A Touch of Normality

My husband had come up with the brilliant idea of reading stories to our daughter when we visited since we could not hold her and all we could do was watch. I found a book that one of my dad’s colleagues had given to me as a small girl many years before, Michael Bond’s Book of Bears.

One evening when the two of us went to visit we took the book with. We sat in our little section of that busy NICU unit and proceeded to read the story to her together. It was another way for us to bond as a family. For that few minutes, in the midst of incubators, monitors and nursing staff, I felt a little bit of normalcy in a stressful situation. For that brief moment in time I actually felt like I was a mom. I felt as though I had finally done something worthwhile. I felt peace. For a brief moment in time we forgot about our surroundings and other was just the three of us. All thanks to my husband and his seemingly silly suggestion.

We were halfway through week two when the neonatologist on duty approached me and informed me that within a few days we would be able to hold our angel for the first time. I was excited and frightened at the same time. She still looked so fragile. I had spent plenty of time with babies but this was a whole other ball game for me.

A few days later on Saturday 18 June I held my daughter for the first time. I had butterflies in my stomach as the nurse disconnected  her, patiently waiting to hold her. The nurse nestled her on my bare chest and it was only once she settled in that I realised that I had been holding in my breath. It felt wonderful to just hold her even though due to her size I didn’t know what to do with my hands. She made herself comfortable between my breasts while I made sure to support her neck. It felt so strange because it was put into perspective again to me just how small she really was. I was reminded of the odds she had defeated thus far.

Sunday 19 June was Father’s day and my husband was able to hold Rebecca for the first time. It was an extra special Father’s day in our family. Just watching how my daughter reacted to being on my husband’s chest was amazing. Yet another slice of heaven in the midst of our storms. I watched as my husband had his first father daughter conversation with our little angel and sang to her.

Tuesday 21 June was another day of celebration for us. Rebecca overcame another milestone. I was at home with my mom when I received another picture of Rebecca from our NICU angel asking if we noticed anything different. It took me a while to notice what exactly the difference was. Then I saw it; my daughter was no longer on the oxygen.  She could breathe on her own. I re-examined the picture with joy and disbelief before replying. We were one step closer to bringing her home. One less set of pipes to worry about. I remember coming to visit her one day in the week before and whilst I was there she pulled the oxygen out of her nose making me so concerned but the nurses were quick to respond and assure me that it was normal for them to try that. It was no one less thing for me to stress about. Our little miracle was once again doing us proud.

Hanging on

The first week after leaving hospital was emotional for me on so many different levels. There were many days when my mom and I were home alone whilst the men went to work.

It was on one of these days that I got yet another scare. My mom and I were in the lounge trying to get a fire going when suddenly something just didn’t feel right. I felt wet and like my clothes was wet but didn’t understand why. I soon found out when I looked down only to find my clothes covered in blood. I immediately began to panic; my mind racing in different directions.

I remember thinking that I couldn’t die because my daughter needed me. I was wondering how I would get to the hospital since there was no one at home to drive. I began wondering whether or not my medical aid would cover an ambulance and if so how did we get one. I started thinking about what would happen if I had to go back to hospital. would I be able to see more of my daughter or not see her at all. how would my family split visiting times. Did I have to go back into surgery.

Thankfully my mom was there to calm me down and help with a plan of action. she sent me to wash while she phoned my gynae to let her know what happened and find out what needed to be done. Thankfully it was no where near as bad as I thought. All we needed to do was put on clean dressings and keep it clean until I went for my check up a few days later. My mind had automatically gone to the worst case scenario. Our days at home were filled with my mother and I each telling the other that she needed to rest so that she could heal and me not wanting to because I didn’t want to be dependent but that day had been a wake up call for me. So started a month filled with trips to the hospital not only to visit my daughter but also to have myself seen to.

Seeing my daughter again after my scare made that longing to hold her that much stronger. All I could do was sit alongside her incubator, gathering up pictures and videos to carry me through those long lonely days and nights without her at home. I took solace in that and watching how active she was despite the many wires and tubes surrounding her. It brought me a kind of peace. I hated having to tear myself away from her at the end of each day. I cherished going to see my daughter even if only for 5 minutes. I took joy in every little thing she did.

