A Little Thank You – International Nurses Day

IMG_8230

Today is International Nurses Day – and I’ve never had so much interaction with nurses as I’ve had over the last year. For six long weeks in the Neonatal Unit, my precious little fighter was cared for by a fantastic team of nurses at the University of Wales Hospital Cardiff.

Nothing can prepare a new mother for handing over (not literally – most NICU mums don’t get that golden hour after birth) the care of their baby to someone else unexpectedly. Despite the many hours NICU parents spend at their baby’s bedside, they cannot be there 24/7. As a minimum, parents must leave for handover times. More likely, parents will leave the unit for a night’s sleep (or broken sleep whilst setting alarms to pump). Parents must accept the difficult reality that their baby’s 24/7 caregiver is the NICU nurse.

I found it hard to accept this. I missed the opportunity to put clothes on L for the first time. I wasn’t the first person to see him in his cot, after a long month staring at him behind his incubator walls. I was constantly told that I needed to touch L a certain way, hold him in a particular position and ask permission for skin-to-skin. I began to resent the nurses, feeling jealous that they got to call the shots on the best care for my baby.

But once the shock of L’s premature arrival began to slowly subside, I started to appreciate that the nurses wanted the absolute best for my little fighter. They wanted to support me to be the best mother I could be, adapting my expectations of what a newborn needs. They talked me through the myriad of medical screens next to L’s beside and involved me in his care, showing me how to feed my baby with my own milk by holding his syringe. It sounds so mundane in writing, but it felt amazing to be helping the milk flow.

After three weeks, L was transferred from NICU to SCBU for his final three weeks of care (not that I knew the timescales back then – a discharge date is never promised). I was told that the SCBU nursery would be the chance for me to get more involved in L’s care, doing things myself and preparing for home. But the nursery was the hardest stage. Home was in sight, L was doing well and I desperately just wanted to get my little boy home. My fighting-against-the-nurses mentality was slowly creeping in. I constantly questioned why they weren’t pushing him more, increasing his feeds, rousing him to wake. I was frustrated and would often sneak off for a little cry when I didn’t hear the answers I wanted. I needed help.

And along came Becky. With a stroke of luck, Becky was in charge of L for a number of consecutive shifts. She used her experience to talk me through why things weren’t moving as quickly as I liked – and why that was the best thing for L. She would let me rant my frustrations out and then discuss the next practical goal to focus on, helping me look forward to milestones rather than constantly fixate on the end goal of home. Slowly, I could recognise the progress that was being made. L would take an extra feed from the breast. His incubator would be turned down a degree. Becky changed my outlook and I enjoyed the small successes along our journey.

One of my favourite NICU memories is L’s first bath. I had so jealous watching other mum’s get involved in bathtime and always nagged Becky to remind me when L reached the allowed gestation for a dip. When the big day arrived, despite my excitement, I wanted to wait for Becky’s next shift so we could do it together. The reality of putting my 3lb-something baby into a bath was more daunting that I expected. So it was Becky that gave L his first little dunk; she swished him about on his tummy and he seemed so content. I plucked up the courage to do it myself and tried to copy Becky’s moves.

Thankfully, L did get to go home. By changing my mindset, I had been focused on the things that I could do (such as seeking breastfeeding advice) to benefit L rather than getting frustrated. A few weeks after discharge, I took L along to the SCIPS (the UHW’s Neonatal Unit charity) teddy bears picnic and L was reunited with Becky. She was delighted to see him and beamed when I handed him over for a cuddle. I got the chance to enjoy a much-needed cup of tea in peace as Becky had scooped L off to coo over him. It was so lovely to see that even outside of the unit, she cared about L just as much.

