Today is Lily's due date anniversary and it seems as good a day as any. Probably the best.
We had been waiting on Lily for a very long time. 9 weeks, in fact, when I finally went into labour.
It would be a lie to say I had no idea this was going to happen. I had been researching a lot, and knew rescue cerclages have a poor rate of full term births as opposed to prophylactic, which have over 80% success rate. We had asked a doctor friend, who said he knew the answer but wasn't prepared to say anything and exactly one week prior, my doctor had expressed concern that Lily appeared to be fully engaged.
Mum had observed just two nights prior that Oscar, incredibly out of character, was favouring me over Bob. I joked I hoped not, as dogs supposedly sense labour.
At about 2 in the morning at 32 weeks, I woke up with back pain. My mind didn't even think "labour" my mind thought "pee, panadol, heat pack".
When I went to pee, I noticed pink spotting. I didn't think anything of it, this is common with cerclages and it was really pale and faint. So, ever the keeper of a tidy home, I went off in search of my heat pack. The longer I looked, the more I noticed that the back pain wasn't persistent, but very clearly coming and going with gradual intensification and feeling of it wrapping further around my belly each time. The pain was about as intense as the pain I felt when my disk bulges were acute.
Starting to feel a bit anxious, I went to the toilet again, just to check. And this time the spotting was bright red.
I roused Bob, who groggily told me to ring the emergency number I had been given. By the time I was off the phone with them, with instructions to come in, Bob was dressed, had clothes out for me and our bag was at the door.
We were both excited.
You have to understand, from our perspective, from having seen a 26 weeker in the NICU, from thinking we were going to have a 24 weeker, this was a relief. She might as well have been full term. We were going to get to meet our little girl! Finally!
We arrived at the pregnancy assessment unit and were placed immediately in a room. I wasn't feeling any better or any worse, but when I went to the toilet my discharge had increased.
I was given drugs to try and delay labour (don't ask me, I didn't even ask, I was so disappointed they were even trying) as well as my third round of betamethasone. Betamethasone makes me feel crappy, so I was less than thrilled about this and was disappointed they had planned for me to finish the day with no baby, a migraine and hot flushes.
When Dr Cattanach arrived he confirmed that I had been in labour, but the stitch was still holding and the drugs to suppress labour had worked. I was going to spend the day on the ward and if nothing happened at the 24 hour mark, I'd get to go home. I felt better, because I had thought they were going to keep me in the ward until I actually did go into labour.
And the day passed inconsequentially. I was excited to go home the next morning and went to sleep happy.
At about midnight (I don't remember the exact time, it may have been earlier), I got up to go to the toilet with back pain, and this time there was blood on the paper and in the toilet. I buzzed the midwife and in the time it took her to come, which was ages, I had started to have contractions, about 5 - 6 minutes apart.
She put on a fetal heart monitor and contraction monitor and we had some words about whether I was in fact contracting as the machine was not picking them up. I assured her I was and I assured her that for about an hour now they had been regular. She reluctantly agreed to ring Dr Cattanach. He wanted me in a birth suite ASAP. This was not possible as all the rooms with neonatal RESUS were either occupied or being cleaned as it had been a busy night for prems.
It was after 1:30am before an orderly arrived to deliver me to the birth suite.
Dr Cattanach had not arrived so another ob/gyn checked to see my dilation. This hurt a lot and left me shaking. I was starting to dilate, about 4 centimetres, so it was becoming urgent to get my stitch out.
Dr Cattanach arrived minutes later and set about organising to the cut the stitch. He was saying that I needed an epidural, but I was managing the contractions just fine and I couldn't imagine why. My labour was progressing but it was early in the morning and both anesthesiologists in attendance were attending c-sections. So Dr Cattanach decided to cut my stitch without pain relief.
It was hands down the worst pain I have ever felt. I was trying to suck gas and hold still but I was shaking all over involuntarily. My midwife had my legs and Bob had my arms, but it just wasn't happening. I was sobbing with pain and just wanted Dr Cattanach to STOP. So he did, uncertain as to whether or not my stitch was still in place.
Dr Cattanach decided to actually fetch an anesthesiologist himself and came back shortly, assuring me that I would have an epidural in no time.
Nausea had gripped me while he was gone and I was vomiting everywhere. Poor Bob was trying his best to catch it but as each round of vomiting chose to coincide exactly with a contraction, it was hard for me to aim. I was regretting the gas, and having had an epidural for the stitch placement, was looking forward to being relieved of the horrendous double whammy.
The anesthesiologist arrived just as I was at my worst. Vomiting, shaking, contracting and crying. And this is what he said, "I hope this is an emergency."
Apparently Dr Cattanach had insisted he attend me instead of seeing an almost complete c-section through to the end, and he was annoyed. I managed to hiss, "Yes, it is." While Dr Cattanach just rolled his eyes.
He explained the risks, how it worked and the length of time it would take to take effect, which was approximately half an hour. I signed, happy that at least one of my troubles would soon be relieved.
As he was placing the line, I felt like I wet myself and, desperately embarrassed, apologised. Everyone assured me it was fine. Then Bob started to wobble and suddenly he said he needed to sit because he was going to faint. I maintain it was the sight of the epidural going in and he maintains it was just he was tired and hungry.
Dr Cattanach took his place, and I promptly threw up all over him and his shoes. I'm sorry to his wife, who almost certainly had to wash that. I also felt like I had wet myself again. It was horrible, especially as I had used the bathroom shortly prior to to the anesthesiologist arriving. I was very embarrassed and was terribly upset as I felt like I was probably going to poop next. The only God send was I didn't really notice the epidural going in through my burning embarrassment.
After the epidural was in, I was rolled over and lifted to change my sheets and gown, which was when Dr Cattanach announced I had not, in fact, wet myself, but broken my waters.
By the time the epidural had taken effect, it was 3:30am. Dr Cattanach said the plan was to check my stitch and dilation and then send me back to my room for a sleep, where he'd check on me again at 9.
As soon as he looked though, he backed up and said, "She's crowned!" and almost instantly the room was alive with people. Four more midwives and a pediatrician arrived as though summoned by this pronouncement. I'm sure my midwife had a hand in it, but it felt instant.
The midwives disappeared to the RESUS room and the pediatrician came to speak with Bob and me.
Until the day I die I will never ever forget what he said. I can't remember his name, but he was Scottish and older, so it sounded so earnest.
"32 weeks. That's good. 99% survive."
Bob and I beamed.
"I don't tell you this to give you hope. I tell you this because 1% die. She won't be crying when she's born and she'll need RESUS immediately. You won't get to hold her today, and probably not tomorrow either. She'll need CPAP and will be in ICN for at least a week, and won't get to come before 36 weeks and probably not until her due date."
I looked at Bob and his mouth was open, skin grey, eyes worried. I knew my face was identical and I wondered if it was too late to put her back in and stop labour. I didn't get to ask, because the paediatrician dissipated almost the moment that Dr Cattanach declared it was time to push.
3 pushes later, at 3:45am on Thursday 6 May 2010, Lily Grace Maidens arrived.
Screaming her tiny, perfect little lungs out. She weighed 1970 grams and measured 42.5 centimetres. And once she had been wrapped in a warming blanket and her APGAR scores completed, she was handed to me.
As tears rolled down my face, I said, "Hi. I'm your Mummy."
And 26 days later, at 35+6 weeks gestation, we got to take her home.
And so Lily Grace was born. And our lives have since been blessed more than we ever deserved.
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