Why We're Not Celebrating Christmas This Year

As a lot of you may already know, at the beginning of this year I lost my son. This month will mark 10 months since his birth and 9 months since his death.
This year would have been his first christmas and for that reason we've decided it would be too painful to celebrate this year.
There wont be a tree or presents in the house at all and I wont be posting anything christmasey on the blog.
Next year we're hoping it'll be different. Hopefully there'll be another little person in the house to spoil. After all christmas is for the kids really.

The past week has been quite difficult really.
I was on facebook the other day when my friend put a status up saying  "and another boy" (this is the friend whose little boy was born the day after Ted died)
The status was referring to two people in our town who both had little boys this week.
The comments underneath (that I wish I hadn't read) said things like "everyone is having little boys lately" and "can you imagine the mischief they'll be getting in 5-10 years time"
Naturally that hit me like a ton of bricks.
I got very upset and deleted my facebook.
Between friends posting pictures of their kids doing things that Ted should be doing by now and my mum posting status' everyday about how she misses Ted and does't get to be a nan (so not helpful) facebook is just too much for me to handle right now.

Also the T.V is out to get me right now.
I've not been out of the house on my own for a very very long time because, quite honestly it scares the life out of me.
Everywhere I look and every advert I see, there are children.
There was an advert on yesterday (I believe it was for nappies or something similar) that showed a new family with their baby and the line basically read that being a mum was the best thing ever and that babies are special. etc
I'm not disagreeing but it made me so upset.
Because I don't get to be a mum.
I don't get to see him smile or laugh for the first time.
I don't get to celebrate any milestones with him or hear him call me mummy.

I don't know, I guess I'm just having a bad lately because christmas is coming up. And not long after that will be his first birthday.

My apologies for the spontaneous, rambly, depressing blog post guys.

My Body - 9 Months Post C-Section

This month marks 9 months since I had my c-section 

and everything has healed as well as it should have.

I have a lot of stretch marks across my hips which appeared about 4 months into the pregnancy; and three stretch marks on my belly which only showed up after I'd had my c-section.

My scar is small and not half as noticeable as it was before.

I now have 90% of the feeling back around the scar. When it's cold out and I've been walking around all day it does get a little raw but there are still nerves that are healing so it's all normal.

6 Months On - How I'm Coping

A few days ago marked the six month anniversary of my sons death. Actually as I'm writing this it is the 7 month anniversary of his birth, so i apologise if this post seems a little all-over-the-place.

I just wanted to update everyone on how I am coping in my day to life.

First of all I am still very much shut in my house ninety percent of the time. It's not a healthy thing to do and I know that, but I can't deal with seeing pregnant women and babies in the street. This is something I'm going to have to deal with soon enough as we are trying to conceive. I think this is mainly due to wanting to be pregnant rather than being reminded of my first pregnancy. I remember these feeling from when we were trying for Edward.

A few people in my family have recently announced their pregnancies and this has also been quite hard to deal with. I'm not angry or upset by any of this news. I couldn't be happier for them. I know they'll all be great parents. But I have cried at the news every time. Once I've cried a little, I'm fine.

Yesterday I received a phone call from my doctor. (I've never had a doctor like this one. He rang the day after my son passed away as soon as he heard the news and also rang the day of the funeral to check I was okay) He had been at the hospital that my son was admitted to and the consultant had asked how I was doing. (also a big shock as I don't expect anyone from there to remember really) He's booked an appointment for me to come in to chat with him next week and the consultant has also offered me counseling. I am thinking of taking him up on this offer. It couldn't hurt right?

(The results from this meeting have been updated on the post : Inquest Results And Consultant Visits)

On the up side every time I think of Edward now I think of the happier things we had (even though they were few) rather than "that day". Of course I still have times where all I want to do is cry and I'm sad for what we should have but I am also grateful for what we did have.