Becky is a wonderful nurse who shared her expertise with me to make my life easier on our NICU. There are hundreds of other neonatal nurses like Becky around the UK, working closely with parents each day to provide the best care for premature and sick babies. I’ve recently blogged about the incredible new nappies for preemies – the Pampers Preemie Protection range – which is designed for babies as small as 1lb 8oz. The expertise of NICU nurses has been used by Pampers to produce the perfect preemie nappy; Pampers conducted 10,000 hours of research with over 100 NICU nurses to design the contoured fit that helps them grow without mobility challenges, the noiseless tapes help to protect tiny ears from stressful sounds when being changed and the breathable materials designed to protect their extra delicate skin.

To celebrate International Nurses Day, Pampers is continuing their partnership with Bliss (the charity for premature and sick babies) in their amazing work to support premature babies, families and also their work to support NICU nurses, including neonatal care training and education. Following the success of the #PowerOfBabies call to action, Pampers will donate another £1 to Bliss for every ‘Thank You’ message about NICU nurses shared on social media using #alittlethankyou.

So please get involved and share your stories – let’s celebrate the amazing nurses around the world who care for our little fighters in their most vulnerable times.

This post has been developed in conjunction with Pampers UK to raise awareness of the new Pampers Preemie Protection nappies and the social media campaign #powerofbabies for Bliss, the charity for premature babies.

The Perfect Preemie Nappy?

Pampers P3 nappy in palm of hand

I’ve always been a planner. I love a to-do list and I hate surprises. Everything in my life is planned to the finest detail – at least it was before I became a mum! Childbirth is meant to be spontaneous and I desperately tried to control whatever I could before the ‘big day’. I was feeling pretty smug that my hospital bag was all packed by 29 weeks, with a checklist detailing what should be packed at the last minute. I had stockpiled so many size 1 nappies that my mum had convinced me to move onto size 2s because apparently babies grow out of newborn nappies quickly….

Fast forward a week and my meticulous planning had paid off. Me and my hospital bag were checked into the Postnatal Ward and I had all my home comforts to hand. But my tiny 2lb baby L was in the NICU. I had never imagined for a second that I’d have a baby so small and early, let alone the practicalities of the right size nappies and clothes. Clothes could be forgone for a while; like most newborn preemies, L was only allowed to wear a nappy to receive phototherapy treatment for jaundice. But I was asked to supply nappies for him and was told to buy size 0 nappies. Size 0 was something I associated with supermodels, not babies.

So I sent my aunty off to the shops and I was thrilled when she came back with a packet of Pampers New Baby Micro (Size 0) nappies. There was something reassuring about seeing L in a recognised brand of nappies. A sense of normality, that he was just as real as any other baby in Pampers. He was just extra special and needed a teeny size. Despite having the smallest nappies available, he was swamped. At four days old, the micro nappy reached his armpits:

IMG_6932

At over a month old, the nappy still went past his belly button:

IMG_7625

With the help of NICU nurses, I learnt how to fold down L’s micro nappies to enable him to wear clothes and have his monitoring equipment in the right place. These nappies were the best product available for L at the time, but they didn’t fit him without some makeshift altering. Changing a nappy through an incubator window is no mean feat, especially when some nappy origami is required too! Any mistakes with positioning the nappy resulted in soaking bedsheets – NICU babies are always changed in their cots to avoid unnecessary fuss to the baby. I had to cradle a soaking L to my chest on a number of occasions whilst the nurses quickly hunted for clean sheets. Not ideal.

Luckily the ‘making-do’ with larger nappies in NICU will be a thing of the past for future preemie parents. I was delighted to be contacted by Pampers and asked to raise awareness of their new range of Preemie Protection nappies. Pampers has been busy in the background for the last 3 years, working with neonatal nurses and Bliss to design nappies for the smallest of premature babies.

The size 0 nappies are labelled for babies weighing 2lbs-5lbs – like most nappy sizes, it’s a pretty huge range. But unlike larger babies, preemies can be swamped by nappies that aren’t tailored for their special size. The new Pampers Preemie Protection range comes in three sizes: P1 for babies weighing less than 5lbs, P2 for less than 4lbs and P3 for babies under 1.8lb.

