My Birth Reflection…

Individual Moments Photography - Sally Hayes

My parenting journey so far has been without a doubt, the most challenging yet rewarding experience of my life. I’ve been privileged to share the early days of parenthood with over 150 local families teaching baby massage since 2015. Always keen to keep myself busy and continue to learn, I’ve thrown myself into studying a FEDANT approved diploma in Antenatal eduction, so at the start of 2023 I’ll be a fully qualified Birth and Parent coach and can’t wait to start supporting local families during their pregnancy journey! I’ve been learning to teach without judgement, how to listen (properly!) and support parents. I can’t wait to bring new parents classes to prioritise positive wellbeing, both antenatally and postnatally and most importantly how to trust instincts and advocate for choices throughout birth and parenthood.

So, as part of my training, I was asked to reflect on my own birth experience. I didn’t know what to expect when I started typing away, but it was actually very therapeutic! I guess one of the main things I learnt was that even though we got to take two beautiful babies home, it was initially quite a traumatic experience.

Trigger warning - I talk about premature babies and being in the world of NICU, surrounded by beeps and wires. According to Bliss, more than 1 in 10 babies are born too early every year and it’s important that it’s talked about. I’m introducing myself to the local maternity voice partnership, midwives and doctors and I will particularly value each and every opportunity I have to meet the premature babies and their families. I’m hoping that my first-hand experience will make a difference and give families the support they need.

I gave birth to my twins Finn and Amelia at 31 weeks and 6 days. We’d been for our 28 week scan and there was concern at the time about the size of Amelia. I hadn’t really given it much thought afterwards, as luckily I’d been able to feel both of them move around from early on in the pregnancy, so I always felt reassured that they were doing just fine in my belly. 

We then reached my 32 week scan and it became apparent that Amelia hadn’t really grown much at all since 28 weeks. I could still feel her kicking her brother, which always made me laugh - as they certainly had characters already before they were even born. We were told at that scan that Amelia had absent end-diastolic flow (AEDF) which simply went in one ear and out the other. I didn’t have a clue what this meant, so I went to my best friend Google and searched what the term meant. The first result on Google was “Absent end-diastolic flow (AEDF) is indicative of increased placental resistance and is associated with poor fetal/neonatal outcomes.” I still wasn’t overly concerned at this point, as my ‘mothers intuition’ was already firmly ingrained in every part of me. I knew that Amelia was still moving around, but I did start to wonder whether or not she was developing at the right rate and if she’d be much smaller than her brother. My husband Ciaran and I were ushered into a room down the corridor from the scan room. We were asked to wait there, not really knowing why or how come we couldn’t just go home at that point. While we were sat in there, we overheard the consultant outside the room, discussing a lady that would need to be booked in for an emergency section the following morning. I turned to Ciaran and commented on how I felt sorry for her and how it must be really difficult to be told that you’d have to deliver your baby the following day. The consultant then walked into the room and repeated word for word the conversation he’d just had with the nurse outside. That was precisely the moment my heart sank - that poor lady they were discussing was me. I was confused, shocked, worried and upset all at once. Mainly confused as I felt so good throughout my whole pregnancy and to me, that meant everything was going really well. I’m naturally a positive person and to me, this felt like a huge blow - I remember vividly how I questioned the HCPs if they were absolutely sure it was the right thing for me to be doing. In hindsight, I’m so pleased they made that decision as it more than likely saved Amelia's life.     

There were still no doubts in my mind that Amelia would be absolutely fine, even though they were being delivered much earlier than I’d anticipated. However, I remember my husband and his family (who are HCPs) were quite concerned about her - he told me months afterwards that they thought it was touch and go whether she would even make it.

So, I was kept in hospital from that afternoon and given steroid injections to strengthen and speed up the development of the twins lungs. I didn't have a clue that this was offered to pregnant ladies delivering early, but I simply had to put my trust into the nurses.

There weren’t enough beds in NICU at Wythenshawe hospital, so I was taken in an ambulance to Tameside hospital to have my emergency c section. It was difficult to get my head around the fact that I was going to be having my babies just a few hours later. I hadn’t planned it this way. I didn’t have a birth plan, but I certainly didn’t expect to be staying in hospital - I hadn’t even started packing a hospital bag. The grief hit me once again, as it had done during our tour of the hospital with the midwives. I’d already had my dream birth taken away from me - I’d pictured having a water birth, with relaxing music, soothing massage oil and my pillow spray. I was classed as high risk and wasn’t allowed to use the birthing pool, so already it all felt more clinical than I wanted it to be. So the grief hit me again - I was missing out on the birth I dreamed of, as I was quickly surrounded by doctors and nurses in scrubs, including my Ciaran. He didn’t leave my side and I’m so thankful that he was there. My whole body started shaking uncontrollably as I lay down on the theatre bed and I remember him asking if it was ‘normal’. The HCP reassured him that it was due to the drugs and not to worry. A large surgical sheet was placed in front of me so I couldn’t see what was happening. That was scary, as I was numb and couldn’t feel or see anything below my waist. Then suddenly my whole body travelled down the bed - I can only describe it as an out of body experience, feeling like aliens had abducted me! Ciaran went from being next to me, to behind me and I couldn’t see him any more. Then it clicked, they were pulling the babies out! Finn came out first and he looked quite angry (understandably, as I think he knew from day 1 that he was making a sacrifice for his sister being pulled out from his cosy, warm nest!) Then Amelia arrived 1 minute later and I remember how surprised I was at how tiny she looked in comparison to her brother. None of them cried and I knew that wasn’t a great sign. Finn was 4lb 2oz, which sounds small, but in comparison to Amelia he looked huge - as she weighed a tiny 2lb 10oz. They were both whisked off to NICU and thats when the really tough bit of the journey started.

