Waiting for our minute

They say that there is one born every minute, and before we leave Bolton Hospital we would like to have had ours, when this minute happens though is completely out of our hands.

We arrived early as usual to our appointment for induction and the whole plan of action was laid out to military standards...

A quick monitor of baby to hear the soothing sounds of the heartbeats.  Depending on everything being fine, a pessary will be put on place to encourage a hormonal change of the cervix.  This can take up to 24 hours, although there was a young girl in the bed next to Clare who had been in hospital since Saturday (3 days earlier) and had not moved any further down the line.  Monitoring will continue throughout the day and a further pessary may have to be administered if nothing happens.  All is in the hands of the midwifery team now, but as I said, Clare will not be leaving this hospital until Baby D is part of our family.  The main reason behind this is the reason why Clare is being induced.  Due to her blood condition, there is a higher risk of blood clots at a later stage of the pregnancy that could be detrimental to both Clare and Baby.  It is imperative that Baby D joins us or things could get tricky.

Just after 11am, the first pessary was added and the Pregnancy Olympics began.  Time for serious power walking, bouncing balls and Pregnant Pilates.  Our first event was the 100m waddle, up and down the ward corridors trying to beat our personal records.

Our second event was the inflatable ball bounce.  Jigging up and down on the huge balls whilst watching Judge Rinder.  We were coming to the conclusion of the first case, a ruined painting and the artist claiming for damages when Clare commented that her back was giving her a little pain.  She decided that it was time to lie down and have a rest.  I never did find out what happened to the painting.

Not long after we were back on the monitor noticing that the contractions had increased in frequency and strength.  The Toca readings were peaking around the 30-40 mark.  All of a sudden Clare's face became flustered.....35....noises started emanating that I had never heard before.....45....the groans turned to pains....60...all of a sudden, Clare's eyes glazed over...80, 60, 50, 30, back into the 10's, "I think something just happened", Clare said, it had, her waters had broken.

The contractions became more frequent and more painful as the hours progressed, and it was here that I entered the "completely useless" stage of my journey, All I could do was offer a hand to squeeze and offer pointless words of comfort.  In complete adoration of my wonderful Clare and everything she had gone and was about to go through, all I could do was be there for her whenever she needed me.

Our midwife on this first part of our long journey was Hayley, incredibly informed, perfectly personable and a real asset to the ward.  It also turned out that Clare knew her husband from their school days.

Soon the contractions had increased in frequency and had become immensely painful that gas and air had to be administered.  This was when Clare started her next euphoric stage.

We had been told that the Central Delivery Suite was busy and we were waiting for a room to become available.  The girl who had been in since Saturday was still on the ward with us, so we knew a wait could be before us.  Thankfully, Clare's case had become more urgent and as soon as a room was available we jumped the queue.  The only room that was available was D8, this was the room that our son, Spud, was born in only a few years earlier, the room that has been offered to us, emotionally, each time we have been to the hospital for procedures and we have declined.  We accepted that this was Spud's way of telling us to move on, Baby D would be born in the same room as her brother and would carry on his memory

The pain only increased as the time progressed and the power of the gas and air was having little effect.  Diamorphine was the next step on the pain reduction scale and was injected into her thigh with almost immediate effects. Although not completely subsiding, the pains of the contractions were reduced, for now

The next step was to add a little sticky tape to Baby D's head to monitor heartbeat and contractions a little more accurately.  Our midwives on for this final journey were Barbara and Student Midwife Stephanie.  They both became permanent residents in D8 and provided excellent one-to-one care and attention to Clare and even put up with my constant questioning and writing (for this blog)

Another hour of so passed and with them the pains seemed to be increasing.  The diamorphine was wearing off and our new, more precise heartbeat monitor had changed from the soothing whoops and swooshes we were used to and become more of a rhythmic metronome.

Clare had decided that the pain was too much, too intense to continue and requested the next level of pain relief, an epidural.  After a consultation with the anesthetist things seemed to progress fairly quickly.  Moments later, the largest needle I have ever seen was produced.  Thankfully, as it later turned out, it was only to administer the relief through a cannula that had been inserted into Clare's spine, within 10 minutes Clare was snoring.  I think the Epidural had worked it's magic.  The pain that was evident in Clare's eyes diminished within a matter of minutes, after a few more minutes Clare was back with us and requesting tea and toast.  It had been a long day so far and we were both feeling tired, although I had no excuse but needed to keep my energy up purely for cheer leading and supporting duties.  With the occasional pressure of administering a dampened flannel at the correct temperature to Clare's brow, I was still feeling completely useless.

At just short of 1am, 16 hours after our journey had started at Bolton Hospital this morning.  A quick check of the Clare's cervix revealed that things were moving in the right direction.  The metronome heart beat still ticking rhythmically, contractions still occurring 5 in 10 (I had learnt so many new phrases in relation to pregnancy and this was another to add to the list). With Barbara and Stephanie still looking after us we prepared for what lay ahead.  Still a couple of hours, it feels very strange that we are now thinking in hours, not days, weeks, or even months, just hours.  I remember when we first found out about Baby D and the thought of what lay ahead was inconceivable, how could we deal with the stress, worries and problems that lay ahead, how could we ever reach the end of those 9 months....here we are, hours and minutes away

The ryhthmic tick tocks had become a little concern around 3am and further investigations were needed.  Baby D had stopped enjoying the experience and was in slight discomfort.  A range of options varying in severity were presented, but all of these depended on the result of a FBS (Fetal Blood Snap - another pregnancy phrase to add to the book).  This meant a little pin prick on Baby D's head after a numbing agent was applied, the blood was then drawn and tested.

