Cesarean Awareness Month, Esmés Birth Story.

April is Cesarean Section Awareness month, I don’t think I’ve ever shared any details about my pregnancy or labour in any real detail before so I’m taking this opportunity to share.

I am going to try and keep this brief whilst not missing out any major parts, its so easy to waffle especially about the most life changing event in your life. I found out I was pregnant around 9-10 weeks. I ‘knew’ before that I was just terrified to have my fate confirmed so I did just that and avoided a pregnancy test for as long as I could. Fast forward to our 20 week scan, We were eagerly awaiting to see what gender baby was, we almost got sent home because baby wasn’t playing ball but luckily our sonographer was lovely and let me jump up and down the corridor and drink ice water and then return in the hope that it would uncross the legs. It worked, she did! Our happiness lasted around 3 mins maybe less.. “Miss Packham, I just need to do a few more checks, I may need to get a doctor in, is that ok?” That heart sinking most terrifying sentence you read about in the news, in magazines. Not the words you expect to be said to you. J was oblivious to everything pregnancy, he was clueless (we watched an episode of One Born Every Minute together and he freaked out when a newborn baby opened its eyes, he genuinely thought human babies were like puppies and didn’t open their eyes until weeks after, ha!) But I had that sick feeling, I was certain they were going to tell me we had lost her. A Doctor came in shortly after and rescanned, we were asked to move to a private room down the corridor where someone would come and speak to us. We were told that our unborn baby had a ‘Shadow’ in her stomach, we were told that it could be one of two things that she had swallowed some of my blood from a bleed I had had weeks previously or that she had Cystic Fibrosis. Cystic Fibrosis is a genetic disease that causes mucus in the body to become thick and sticky. The mucus builds up and causes problems in many of the body’s organs, especially the lungs and the pancreas. The life expectancy for people with CF has been steadily increasing over the years but we were faced with the devastating news that the baby girl we had just seen on screen sucking her thumb may have a lifelong illness that would more than likely mean we would both outlive her. At 18 and 20 we were faced with the most awful choice, we were rushed into the Foetal Medicine department and told that we have one of three choices.
1) Have a invasive procedure done where they would take fluid from baby via making an incision into my womb, that they could then test to find out if she had Cystic Fibrosis. (We were told of the many risks the main being miscarriage)
2) Abort the pregnancy.
3) Carry on with the pregnancy and hope for the best outcome.

That hour or so ‘deciding’ on our baby’s fate was one of the hardest times for me to remember, J was telling me how we were too young, we can just about take care of ourselves, how would we look after a baby that would be born sick and be sick most of their life? How would we hold down jobs if we had to go into her Nursery and administer the massages needed to help a CF sufferer? How would we ever have a life, is it even fair to bring a child into the world if their short life would be spent poorly? I could see his side, I agreed with all that he had to say I mean he was speaking logically, I on the other hand was speaking from my heart. How could I abort my baby, the baby I had already bonded with? Call it a mother’s instinct but I remember saying to him and the Doctor “I know she’s okay, she isn’t poorly, please I just know she’s going to be fine, I cant do this” I just knew, I knew she would be fine. I declined the invasive procedure (the name of it I can’t remember now) and I was prepared to walk away confident in my decision. We were offered blood tests and our families also invited to have the test to see what the percentage was of her being born with the condition. We found out the result a few weeks later and I was scanned every two weeks to check on the shadow. Nearing her due date it neither grew bigger or went away, I was silently worried I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t feeling so confident anymore, not about my choice I knew I wanted her no matter what the outcome, I just wasn’t confident she would be okay.