It must be hard for those who have never seen a 2lb baby to quite appreciate the size – so to compare, here is the new P3 nappy lined up against a Size 0 and L’s current size nappies Size 4 (he is in 3-6 month clothing). This doesn’t really do the preemie nappies justice – my mummy friends with term babies were always shocked at the teeny Size 0 nappies I carried around. The P3 can fit in the palm of my hand!

Comparison of Pampers nappies in sizes P3, 0 and 4.

Although L was born weighing 2lbs 10oz – larger than the sizing guidance for the P3 nappy – he would’ve easily fitted into it. Here’s a comparison of his first baby grow (for babies 3lb and under) against a size 0 nappy and a P3 nappy. The P3 is the perfect fit.

Pampers P3 and size 0 nappy in comparison to preemie 3lb vest

If you still can’t get your head around just how teeny the new P3 nappy actually is, I’ve modelled the nappy on our lovely My First Bliss Bear – ours is called Scuby! Our gorgeous Scuby is designed to represent the size of a 24 weeker. L had IUGR, so he was smaller than the average 30 weeker. He’s stolen my drink to show you how small he is too:

IMG_2630

To celebrate the launch, Pampers will be donating approximately 3 million Pampers Preemie Protection nappies to Neonatal Units across the UK, giving every premature baby born in the UK access to nappies specially designed for their needs. Pampers is also working closely with Bliss, a charity close to my heart, and will also be making a donation to the charity. Pampers is launching a fabulous social media campaign asking all parents to share photos on social media of their little ones with a clenched fist to celebrate the amazing fighting spirit that our preemie babies show every day. After another trip to A&E this weekend for us, I am constantly in awe of L’s fighting spirit. The video released by Pampers to coincide with the release of the P3 nappies has brought back so many memories of my view through the incubator window – you can watch the video here.

So whether you have a newborn preemie, a teeny-sized older baby, a preemie toddler or even a term baby, show your support by sharing your photos on social media with the hashtag #powerofbabies – Pampers will be donating £1 to Bliss for every picture shared using the hashtag!

Here’s an old snap of L with his clenched fist that I’ll be sharing on my Twitter and Facebook – don’t forget to set your post to public for Pampers to spot your post and donate a £1.

#powerofbabies

This post has been developed in conjunction with Pampers UK to raise awareness of the new Pampers Preemie Protection nappies and the social media campaign #powerofbabies for Bliss, the charity for premature babies.

Supporting single parents in NICU

Premature baby and mother hands

Throughout my pregnancy, I hung onto the hope that things would be easier once I had my baby. It wouldn’t be so odd to be single with a baby – there’s loads of single parents, right?! Since L arrived, I’ve felt much more comfortable about my single parent status. People are too busy fussing over how cute he is (or usually how small he is…) to care about my significant other. I surround myself with mums on maternity leave, not a partner in sight as the paternity leave ebbs away. Sure, I can’t join in the mother-in-law outrage but we spend far more time moaning about our lack of sleep anyway.

But I hadn’t expected the in-between world of NICU. No longer pregnant, but not able to take my newborn baby home. The NICU bubble isn’t designed to be compatible with single parenthood. The basis of family-centred care in the NICU is 24/7 access for parents. Parents. Plural.

I had no idea how NICU worked as I’d been too traumatised the evening before L’s arrival to listen to the nurses scrambled to my bedside to brief me on their secret world. I broke down in tears and they were quickly whisked away. Several hours after my c-section, my mum wheeled me down to L’s incubator. A few minutes after I had seen my son for the first time, a nurse told me they’d make an exception for my mum on this first occasion. My head was spinning – I couldn’t do this on my own!

