This is chapter 3 of a true Cinderella story; the story of my first baby’s life and death. D is for Death a subject for some reason I like to blog about!
In my book ‘Every Family Has One’ the difficulties Kathleen faces in childbirth mirror some of my own experiences. But my baby didn’t die in childbirth. But as you will find out later in this serial of her life it might have been better if she had died at birth. It’s something I have often pondered.
Here’s the link to ‘Every Family Has One’:
Chapter 3.
The professor gathered the white coated trainee doctors around him and listed the medical conditions in Latin. This only added to our anxiety. We were desperate to know what was going on. Then he spoke to us and listed the baby’s abnormalities as if they were a standard shopping list of eggs, butter and milk. Cleft palette, hair lip, overlapping fingers, hole in the heart and gross retardation. But little did I know at that stage that this was just the tip of the iceberg. Until the baby was born they didn’t know the full extent of what was wrong.
‘What this amounts to I am more or less certain is Down’s Syndrome.’ He told us.
We had a week to wait for the results. Over that week it felt as if I was carrying a monster. My husband broke down many times screaming ‘the baby is no longer mine.’ And I guess I felt the same. We were carrying a monster. I know it was wrong to feel that way but that’s how it felt. Babies were supposed to be perfect.
We went to the GP the next day to discuss the situation. He sat back, shook his head and said ‘life’s a shit.’ And you know what? These were the best words anyone said to me through the whole thing! He was right and taking a philosophical approach was the best way to cope!
The results of the chromosome test came early catching us off guard one evening. Neil took the call then came into the lounge and through tears broke the news.
‘We’re going to have a healthy girl.’
Something didn’t feel right. The conditions the professor had listed hadn’t just disappeared. And why were they announcing the sex. We hadn’t asked to know. But that was trivia in the scheme of things.
I couldn’t focus on the overall situation. Days later I realized that Neil had used the wrong words. ‘Healthy’ simply meant that she didn’t have Downs but she was still a very unhealthy baby.
We returned to London the next day for a further meeting and the doctor’s first question was ‘how would you feel if your child is mentally handicapped?’ I don’t need to explain to you, the reader how I felt about such a crass approach to the situation.
From Kings College we went to Guy’s for a full cardiac assessment of the baby. After the scan the cardiologist drew a picture of a normal heart and explained that the baby had several holes and her heart valves were the wrong way round. They would induce labour the next day. All I could focus on was the agonizing thrush I was experiencing and the pain of the thrush – in a way- helped me to push the results of the scan to the back of my mind.
I had been told to expect that the Cinderella might die in childbirth. Despite her heart condition they were still going to induce rather than confront the huge risks and perform a caesarian instead. But this was my first childbirth. I wasn’t an expert in motherhood. 20 years on though, three more births later I find it shocking they could have even considered a natural birth.
Read more tomorrow!