How I am Coping With The Loss Of My Son

It's been 4 months since my son passed away and I've been getting loads of comments about how I'm coping. (along with some amazing support from all you guys.)
Truth is, I'm not really coping.
I know that's not healthy, especially since we are trying to conceive again right now, but I really don't think I will ever cope.
On days that Paddy is working an early shift  I usually cry in the mornings.
It's something about lying in bed on my own trying to get back to sleep after he's gone that makes my brain think of nothing else but that day at the hospital and the way that I was.
Sometimes I wish the family weren't with us for that moment. I held back so much because everyone else broke down. I've always tried to be the strong one that looks after everyone else. Especially since my Paddy is not like that at all. He lets things go and his emotions are very much on the surface. I was holding everything together for all of them and I wish I hadn't. At the same time I'm glad I did. I suppose you'll never really know how you act with something like that until it happens.
Please god never let that happen again.
I get through most days the same way I used to. I just do. I can't explain anything else other than that. I do talk about Ted. I talk about him a lot. there isn't a day that passes where his name is not mentioned. His photos are up around the house. All of his things have been put away now (which was very difficult) but there are still hints of him being here. His moses basket is still in our bedroom. And I like it there. So many people have asked when I'm getting rid of his stuff or what I'm doing with it. And I'm not doing anything with it. people avoid talking about him like he never existed, and i know they are trying not to make things worse. but he did exist. If he had gone when he was born or even before I may have been able to understand it all a little better, but he didn't. he wasn't just a pregnancy, he was a baby. he was alive and he was here and I can't ignore it.
I still haven't made an appointment to talk to the doctor. He keeps ringing up to check on me and really wants me to go down to talk to him. I will. I promise but I just can't make myself go there yet.

Feeling Like A Mum

My son was only with me for 26 days and in total he spent 16 of those days in the hospital. All through my pregnancy I had a hard time feeling like a mum. Even though we tried for so long to have him I didn't quite believe it in the back of mind.

As a young teen, and into my late teens as well, I suffered with an eating disorder. It dipped in and out of a quite serious condition. There were times when I was admitted to hospital as an inpatient. During this time my periods stopped all together and it took them three years to come back. When we started trying for Ted my doctor did tell me that because of all this there may be a chance that it had impacted my reproductive system more than they originally thought. (I should point out that in the small town I live in there aren't very many good doctors and in my area of the country there are no eating disorder specialists - I have never seen one) I think the stress of that probably added to the stress of trying and getting nowhere. This, I feel, also added to my disbelief when we did find out we were pregnant.

I only ever called myself "Edward's Mum" once when I was going down to the NICU on my own after Paddy had to leave for the night.

All of these things, I think, contribute to why I don't feel like a Mum at all. I know I am a mum and people keep telling me, but I just don't feel it.

All the way through the pregnancy I looked forward to not sleeping, changing nappies, breastfeeding and watching my child grow up and now I can't. He will always be my son and I will always be his mum. Maybe it'll come with time.

Our Decision To Try For Another Baby

The decision to have another baby was not one that we took lightly. 

We've talked about it for a long time but ultimately in the end I am a mum and I was ready for more kids the second I'd given birth.

As a teenager I'd always said I didn't want kids or to get married, ever. It wasn't until Paddy and I had been together for about 5 months before I realised that he would be a great dad.

We were at his cousins wedding when I came to this realisation. He was entertaining one of his cousins children pretty much all day (kids love him) and I just looked over. I didn't tell him for a while that I wanted children. We'd never really talked about it at all.

It wasn't until my friend told us we'd be great parents that we did talk about it. And I realised he'd wanted kids for a while too. This is when we started trying for Ted. Read my birth story HERE

So, when we lost Ted the subject of trying again did come up. Originally it was someone in the street that said it. I was prepared to have to have the conversation about Ted for a while after he'd gone. Not everyone knew and obviously they were going to ask when they saw us without him in the street. One of my ex-colleagues asked where the baby was when they saw Paddy and I the weekend after it happened. (note: this person has some for of aspergers so you have to take everything with a pinch of salt.) When I explained that he'd died he said  "oh, you can always try again". I'm sure he didn't mean it in such the harsh way it came out but my first reaction to it was no. Of course I can't have another one that would be ridiculous. 

This was back when I was still convinced that my life was over. I'd decided when the consultant said he might not make it, that if Ted died I would die.

But after he said it I started thinking about it more and more. paddy and I discussed it a lot. We've talked about it near enough every day. He said he was ready to have another one already but would wait for as long as I wanted. 

At first I didn't want to think about it for at least a year. Then I decided we would wait 6 months, then right away and then I'd wait longer. My mind was everywhere. I didn't know what to do.

Recently we've had a more in depth conversation about it (especially since getting the results of the inquest back as we were worried it could be something genetic) and we've come to the decision to try again.

We haven't told a lot of people. Just my mum and our friends (who were also Ted's godparents). 

