![]() She grabbed baby in one hand, boob in the other, and quick as a flash, connected the two. I can work breast pump, but I don’t know how to feed a baby, can you help me?” She did that amazing thing midwives do. I explained to the midwife “I have an older daughter, but she was too sick to feed. Waiting later for the porter to come and wheel me back to the ward, baby was lying on me, and I was very unsure what to do next. Even in all the bustle, peace dropped like a curtain. I kissed her, I breathed her in, and I gave her name to her. Although she had been crying, suddenly she stopped. ![]() I had drips in me, the surgical team were sewing me up, the area was very cramped and so they just shoved her face next to my face, kind of upside down. ![]() The cord was cut and she was taken to be dried and checked. That brief, fleeting contact with her skin, is immediately rememberable for me. I knew I was breaking 1000 rules, and for once in my life, I didn’t care. A very British objection to the fact that my non-sterile hand had got itself into the sterile zone. There was muffled, restrained, consternation in the room. She was warm, wet, pink and full of life. I knew her intimately, from carrying her for nine months, and yet she was a stranger. (Now if anybody’s met her ever since, you will chuckle with recognition, because to this day she explodes through any barriers in her way!) She kind of leapt into the surgeon’s arms, who gasped “Oh my goodness, this is a big baby”, and I laughed – tell me about it! I reached forward and touched her still half inside me. There, exploding out of my tummy was this amazing baby, so full of life. Suddenly the surgeon announced “Quick! Drop that screen”, and my eyes swivelled right down to try and see. It’s very strange demarcation line because the distance between my chest area and my pelvic area is only about a foot! Breaking 1000 Rules! It’s like someone was rummaging in my pocket for my keys! I wanted to see the moment of the birth, which meant dropping the strip of surgical cloth draped across my chest to protect the sterile area. I could feel what’s going on, but no pain. But the wonderful team at Salisbury Hospital pulled out all the stops. There were long delays from overnight emergencies, and as my husband and I waited, we fell silent, wondering if I would be going home again that night, still pregnant. This was a planned Caesarean, designed to be diametrically different in every way. Then, 3 years (minus 2 days) after my worst day, came my happiest day. I was committed to something better, even when it looked impossible. Shit had happened – so what!? If I could accept that awful day, could I get it to release it’s hold on the rest of my life? If I could stir myself to lift my head and believe, was something else possible? So, even in Hell, I kept on going, holding on to the glimpse of a brighter future. Step by step, I surrendered, like a tree to a storm. To give myself over to what had happened. If we wanted a sibling… I had to get over it. Hope, if nothing else, that our wee family could be the vibrant, happy unit Held out hope that a healthy sibling could, in future, provide a cure for ourĮldest. Terrified that if I went through that experience again, that my mind wouldīreak and not recover. Yet I was nearly 40 years old, time was running out. We did not know if her condition was genetic, and if other siblings couldīe at risk. Get Over Myselfīeginning to realise that our eldest had an incurable condition and was very There were many times in those dark months, days and years to follow, when I was caught in a endless cycle of flashbacks, fears, frozen numbness, and rage. (I covered this in an earlier blog, here.) Parts of my mind were forever stuck in that room, frozen in time, feeling my mind actually give way. Not only did I suffer horrible maternal injuries during the extremely traumatic birth of my daughter, but she almost died. ![]() Tears tears of happiness and deep gratefulness have been rolling down my Hadn’t had the worst day, I’d never have had the happiest! Even writing this, Its actually gratitude,įor some of the toughest and hardest days of my life. For goodness sake, don’t stop and stay stuck there!Ī strange kind of respect for the Hell I went through. Resilience, to me, is best described by Winston Churchill – “If you’re going through Hell, keep going!” Keep on going. So to bring them to life, here’s my personal, real, story. – trauma, childbirth) My Story of Bounce-Backīounce-back Resilience.
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