Yet again, the grief of not having my babies with me hit hard - I couldn’t even cuddle them and everything felt so clinical. The first time I properly laid eyes on them, they were in incubators being fed by a nasogastric tube. Finn was put on CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) to help him breathe. There were wires everywhere and a constant beeping noise, which is still clearly sounding out in my head, as well as what looked like a giant mask on his face. I was constantly paranoid that it left dents in his precious little cheeks, so I’d often loosen it for him. It was one of the first things I started to do to care for him, so it made me feel less useless as the nurses were doing everything else for him. I generally felt pretty useless though in those first few days. Friends and family reminded me that I should make the most of the nurses caring for them and spend as much time as I could healing from the c section. In reality I was desperate to hold my babies close and try breastfeeding but this wasn’t an option. All the focus was on keeping them alive with breathing and feeding aids. I’d make the trip across the corridor as much as possible without feeling like I was ‘in the way’ - I’m sure I wasn’t, as the NICU nurses were always so pleased to see me and help me transition into being their mummy. One evening the fire alarm went off and my guy instinct was ‘oh no, the babies will be wide awake and so unsettled’...but I couldn’t have been more wrong! Maybe the constant beeping in their room managed to drown out the alarm, or maybe it all became white noise in the background for them. 

Ciaran was amazing as usual, driving home to pack my hospital bag, with barely any sleep or food inside him. I often think it was more difficult for him in a lot of ways, as dads often get sidelined and a lot of focus is put on the mum. He was practical as always and went to Tesco to buy the tiniest baby grows he could find. We didn’t realise that they wouldn’t even be wearing clothes at this point, I guess they just get in the way and make caring for them a bit trickier with the wires and equipment in the way. The incubators were the perfect temperature for them and the nurses taught me how to roll up a towel and lay it around them, so they felt more protected and similar to being in the womb. Although Amelia was the biggest wriggler and always ended up at the bottom of her incubator as she pushed her way down. The nurses said at the time that I had a little madam on my hands and nearly 8 years later, she always finds a way to get where she wants to be in life! I love her determination. The nurses also said that it can be common for girls to be stronger and have this determination from day 1. 

As for feeding them, the nurses explained about expressing my milk in the ‘expressing room’ where all the mums would gather and pump milk for the babies. What an experience that was! My first encounter of that room was being sat next to a mum who seemed to express gallons of the stuff! I was completely daunted by the whole experience and went back to my bed to hide from the world. I met some amazing life long friends along the way, who would spend hours chatting to me while we watched cheesy TV together, breast pumps attached and a supply of tea and biscuits to keep us going!

Looking back, I was very stressed and putting a lot of pressure on myself, as I was told on numerous occasions that the very first drops of breast milk (known as colostrum) would give them the very best start in life. It made me feel like a complete failure that I couldn’t even produce this small amount. Ciaran came to visit and he could see I was stressed. It was all so far removed from the beautiful skin to skin scene I imagined I would have with them. I didn’t have my babies to cuddle on my chest and my oxytocin levels will have been very low. Ciaran introduced humour into the whole situation and with his practical nature, supplied me with things such as a pretty hands-free nursing bra with a cute cherry design on it. We were joking around about how funny they looked and he was desperate to try it on too! My mood had lightened, I was feeling much more positive and before I knew it, little drops of colostrum started to appear! I could feel my shoulders drop right down and my whole body relaxed as I started to see the milk appear. I was overjoyed! The nurses suggested leaving little teddy bears with the babies and swapping them round every couple of days. So I’d sleep with them which left my scent on them and I’d swap with their teddy so I could smell them when I was expressing milk. The nurses went on to explain everything from the importance of the first few drops of colostrum through to sterilising, storing breastmilk, how to use the pumps and how to increase my own milk supply if I needed to. At this stage, I was able to cuddle them and was so excited to try breastfeeding. Although they were just too tiny still to latch on. 

Finn was transferred to Oldham with me in an ambulance as he needed more specialised support with his breathing. This was by far the most difficult part of the whole NICU experience for us as a family. Sharing our time between the two hospitals, as well as expressing milk and getting enough rest ourselves really took its toll. One day in particular stands out for me, as I’d expressed a small amount of milk and separated it into two bottles for them as usual. We arrived at Oldham hospital car park with Ciaran driving and me clutching onto the two bottles of milk, circling around for what felt like a lifetime. I broke down crying, as I felt so helpless and couldn’t get the thought of my hungry babies out of my head. I’d managed to convince myself that if I couldn’t get to them both in time, they’d go without a feed and they were already so tiny. This was an important turning point - the realisation that we couldn’t be everywhere all at once and that we were only human! The nurses explained that amazing women from all over the country donated their breast milk and that we could start to top up Finn and Amelias supply with this. At first I felt a little defeated, but soon realised that it was the most sensible option for us moving forward.

Once I’d got over yet another thing that was completely out of my control, we moved onto formula feeding and progressed onto bottle feeding. The lovely thing about bottle feeding was that Ciaran and other family members could start to care for them. It was all still extremely calculated and monitored though, as the nurses, doctors and us were so concerned by exactly how many feeds they were having and how many millilitres they had in 24 hours. They needed to gain as much weight as possible before we could even think about taking them home. We brought Finn home first and had to leave Amelia in hospital, as she wasn’t yet as big and strong as him. This felt so wrong, I wasn’t meant to be bringing just one baby home - I should have had both in my arms. A few days later, we took Finn on his first trip out to go and collect his little sister Amelia and bring her home. That's when the fun really started!