I know a lot of people will have a lot to say about it but truthfully it's my body that has to go through the pregnancy and it's Paddy and I that are having the baby, no one else. Unfortunately we live in a very small town where everyone knows everyone else's business. Not only this but they have to have an opinion on it.

I'm prepared to deal with comments. I think it would be naive to think everyone would just keep their opinions to themselves.

I will be keeping you guys informed with every little step we take on this journey (hopefully updating this blog every day) and if anyone has any questions or something they would like to say please, by all means, leave a comment. I will do my best to answer as many as possible. 

Inquest Results and Consultant Visits

If I seem a bit matter-of-fact with all this information, It is because I have to be.

25/06/2013

Because Ted died rather suddenly and there wasn't any obvious reason there had to be an inquest in to why it happened.

Part of me really wanted answers to what happened and the other part of me just wanted everyone to leave him alone. As stupid as it sounds I didn't want anyone to hurt him.

The inquest was due to be held on 7th may. 

Paddy and I decided not to go. We didn't want to relive all the details of that day. It was bad enough that he had to go without learning all of the medical things that were going wrong inside of him. I wanted to keep the ideal that he didn't feel any pain and wasn't aware of any of the hospitals at all.

The inquest was pushed back to the 24th May without our knowledge. Although we weren't planning on going I'd have thought that we should have been kept in the loop a little better.

When we heard back from the inquest the result was "Diffuse Alveolar Damage: Underlying Cause Unknown"

This is basically the alveolar (the part of your lungs that transfer oxygen into the blood stream) became so damaged that they were not working properly. This in turn would have shut down other organs. His kidneys stopped working and that caused his potassium levels to rise. This stopped his heart.
This is the physical reason for his body shutting down but not the cause of death. We still don't know why his lungs stopped working.

We weren't expecting to hear anything back at all.

Ted was born with a breathing condition that meant his blood oxygen dropped every so often. This is why I had a c-section (his oxygen levels dropped so low that had I have had a home birth like the midwife was pushing he would not have made it). We weren't made aware of this. When I gave birth he was put in an incubator but we were told that his breathing was fine even though no one ever checked this.

Through the whole process we weren't told anything that we needed to know. Because we were young parents (even though we aren't that young - plenty of people there were teenagers) I felt like we weren't given the care we needed. About 50% of the couples there were 35 and above. These couples got every little bit of help they needed and more.

When I asked for help and advice breast feeding the nurse gave me Ted and told me to just put him on my breast. Then he walked away. I asked so many times for help because I didn't know what I was doing and Ted had terrible trouble latching on and would fall asleep almost immediately.

I spoke to the midwife on the maternity ward about this who was lovely. It turned out that they had been tube feeding him before I went down to the ward to feed him. She tried her best to sort everything out for me but by this point I'd become so disheartened that I'd given up and was using the breast pump and bottle to feed him. 

Before we were discharged we were told that Ted had been completely checked over and was healthy. Obviously they would not have discharged him if there were any problems but I cant help but feel that they dropped the ball.

05/11/2013
UPDATED

I was contacted recently by my doctor. He's the best doctor. He rings every now and then if he hasn't seen me in a while to check if I'm okay. He rang me the morning of the funeral to check I was holding up.

He mentioned that he'd received a phone call from the consultant that was in charge of Ted when he was re-admitted into hospital. The consultant had asked about how we were doing and wanted to set up a meeting. He'd received paperwork back from the coroner and wanted to make sure we had all the information we needed.

So we agreed to meet him.

The inquest came back with a result of "Diffuse Alveolar Damage" which is lung damage. The consultant told us that the pathologist in charge of the postmortem had not found anything wrong with any of his organs prior to the issues he'd had in the hospital.

Essentially the reason is now "cot death" which there still isn't really a reason.

The main piece of information we took from this meeting was that it is nothing congenital. There is the same chance of this happening again with the next child but the chance is not high. It's the same as it would be for every child.

The Loss of Our Son Pt 2: The Aftermath

It was so difficult to leave my baby at the hospital. We were told that we could stay in the parent accommodation over night so that we didn't have to travel home after losing Ted.

We didn't stay.

Though it was so hard to walk out of that room once we did I didn't want to stop.