Once I had some time to gather my thoughts, I realised that the NICU norm was 24/7 access for the mother and the father. There was a separate hour visiting slot on weekends for grandparents and siblings. I liaised with the nurses and my mum was granted parental rights to visit L at any time, but I had to be present. I felt grateful for this and didn’t test the boundaries of her pseudo-parental role until we were moved to SCBU. I was too overwhelmed to argue my case for the support I needed. I hope I will never encounter NICU again and certainly not as a single parent. But if I did my time again, I would’ve ensured that I had the same support as every other mother on the unit. If you are a single mother on NICU, here are my suggested things that you expect as support from the unit [based on the policies at my NICU – other NICUs have less/more strict terms]:

a named person with equivalent parental responsibilities: after negotiation, my mum was allowed to visit L whenever I was present. It wasn’t too difficult to achieve this and my mum was named on our contact forms as the ‘other’ parent. It was made very clear to me that my mum was allowed in as my support and not in her own capacity. Although I didn’t realise this at the time, it placed a huge pressure on me. Like all NICU parents, I was paranoid about becoming ill and being unable to visit. If I fell sick, L wouldn’t have any visitors. An agreement that my mum could visit independently would have eased the pressure on me and perhaps would have allowed me to have a break. I can’t imagine not spending every day at the hospital, but it would have been nice to have spent some evenings resting knowing that L was in the company of his grandmother.

I had never envisaged a situation where I wouldn’t be able to care for my baby after his birth and luckily I wasn’t in that situation. But I know many other preemie mums who were in ICU themselves after their early delivery. I wish I had put a disclaimer in my maternity notes that my mum should be granted all parental rights in the event I was incapacitated. I couldn’t bear the thought of L being in NICU all alone if I had also been unwell following the c-section.

physical contact for the other person: I was given an almighty telling off when I asked my mum to help me change my 2lb baby’s nappy in the incubator. I was scared, not quite sure how to lift his wires without hurting him, but wanting to show the nurses I could do it myself with a little family help. Only parents can touch the preemie. But I knew once we were discharged, my mum would be the other person cradling L. As L became stronger, I was increasingly frustrated that he wouldn’t recognise my mum’s touch.  I asked several nurses if she could touch L but the answer was always only parents could touch the baby. It was a ridiculous application of protocol – why would L’s biological father, who hadn’t spoke to me during my entire pregnancy, be allowed to waltz in and pick up the baby in the place of my mum who was by my side throughout? I plucked up the courage to raise the question during the consultant round, much to the indignation of the nurse on duty. The consultant agreed immediately that my mum could touch L, as she was my partner in NICU for all other purposes.

The first time my mum held L was a beautiful moment. She couldn’t believe quite how tiny he was, despite seeing him nearly every day for the last 4 weeks. But the moment was ruined somewhat by one of the large bulky privacy screens surrounding us, incase other parents saw and wondered why I had special treatment. This made me feel as if we were doing something wrong. Single parents should not be made to feel guilty for wanting another pair of (non-parental) hands to help out.

no questions: I haven’t seen L’s medical notes, but I assume there would’ve been clear instructions that his father was not involved in his care. Despite this, I got asked several times by different nurses if he had been in contact or if he was planning to meet L. How long we had been together. Did he live in the same city as me? Yes, I know we all like to have a gossip and as far as I could tell, I was the only single parent in our NICU. But there is a time and a place.

respect: This may have been me with a chip on my shoulder, but I often felt like I was treated differently to some of the couples on the NICU. When dads turned up at the end of the day, chairs were pulled up and updates were given to the other parent. My mum would often have to hunt down a seat and would not really be acknowledged in the same way. I was talked down to when I disagreed with a care plan or course of action. I made to feel like I was a silly teenage single mum rather than a professional woman. I once overheard the nurses talking about a surprise for the dads on Father’s Day – a card or something with the baby’s prints. I spoke aloud and asked if L could have something addressed to his grandad. They seemed shocked that I had overheard (it was in the middle of the quiet ward, I was the only other parent) and said it was supposed to be a surprise, rather than reassuring me that L wouldn’t be left out.  If situations arise that shine a light on a parent’s single status, nurses could consider the best way to address it with the parent.

The loneliness that a single parent will feel in NICU is inevitable, despite the best intentions and support from staff. There were many nurses who did provide me with support and kind words when I had to answer questions about L’s father. But the NICU environment could be made more sympathetic to single parents, with some minor tweaks and a little thought.

