Harry's birth story seemed like a fitting first post on here. Bear with me because it was written months ago. More posts to follow every Monday and Friday!! Leave us a comment to let us know what you think of the website!
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It was finally happening. The moment I had been waiting for almost
nine months. I was finally in labour.
The thoughts that ran through my head as I settled into my
delivery suite ready to bring my son into the world were not full of fear or
nerves but pure anticipation. I couldn't wait to meet him and after six days of
pre-labour with painful contractions and no sleep, I was eager to get this baby
out of me! Sam, bless his heart, had been with me every second of those six
painful and exhausting days and was just as excited as I was for it all to be
over.
My labour, once in what they call 'active labour' lasted just
under ten hours, however, I was extremely lucky in the fact that I was only
pushing for a mere twenty-nine minutes before he made his appearance, We knew
we were having a little boy and had already agreed on the name Harry Alexander
David for him. Harry for Sam's granddad, David for mine and Alexander because
it tied his names together perfectly.
After my extremely quick delivery, I had been expecting to have skin-to-skin contact with our little boy, but unfortunately, this was not to be.
Our baby had been born with difficulty breathing and was rushed into NICU
(neonatal intensive care unit) straight away. Sam was lucky enough to see him
and a kind nurse took pictures for us to send to family and friends. I
didn't see my son for another two hours, once I was all fixed up.
That first night is a blur to me now. It's that next morning that I
remember most. Waking up for the first time in nine months not pregnant and
also not having my beautiful boy there was the hardest thing I had ever had to
live through, I cried for hours until Sam came back to see us. When I saw Harry
he was covered in tubes and wires and looked so fragile I could barely touch
him for fear of breaking him even more. It's safe to say I blamed myself for
what was happening to him and in some respects I guess I still do.
I spent the first week of Harry's life in the transitional care
ward in the hospital, which drove me crazy as I had never spent time in a hospital before and as far as I was concerned there was absolutely nothing
wrong with me, labour had been easy and I was recovering well. The only upside
was that I was literally seconds away from Harry and could visit any time. During
that week I was often found walking between my room and Harry at all times of
the day and night. I just couldn't bear to be away from him.
It was on Harry's first morning we got an update on his condition,
and some shocking news, Suspected Down syndrome. We had known it was a
possibility of course as it is with every pregnancy but we never thought it
would actually happen to us. I had done everything right in my pregnancy,
giving up smoking as soon as I found out, not touching a drop of alcohol, and even
avoiding certain foods like the plague. These were the thoughts running through
my mind as I heard those words, I just couldn't grasp that none of that
mattered. They took blood for genetic testing to confirm their suspicions and
waiting for those results were the most confusing days of my life. It took me
some time to process the information as I was more concerned about Harry's
breathing as he was still hooked up to oxygen and struggling on his own. When I
finally realised what was happening I had just one thought on my mind... Why
us?
It took me a long time to stop blaming myself, and the truth of it is there is nothing you can do to prevent a genetic syndrome. It just happens.
The written piece is truly fruitful for me personally; continue posting these types of articles.Mark Curry AWL
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