I was so torn when visiting her with others because I didn’t want to short change anyone but I also so much longed to see her. I wanted to do right by everyone else whilst my heart was aching to spend more time by her side. I anxiously waited for the day when I could drive around and go visit on my own. For me those days couldn’t come soon enough.

I always had this habit of wanting to keep everyone happy often to my own detriment and this was another one of this situations. whilst trying to make everything easier for everyone else and trying to see to their needs and satisfaction I was digging myself deeper and deeper into this pit filled with feelings of failure and depression. I felt as though I had failed on so many levels as a mother, wife and daughter. Each time someone spoke about how difficult it was for them etc I felt guilty and the words I heard were, “it’s your fault”. I battled to remind myself each time that there was nothing I could do to change the situation. With this I drew more into myself distancing myself from the ones I needed most. My biggest coping mechanism was focusing on being grateful that we had indeed survived and celebrating her many milestones.

I had decided before her birth that I would go silent on social media and communication in general to give myself a chance to absorb it all first. So exactly a week after giving birth I finally announced to all that I had indeed given birth and some of the details about what had happened. The response I received had been overwhelming and in some way comforting and calming as well. Many people encouraged me and offered messages of support. I sat reading the messages with tears of gratitude

Acceptance and Realisation

For a very long time after my daughter’s birth I struggled with accepting the fact that no matter what I did differently throughout my pregnancy, there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent my daughter’s early arrival. I battled within myself blaming myself for the fact that my daughter was lying in an incubator covered with wires and tubes, chastising myself for being a terrible mother whilst deep down I knew it was not true. To the world I was coping remarkably well with this stressful situation but behind closed doors it was tearing me apart.

The first two days of my daughter’s life are a mystery to me. I was told it is as a result of the trauma and stress of the situation. I know that somewhere along the way I went to visit my daughter. I remember my husband feeding me because I did not have the energy to eat on my own. I received visitors and had conversations that I have no recollection of.

The Tuesday came and I was reminded that I hadn’t even come up with a name for my daughter I was convinced that my husband and I would have a name by the end of the evening. I remember going through names on the Internet and one kept coming to mind “Rebecca”. When my husband arrived that evening we went through name options until I suggested Rebecca and he decided to see how the name and surname sounded together and then all three our names together. We agreed on the name and proceeded to proudly let our parents as well as the sister looking after Rebecca know that we had finally chosen a name. That night I would go sleep with her name on my mind.

During my stay in hospital I was so afraid to go visit her in the NICU especially alone. My daughter looked so fragile and helpless I was afraid of breaking down  on tears in this unit filled with strangers. I recall coming into the unit one day and seeing my daughter under uv light. They reassured me not to worry as it was a precautionary measure due to her blood results showing a risk for jaundice. Oddly enough this was one complication I had been prepared for my entire pregnancy.

The day came for me to go home. My mother would be arriving that afternoon with my brother to fetch me and visit Rebecca before we went home. I packed and repacked my bag that day  took a trip to the pharmacy to get meds and did anything I could afraid to go see my daughter alone although my heart ached to see her. When I went I just sat for a little while watching her, recording her and taking photos until the lump in my throat grew too big for me to handle and I escaped to the refuge of my hospital bed again behind drawn curtains. Mercifully my room was just opposite the NICU and my bed right by the door.

When my mom and brother arrived we sat a little in my room before he took my bags down and my mom and I went to visit my daughter. I held onto my mother’s hand so tightly during that visit realisation finally sinking in that I would be going home without my precious angel. I suddenly felt guilty for not spending more time with my daughter while I was still in the hospital.

The first morning home was I woke up realising I would have to wait for my husband and father to come home in order to see my daughter since neither or myself would be able to drive for a few weeks. I was overcome with a desire to see my daughter. Around 9h30 my phone signalled a WhatsApp message. it was from a number that I did not know. upon opening the messages I got a smile on my face. The sister looking after my daughter had sent me two pictures of my daughter with funny captions to describe the poses and I immediately felt myself relax as I read the captions and showed my mother. That seemingly small act meant the world to me and set my mind at ease. u could relax knowing my daughter was doing well and in good hands. At that point the nurse looking after my daughter crept into my heart without understanding the impact that caring gesture had on me emotionally and mentally. I was going to make it through day one.