1. If the blood came back with no concern then the monitoring would continue via the heartbeat monitor and everything would proceed as normal
2. If the blood came back with slight concerns then pushing would be advised and a gentle easing of Baby D via a suction cup to help deliver quicker
3. If the blood came back with serious concerns then Clare would be going into surgery for a C-Section

All of the above scenarios resulted in Baby D with us very soon, but they added increased concern to Clare.

The blood results came back and although they were all normal, the heart rate was still a concern so a descision was made.  Clare would be able to follow a normal pushing route, but if nothing happened in 10 minutes then the dyson hoover was coming out.  No pressure then!

No longer than 7 minutes later, suction commenced

After 12 hours of feeling pretty useless and superfluous I had the ultimate privilege of telling Clare that our newest family member was a little princess and I cut the umbilical cord that tied all the past turmoil and pain. 

At 4:22am on the 17th February 2016, Baby Isabella Christina Rose was brought into our lives,  Baby D has a name, a mum and a dad, a gaggle of grandparents who arrived a 5am to meet their miracle grandchild, and uncles, cousins, an amazing family waiting to meet our little princess.

She is worth every second.

Our Difficult Journey

An Introduction

I met Clare in January 2010 after arranging a meeting through Match.com.  I had been using the dating site for 6 months and had been on a few dates, but was seeing no success I was ready for calling it a day, that is when Clare sent me a little wink.  Clare had just come back from working abroad and wanted to meet new people so thought she would see what Match had to offer.  I sent her an email which she couldn't read unless she paid the joining fee of £29.99, it was money well spent.

In October 2011, whilst on holiday in Las Vegas, I proposed to Clare in our room in the Mirage Hotel overlooking the fabulous strip.  I had planned to propose whilst watching the Bellagio Fountains, but when we got there it seemed a little too "Romantic Film Cliched", my next thought was to take her for a lovely meal and propose in the restaurant, but we overslept due to jet lag.  On our return to the hotel, I looked out of our window and was just taken aback by the view so I asked Clare to join me a take in this amazing vista.  The moment felt right and I got down on one knee and asked her to be mine forever. Thankfully she said "Yes" and our journey together set a whole new course.

We married in 2012 at the Holiday Inn, Bolton much to the surprise of all our family and friends who because of our jet setting lifestyle thought we would be abroad somewhere. Little did they know, we nearly got married the day after I proposed in Vegas at the Chapel of Bells.  Our wedding felt like a party from the moment we woke up till the time we went to sleep, and we know the family that joined us felt the same way too.  Our personalities we portrayed perfectly throughout the day and people just smiled and laughed.  Life could not be better, I had just married my greatest friend, someone who understands me, accepts me with all my many flaws and pushes me to achieve goals I would never have thought possible.

A few months later we were on a choppy ferry travelling across from Sorrento to Capri and Clare was feeling very sea sick, but so were most of the passengers.  As I said, it was very choppy.  The sickness did not pass and even though Capri is a stunning place, Clare could not focus as she was dreading the return journey.  I tried to distract her by being my usual silly self and although she wasn't sick on the route back there was still a feeling of nausea. We decided check to see if we had been blessed by doing a pregnancy test, just in case, and the result came back positive.  Our lives were like a fairy tale we just didn't realise for the next few years it was to be more Grimm than Disney

7 weeks later we were in A&E unsure of what to expect, Clare had a bleed and we could only think the worst.  Thankfully, we were told that some women have bleeds during pregnancy and we should just keep an eye on things as baby was doing fine. The bleeds happened within a two week period for the remaining months.  The 12 week scan showed us our little baby was growing well and there were no issues, so this put our minds at rest.  We both commented that on the picture given to us by the Sonographer that the baby looked like a little potato, so we called it "Spud".  Clare was forced to finish work as she had no energy and was struggling to function most days, we put this down to her struggling with the pregnancy and the bleeds not helping.  The night before our 20 weeks scan, Clare was feeling very unwell so went to bed early.  At midnight she woke me feeling terrible, I rang the emergency midwife who advised us to take paracetamol and see how she feels in the morning.  Whilst on the phone to the midwife, Clare's waters broke and we rushed to hospital.

Our son Spud was born August 30th 2013 at 2:40am, sleeping.

This devastated our family and friends but words cannot describe what it did to us.  I knew I had to be there to support Clare but needed to grieve myself as well.  The pressure put on our relationship was severe. I can honestly say, the next 12 months were the hardest of my life, but worth every second.  They made me appreciate what life had to offer, how lucky I was to have Clare and how strong our relationship had become.  Without Clare I know I would not have made it through as positively as I did, and i know the feeling is mutual from Clare's side too.

