( There are two versions of this , this one is the one that appeared in the medway messenger on 24/03/14 )
Becoming a mother, TV or films would have you believe is a
fairy tale where mummy is glowing and beautiful as baby sleeps contentedly in
her arms.
The reality can however be a bit more of a horror story.
Back in 2002, after a year of trying, I’d discovered I was
pregnant when it occurred to me that maybe
the nausea I’d been suffering from wasn’t just down to something dodgy I’d eaten.
Taking a test, quite ironically on mother’s day i half expected it to come out
negative so when the two dots confirmed I was indeed up the spout I was elated.
We visited my mum that afternoon and delivered the news by addressing
her card “to mum ...and grandma “ and we celebrated with hugs and tears as she
realised she was expecting her first grandchild ....
But we were mistaken, as my first scan revealed not just one
baby but twins.
To say I had an idyllic pregnancy would be a lie. Chronic
morning sickness, painful piles and water retention meant the only thing
blooming was the size of my ankles. Add to that, trips to other hospitals for
advanced scans when the detection of a slight club foot lead to the suggestion
of the possibility of downs syndrome being made. It hadn’t been an easy ride
but come the start of September I’d started to settle in to the role I was
preparing for.
Reluctant to be treated like an invalid I kept active during
my pregnancy, even choosing to walk up the stairs to the maternity unit the day
they decided to admit me for observation after a raised blood pressure reading,
instead of using the lift.
My stay at Medway was short lived though as a shortage of
cots for my premature multi birth saw me shipped out one afternoon to the
Q.E.Q.M in Margate , the staff were
lovely but alone in my side ward I
couldn’t help but feel isolated from anyone who cared for me as i sat there in
my pjs and support socks.
My mood seemed to start taking its toll on my health too as
I woke late that Saturday night with the most horrendous indigestion and
pounding headache. After some antacid, aspirin and a good cry however I settled
down again thinking “I’ll probably feel much better in the morning “
If only that had been true , as I tried to get up and visit
the ladies , it became apparent that while I could see that all I needed to do
was walk around the bed my brain didn’t seem to be passing that message on to my
body. As I repeatedly banged myself against the bed, the more scared I became. By
now in a state of panic I grabbed the emergency button from the wall and kept
pressing it until i eventually felt my legs buckle underneath me as I collapsed
shuddering violently onto the bed.
I awoke much later in intensive care to find various family
members sitting by my side looking very worried, my other half showed me photos
of two beautiful baby boys but high on whatever drugs I’d been given i didn’t
realise they were mine and just nodded politely, asking for a drink as my
throat felt dry and sore. I savoured it, and then preceded to projectile vomit
it across the bedclothes before promptly blacking out again.
It wasn’t till a day later I found out just how much of a
medical drama I’d been starring in
The headache and heartburn had been symptoms of the onset of
pre- eclampsia , the confusion had been my body starting to shut itself down
which had ended in a violent fit.
I’d died twice in theatre as they delivered my boys by caesarean
and had at one point lost so much blood that technically i shouldn’t have still
been alive, following that up with a haemorrhage later on in the day, so all
fun and games then!
But my little battered body fought through it all that so
that this horror story had a happy ending , I got to see those little bird like
creatures grow into lovely young men and they got to have a mum to celebrate
mother’s day with .
And so to all those staff who helped save me that September
Sunday I will always be eternally grateful.
GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN - MEDWAY MESSENGER 24/03/14
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