The time following my discharge was a difficult one. Only myself, my husband and our parents were allowed to visit our daughter. I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible but at the same time I wanted all of them to also spend time with her. I didn’t want to deprive or inconvenience anyone. whenever I visited Rebecca all I wanted to do was just hold her to me and let her know that all would be ok. Her skin was so fragile and to me it seemed like she didn’t have bones. everything made me so afraid for her part. the first few days she had s needle in her foot and I was glad to see it out. I would have done anything to take away her pain.

I remember one night waking up in my mother’s bed with tears streaming down my face not knowing how I got there or why I was crying. All that I knew was that my brother was holding a glass out to me and my mother was telling me to drink. I felt as if I was losing my mind first not being able to remember my time in hospital and now this. I tried to shake it off and told myself that I had no time to start losing it because my daughter needed me. A feat much easier said than done. in the quiet and alone those negative voices and messages plagued me but whenever anyone was around I told myself to keep it together. It was a constant battle within myself that I couldn’t let anyone else know about. pride wouldn’t allow me to

A Turn for the worst bringing us the best blessing

Friday 3 June approached and I was both excited and nervous. I was excited because my mom and I had been planning a weekend away with my female cousins in her side for some time now and the day had finally arrived. I was nervous because I was due to go for my check up that morning before we had to leave and I had been overcome with this sense of foreboding from the day before. I guess that’s why I only got halfway with packing my bag.

My brother and I arrived at my appointment and I was still unable to shake this uneasiness and this voice in my head telling me that I wouldn’t be able to go on the much awaited weekend away.

When I sat down on the bed my gynae took one look at me feet and told me that I should not be walking around because they were so severely swollen. As soon as we started with the ultrasound my worst fears had been confirmed. I was sadly told that, despite all our best efforts, my journey as an expectant mother was drawing to a close. My baby’s heartbeat was irregular and indication that the placenta was no longer working properly. As a result my baby was no longer growing. I was told that I was to go straight over to the hospital. My doctor told me that she wasn’t going to give me much choice because she knows that when it comes to such situations the mothers always say save my child but they would rather save us both.

I couldn’t control my tears. I didn’t even have the strength to phone my husband. Thankfully I hadn’t come alone my brother and doctor phoned both my mother and husband. My mother wanted to stay and cancel the trip but thankfully our doctor advised us that that would not be necessary.

By the time we left her room there was a  porter waiting for me in the waiting area ready to take me to the hospital. It was slowly sinking in. I was numb with fear and heartache. We arrived at the maternity unit and I just couldn’t speak.

When my husband arrived I just remember holding onto him and sobbing like never before. I was overwhelmed with shock. The weekend went by in a blur with constant monitoring of both my blood pressure and my baby’s heartbeat. They wanted to delay delivery for as long as possible to give my baby better odds for survival.

Late on Friday I was visited by a neonatologist who told me about what to expect when baby is born and what would most likely happen with my baby once delivered. I was also met by a young nurse with a bubbling personality who just made me feel more relaxed when she arrived. She gave me a tour of the NICU and told me if I had any questions to just ask her. she would be with us when I went into theatre to care for my precious bundle. That weekend I just hoped and prayed that I would at least make it till Monday so that my parents could also be present for the birth of their first grandchild. 

I was given steroid injections Saturday and Sunday morning to help strengthen baby’s lungs.

Sunday afternoon when my gynae came to check up on me she told me that we could not wait much longer as we had hoped but we would be going into theatre Monday afternoon between 3 and 4. Less than two hours later when the nurses came to check my vitals again my blood pressure was still high, even when I slept. a few minutes later I was told that I couldn’t wait till the afternoon I had to go into theatre first thing in the morning and had to eat at 10 for the last time.