After it was confirmed that he had passed away the nurses gave him a bath and changed his clothes. We were asked if we wanted to but I just didn't think I could handle it. But I stayed. At first I was really angry at the fact that they carried on talking to him like he was still alive but after a minute or two I think that was the best thing they could have done. They did take some hand and foot prints before they washed him which was pretty difficult as he was really puffy at this point from all the fluids they'd been pumping into him to keep him hydrated. We got some really good foot prints but it was hard to get all his fingers on the hand print. 

When he was born we had put a hand print on my Dad's birthday card so we had a really good one already.

We had bought some clothes of his with us to bring him home in but they wouldn't fit him anymore. They had some in the ward that did fit him though. A beautiful blue sleep suit that fit him so well. It's the only time he's ever fit into anything. Even the premature clothes that we'd been given for him had a bit of space in the legs or arms that was spare.

When they'd changed him they asked if I wanted to hold him and I automatically said yes. When they gave him to me though I asked for them to take him back. It just didn't feel like him. It felt like I was holding a doll. I didn't want to remember him feeling like that. I wanted to remember what it felt like to hold him before.

Paddy's mum and mine did choose to hold him and I didn't leave the room once. Paddy was on the phone to various people letting them all know what had happened. He told Ted's godparent's and our friends that were all in the pub back home. The entire pub had been sat for hours, just sat, not talking. They had been waiting for news all day. As soon as nick had told one person on the phone everyone in the pub knew that it was him calling. All they did was shake their head and the whole pub left. 

Our entire town pretty much stopped.

There was one of our friends that hadn't got any of the messages and rang Paddy at this moment saying he'd just heard we were in the hospital and that he was sure Ted would pull through. I wouldn't have been able to have that conversation.

All of our family left to sit in the waiting room then so that Paddy and I could spend some time with Ted on our own.

I hadn't cried since they'd given him to me before he'd gone. The minute the doctor checking his heart shook his head at me I just felt dead. This didn't break until Paddy broke. He was standing by his cot and just gently shook his shoulder, telling him to wake up. This is when he broke, telling me I had to wake him up. I collapsed into the chair behind me and we stayed there for a while. The nurse that was doing paperwork behind us left the room. Her and the other nurse that had looked after him all day went into the nurses kitchen and cried.

When we got up to leave I gave Ted a hug and found that I couldn't. I stood in the middle of the room and I just couldn't make myself move anymore.

Paddy grabbed me and left quickly, stopping only to thank the nurses, until we got to the waiting room where our family was. 

We went back to our room and packed our stuff up. I've never packed so quickly before. I just wanted to go home. We didn't stop at the reception to get our deposit back and we didn't clean the room. We just left.

Because so much of our family had turned up Paddy and I ended up travelling back home separately. I don't remember a lot of the drive. The whole car was in complete silence. 

When we got home Paddy hadn't long got there and Rosie (our dog) was very confused. She'd been left with a friend of ours for two weeks when I went in to have Ted and then we'd left again only to return without her baby (she was so protective over him in the short time he was there I swear she thought he was hers)

That night we went straight to bed.

We didn't cry.

We didn't have anything left.

The Loss of Our Son

 This blog post was a very difficult one to write and I have no doubt that it will also be a difficult one to read. Particularly if you have or have a had a child or an experience similar. This is not a happy post and if you're looking for one I would advice you leave this blog. This is also a very long blog post so please don't feel that you have to read it all. I've tried to include as much detail as possible. I have not proof read this post so there may be some spelling/grammar mistakes. It was to difficult to go through twice.

On the evening of Friday 22nd February my partner and I were debating whether or not we should go out for the first time since my son, Ted, was born. Our friends band were playing at our local pub and we usually make as much effort as we can to go and support them.

We were cycling through the names of people we would trust to look after our Ted for the night and the only obvious choice was my mum, but we still weren't sure if we should leave him.

In the end we decided we wouldn't. I'm so glad of that.

We spent the evening in watching movies. and having cuddles with our boy. He was 23 days old at this point and still really tiny. He had been weighed the Monday previous to that and had just made it up to 5 lbs.
When I picked him up to give him his last feed and change before we went to bed I noticed he was really cold. When he was born he'd had trouble holding his temperature and was on and off the heated cot in the NICU for the two weeks he was there. His head was always colder than his body was and his hands got cold easily too. This is why I was told to check his temperature from either his chest or his back and this is why I panicked this time.

