My Longest Day - Part 1

This post is one of the real reasons the whole site is here. As I was travelling back home from the hospital on the night of August 6th I realised that there was too much going on inside my head to stay there if that makes any sense. I've never kept a diary but there have been times in my life when I wished I had. I've learned that you block out the bad stuff once it passes but I didn't want everything I was feeling to just disappear - so here it is.

I've realised that there is very little in life that can prepare you for the possibility of losing your wife and your unborn child on the same day. How can there be? Perhaps there are people who could tell me that this wasn't actually a possibility that day but to be honest I daren't ask because I've a feeling I know the answer. What is true is that at 4:45PM on Friday August 6th as a dozen people I didn't know took Anna away to an operating theatre, it seemed very possible to me.

It had all started on the Thursday evening when Anna and I had finished eating at around 9PM. Anna felt slightly damp and on closer inspection realised she had been bleeding. There wasn't much there and we knew this kind of thing did happen so there was no immediate cause for concern. Anna called the midwife, I snuck upstairs to consult the Internet as to what this meant. The midwife said to come in to be checked out and bring an overnight bag just in case. I raised an eyebrow but no more.

We headed for the hospital and after a couple of questions and a brief examination, the doctor said there had been no further bleeding but they'd keep Anna in overnight just in case. I returned home to greet our house-guests for the weekend the Sibberts who had travelled all the way from Morecambe for a few days' break. Oh boy were they in for a surprise. At this point nobody was particularly concerned as 'these things happen'. We're not panickers anyway and as far as we were concerned, there'd been a small amount of bleeding which had stopped and that was it.

On the Friday morning I headed for the hospital early doors expecting to collect Anna and bring her home. At around 10:30 the consultant made his rounds and suggested that Anna go for a scan to check that the baby was OK. As Anna was sitting up, to get a magazine I think, I remember her saying 'oh no that feels wet!' It seems stupid now but I was reading the paper and I thought she was talking about a spillage of water or something. It was only when I looked up that I realised what she meant.

Another bleed, this time more significant. Now I was concerned. Anna buzzed the nurse and she set about putting something down to soak up the blood. Then there was more blood. The consultant came back and decided that Anna should go for a scan straight away and soon afterwards we were on our way downstairs. They had fetched a wheelchair to take Anna downstairs in and by the time we got there, it too had a fair covering of blood. As we went into the room for the scan, I remember Anna standing up and blood dripping in an almost constant stream onto the floor. These are images that really catch you unprepared but what followed was somewhat more shocking. As Anna was on the table she made to turn onto her side I think but I can't be sure. It was then that a blood clot the size of a fist was expelled. I actually didn't see it, I was too busy watching Anna's face and holding her hand.

The midwife asked if Anna had been having contractions. Anna replied that she had no idea as she'd never had a contraction before. This seems ridiculous now but of course we hadn't been to any ante-natal classes so had no idea what to be expecting. She then examined Anna and realised that she was about 1cm dilated. I couldn't believe it. This was when it first dawned on me that the baby could actually be coming and we all knew this was not good.

We arrived back in the labour ward at around 1PM and it was shortly after that that the consultant dropped his bombshell. Basically it was dead simple - if they couldn't find the cause of the bleeding and stop it, the baby was coming out and there was nothing we could do about it. I have to admit that even then I still couldn't believe it - I think they call it denial. It seemed incredulous to me that a small amount of blood loss for no apparent reason was going to escalate into something really serious. I distinctly remember letting my imagination run riot for a brief second and then hauling myself back to get a grip.

We spent what seemed like hours in there as Anna lost more blood and encountered more and more pain. She was offered Pethadene but having read that it can cause respiratory distress to the baby, she refused. We later discovered that at 26 weeks gestation, the baby was a dead cert to be on a ventilator anyway so it wouldn't have made any difference. Instead Anna spent the whole day fighting the pain and discomfort with a few cups of water and an occasionally mopped brow. We had previously discussed whether or not I would be at the birth. Of course I wanted to be there but I wasn't sure how I'd manage seeing Anna in pain. I hadn't really banked on this and was totally unprepared for having to watch her go through what happened that day. It's possibly the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

2PM finally arrived as did a senior Obstetrician looking like he was ready for action and as he pulled up a chair I remember real fear beginning to kick in. We learned afterwards that the team on duty had known for some time that unless a miracle occurred, they were going to have to deliver an extremely premature baby and probably in something of a hurry. He was here to tell us what this actually meant.

Basically they work on a judgement call which weighs up the risk of delivering a baby at 26 weeks gestation against the mounting danger to the child's mother. At this term the survival rate is around 80%, at 25 weeks it's 50% so needless to say it's a last resort. He was also there to let us know that even on survival there would be 10% change that our baby could suffer long-term problems including sight and hearing deficiencies or Cerebral Palsy. I remember feeling physically sick at this point. It was also another point where I was struggling to believe what was actually happening. How could such a simple conception and model pregnancy be turning out like this? What the hell happened, and why the hell was it happening to us?

He left us to digest this information but I can't really remember sharing any words with Anna although I'm sure we must have done. I remember holding her hand and looking at her but that was about it. I think we both still believed that the contractions and bleeding would stop and we'd be in the clear. What happened next was a particularly cruel trick of the body I thought. For about 20 minutes the contractions and bleeding did seem to subside. I remember thinking 'we've cracked it' and then cursing myself for perhaps 'jinxing' the situation. My fault or not a few minutes later another blood clot emerged with more blood. I think we both knew that we'd run out of time and luck. I knew that Anna had had enough because she wasn't joking with the nurses even nervously as we all do in these situations. She said she was exhausted and she'd had enough. I looked at her face and there was simply no colour in it at all; her lips were the same color as her cheeks, a kind of off-white. I always thought it was a turn of phrase when people refer to the colour draining out of someone. It isn't.

Strangely we'd been alone in the room for about 10 minutes and I was at the point of going to fetch someone. I knew enough was enough and that the situation was getting worse quickly. At that point one of the doctors who'd been in and out came to do an examination and this turned out to be the final throw of the dice. She saw Anna was 2-3cm dilated and there was still plenty of blood coming. She left the room in something of a hurry and when she came back, everything changed.

She brought consent forms which she was trying to explain and I could tell she couldn't do it fast enough. Whatever she'd seen when she was doing the examination was obviously not going to wait. Amazingly Anna doesn't even remember signing the forms which is odd because until the day I die it's not something I'll ever forget. The doctor was accompanied by two midwives who were very hastily making preparations at the bedside and they were quickly joined by the anaesthetist. He was explaining to Anna what was about to happen and as he did so it seemed like the room filled with more and more people. I remember having to let go of her hand and it was then I have to confess that I gave way to complete panic. I was feeling really dizzy, physically sick and I felt a level of fear that I am simply unable to describe. As they began to wheel Anna out I instinctively stood up to follow and from nowhere somebody put their hand across my chest indicating that I wasn't going. I knew this already and all I could manage as they left the room was a surreal 'see you soon'. I remember saying it because at that point I wasn't even sure it was actually true. A few seconds later the room was completely empty and I was alone.