I don’t remember much after that I just remember being met in the theatre by a new neonatologist, and the young nurse of Friday night as well as my gynae and the other medical staff. They struggled for more than half an hour to give me the necessary injections in my spine and were getting ready to get someone else to assist but were finally able to succeed next thing I knew I was lying on the theatre table and my husband was by my side.

I remember the procedure and being told that I had a little girl. I heard someone stating the time as they quickly showed her to me and then whisked her off to the side again. After seeing my daughter things went blank. At 11h06 on 6 June 2016 we welcomed our daughter into the world

Change of course

On Thursday, May 19, I was admitted to hospital for the first time. The day started out like any other ordinary day. I had helped my brother with a night time job the night before but only the start of the shift to help everyone settle before going home and then made the decision to rather stand down for that evening as the team knew what to do. That afternoon my mom and I went for a mini treat and had our hair done. We made a spur of the moment decision to meet my father and husband in Claremont for supper that evening. They worked close to each other so we organised that they meet us for supper.

We enjoyed our time together and just as we were getting the bill and getting ready to leave I was overcome with a severe pain in my right side and then a sudden wave of nausea and unease. I could not understand what was happening but thought it could just be that I ate to much or the fact that something didn’t agree with my pregnancy.

After a while we proceeded to leave the restaurant and when we left the car they asked if I wanted to go to the hospital or not. I was torn between two decisions because I wanted to make sure it was nothing to worry about but I also didn’t want to arrive at the hospital and have nothing wrong. My mom ended up phoning the maternity unit to see what they advised and my husband phoned my gynae as well. I then wanted to go home first incase I needed anything but eventually agreed to go straight to the hospital instead to also set all their minds at ease. We left the one car at my employees place as she stayed not too far and we were advised then also that it was best to go through immediately by her partner, a cardiologist. After I would realise the significance of the way everything worked out that day.

When we arrived at the hospital we went straight to the maternity ward. strangely enough there was a wheelchair at the lifts where our car was parked and my husband and father wanted me to get in. I told them not to be silly.

On arrival at the maternity ward they too contacted my gynae and advised me that she was on her way. My blood pressure was checked and I was connected to a machine to check the foetal heartbeat. My blood pressure was sky high. My doctor was surprised that I actually walked in and I would later learn that the blood pressure reading which they received was stroke level. Had I arrived a minute later there is no telling what would have happened. Thankfully I was in Claremont and not at home when the symptoms occurred. I was admitted to the ICU unit for observations. a routine I would soon become accustomed to.

The following afternoon I was moved to the maternity unit after being visited by my gynae, a foetal specialist and a physician. The severity of my situation was slowly sinking in. I was however optimistic that I would make it through. I was surrounded by wonderful staff at each turn helping to set me at ease and relax.

I spent the weekend in hospital and was just to happy to go home the Tuesday evening. I didn’t stay home long though. late at night on Wednesday, 25 May. I started getting the same symptoms again. My husband went to my father and we checked my blood pressure again and then they phoned my doctor and we’re advised to bring me to the hospital again where she met us. I was admitted once again to ICU. I would stay in hospital until the Monday again. My mother was admitted into hospital for a major operation the Sunday evening after visiting me so the two of us were laying on opposite ends of the same hospital floor that evening. I was glad that I was at least able to see her before she got wheeled off to surgery Monday morning and when she came out of surgery my father and I were able to visit her before I went home not knowing just how busy things would get for us from then on

Transformation and progression

The pregnancy started off well. Until I was suddenly overcome with morning sickness. Some days better than others. At 16 weeks I was glad to see the end of that but I had severe swelling already by then. I was unable to wear my wedding rings and many people asked whether or not I was sure I was only carrying one baby or if I was not further along that I thought. I was not too concerned about the swelling as I knew swelling was normal and each woman has a different pregnancy journey.