I first picked him up to change his nappy and it wasn't until I un-wrapped him from his blanket did I realise he'd been sweating a little. (We have no central heating in our house so were using storage heaters. The temperature got really warm very quickly and it was so difficult keeping the temperature set to the right place.) I thought he'd got over heated as we'd had the heater on all evening but when I touched his chest he was really cold. So, we fed and changed him as usual and wrapped him up extra warm. His body temperature rose but we hardly slept all night keeping an eye on him and checking his temperature regularly.
I should take this time time to go into our housing situation. While we were trying to get pregnant we'd moved from the first house we lived in because it was ridiculously expensive to run as well as having damp problems. The house we moved to was very near my mum which was a good thing but had way more problems that we first thought. There was no central heating whatsoever. We had four storage heaters to the whole house and when we contacted our estate agents to fix the problem after I got pregnant there solution was to buy more storage heaters - which we could not afford to run. We planned extensively for this baby and just when everything started to happen our plans seemed to fall apart around us. My Partner was let go from his job whilst I was six months pregnant and I was on sick pay at the time due to some major panic attacks. I had to go back to work at seven months pregnant and work right to the day of my due date to be entitled to any maternity pay (and not enough to do anything with truthfully). SIDE NOTE: the job that I had was terrible and did not really operate to the regulations they were meant to. I left my job, which gave us more entitlement to the benefits we so desperately needed to get by. Paddy searched so hard to find a job but in a town like the one we live in there isn't a whole lot available. We barely made it through rent every month and stopped paying our water, council tax and tv licence just so we would have enough money for heating and food. We put in an application for council housing but were pushed further down the list because we had a roof over our head. We were completely abandoned by our government and left in a situation that was not safe for us or our child.

On the morning of Saturday 23rd February we changed his nappy and fed him. He didn't open his eyes and only manged about 10 ml of milk before he really couldn't eat anymore. I led down on the bed with him next to me as my partner tried to ring someone to ask for advice or help. That morning we'd noticed that he was making a very odd noise when he was breathing. It sounded a little phlegmy and I genuinely thought he'd picked up a cold. Paddy tried ringing the health visitor first but apparently they aren't open at all on weekends (very helpful) so we rand the on call doctor instead. He explained that our sons temperature was lower than it should be and that he was making a bit of a funny noise when he was breathing. They didn't seem to concerned so we were still fairly relaxed about the whole situation. They listened to his breathing over the phone because we were having trouble explaining what it sounded like and there next question was how old was he. As soon as we told them he hadn't long past three weeks we were told to ring the ambulance immediately. By this point I was panicking.

We went through the same call with 999 whose first response to the situation was to talk us through giving him mouth to mouth. Paddy went into autopilot mode talking on the phone with the paramedics and doing everything they were telling him. I on the other hand could barely breathe. I'd started crying the minute they'd told us to ring the ambulance.

We were barely on the phone for two minutes when an ambulance arrived. I answered the door and at first stood in the room as they were trying to get a response from him. I had to leave the room when they were trying to get a breathing mask on him. They'd bought a child's mask but it was way to big for him. I texted my mum saying there were ambulances at our house and she ran the two blocks to ours straight away.
By the time she arrived there were two ambulances and a first response car. I couldn't have got in the room even if I'd wanted to. I started packing his bag and got my shoes and jumper on ready to go. I was determined I was not leaving him.

As it happen both Paddy and i were allowed to go in the ambulance with him. I held him the whole way. they'd wrapped him up in a blanket my nan had crocheted for him before we even knew he was boy and I had to hold the too-bid breathing mask just above his face. We drove the half hour to the hospital in under ten minutes. I spent the whole journey looking at his face. Half way there he opened his eyes. It was the first time he'd opened his eyes since the morning of the previous day (this was not un-usual as he slept all the time and had to be woken up to feed - where he'd usually keep dropping off through. He never really cried). It was also the first time he'd ever focused his eyes on me and the last time he ever opened his eyes.

When we got to the hospital we were rushed inside were we sat in the corridor for five minutes. We were then ushered into a side room where we had to explain everything that had happened and they tried to take Ted's temperature. They couldn't get a reading. So we were moved to a treatment room in A&E and we had to explain everything all over again and they tried to take his temperature - again. They still could not get a reading and that's when I placed him down on the table . If I'd have known that was the last time I'd really be able to hold him whilst he was alive I may not have let him go.

