As a little girl all I ever dreamt of was being a mum. I never dreamt of my career, I just dreamt of having my own family around me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think our journey would be so difficult.
In March 2013 my husband and I got married. We knew we wanted to start trying for children straight away and of course I thought it would happen quickly. Oh how wrong I was!
I was soon sitting in the fertility clinic, being diagnosed with PCOS and prescribed Clomid. After a couple of rounds we got pregnant and we were elated! Our joy soon disappeared though as I miscarried. It was hard to take, but we picked ourselves up and plodded on. The consultant suspected I had a bicornuate uterus and thought he may be able to operate to give us a better chance at carrying a healthy pregnancy. I went down to theatre to get ‘fixed’ and remember waking up from the anaesthetic and asking the nurse next to my bed ‘am I fixed?’ She told me ‘no’, the consultant couldn’t operate and I broke down. The consultant came to see us and told me something I didn’t even know was possible. ‘You have something called Uterus Didelphys’. I looked at him like he had just told me I have two heads…. I was close – TWO WOMBS. Yes two wombs and two cervix!!
I fell pregnant for a second time in December 2014, but sadly miscarried. While I was waiting for a new cycle to start to take my Clomid I fell pregnant again! This time my consultant stepped in and prescribed me progesterone pessaries to use everyday and low dose aspirin to help the lining of my womb and the blood flow. It worked!
7 weeks came and went, 8 weeks, 9, 10…. When I got to 12 weeks I couldn’t believe it, I was starting to have hope this could really be it. I had a couple of scares with bleeding etc but all was fine.
The risk of me being pregnant with uterus didelphys however was premature birth because my womb is half the size of a normal womb. I got to 26 weeks without a hitch and then I noticed that my baby boys movements had slowed right down. I was admitted into hospital where I was given steroids injections and monitored every 4 hours. After two nights I was discharged home and was able to celebrate my birthday. 10 days later though, when I was attending my 28 week growth scan, they weren’t happy with babys size – yet again I was admitted to the maternity ward and monitored.
My husband left the hospital to go home at 11pm and by 1am he was called back as they weren’t happy with babies trace. I was rushed down to theatre for an emergency Csection, delivering my baby boy at 28 weeks! 12 weeks early! I had no idea what to expect but it was my worst nightmare. A very poorly baby boy.
I walked into a world I never knew existed. The beeps, the smells, the constant hand washing and antibacterial gel. Seeing my poor little human covered in wires and surrounded by nurses and doctors in a panic. It’s a sight I will never forget. The first time I met my son he was moments away from death.
Thankfully they got his breathing under control and I was able to sit with him and start to examine this little man that we had made. He was beautiful, so tiny, but all ours.
The first two weeks is a blur, I remember feeling numb. I never dreamt it would be like this, giving birth to your child who is then snatched away, put in a glass house plugged in to 15 plus machines needed to give him life saving medicine. I was a spectator, I had lost out on that chance to be a Mummy.
I was still mourning the loss of my third trimester – this isn’t how I should have been spending the last 12 weeks of my pregnancy, in a stuffy intensive care unit in the middle of summer, watching my child fight for every breath.
Paralysed from medicine to help him get stronger. His face and body were so swollen. The staff used to come into work wondering if he would still be there. Sickest baby on the unit are given 40% chance of survival. That is not how I should have been spending that time. My missing trimester.
Being an NICU mum there isn’t a lot you can do for your baby, so the few things you can do you grab with two hands. Expressing is key for a premature baby, so anything I could do to give him the upper hand I was willing to do. Everything revolved around expressing, but it was a struggle. Why couldn’t I produce more? What is wrong with me? Why could I only fill half a bottle when I see other mums coming down with multiple! It was heartbreaking. Just call me the 30ml mum. In the end, due to surgery while my son was still in SCBU, my milk completely stopped so we had to move to formula. I had tried my best and as much as it broke me I knew I had given him everything I could.
Being an NICU Mum is lonely. Although you have all of these other people around you, you are cut off from the outside world… Cut off from reality. If you’re lucky, which I believe I am, you can find some special friendships while riding the rollercoaster of SCBU.
After a lot of ups and downs we FINALLY got to take our precious boy home! Bags packed and oxygen in tow we were leaving the NICU, our home for the past 97 days. It was scary, but we were so ready. Ready to start our life as a family of 3.
Our not so little boy is 22 months now. He has a lot ahead of him but we are so proud of how far he has come. The NICU will always be a part of our lives and even after not being there for over 18 months our minds always wander back there. Christmas, NYE, Easter any occasion we will always think of NICU and the families past and present. Each journey in the NICU can be so different but there’s one thing which will always stay the same ‘ONCE AN NICU MUM, ALWAYS A NICU MUM’.
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Got your own story of NICU and premature birth to share? Email Catriona at firstname.lastname@example.org