At 20 weeks I saw a foetal specialist to ensure all was still well with baby. At 24 weeks I went back to my gynaecologist for my next check up. Upon arrival she told me that it was early for me to be experiencing swelling and only then did I start to worry. She told me that I shouldn’t be concerned about the swelling under normal circumstances but due to the fact that I had an elevated blood pressure at my 20 week scan and protein in my urine it was a bit of a cause for concern. We proceeded to continue with my check up and all still seemed fine still with regards to my ultrasound. My placenta was still performing properly  but my blood pressure was once again high and I needed to start taking hypertensive medication. It was then that I remembered my first visit and the fact that my blood pressure had been high then as well and she had told me then that with a blood pressure like that they normally send you straight to hospital but she redid it a few minutes later and it was improved. We had decided that it could have just been as a result of my nervousness with regards to the fact that I was going for my first check up. I then ran through my mind all the possible problems that I had ignored without knowing it crediting it with hormonal changes.

We went home armed with a script and instructions to monitor my blood pressure for 3 days and let the doctor know my readings the following week. I also had to do what they call a 24 hour can to ensure that there was nothing wrong with my kidneys. I made even more changes to my diet cutting out anything that could affect my blood pressure because I was determined to see this pregnancy through to the end. I wanted to do whatever I could to help my baby and keep my baby safe

First encounter

For years my husband and I were bombarded with the question, “When are you going to have a baby” or people blatantly telling us we need to make a plan. Our general response was always that we were not ready or that the time was not right. After being told I had polycystic ovaries this remarks just irritated me that much more. For about a year my husband and I tried to conceive without success. And each time I was presented with that question I would smile or reply as if I was unphased but deep down it hurt. It just reminded me that we were unsuccessful in that area despite the fact that we did in fact want a child. There were nights when I would silently cry for the child we did not have long after my husband had gone to sleep but to the world we were waiting a few more years.

For me the normal symptoms that others associated with early indicators of pregnancy, such as a missed period or bouts of nausea and dizziness meant nothing. I had grown accustomed to such symptoms long before anything could ever have been expected. So in December when I once again experienced all of these symptoms I thought nothing of it. My husband however was convinced that I was indeed pregnant but I refused to get my hopes up. On the 28th of December, at his insistence, we went to the GP to check it out. We were sent home with a letter of referral for a gynaecologist. My mother advised us to do home test. So that’s what we did. We did that and took two tests which came back positive. We however had to wait a long time to have it confirmed as they gynaecologists generally close up shop over the festive season and we had to wait two weeks before we could make our appointment and a further two weeks to see the doctor. We had received the best Christmas gift however.

At the end of January my husband and I went to go see the gynaecologist, accompanied by my mother. It felt like we had waited forever. The moment we saw and heard our daughter’s heartbeat we fell in love. I was only 9 weeks pregnant. It was only then that realisation sunk in and we knew for sure that we were indeed expecting. We were told that the foetus was approximately the size of a peanut and from then on whenever we spoke about our precious miracle we referred to it as peanut. I remember walking around with a shell peanut in my bag to show my brothers how small the baby was at that point in time. My heart had grown just a little bit more that day: Filled with joy.

The gynaecologist had not looked at the letter of referral at all. She listened to what we had said and told us that she didn’t need the letter at all. When we went home we decided to open it and see what had been written. The doctor had cited ‘infertility problems’ as the reason for our visit. Unbeknownst to him that was not the case at all

Introduction

This story has been a long time coming. I am a recent mother. Something my husband and our thought might not happen for various reasons. The road has not been an easy one. But after seeing two of my former classmates sharing their stories of becoming a parent and talking to many others about my struggles and triumphs I finally decided that I need to share my story on a larger platform to give hope and encouragement to others in similar situations.

Four months ago my husband and I welcomed our precious daughter into the world. She was born at 28 weeks, weighing only 980g. She was 12 weeks premature. It was one of the most difficult times of my life and the most blessed. In order to truly understand it all I would have to start at the beginning.

I have as a young woman suffered from gynaecological issues throughout the years not ever really understanding why or what the cause was and then in 2014 after a really worrying time and going back and fourth to the doctor for the umpteenth time I was informed that I had polycystic ovaries. Not long after that I was hospitalised with a kidney infection.

Despite all of this and the negative prospects we never gave up. It’s been a roller-coaster ride but we came through each setback triumphantly