BBC’s NICU: ‘Five Days’ on Casualty

C77FmYgWkAAx19R

Spoiler alert: review of Casualty series 31 episode 28 ‘Five Days’ – watch online at BBC iPlayer. Photo credit: BBC 

Despite being sick of the sight of hospitals, I’m a big fan of BBC’s Casualty and Holby City. I hadn’t registered at the end of last week’s episode (when nurse Robyn gave birth to her baby prematurely in a graveyard) that the show would be featuring Holby City Hospital’s NICU. When my mum came over for Mother’s Day, she cautiously asked if I’d watched last night’s episode. I’d fallen asleep at 8pm (not an unusual occurrence), so no. She warned me against watching and said it had brought everything back for her. So of course, I quickly loaded up iPlayer…

Yes, I did shed some tears. Although it was only 10 months ago, it was hard to comprehend that my own baby L was also so small. It is easy to forget that we were also separated by the wall of an incubator and I had to ask permission to touch my own baby. Of course, there were various inaccuracies or exaggerations which bothered me. But on the whole, I was impressed by the BBC’s efforts. The episode captured the raw emotion of Robyn’s experience as a new mother of a premature baby. There were subtleties that the average Casualty viewer might miss, but poignant to those that have lived through the NICU.  If you still intend to watch the episode, look away, but the following scenes struck a cord with me:

