#grateful heart – #my story

I responded with the relevant information. The midwife gave a quick glance from the corner of her eye, I could tell she was somewhat surprised. Her next comment confirmed it… “You look really well for 36” she said to me. “Thank you” I replied with a smile and the next few minutes became more relaxed and friendly in what happened to be my first midwife’s appointment at the hospital.

Left to my husband alone, I would be having the baby in France but the entire logistics did not seem very practical so we decided to choose Darent Valley hospital in Dartford Kent.

 Firstly, we were not comfortable with all the negative reports we had read about Basildon hospital (which was the closest to us) and secondly, we had peace when we found Darent valley.

This pregnancy was special in many ways, something to be told perhaps at a later date. We were excited!!!!

I remember when we gave our 10 year old the news that she would be having a sister or brother soon, she was so overwhelmed with joy, she cried and that was how we all felt.

I had started a new job with great prospect. I just finished my Master’s degree in Marketing and had great expectations and hopes, things were looking up.

They say the 1st trimester of a pregnancy is when caution should be taken and all. Mine went smoothly and fast. I had my regular commute to work. 5 minutes’ walk from home to Grays train station. I’d get on the C2C, change at some point onto a London train and get to work. It was business as usual for the first 13 weeks.

By the 14th week, I was at work and as far as work goes, nothing appeared unusual-A full day’s diary with clients to see. At about midday, in the middle of one of my consultations, I felt a kind of unease as though I needed to go to the ladies room. Hurrying up with the client, I left my desk as fast as I could and as soon as I got to the ladies room, I could feel and see blood streaming down my legs. In that moment, fear gripped me, followed by panic. Instinctively placing my hands on my tummy, all I could say was JESUS.

When the flow subsided a bit, I got up, opened the door and called for help. The next few minutes went by almost in a blur. There were two colleagues by me reassuring me I was going to be okay and my manager on the phone with the ambulance service… then an ambulance and me in it with a dear colleague offering to accompany me. When I eventually got examined at the hospital, the baby seemed tucked comfortably in my womb, unaware and undisturbed by her surroundings. I was referred to my GP for a follow-up and told to take it from there.

The next day, I went to my GP who decided to give me 2 weeks off work to rest and see what happened next. Well, I didn’t make 2 weeks before another episode happened.

Twice after the first incident, ambulance services came to my home and on both occasions they told me to prepare for the worst because of the amount of blood loss they witnessed. Scans and checks showed that I had placenta previa and there was not much to be done except to rest and hope that my placenta moved  up with the growth of the baby rather that remain down pressing against the neck of the womb.

I was in bed for 20 weeks (literally). If I as much as went to the toilet, I bled. My husband and our 10 year old daughter ran the home without me. From school runs to shopping and after school clubs, church, cooking, cleaning, everything. I read books on healing, listened to messages and spoke declarations. I also cried and wondered and wondered and cried. The enemy brought all sorts of thoughts to my mind.

The one thought I had to deal with the most was the thought that my baby and I were not going to make it as my mother also died of bleeding during pregnancy.

“Supernatural childbirth” became my favourite message to listen to and book to read. I would play the message time and again and speak to my baby and my womb. I also had one scripture which stayed in my heart

Psalm 91:16 KJV – With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.

By the time I was 34 weeks pregnant, I had had enough. The most frustrating thing for me was not being able to go to church or house fellowship (as we called it) which was just a 5 minute drive away.

 I had not had any bleeding for a whole week which was a miracle on its own and I was up for a visit from a close friend. When she arrived, which coincidentally was a house group day, I begged her to accompany me to our house group.  My husband wasn’t keen on me leaving the house but I had had enough. So, a member of the house group offered to pick me up and bring me back home.

I had a wonderful time of fellowship and felt very refreshed. The following day, at a late hour, the strange feeling returned and this time, it was different. It was as though a dame had been opened.

We didn’t bother with the ambulance because the paramedics told us the last time that Dartford was not an area they covered, and  I would be taken to Basildon, so my husband decided to drive me to Darent Valley.

On arrival, we were not given priority, after all, we came in our car not the ambulance. When it eventually got to our turn, the bleeding had subsided. The nurse gave me a pad to see the level of flow. When she saw how quickly it soaked up I was given a bed and told they would observe me through the night.

My husband stayed with me until very late in the night and then left for home with the intention of picking me up the following day. Deep in my heart, I sensed I wouldn’t be going home the following day but didn’t voice it.

Sometime after midnight, it started again. I pushed the button to get the midwife’s attention and she casually strolled in – until she saw the amount of blood I was losing. When she raised the alarm and my bed was wheeled away, and all in the space of what seemed like seconds, I knew I was going into theatre. Before the mask came over my face and about five people or so were around my bed running in the same direction, all I could say was “call my husband”..

 I went to sleep with a lady’s voice saying, someone is calling him now…

When I woke up, I realised I was in the ICU (intensive care unit) .My throat felt parched and a nurse was by my side. She offered water as though she knew and I gladly had some. She was expecting me to take a sip but I finished the cup, clearly surprised, she asked if I wanted more, I smiled and nodded and by the 2nd cup she said, “Oh I think you are well enough to be out of here”. I nodded with a smile as the people around me almost looked lifeless and I couldn’t imagine what I was doing there.

Soon after, a consultant came in to check on me. He introduced himself as the head surgeon responsible for the team who helped deliver my baby through emergency C-section. He explained that I had lost about 7 pints of blood in the theatre alone, excluding whatever was lost before that.

He continued to say they had to do a blood transfusion and explained that I was opened up and the baby brought out in under 2 minutes but keeping me alive took a little longer.

When he left, my husband who was looking through the glass door was allowed in to see me. I spent about 2 days in intensive care and after that was wheeled into the general ward. My baby girl, delivered at 34 weeks weighing 2kg (4pounds 4 ounces). Was in the incubator waiting for me. I couldn’t see her for the first 2 days of her life. They couldn’t bring her out of the incubator and I was in the ICU. So daddy was all over the place. The first time I actually saw my baby was by a photo that one of the nurses brought to me. She looked so tiny and so adorable with all the tubes on and around her. I could tell she was a fighter.

The next sight of her was a video daddy showed me of our little princess holding on to his finger still in the incubator. On the eighth day, we were discharged from the hospital and ready to go home but this was only half of the journey.

Our princess was almost like a “guinea pig”, going from one test to the other. She got so many teddies for her bravery in all the needles that went into her to take blood samples. They could not understand why her white blood cells were so low, and she had to be on medication (which was almost equivalent to what a sickle cell anaemia patient would be on). Every 2 weeks we had to go for blood tests.

This cycle carried on for about 4 months (no parent wants to go through this 😢).They had told us she would be on medication for a very long time as she grew up.

When she was about 4 /5 months old, I decided to travel abroad because I felt I would be looked after and in turn, I would look after our baby better. While abroad, I got tired of administering the medication and fighting fear. I decided to stop all the medication.

My prayer of declaration was that when we got back to England and went for a blood test, the results would show that our baby girl no longer needed the drugs. After 6 weeks away, we returned to England, booked her appointment and took her in. After the test, the result showed great improvement and that was the end of hospital visits, blood tests and medication.

Our princess is 10 years old today  and she has never returned to the hospital for anything.

#gratefulheart

#mystory

#bloggingwithkay

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