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Home / Birth Stories / Birth Stories
10 Nov 2018

2,939 Days

My (our) story starts back in October 2010, two (not so) newlyweds embarked on a little break to the Peak District.

All smiles, laughter and happy memories made as we both decided, at that moment that we wanted to become three, to start our little family.

I remember it well, being so excited, plotting and planning, thinking that in quite possibly less than a year, that we could have a little baby.

Up until that point we both definitely still had that childhood naivety... step one... you make the decision to start a family, step two... you get to work... step 3... in nine months you have a baby.

The realisation is that that unfortunately doesn’t happen for everyone and it certainly didn’t happen for us.

The first month went by, nothing, second... nothing, roll on a year, and still NOTHING.

I think we got to about the two year mark before we decided to ask for a little help. We went to our doctor and naturally the first thing that came out of her mouth was my weight, now anyone that isn’t in the healthy weight range will know that no matter the reason you step into the doctors office, the reason why you have that cough / sore foot / swollen little finger nail / inability to reproduce, it’s because you’re overweight, and it’s frustrating, very very frustrating. I’ll hold my hand up and say that I’m a doctor avoider, and that’s one of the reasons why.

After several appointments, with advice on losing weight and not wearing tight underwear (you’ve got to set them free boys), we were referred to the fertility clinic in Worcester. Tests were done on both of us, and we were both fine besides the fact that they couldn’t catch me ovulating (our bodies don’t always follow the rule books), oh and that I was overweight, let’s not forget that little nugget.

The years then seemed to roll by and we continually watched our close friends and family having their first, and then second child. Sometimes it was hard, really really damn hard. It’s a strange feeling being totally and utterly over the moon and elated for someone whilst at the same time being utterly devastated for yourself. I / we couldn’t have been happier for everyone, we just wanted a little crying, poopy, cute wrinkly baby of our own.

One thing I always used to say to myself was though to not waste time and waste chances. It would’ve been so easy for me to just stay at home with my little pity party for one but I didn’t want memories to happen without me in them. I wanted to see everyone grow up, to play with them, laugh with them and have fun with them. Some days were harder than others, but sometimes you absolutely have to put a brave face on it and embrace the positives, embrace the good and the happy. These little people were the happy.

Social media was sometimes hard too, but at the same time I absolutely loved seeing all the photographs, and still do!

Over the years I continued to lose weight as requested by the doctors and consultants. They eventually wanted to give me drugs to help me ovulate, which had a higher chance of working if my BMI was lower. I’d lose a bit but then plateau and kept in the same cycle over and over again. In the end I realised that everything I was doing was for the baby, we were trying for a baby, I was losing weight for a baby, I was crying over something that I couldn’t have.

So it was time for a change. As I mentioned before it was time to embrace the positives, the good, and the happy, and celebrate the good, and that’s what we decided to do, we celebrated the good, and the good was ‘us’, us as two, and so we decided to renew our wedding vows.

My weight loss focus also then shifted, I started losing weight for the vow renewal and for me and not for the baby, it worked and I did well. We renewed our vows and it was a fabulous, happy and relaxed day surrounded by our close friends and family.

Later that year I was given a fertility drug, and it was awful, just so awful. Mentally I took a slide, my business took a slide and I just didn’t want to see anyone. It didn’t take me long to realise that something wasn’t right and I stopped taking them. I wanted a baby so badly but at the same time, I wasn’t me anymore and I wanted to be me.

In March 2017 we had the best news ever, I was pregnant, I cried, I cried a lot, I walked downstairs and stopped Mark hoovering (now ladies there are only certain circumstances where you stop a man hoovering), he was in shock, we were both in shock.

The next couple months were nerve wracking, I kept having little bleeds and then scans to reassure me that things were ok. I had a 9/10 week scan and after that I started to relax and think things were ok, on the 19th June we found out that our baby had passed away, that short time that I was enjoying my pregnancy our baby wasn’t alive. We were heartbroken, just broken. A few days later, our little baby came out, tiny tiny little baby.

We named our precious baby Rose.

For months afterwards I bled, a lot! The whole thing was dragged out, appointment after appointment. I finally stopped bleeding at the start of September and I felt like I could get on with my life.

On Christmas Eve that year I was convinced that I was pregnant, the test was negative. I (stupidly) decided to do another test on Christmas Day, still convinced it would come back positive, but no. I knew my body, I knew I was pregnant.

On New Year’s Day I had some slight spotting and decided to do another test, it was positive! I was pregnant again! I needed to do another test to make sure again but all of the shops were closed. The next day I tested again and yes, I was pregnant, hurrah!

