infinate wisdom I was induced the day after my EDD.
From that moment our lives had started on a rollercoaster we wished we had never got on.
I was given the first pessary in the morning of April 22nd '07, and waited. The London marathon was underway, and I joined the athletes in my own tailored workout. The birthing ball became my siamese twin. Anyone that tried to take it was told in no uncertain terms to back off!!! As the runners neared the end of their race, mine was just beginning. The contractions were getting strong, but my cervix argued with the pain. The two could not reach an agreement. One was saying "oh my god, oh my god"!! the other was saying "we are going nowhere"!!.
I tried to tell the midwives that I was in labour, but they sided with my cervix and decided to try another pessary. We joked about how silly that idea was. Knowing how things went so quickly with Ash, another pessary was just madness and they would have to prepare a rugby scrum to catch this child when I shoot him out at high speed. I wish I knew then what I know now, none of us would be laughing.
Unfortunately, for legal reasons, some of this blog will have to wait till there comes a time I can speak openly about what happened in the following hours. I can however state some of the facts.
My boy got stuck. History well and trully repeated itself but with severe consiquences. My waters brole at midnight, stained with meconium. I mistakenly thought I'd had him, but was met with a painful reminder that things were really far from over. I had not fully dilated, and my boys heart rate was dipping. Things were becoming a bit urgent. They needed to get him out. I pushed, they pulled. They tried with a ventouse, then forceps, then again with a ventouse. Eventually his head was there. I reached down to feel him, and it was wonderful. I was in ignorant bliss of the severity of the situation. A bit too much gas and air.
Like his sister 8 years before, his shoulders got stuck and the fight started again. But thankfully within minutes, he was here.
I will never forget how it felt to go from being so happy, so excited. Knowing I now had everything I ever dreamed of. Turning to my husband, still holding my hand with that new Daddy tear in his eye....to the realisation that that tear wasn't one of elation or pride, but one of dread and fear.
Turning to look at my beautiful baby, there was no sound at all. I could just make out the top of his head from behind 'too many' doctors. His head moved from side to side and it took a few seconds before I could understand why. As one of the nurses stepped to the right, I could then see that with every turn of my babies head, came another heart compression. They put a mask on his face, tried so hard to get his heart to start. I couldn't watch. I turned to look at Gary, and waited for that look of fear to turn to the tears of joy we should have had. But they never came. Alarms were sounded, and they took my boy away.
Thinking back to when Ash was born, I tried to tell myself that he will be fine. He is just having a hard time breathing....just like she did.
I had a shower, and walked back across the blood stained floor to my cup of tea and slice of toast.
They said to get some sleep and to come see him first thing.
During the night, they had put him on a ventilator. He was fitting almost all the time, and they had to fill him with drugs to try to stop them....they weren't working.
But this was the first time I got to see my beautiful boy. He was a big boy, with darker hair than I had imagined. He was covered head to foot in wires and tubes, with alarms going off here, there and everywhere....but none of that mattered. He was here, he was my boy, my Zak.