  • The sight of Robyn languishing on the maternity ward, alongside mothers and babies. Great progress has been made in creating specific areas for mothers who have tragically suffered a bereavement during childbirth or a stillbirth. But the only place for NICU mums is the general maternity ward. I was fortunate enough to have a side room on the postnatal ward, but I could still hear the cries of babies for six nights straight during recovery.
  • The generic NICU environment is captured perfectly and brought back many memories. The room is lit by the blue glow of phototherapy lamps and alarms are constantly buzzing away. There are numerous shots of hand-washing, which is an all-too familiar aspect of the daily NICU parental routine. I even spotted a copy of Little Bliss on the NICU noticeboard!
  • As Robyn prepares to meet her baby Charlotte for the first time, she dismisses the nurse’s medical update to get a glimpse at her precious baby. Unlike non-NICU mums, parents like Robyn are forced to wait many hours before they can meet their newborn for the first time. A mother will often need time to recover herself from the unexpected or surgical birth and will not be fit enough to visit NICU. It is incredibly difficult to meet your child for the first time in the presence of strangers. The abrupt nature of the nurse mirrors my experience too. Whilst NICU nurses are generally incredible, they can often forget the overwhelming experience of greeting your baby through a plastic box. The curt remarks aren’t intentional; I imagine they are desensitised to the sight of a 2lb miracle.
  • The nurse’s general attitude is pretty rubbish, but again, accurate. Robyn is chastised for touching her baby too much. There is nothing more frustrating than being told what you can and can’t do with your own baby. But it happens. And like Robyn, I often left the ward in floods of tears or went outside to scream. I can remember the invisible brick wall of NICU vividly. NO-ONE WAS LISTENING TO ME! I had meltdowns in the middle of the ward. I would spend hours crying at home, on the verge of calling the Bliss helpline to ask what my options were. But like Robyn, I learnt to play the game and ask the right questions to the right people (specifically: always be around for the daily consultant rounds).
  • But the nurse does show us her softer side. Robyn is summoned to comfort Charlotte before a procedure. A dejected Robyn has lost faith and asks “What difference am I going to make?” A familiar emotion in NICU. At times I just felt like a cow, rocking up to provide the milky goodness and do a token nappy change to make myself feel better. The nurse is proved right and Robyn takes comfort from her daughter’s calmness. The nurses I despised the most in times of crisis often turned around to be my biggest ally in making progress towards discharge. Sometimes there is a purpose behind the tough love.
  • Breastmilk. A hot topic in NICU and for good reason; breastmilk is especially important for premature and sick babies. I am a huge advocate of breastfeeding and was fortunate enough to receive incredible support from my midwives with expressing. But I know many mums will recognise the pressure placed on Robyn by the nurse to keep expressing. I hope the scripted lines strike a cord with viewers – baby Charlotte only needs 2ml for her feed. However meagre Robyn’s attempts to express may be, she should be able to get enough for her baby’s tiny stomach. I loved the scenes of Robyn excitedly asking for photos of her baby’s first feed, administered by Robyn via a tube. It IS a milestone! And what an incredible achievement to feed her baby mother’s milk.
  • Robyn’s friends and the nursing staff seem surprised at her eagerness to post photos on Facebook and share updates. She must be in denial, not realising the gravity of the situation. Is it such a crime to try and think positively in such a devastating situation? I could really relate to Robyn’s need to share snaps on social media. Once you reach a certain age, timelines are flooded with photos of gurgling newborns and chubby cheeks. Robyn has a legitimate urge to recognise her baby in the same way. I uploaded a photo of L a few hours after he was born, before I had even met him. It made the birth feel real to me. Over the next few weeks, I shared endless photos with cute taglines. It is only now I can see the tubes, the yellow tinge to his skin, how desperately unwell he was. But at the time, he was just my gorgeous newborn that I wanted to show off.
  • But of course, the Beeb was bound to include some scenes which had us NICU parents shouting at the screen. Thankfully, L didn’t have the same medical issues as Charlotte so I can’t comment on the accuracy of the procedures. I did tut at Robyn being allowed far too many visitors around the incubator. I have no idea if there are different rules if you work in the hospital, but I doubt it. My hospital had various rules about who could visit at different times and it was always two around the bed maximum. Robyn’s position as a nurse seemed to entitle her to a full house.
  • And her step-brother kissed the baby at the end! A NICU baby! I actually lol’d at this point. My mum was constantly watched for any signs of interaction when she came along to visit L. As a treat, she was allowed to touch him on her birthday until I got permission from the consultant for parental rights in L’s fathers absence. But touching is a big no-no on NICU. Everyone (apart from parents with their magical powers) is a germ-ridden infection risk.
  • UPDATE: Catherine (@catjay79) kindly got in touch via Twitter to share her perspective on the episode as a mum of a necrotising enterocolitis (NEC) survivor: “The portrayal of a baby undergoing surgery for NEC was inaccurate and downplayed the severity of the condition. After surgery babies are often critically ill, kept ventilated and require intensive support. My daughter remained on a ventilator for 6 days following surgery and was bloated due to fluid retention. Holding her was simply out of the question; I could not hold her until 9 days later. The first 48 hours after surgery are crucial for these babies. Surgery is a huge risk and some tiny babies sadly don’t survive. We owe it to them to portray these things properly.”

I’m sure I’ve missed other exaggerated scenes. My focus was on the familiarity, the sounds and sights that I lived for six weeks. Five Days may not have been the perfect representation of my NICU experience, but it was a marvellous opportunity for prime-time views to peek into our secret world. Thank you BBC for showing NICU through the eyes of a struggling mother, rather than merely dramatising the plight of our tiny babies.

Like Single, Pregnant & Preemie? Follow us on Twitter and like our Facebook page for regular updates. 

This is what a 30 weeker looks like

A few days after my admission to hospital, it began to sink in that my baby might be born any day. Or in a few weeks. Maybe a month. The prognosis was uncertain, consultants were vague but there was only one purpose of the two painful steroid injections I had received. My baby was being given the best possible chance to survive outside of my womb.

In my typical fashion of wanting to prepare as much as possible for every scenario, I googled ’30 week baby’ hoping to see a glimpse of what my baby could look like. I was scared. Would my baby be covered in hair? Would he be translucent? Focusing on his appearance was a distraction from dwelling on his precarious situation.