We stood in the edge of the room whilst it filled up with people and they all tried to put I.V drips and everything into our son. We had the head consultant of the A&E department; the head consultant of the pediatric department; two more consultants for something and about five different nurses.

They told us that his hand was still bruised from the I.Vs from when he was in the NICU, so they couldn't find a vein. In order to get fluids into him they had to put the line into his leg. The last noise I ever heard him make was a little squeal when they did that.

Paddy was on the phone to his sister at this point because this was the day that she was meant to be coming down to see Ted for the very first time. She turned around on her way to our house and headed to the hospital arriving at about this time.

We were told to stand outside the room in the corridor whilst they tried to put him onto the ventilator. they were doing this because he hadn't been absorbing all the fluids he needed properly and they were scared that the fluids they were pumping into him would build up on his lungs and cause a problem.

Paddy, his sister and I sat in the waiting area for what seemed like hours occasionally being told snippets of information about what was going on. Every now and then we would have a doctor come in and tell us very matter of factly what was happening and then, two minutes later, have a nurse come in to explain what was happening in a more friendly way. We didn't have a clue.

Then a nurse came in to tell us that while they were attempting to put him on the ventillator his heart stopped. They managed to get it started straight away and despite all this I was still convinced that everything was going to be fine. I was surprisingly calm after we got to the hospital and I just could not let myself get worked up. I had to be here for my boy and that was all I was worried about.

They were getting ready to move him to the ITU (there was no children's ward for this sort of thing in this hospital so it is an adult ITU - both my brother and I spent some time in there as children). Before they could move him though they did have to get the ventillator in. At this point my friend who was upstairs on the maternity ward came down to see us. She'd heard we were there and told the nurses she was my sister so that she could get in the ward. Ted was moved to the ITU and we had to move to yet another waiting room. My friend (who was due to drop at any moment) and Paddy's sister stayed with us. Paddy's parents were also on the way.

The first time we knew that things may not get better was at about four in the afternoon. The pediatric consultant came to talk to us not long after Paddy's parents had arrived. He was telling us that they had called Cardiff and they were sending an ambulance and two specialist consultants to come and move him down to Cardiff University Hospital. He was going through what he thought might have happened (I can't remember what he said) and Paddy asked "He is going to be okay isn't he?" I hadn't even thought to ask, I just assumed. The doctor basically told us that he had a very slim chance and that he was surprised he'd even made it this far.

I broke down.

I just started crying and I couldn't stop. My friend didn't let me go. She was amazing that whole day. She took my phone and rang my mum, telling her to just get to the hospital now. (to put some perspective into that act - she hates my mum. like really hates my mum. My mum also really hates her and there's a whole history there that I wont get into) She arrived so quick.

Paddy and I got to go into the ITU then. They'd got the ventillator working and all the IV's in. The Cardiff team had arrived and they were busy moving them to the portable packs so they could move him. He was in the same room just off the ITU that my brother had been in when we nearly lost him. I could barely stand there. On one hand I couldn't look away from him and I couldn't leave, and on the other I just wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

They'd stripped him down to his nappy in order to get at all the tubes and everything so the first thing I did when I walked into the room was pick up his vest and sleep-suit. I just held them up to my face so I could smell him. I just wanted to pick him up so badly.

When they were ready to move him the gave us the address of the hospital and told us not to follow the ambulance in case they needed to pull over for anything. We got to kiss him goodbye and then we left the ITU. Everyone there had just stopped what they were doing. From the minute Paddy and I walked in. All the nurses were lined up outside the room just watching and all the patients just watched us leave. One woman was crying in the corner as she watched us.

We went back to the waiting room to get everything that was ours so we could get in the car and get down to Cardiff quickly. We said goodbye to our friend who we promised to keep informed with every little detail and my grandparents and mum got ready to leave. Paddy's sister was going to stop at friends house on the way home and his parents were taking us to Cardiff. When we all got into the corridor Ted passed with the consultants on the way to the ambulance and everyone just stopped.

From this point everything gets a little hazy for me and I only have a few main points until the Monday.
We got to Cardiff fine without getting too lost. We did go the long way round but we got there not long after Ted did. When we found the right ward we pressed the bell and told them who we were. They were just getting him settled in and switching the machines over so we waited for a little while.

