Despite this though my clothes continued to get tight so I did a test and it was positive. At what I thought was 9 weeks pregnant, I saw the midwife, and she agreed I was further on or expecting multiples and sent me for a scan. It was a single one, but I was 15 weeks not 9 weeks. The bleed they put down to an attempted miscarriage or a possible twin, we will never know and we don't dwell on it. Considering my problems through pregnancy I suspect it was an attempted miscarriage.
At 25 weeks though I had another major bleed while away. The local hospital kept me in for 4 days telling me I was irresponsible to travel after a prem birth the first time, even though my consultant had said I was fine to stay at my parents for a week. They also refused to scan me which had me besides myself considering my last pregancy ended in placcental abruption and the baby being resuscitated. My own consultant was furious they hadn't done a scan and said it was financial and because I wasn't part of their trust. It turns out I had grade 4 placental previa, totally unrelated to my first pregnancies problems. Like to do things in style me!
From 25 week to 30 weeks I was on a roundabout of a few nights in hospital, then home, then back in, then home, then back in, you get the picture. All very disruptive, no family nearby so t'husband and our friend - Little Man's godmother dealt with Little Man and the childminder. Of course I hated being in hospital, I was beside myself over Little Man, and the fact childcare was such an issue. I was fortunate enough to have a very good manager who let me 'work from home' during this time, even though some of that meant working from the labour ward, so my wages still covered childcare but not 5 days a week. t'husband and godmother worked full time. My parents were still both working as well so couldnt come and stay being over 200 miles away.
At 30 weeks I had a very heavy bleed and was on delivery ready for surgery, but they kept monitoring every 15 minutes as they didn't want to deliver. The nurse specialing me said she could see the relief in both our faces at the thought of the baby being delivered, after all for us we had already had one of the same gestation and were more than aware of the highs and lows of a prem baby, and how different each could be. It wasn't meant to be and 18 hours later they decided I was no longer at risk, baby was happy so admitted me full time to hospital. There began the worst 4 weeks of my life, plus workwise I had to then go onto sick leave so I didnt even have work to keep me occupied.
I was so unhappy, I hated it. I was on the labour ward, got little sleep, sometimes went for 3 days with no visitors as t'husband didn't finish work until 6 and I wasnt in our local hospital so by the time he had got Little Man, and driven 20 miles against traffic, it was near Little Man's bedtime, and the poor little thing hadn't even eaten. Plus Little Man hated the hospital and would scream blue murder, to the extent there were occasions where t'husband and Little Man were at one end of the corridor and I was stood at the other end, waving to each other through doors as the staff wouldnt let t'husband bring Little Man through the antenatal ward to reach me, as he was so besides himself. Depending who was on that day would depend on if I was allowed off the labour ward. I was imprisoned. if there is such a thing as pre-natal depression, I had it. I also got quite resentful of the pregnancy, hated being pregnant and got to the stage of asking why we had bothered. The consultant decided I needed a pysch evaluation, I told him I didn;t need a pyschologist to tell me I was depressed and miserable at being lonely, being confined to a bed, seeing my little boy once or twice a week for about 30 minutes and scared stupid I was going to haemaorragh again and end up in the same situation as Little Man. When I said 'just get this baby out of me' I think he realised I had had enough and agreed to deliver at 34 weeks.
The night before my section, he came to see us to explain the risks pof grade 4 placental previa, and to say he wouldnt recommend another pregnancy as my body hadn't done so well. He offered to tie my tubes. We couldnt make that decision there and then and asked if we could decide in the morning. We didnt even really need to discuss it and both felt nature should take its course, if a 3rd was meant to be, it would happen and we would cope with whatever was thrown at us.
9.39 the next morning and Mini Man made his appearance out of the sunroof again. I have no recollection of it even though I was awake as I crashed and started phasing in and out of consciousness. Mini Man was a good weight at 4lb 9 but he was taken off to SCBU and put on CPAP.
Around lunchtime proud dad left us to go and show photos off. About an hour later he was called back. He said when you hear the words 'can you come back to the hospital please, don't worry or rush but come back to the ward your wife is on' you know its something not good. I wasnt good and they couldnt stop me bleeding, again I was phasing in and out of consciousness and he only just got to me before I was rushed into surgery. I guess nature did take its course as the only option they had was a hyserectomy. I spent 3 days in ICU, had 14 blood transfusions and didnt get to see Mini Man until he was 3 days old. Bonding was a problem and it wasnt unitl his incubator neighbour, a 31 weeker who was the son of a fellow
At a week old Mini Man was diagnosed with a large ventricular spetal defect and declared in heart failure and put on diuretics and steroids. They hoped with careful monitoring and drugs they could avoid the need for surgery.
Within 16 days of his birth we were both home. At 3 weeks Mini Man was labelled failure to thrive, taken off my breast milk, I was told to stop feeding him as I wasnt well enough, and he was put on high calorie milk, and then we started trying to settle into some semblance of a routine and normal life. All in all though the whole pregnancy had had a large impact on our lives and especially that of our Little Man.