Week 40 came and went with two sweeps in-between. Week 40+4, Friday 23^rd November. The night before I had been having ever so slight twinges, after my first sweep doing shit all I wasn’t sure I had faith in the second having worked, I was up all night going to and from the toilet, I couldn’t sit comfortably, I was generally restless. I had a bath to relax and went to bed and slept the best sleep of the entire pregnancy. J woke up and went to work as normal in the morning, but I remember saying to him the usual keep your phone on I think this may be it. Another bath later and more pains, meant for me that I needed my nan and my aunt. J’s mother had always been fantastic, but she wasn’t the person I needed. When I finally got to my aunts the next few hours I can only describe as hilarious with ten tonnes of pain thrown in, she had me running up and down them stairs to get that baby out. I wasn’t contracting enough to go into hospital yet so that was her genius idea to bring baby on. It worked mind and by about lunchtime we were asked to go to the Birmingham Women’s Hospital, J would meet us there. I can’t tell you much of the rest as it all rolls into one massive blur but there’s some parts I remember, My aunt and J both have their own accounts (no comment) ha! I remember taking forever to dilate yet being in the most horrendous pain, and then it went blurry from there, I know I got really poorly. I was throwing up black fluid and had a fever. Baby was under stress and her heart beat kept dropping, they inserted a small tube with a needle on the end of it to prick her head and test the oxygen level in her blood. I was only 6-7cms by this point. They decided that enough was enough, we were EMCS category 2(meaning they wanted to deliver in the next 30-45 mins) and after 19 hours I was signing paperwork for this Emergency C-Section, I don’t remember a word of the risks the consultant read out to me while having an epidural inserted, all I knew was that I wanted it over, I wanted my baby out safe.

I remember being rushed down a long corridor, being prepared for surgery and then J appearing at my side all scrubbed up. It all became so bloody real, I don’t think in all the rushing and panic I had had time to take in that I was about to undergo major surgery, that natural birth I longed for was about to be taken from me. I was numbed and within a few short minutes our baby girl was born at 2.22am on November 24^th, she took a long time to cry, babies that are born via Cesarean Section usually need help clearing their airways and of course she was CF risk. I never got chance to see her. I mean I’m sure J was supposed to show her to me, but he only showed me the side of her face, he said to me afterwards he was scared of dropping her. I was so gutted, I went through all of that and had only a faint idea what my daughter looked like. I never got to hold her or smell her baby smell. She wasn’t placed next to me for our first cuddle, She was taken away. I intended on donating my placenta but was told that that too was black and the black fluid I was throwing up had also come out of my waters meaning we were both rushed off and treated for infection. I was moved to the ICU and Esmé was taken to neonatal to be looked after there. I just remember crying and crying, I didn’t know if my baby had the condition we were told about, I didn’t even know what she looked like fully. I had just had a baby, yet I felt like she wasn’t really mine, we were unnaturally separated. I just kept crying for her, I wanted her with me, but she was apparently struggling to hold her temperature and I was too poorly to go down to see her until at least the next day! I dont remember any of the Midwives or any of the medical team that dealt with us except my student midwife. Anna was so supportive, she even went down to sit with Esmé for me because I didn’t want her to be on her own and she returned with a Polaroid picture of her, I was so grateful to finally get to see her perfect face. Such a small act to her truly meant the world and more to me.

We remained in hospital for a further 8 days on antibiotics, I hated every minute of it, I wanted to be at home, I wanted my own bed, I wanted a tea from home. I find it so hard to talk about her labour without feeling teary because I simply feel I was robbed of so many ‘firsts’, I don’t feel like I bonded with her in the 8 days we were in hospital because of the amount of pain I was in. I couldnt look after her properly, my body took so long to re work, I had trapped air from the Cesarean that was crippling my shoulder and right arm to the point where i didn’t want to pick her up alone in case i dropped her. I had to ring the call bell and ask a Midwife to get her out every time I wanted to hold her. I spent so little time with her so as not to be a pain, looking back now i know they really wouldn’t have minded passing her to me, its one of my biggest regrets, I wish i asked more. I feel like i lost those first precious moments with my newborn. Perhaps that’s why I over compensate now, why I’m so very protective of her even more so than normal?

Esmé never ended up having a full CF diagnosis, she has it in her genes and will more than likely pass it on to any children she has in the future but at an even smaller percentage. We were simply told that she may have more colds than most children and when she’s poorly shell be sicker than the average child, but she has a normal lifespan, and the small amount of CF she does carry in her genes won’t affect her daily life!

‘Cut me open. I love my baby so much that I will do anything to get my baby out of my body alive. Lay me out, cut me open because I love my baby so much’
That is courage. That is bravery and sacrifice and mothering in its purest form. That is willingness to lay down your body and risk your life that your child might be born, that your child might live.