We got to see him that night. We sat there for hours. We talked to the consultant that picked him up from the hospital and she said she would be there for the rest of the weekend so he wouldn't be handed from person to person. She gave us a rough outline of what was happening but I don't remember a word she said.
We were given parent accommodation in a space not too far from Teds ward.

The next day we just sat with him all day. we kept everyone updated with every little thing that was happening. I went through £10 worth of credit in just that day. Over night it turned out that Ted had stopped peeing so was holding all of the fluid they were pumping into him. He was so puffy he didn't even look like the same kid. They'd done every test they could think of and nothing had come back. The last solution was to try dialysis to clear his kidneys and that would give them longer to work on the underlying issue that was making everything else more difficult to deal with.

If that didn't work they didn't have any other option. Because his kidneys weren't working his potassium levels were getting higher. If they got too high they would stop his heart.

They did dialysis that night after the other parents had left their kids for the night. We asked if we could stay. They reluctantly agreed. They didn't want us there in case something went wrong, but that was precisely why we wanted to be there. If they were going to be his last moments I wanted to be right there with him.

They tried it once while we were there but ted was so small that he just didn't have enough blood to go around the machine and his system. The first attempt failed and as they were getting ready t try again we got to sit with him. The force of the situation hit me and I instantly felt sick. The nurses did get me a bowl in time but apparently I'm the first person they've had that's thrown up because of the news their son might not make it. I find that hard to believe.

After that Paddy insisted we go to bed. I hadn't eaten in two days and I'd thrown up so I was running on less than empty. The next morning we went to see Ted straight away. Dialysis was attempted one more time in the night and it did not work. I didn't want to give in to the fact there was no other option but I knew. My parents arrived that morning too, along with my mums boyfriend and my uncle who gave them a lift.

They hadn't been there long when Paddy and I were called in to see the consultant. Everyone else sat in the waiting room and we were called into a side room. When I got there the first thing I noticed was the full box of tissues and stack of sick bowls they'd bought in. When we sat down the consultant said that she was just waiting for the nurse before she got started. That's never good news. Two members of staff in a private room only means one thing.

We were told that there was nothing more that they could do. There were only two options left for us. We could either turn off the life support machine that was keeping him alive or we could wait until his potassium levels got so bad they would stop his heart. I just went dead. I couldn't cry and I didn't throw up. I just didn't know what to do. Paddy went outside to get my parents and to call his mum. I was hoping he would come back into the room to call them. I didn't want the other parents to go through our grief.

My mum just hugged me straight away and I had to tell her that Ted was going to die meanwhile all I could hear through the door was Paddy loosing it. He's called his mum and as soon as she'd answered he'd began crying uncontrollably. My dad went out to him and took the phone. He got as fart as "I'm sorry" and Paddy's mum and hung up obviously thinking that he'd gone already.

I don't know what happened after that. We sat with Ted until Paddy's mum, dad and sister turned up. Paddy's sister lets her emotions go and as soon as she walked in the room she was loud and it hit everyone again just what was happening.

We left the room so that they could turn off the heart rate monitor and take out all the IV's. They turn off the heart rate monitors so that when they go the machine doesn't make that horrible beeping noise and then just stop suddenly.

When we got back in the room they gave Ted to me. It was the first time I'd held him since we'd bought him in two days earlier. Once he was settled there, the ventillator was taken off him. It was without a doubt the worst day of my entire life. I don't think anyone ever prepares you for the noise people make when they're trying to breathe. Even then I kept hoping he would start breathing on his own but it just wasn't the case.
My beautiful baby boy passed away on Monday 25th February.

My Birth Story

I found out I was pregnant in July 2012. Paddy and I had been trying to conceive for a year and half and we'd had one miscarriage (really early on) during that time. So, naturally we were really excited when we found out.

The pregnancy progressed as it always does. The first trimester was filled with morning sickness and food. I've suffered with an eating disorder through most of my childhood and teenage years so I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to eat enough. But it wasn't a problem. I had a good network of people around me and because I was carrying a baby it seemed to be okay.

The morning sickness carried through to the second and third trimesters though. Something I was not all to pleased about and it was accompanied by awful heart burn. I'd take a pint of milk to bed with me each night because it was the only thing that seemed to work. (I tried my best not to take any medication throughout the pregnancy, no paracetamol or anti-acids) 

I got pretty bad panic attacks during this time too. I've had something of an anxiety issue before but never panic attacks. I left my job as a shop assistant because it wasn't worth risking both mine and my babies health over. Besides, I really hated working there.