Clare was diagnosed with Factor V Leiden, a blood disorder that causes clots.  This is a genetic disorder that Clare had lived all her life with and never known about.

Over the next two years we were blessed three more times, and had our hearts broken on all three occasions.

We saw an Angel's heart beating at 8 weeks but was told at the 12 week scan that it had passed at 9 weeks.  With the amazing help of Bolton, our next pregnancy was found to be ectopic and Clare's right tube removed.  The fourth was a failed pregnancy that did not continue passed the 4 week period.

We both knew that Clare's body needed to heal as well as our minds.  We had been pushed more than a newly wedded couple should be and although it had put undue pressure on our marriage we were stronger than ever, closer than ever and proof that we are perfect for each other.

After losing a considerable amount of weight, focusing on our health, Clare and I went to Egypt for a Cruise and Stay in May 2015.  On our return, Clare had an inkling to do a pregnancy test, it came back very positive.  Due to our history, Clare was scanned and it was confirmed, what looked like a little Haribo bear was floating around in Clare's womb. The thing that confused the sonographer is that the egg had come from the right ovary, the ovary that had no tube as it was removed after the ectopic pregnancy.  The egg had no delivery system, a little miracle baby.

With a few stressful months still to go, regular scans every two weeks and daily injections, every day is one step closer to the our healthy baby joining our family in January/February 2016.  We know it will be one hell of a journey but can we only stay positive, support each other and with the help of family and friends push towards that final goal.

This is our story so far...

Diary of a New Dad will be my own personal journey into fatherhood and beyond.

Stitches

Tuesday 2nd February

This date had been in our diary for a good 3 months, a date we never thought would come and one we didn't think we would reach if it hadn't have been for the stitch that was put in place all those weeks ago.  The 2nd of February marked the day of the removal.

Both Clare and I awoke very early, possibly through excitement for the day ahead, but realistically through anticipation and anxiety.  We received a massive amount of support from family and friends, even getting a phone call from my Ma who is holidaying in Australia.  Ma had just come out of an OAP screening of Star Wars, so was a little giddy.

We had been to a few monitoring scans prior to this date (see baby heartbeats) and Clare's pains had been linked to contractions.  These contractions were increasing in frequency and strength, baby had finally moved from a breach position to a positive "Ready for Launch" position.  It was if everything was aligning for the special date.

Clare was thankful of the night off from the Fragmin injection in preparation for the pending procedure and with our bags packed and loaded in the car ready, we were fully planned for the inevitable.

We arrived earlier than expected at the Maternity Unit and headed towards our friends at the scan unit.  The morning scan confirmed baby was perfectly engaged, my excitement levels were reaching a pinnacle point.   Baby was measuring at 7lb 7oz, looking to have adopted the Donovan family cranium and larger than expected at this stage of the pregnancy, everything looking great. We then checked in with a new consultant and went through our entire story.  The Central Delivery Suite was full again, so we were moved to M2 to wait for availability.  Our thoughts were the same as the consultants, midwifes and scan staff, once the stitch that held the cervix for so many months was removed, Baby D would be joining us.  We needed to make sure everything was prepped and ready.

Whilst waiting on M2, I noticed all the current residents involved in what I can only be described as "The Pregnant Olympics".  Pacing up and down the corridors with varying size bumps, huffing and puffing and hoping that the next available slot was theirs, bouncing on big blue balls scattered around the wards with partners rubbing their backs with encouraging yet panicked faces, various inducing floor exercises that looked like turtles trying to right themselves to a standing position.  All of this, whilst slightly amusing, was an insight into our position to come

After a couple of hours sat on the ward waiting, a doctor approached us with ominous equipment.  A large workman's industrial torch and implements of pain and torture.  The stitch was coming out right here, right now.  Both Clare and I were a little concerned to the bombastic approach and without little concern or preparation on our side, the doctor was ready.  Seeing the pain in Clare's eyes  as the procedure was taking place was immeasurably difficult.  Knowing that this was for the greater good, but causing Clare to writhe in agony,  After 12 weeks of doing a superb job, the stitch was eventually removed,  With the little preparation time given and inevitable blood loss, we were a little annoyed at the state Clare was left in by the doctor, and would have much preferred things to have been organised.

We were told to remain still for one hour to hopefully cease the bleeding  and then Clare would be joining the sprint section of the Pregnant Olympics, a 100 metre corridor waddle consisting of as many laps as possible.  I was there to coach and offer advice, however, this was seen as more of an annoyance rather than positive encouragement.

With what we and the rest of Bolton Hospital staff thought inevitable, what we had been preparing for all day long, what our families at home and abroad were checking their phones for, didn't happen. The couple of hours of monitoring passed and the call came to check out and go home.  I was fully expecting to get minutes away from home and waters break, settle in for the night and waters break, just be falling asleep and waters break, they didn't.

Clare and I were exhausted, we had been expecting elation and exitement all day long and nothing.  Once we had returned home we also returned to a normal state of being, just Clare and I, no extra patter of feet.  Drained from what the day had brought, I had to nudge Clare early into the evening as my shoulder was wet through from drool.  We were both drained and ready to call it a night.