I decided to finish with a quote I found because if there was one quote I would assign to the act of having a Cesarean that would be it.

Thank you for reading,

Biting the Bullet.

Another wanna-be ‘blogger’.. I can almost hear the eye rolls of the people that have absolutely no interest in this, and wont ever have but will probably still read it regardless. I honestly don’t know whether it’s a rise in people wanting to fit in if you like and start a Blog/V-log or a rise in people just generally opening up more, wanting to share snippets of their lives that lead them to starting these. Anyway I have noticed lots more cropping up lately, There is something that extra bit personal about being ‘allowed’ into a persons life without actually having to speak to them. I haven’t decided if this is going to be a good or bad thing for me saying that but im going with it, im jumping aboard the bandwagon, at least for now.

Most of the Blogs I read religiously are those of the people I have followed on Instagram for months, Some years. Some of my favourite accounts are of people I have followed since my daughter was around 6 months old. Unless you class yourself as an ‘Insta-mum’ you wont understand what I mean when I say this but I feel like ive grown with some of these other Mums, We bond with each other in a strange social without being actually social way.. When their children have learnt to walk, talk, when they get certificates, when they are poorly, or hit massive milestones like Starting School, I feel them feelings too on some level. Ive watched their children grow as they have mine, Some of the babies that were babies when Esmé was small have gone on to have siblings, their parents gotten engaged, they’ve moved to different countries etc and while that hasn’t happened for me yet I feel so bloody happy for these people I have never met, (some i have, we travelled to spend the weekend with Becks & Lily – @becks.fin a few years ago and we are hoping to plan a trip to Tash and her brood – @livingthemummylife at some point), I love the beauty of seeing families grow and change over time, everyone has said it but I have made some really good friends via this little app, and that is one of the reasons why I love Instagram.

Anyway, that leads me onto why ive decided to semi-start one of these big bad blogs. I posted about a year ago asking if I should because I would often get messages saying how people love reading my long (boring to some) comments under my Instagram posts. Despite getting a massive amount of people saying I should I found several reasons why I didn’t want to. Its no secret to the ones who actually read those long comments that I suffer with bouts of anxious states, I am neither riddled with it nor am I anxiety free, I would describe mine as pretty much like the weather, some days great somedays really not so great. Im not going to ramble on about that for two reasons, one being I feel like the word Anxiety gets thrown around like confetti its everywhere and rightly so but I get people just don’t want to read it constantly and two I don’t think im ready to delve into that yet. Its too painful. Its rears the devil from its den and Im not ready to relive some of those feelings yet in fear of slipping back. Maybe a later post?

So the facts. I probably should of put these at the top but hey. Im Nicole, the Cole behind cole.esme.xo, I am 26 this year(ouch) and a Single Parent to a 5 and a half year old girl, Esmé. By single I don’t mean that she doesn’t see her Dad, she does and always has done, we separated a few weeks after her 3^rd birthday and I parent around about 80% of the time alone so according to forms and all other official shit that means im a ‘Single parent’. We are lucky enough to live in Alvechurch a small village with a countryside feel in Birmingham, UK. I work at QEHB on a post op ward as an Auxiliary Nurse. I would love to be able to go on to train further but it just doesnt fit in with the two of our lives just yet. I am also the making hands behind Wreaths & A Wildflower – @wreaths.and.a.wildflower, I have no idea what the hell im going to write in the next post, I don’t plan on doing these frequently and like I said I don’t dream of being the next successful blogger but I went with suggestion and I feel brave enough dare I say now to share some bits, some thoughts, some ‘I feel the exact same, Thanks for sharing’ type of stuff. The feel good stuff I have taken away myself so many times from favourite blogs.

If you made it to the end Thank you for taking the time to do so, And if your one of the eye rollers and hated it but still read it to this point because your really not interested but wanted to scan in the hope of any juicy goss, that’s great too but I wont be sharing that here. This isnt for you. I would love to know what you think and any suggestions for what to share next. So heres to blogging, Can you wing this type of thing? if so that’ll be exactly what this is for me..