The Google results were fairly mixed. Lots of Bounty-type websites came up, telling me what exciting stage of my pregnancy I should be experiencing. There were photos of big bumps and smiling ladies next to 30-week milestone cards. And dotted throughout were photos of real-life preemies. The results were so variable. Some babies were in plastic bags, most had wires and some were wrapped up in little blankets. When I clicked through the results, it seemed that most babies were a few weeks earlier or later than my baby. I just wanted one page were I could see a real life story and outcomes.

So here is what my 30 week baby looked like. L was born at 30+6, weighing 2lbs 10oz. He was born via emergency c-section due to absent end diastolic flow and IUGR (I was in hospital for 5 days before hand).

He was placed in a plastic bag (which I never saw) and taken straight to NICU. He was on CPAP (a type of breathing support machine) from birth until he was a few days old. Apart from being tiny, he was fine. Perfectly formed. I still can’t quite believe it.

L’s eyes were not fused shut. He did not have hair on his tiny body and he was not translucent. He was nothing like I had imagined even after my Google search. He was jaundiced, which made him look very very red rather than yellow.

He could cry, urinate and poo like a normal baby. I have no idea if he followed the same ‘first poo’ cycle as a term baby as I didn’t see him for around 6 hours after his birth. Mainly because I was bedbound after my surgery. He did not feed for a few days and received total parental nutrition via a long-line in his foot.

On his first day of life, I couldn’t hold him but I helped changed his nappy. I stroked him through the incubator and he held my finger. When I eventually held him on day 3, his head easily fitted in the palm of my hand. I held him down my top (kangaroo care) – with his head on my chest, his body stopped before my belly button.

My 30 weeker was in hospital for over 40 days. At 8 months old, he has no known ongoing health issues. He is still small but he is perfectly healthy.

I hope someone afraid of their 30 weeker finds this post. And mums of fellow 30 weekers, please do add your experiences in the comments.

Like Single, Pregnant & Preemie? Follow us on Twitter and like our Facebook page for regular updates. 

Debrief me 

Like most parents of premature babies, I’ve been desperate for answers to my situation. I couldn’t comprehend how I had gone from heading into hospital for my third reduced movements scan (which I rationalised as my usual tendency to panic about everything) to suddenly being kept in hospital, learning that I couldn’t go home until my baby was born. At 7 months pregnant.

For the 5 days that I remained in hospital before L’s delivery, I constantly received different interpretations of my situation. In a matter of hours, doctors would fluctuate from deciding I would have a c-section within half an hour to discharging me as the baby had stabilised. It was, and remains, a difficult situation to get my head around. From what I could grasp, my baby was too small and was not getting nutrients from my placenta (a condition called absent end diastolic flow). There was nothing that I could have done. Google was my friend, the scant amount of references to absent edf that I could find reassured me that it wasn’t my fault. But my baby had been fine two weeks early at my 28 week scan. Surely I had done something to harm him.

So I sought answers. I have had three debriefs since L’s arrival five months ago, two of which happened while I was still on the postnatal ward. I suffered from extreme anxiety following my c-section (unsurprisingly) and the midwives arranged a debrief for me. Someone who seemed to be a senior midwife arrived in my room. I talked through my worries and mentioned how traumatised I was from the treatment I received the night before L’s delivery. But I wasn’t seeking to complain, I simply wanted answers. The midwife was extremely abrupt with me, spending our session defending the actions of the midwife in question and trivialising my behaviour on that night (where I could not tolerate an IV drip as I had an extreme reaction). She spent around 20 minutes with me and left me a sobbing mess, making me feel even more guilty.

I conveyed my disappointment to the midwives; it was pretty clear to see, as I spent all my time on the ward in tears (when I wasn’t hobbling down to NICU of course). They scheduled a session with someone they called ‘MoM’ which I understand is the manager of midwives. She was absolutely incredible. The MoM spent over 90 minutes with me, reading every single page of my maternity notes and checking if there was anything I wanted to discuss from each appointment or incident. She apologised for the treatment I had received the night in question, which meant a lot. But most importantly, she explained as much as she could about absent edf. She had never encountered it during her time as a community midwife. I was unusual and extremely unlucky. Or lucky, in her view, that I had trusted my instincts and reported to hospital. I felt as though a weight had been lifted, finally.

