So, here’s what happened…

We headed to the hospital for what should have been a reasonably routine induction at 37+1 weeks pregnant. We had decided on induction as our little urchin had measured on the larger end of the spectrum repeatedly and with lots of support decided this was the best course of action.

The induction worked well and there were no concerns that anything was particularly amiss, but I seemed to be progressing very rapidly. So I was moved to the delivery suite where I had some form of seizure and they quickly realised something was really wasn’t right. I was given meds to stop the seizures which helped me to regain consciousness, and by some miracle my beautiful little girl was sat primed and ready to make her entrance into the world. So with a lot of encouragement, a bit of assistance and some kind of seemingly hidden super power she arrived, perfectly perfect, and fighting fit. I on the other had was not…

I had started bleeding and my blood pressure had dropped dramatically. Minutes later I was in the operating theatre. My blood pressure had dropped so low that my heart stopped when they anaesthetised me. They managed to re-start my heart, but I was still bleeding – a lot which caused my heart to stop again. There just wasn’t enough blood for my heart to pump. In total I received over 30 pints of blood – that’s an entire rugby teams worth of blood donations. The Amniotic Fluid Embolism created so many different issues within my body, but probably the most serious was causing disseminated intravascular coagulopathy (DIC), I basically ran out of the chemicals needed to make your blood clot. The first line of defence was a sub-total hysterectomy. This helped, but did not stop the bleeding. Specialist vascular surgeons were then drafted in who tied off the blood vessels that supply the organs in your pelvis. This was a success, and steadied the bleeding further, but not enough for me to be stable. So they gave me an ‘artificial’ blood clotting drug – literally a drug used by the army to save lives on the front line. This really was the last resort and fraught with risk, but by some miracle it worked…

The list of potential complications from all of this is harrowing, so I was kept in a coma in ICU and taken back to the theatre the following day for them to assess any damage to my internal organs. Despite everything, I seemed to have escaped with the bare minimum internal damage. That being said, my kidneys and heart were not in such great shape. I had received so much blood that my kidneys just couldn’t cope. I was placed on a haemofiltration machine – similar to dialysis, to help lighten the load a bit and the shock of everything had just stunned my heart into acute heart failure.

I was woken up 2 days later…

I can remember them taking the tubes out and being shrouded in doctors and nurses. Someone briefly told me that I had a beautiful little girl, but at the time I had no idea I had even been pregnant, let alone had a baby. It was such an immense amount of information to digest in one go I can still remember how insanely overwhelming it all was but at the same time my memory is so incredibly fragmented.

I spent a gruelling 7 days in ICU. The staff were beyond exceptional, the kindest and most supportive and caring angels I have ever met whilst pushing me to just the right limit to get me back on my feet as quickly as possible. Despite this though, and probably because this is when my brain came back online, my stay in ICU is definitely where most of my trauma has come from and I have worked really hard to process this experience. Leaving ICU to go back to maternity was terrifying. I was so fragile and broken and so scared about leaving that level of care and ultimately going back to where it had all gone wrong, as well as then having to try and keep another little tiny human alive as well. The midwives looking after me were exceptional and took so much time to care for me and help me to build my relationship with my beautiful little girl. The nights were by far the hardest times. I was still on a lot of serious drugs which really messed with my head and I couldn’t sleep at all. The midwives spent hours just sat chatting with me and teaching me how to do those early mum things. I had not properly held, fed or changed my beautiful girl by this point and I could still barely move from the damage from the CPR and my substantial abdominal wound, so they taught me all sorts of techniques so that we do the ‘normal’ newborn things. Slowly, things started to get slightly easier – getting out of bed, taking some steps, having some form of appetite, and all the time mybond with the most amazing little girl just grew and grew and grew.

One thing I haven’t even mentioned in this story so far, is the immense input from my family. I have the most incredible husband who went through all this with me, all whilst being handed a tiny human to also keep alive. I will be in absolute awe of how he handled everything forever. He called in the reinforcement of our wider family who mobilised like some kind of army. They just got stuck in and made sure that that little girl was constantly surrounded by people who loved her, all the time going through one of the most horrific things imaginable themselves. She had no maternal skin-to-skin, no colostrum or breastmilk and barely went outside for the first 2 weeks of her life, yet she is the strongest most incredible little human who has absolutely no signs of a baby that was born into the most horrendous situation. They made sure her ‘normal’ was as secure and settled as it could possibly be.

So a mere 12 days later we went home – and I suppose that’s where the real work started! There’s so much more about individual parts of this story, and particularly what happened next to get me to where I am today, that I want to talk about more. The severity of all of this still makes it feel a bit like it happened to someone else – but it didn’t, and I really hope this story makes it way to help someone else and make them feel slightly less alone.

I am forever grateful to everyone who played their part no matter how big or small in this story – from the midwife who knew something wasn’t right to the physio who pushed me to get out of bed and all the cuddles and smiles everyone gave my superstar baby. All of this meant we had the best possible chance and has meant, despite everything, we really have recovered.