We were naturally cautious, especially with the fact I was spotting slightly (but as we all know that CAN be normal).

On the 5th January, Mark had taken the day off work as that was Rose’s due date. We decided to do something nice, and so we went for a walk and for lunch.

I bled, I bled a lot. I’d lost the second baby. Part of me knew that something wasn’t right, but also knew that scans would show up nothing, I had a brief call with a doctor, who showed little sympathy. Although did question my mental state.

Roll onto 17th March 2018, we were leaving that morning for a family weekend in Gloucester to celebrate my dads 70th Birthday. I had a slight feeling that I was pregnant and so I did a test.... I was!!!

I had an early scan at 6 weeks, to check that everything was ok, it was. I had a slight bleed at 8 weeks and so went for another scan, everything was fine, but in my head the pattern was the same, I was so nervous that I would lose this baby too.

Due to my history, age and weight I was deemed high risk and so was under a consultant for the pregnancy, I had extra scans and tests which I found really reassuring.

I had my 12 week scan and then the long wait for the 20 week scan. Everything was fine at both. I was already taking a daily aspirin and now a twice daily injection of clexane, I was a pin cushion, a bruised pin cushion, but I didn’t care, my baby was ok.

We decided to do a Hypnobirthing course, and were recommended the lovely Anna at Rock Your Birth. The sessions were brilliant and so informative. We were given a lot more information that I’d originally expected. Anna was lovely and calming and would just go above and beyond in helping and advising as new things cropped up in the pregnancy.

Later on in the pregnancy, I discovered that I had Gestational Diabetes, it was something else. I started on more drugs and eventually insulin, but again, I would do anything to make sure this baby was ok. The term ‘still born’ was used during one of my appointments, which wasn’t necessary and upsetting to hear, especially considering my history.

The baby was then starting to show a bigger growth on the scans, then roll on 4 weeks later and the growth had been slow, which led to them booking me in for an induction. The term ‘still born’ was again used on this appointment, so much for keeping your blood pressure down.

On Monday 5th November I had a sweep, nothing happened at all. Tuesday I went to Worcester Royal ready to be induced. I had a propess, and again nothing happened. Wednesday came around and another propess and again nothing happened. On Thursday I was examined and I just wasn’t dilated at all and so I was advised to have a c section on the Friday morning. I cried, and then accepted the decision, we were having a c section, I was going to finally meet my baby.

Friday morning came and I was examined again, I was 1cm dilated and that was enough to break my waters! Fab! The surgery was cancelled and I was due to go to the delivery suite. Later that day around 6.30, we were taken to our new room. I was trying to decide where I should pop my fairy lights, I should get my birth plan handy and the lighting just right. The midwife came but soon enough was whipped away for an emergency, she returned at 5am... now that was a long night.

My waters were broken and I was attached to the drip, the Day rolled on and I had a second drip. Contractions were coming but yet 14 hours later I was still only 1cm dilated. I spent the day relaxing and breathing through each one, the Hypnobirthing was great for that. Throughout my stay I was complimented a few times on how calm, relaxed and laid back I was.

At this point the consultant came in to discuss the next course of action, it was either another drip or a c section. They went away and we decided to go for the c section. They then came back and TOLD us the c section was the only course of action, which was fine as we’d already made that decision.

During the surgery my temperature spiked and they were concerned about sepsis. Things are a bit hazy but I will never forget that moment that I heard that first cry, and that moment where my vernix covered baby was passed to me, she was tiny, wrinkly and absolutely perfect.

On 10th November at 10.26pm, 2939 days after our journey had started, our Isabelle was here.

The next week was one thing after the other, possible sepsis in surgery, cannulas and drips for both of us, infections, temperature spikes, Isabelle dropped over 12% weight-loss, manky scars, stitches that didn’t want to come out, possible shingles, more drugs and blood taken than you’d care to imagine, pleas and begs to go home, but still on Monday 19th November, we got to bring our baby home.

Our journey was long, and sad and upsetting at times but has had the best ending.

For those out there trying for a baby, don’t give up hope, celebrate the good and the happy in your life, make memories with friends, family and the little people around you, smile and laugh often and most importantly breathe, cry when you need to and talk to people.

We thank the power of positivity and patience, friends and family that listened to us, laughed with us, celebrated with us, cried with us, and turned up on our doorstep when they knew we weren’t ok.

We consider ourselves the luckiest people alive to be able to hold our little girl, love her, play with her and be there for her.

Our story isn’t over yet.