But as time went on and I witnessed L go through numerous medical procedures, guilt crept back into my conscience. I needed an explanation from the consultant who made the final decision to deliver my baby early. The last time I had seen my consultant, I was hooked up to the CTG monitors after a night of no sleep and starved for a possible c-section. The last thing she told me was that my baby had a 10% chance of dying during the surgery. I was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to arrange a debrief; I called her secretary and a few weeks later I received an outpatient appointment for Antenatal Clinic. For some reason, I still needed my blood pressure taken on the day (120/74, go me).

The consultant explained my situation with excellent clarity. I had suffered placental insuffiency, which had led to the absent end diastolic flow. As a result, L had become severely growth restricted (IUGR). The results from my placental analysis confirmed that it was infarcted. The placenta hadn’t been able to cope with L growing any further. He probably stopped growing sometime after my 28 week growth scan. I had reported the reduced movements at just the right time to save L’s life.

The consultant couldn’t explain why this had happened to me. I didn’t smoke, I wasn’t too young or old and I wasn’t overweight. My only risk factor was a first time pregnancy. But not all mums end up with their first born in NICU! My risk of subsequent placental insuffiency is increased compared to the general population, but the consultant thought it was unlikely a future baby would be so severely growth restricted. Interestingly, she said my chances would be increased if I had a baby with a different father (which is obviously the case). Apparently the body tolerates subsequent pregnancies with the same biological father in a better way.

I left the debrief with the knowledge that my stress and worry during the pregnancy didn’t cause L’s prematurity. If I fall pregnant again, I’ll be put on a course of aspirin. But I can’t help thinking my second baby will also be a NICU baby too.

Like Single, Pregnant & Preemie? Follow us on Twitter and like our Facebook page for regular updates. 

Single, Pregnant…oh, and a preemie.

It’s fair to say that my life has changed pretty dramatically over the last year. On 16 November 2016, I discovered that I was pregnant. A week later the baby’s father had blocked all contact with me and I faced the prospect of being pregnant and single. I was TERRIFIED. Surely no-one else had ever been in this situation?!

I was thrilled to discover Christine Coppa’s amazing book Rattled a few weeks later; Christine seemed to be my perfect soulmate, another career woman who had fallen pregnant while dating. She seemed pretty positive about the whole situation and had even gone on a ‘babymoon’ before her bundle of joy arrived. Except Christine had two older brothers who were clearly destined to be the perfect male role models. She had a large circle of friends who showered her with cute baby outfits throughout her pregnancy. My US geography isn’t great, but it seemed pretty simple for her to move back to her hometown and commute back to her old life. Happy days.

Rattled gave me a lot of hope that I could be single and pregnant. And I survived. But I didn’t meet anyone else in my situation. It was the darkest and longest period of my life, where I faced complete upheaval by moving back home away from all my friends in London. But of course, it wasn’t that long. Just as I was preparing to freak out put my feet up for maternity leave, my baby’s movements were reduced. Fast forward five terrifying days in hospital and my baby boy L was delivered by emergency c-section at 30+6. My little 2lb 10oz baby. I had to ride the NICU rollercoaster for six weeks before I could bring him home.

And here I am. Baby L is tucked up in bed asleep. And nearly a year after that pregnancy test, I’m still reeling. My life has changed beyond all comprehension. But I’ve survived! Somehow, it has all worked out. So I want to share my experience with others, if only to make sure that any other frightened ladies who type ‘single pregnant help me!‘ into Google aren’t faced with the same list of random articles (none of which seem relevant – except the excellent articles by Coppa, which do help) or an array of forum posts. The endless forum threads always promise the mum-to-be that things that things will get better – but the control freak in me wanted to know exactly how bad it could get! If you’re single, pregnant and end up with a premature baby, then you’re in for a real treat…(and message me, you mythical creature!)