After leaving my job the remainder of my pregnancy was stress free.

On the morning of January the 30th I awoke with some minor stomach cramps. To me, they felt a little like period pain. I'd had this a few times during the last months, so I thought nothing of it and went about my morning as usual. It wasn't until 11 am that I realised this could be it, as the pains weren't leaving. They had grown a little worse but nothing too unusual. My partner and I spent the morning hoping that they would get worse so that we could have our baby. The last three months of pregnancy I'd been ready to meet my son and I didn't know if I could wait the full 40 weeks. As much as I wanted to give him all the time in the world to grow, I was really uncomfortable.

Paddy was called into work at twelve to provide some cover for a few hours. He reluctantly left under the condition I would call him if anything changed.

Around three in the afternoon I became so uncomfortable that I needed to move. I decided that taking a walk to my mums house would be good idea. (it wasn't a good idea!) She only lives two blocks down from me and she would definitely know if these were contractions or not. I didn't make it all the way down to my mums before I had another sharp pain. This one was definitely worse. I was half way up my mum's garden steps before I couldn't move. She came rushing out and helped  me into the house.

They were contractions.

Over the next hour they got bad very quickly. My mum had started timing them the minute I'd got through the door. Since I'd arrived the longest I'd gone between contractions was 3 minutes. 

My mum, naturally, panicked. She rang the on call midwife, who said that she would ring us back and she rang Paddy who managed to run all the way to my mums house in under ten minutes. Now, when Paddy starts to panic he talks and talks and talks. It was perfectly obvious that he was panicking. I, on the other hand barely noticed a thing as I was a little busy.

The on call midwife did eventually turn up, after an hour of trying to find the house. Just so you know exactly how idiotic this is, my mum lives on the main road. There is no way you couldn't find it if you were looking for it. She then spent about twenty minutes trying to park her car. she was ridiculous. She seemed more interested in writing everything down than actually trying to help me, she hurt me when she examined me and she tried her hardest to convince me to have a home birth.

There were more complaints that everyone else had about her also, but again I was pre-occupied and wasn't really paying much attention. Needless to say we ignored her and headed to our next nearest hospital. (Our local hospital only has a Birth Center and it was closed because there was a problem with the water?!) The drive took about twenty minutes and by the time I got there I had dilated 3 centimeters and my blood pressure was high. It's always a little high so they usually have me monitored.

We were in the labour ward for a further hour before I was told that the best course of action was to have a c-section. My sons heart rate had dropped significantly and he was starting to stress. It was at this point that my mum left to go home. She has since said that she would have liked to stay but didn't mention anything at the time.

My water was broke and I was prepped and sent of to theater where I was given the stronger gas and air and a spinal block before being led down on the table. Paddy was out of the room for that part as he is really scared of needles. 

Before they take you in for major surgery they have to read to you the list of any side effects or things that may go wrong during the operation. I was contracting the whole way through this process so payed no attention to any of it. I've been through procedures where they've done this before so I know the drill. Paddy was obviously listening to the entirety of it, and with the whole situation taken out of his hands started to panic further. When I saw him in theater he was crying. He cried the whole way through the operation whilst I was high as a kite and talking complete crap.

Despite this I remember everything. Every little detail. I remember the sensation of them pulling around and I remember the moment when they lifted my son out of me. He was taken into a little side room to be cleaned off and checked properly as we already knew he was having problems. It was at this moment that it all hit me. Still feeling out of it I was convinced that something was terribly wrong with either him, me or both of us.

I later found out that he had not been breathing and it took seven minutes to get him going. He was still not breathing at a pace they were happy with after this so decided he needed specialist care.

Paddy got to see him before he was sent to the NICU for observations but I didn't get to because I was being stitched up.

We spent nine hours in the labour ward before I was sent upstairs to the maternity ward. The nurse very kindly let us stay there so long because Paddy had no way of getting home and he isn't allowed in the maternity ward after visiting hours.

I didn't get to see my son until the afternoon of the next day as all the nurses were too busy to help me down stairs to the NICU. I hated being in the hospital on my own. I've spent so much time in that hospital over the years that I panic every time I get anywhere near it.

My son spent almost two weeks in the NICU before we got to bring him home. Despite his problems whilst entering the world, all of his tests came back normal and he was sent home after thirteen days.