Today I celebrate a bittersweet pain.
Today my son Alex would have been ten/ eleven years old.
Ten years ago today a lot of emotions run high.
By 11 am today I had begun labour pains. I was three days overdue and had an appointment at Weymouth Community Hospital with the nurse for a stretch and sweep.
It worked.
No sooner had I left the hospital has I begun to feel the pain.
By 11:30 I was in the tub trying to ease the pain, by 1 pm I was on the maternity Ward preparing for Alex's birth.
Although anyone who knows me knows that that didn't happen right away.
I was in labour for 8 hours.
By 2 pm my contractions and Alex's movements had begun to wear off but come back even stronger, I was around 5cm dilated. I was in a birthing pool, leaking fresh Meconium.
After no progression after 6 hours, the student nurse I was stuck with began to panic. She called continuously for help, and no one came.
Alex's heart rate was dipping with every contraction I had, I wasn't progressing, my dilation was full.
Finally, someone came, they decided to take me out of the pool and put me back into my suite where we awaited a registrar.
Meanwhile, we waited, a nurse finally broke my fourwaters, almost like a flashflood the leak of Meconium was no longer the case, now I was gushing with it.
I was brought to my suite by 7 pm when suddenly all hell broke loose. Nurses and Doctors alike frantically began trying to save mine and my son's life.
Alex was stuck in the birthing canal. His heart rate was dropping, I was bleeding, things had got so bad in such a small space of time that it was all or nothing.
A registrar came in - he took one look at me, and he was gone, when he returned, he was in full scrubs and ready to go.
Unfortunately, at this point, the damage had already been done. Slowly from 2 pm Alex's damage had already begun.
A c-section was no longer available for me; I had to try and get Alex out naturally. A ventouse delivery was the only way.
I was torn to shreds to get that cup on his head. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. They couldn't get me into theatre in time if they tried.
I was told to push, no matter how tired and drained I felt. 8 Pints of blood you have in your body, I had lost almost 4. And I was losing it fast.
Three times they say you're supposed to pull on that cap. He pulled more than three times.
When Alex was born, he wasn't breathing; he was black. They took him away and placed him down on a bed and hooked him up to everything they could. "The suction isn't working" The one nurse shouted.
I remember looking at my mum. That look on her face I'll never forget. It wasn't quiet shock as she looked over to Alex with all those doctors and nurses working on him. That look was like she'd died there and then. The horror on her face, the unknowing, the vacant expression on her face told me that her whole body had shut down.
I could hardly keep my eyes open, I was so tired, my head felt as heavy as my eyes. I fought to stay awake.
Then a doctor from SCBU grabbed Alex in his arms, rushed over to the bottom of my bed, showed him to me and told me he was taking him to make him feel better, that I could see him later. And then he was gone.
The registrar with the ventouse was still down below me, stitching me up the best he could.
Suddenly the room went from having several nurses and doctors to just two. The one nurse and the registrar remained behind. The nurse examining Alex's after birth that she called, unhealthy but intact.
Alex's placenta and afterbirth had stopped feeding him. It was damaged. The weeks before his birth that I had come into the hospital. The bleeding I had, the pain and dizziness they ignored. They could have alleviated all of this weeks ago if they'd just paid attention to my symptoms. All it took was a scan, and they may have known something was wrong.
I was put back on a drip but heard nothing about our child for another 4 hours. We called a nurse, and she came, we asked her where our son was, what had happened to him. In which the nurse replied with, "Oh my God. You haven't been told yet".
My life had fallen apart in this very room, not hours before; now my whole world was about to come crashing down.
I thought he was dead. I was sure that when that Nurse went out of that room and told us she'd find someone to see us right away that they'd be delivering us not with a baby, but with the news that he had died.
I believed at this point I was part of the parents of babies born sleeping group. I'd gone nine months just to come to the end and lose him.
We waited until 2 am the following morning to be seen by anyone. That very doctor that took Alex to SCBU came to get us.
Alex's dad and I followed him through the maternity ward, out and down the hall to the SCBU unit where babies in distress lived.
The unit was dark, florescent lighting came from small lamps in the corners of the room, helping the nurses see while feeding and medicating these poor babies.
We were taken to the far end room, viewing the side of Dorchester Hospital when we were greeted by a very sickly little boy. He was lying lifelessly in an incubator with tubes coming out of every entry point they could have done. His eyes were covered with a bandage, his both hands in splints and lots of tubes and wires coming from him. His belly button was clipped and wired also. But the only things I could look at was his hat. Out of all the things I noticed the one thing I wanted was them to that was take off that fecking hat. It was yellow. And it bothered me so much that that was the only thing I could complain about. I know I was in shock when I saw him. That's a no-brainer. But I hate yellow, and the last thing I wanted was my dead son laying there like that with a yellow hat on. The doctor was immediately apologetic he got the nurse to change it right away. She came with a beautiful blue and knitted, that I still have today.
This is when I saw Alex's condition. She took the yellow hat off, and his head was absolutely horrific. The ventouse cap has pulled his head so badly it was sticking up like a cone. It was bleeding, there was a red ring of blood where it had been sitting.
I sat in my wheelchair and watched him while he laid there. His stomach was rising and falling so unnaturally he looked like a robotic baby. I fought back tears while the doctor explained to us what had happened to him.
It took 25 minutes to resuscitate him. His ABGA tests were very low but rose slightly over the hours. None of this meant anything to me. I didn't even know what an ABGA was. Of course now, I do, it's the Arterial Blood Gas Test. It's over 0 minutes 5 minutes and then 7 minutes, but they continued monitoring it over the hours he was in their care.
Alex was hooked up to monitors, resuscitators, and life support. He had begun almost instantly having epileptic fits and seizures. They had put him on antibiotics and anti coagulation. He was treated for Meningitis and other things. He was not long taken off the bag when we had arrived; they were bagging him a lot since he was born. They had to suction below his vocal cords because he was drowning in meconium. He has been suffocating on it.
I didn't think there was anymore they could tell me that was going to make this situation any better. I was preparing for the permission to let him die. I just wanted to hold him. They couldn't allow me to hold him.
They told me the next 24 hours were critical, that the only reason Alex was here still was because no matter what was happening to him, no matter how bad it was, his heart wouldn't give in. It kept beating, he was a fighter, and he wouldn't give up.
"He knows he's loved," The doctor told me, "He's a little fighter your Alex. He's surprised us all. He's waited nine months to meet you, mum. Let's get him out of the wood and we'll get you to hold him." He added. I nodded in agreement as tears streamed down my face; I sobbed quietly in my chair as I watched his frail little body struggle. I had waited nine months to meet the little shite that had made my life a misery. The little shit that had broken all my rules, the little shit that changed my way of thinking, made me couldn't wait to be a mum. To be his mum. And here he was, laying there fighting so hard to stay alive....
Passage from - My First Love of Everything - Alexander the Great.
Written by Danni in loving memory of her son Alexander.
Poem written today...
Today you would have been 10,
Who knows how life would have been.
On this day when you were born
On this day every year when I am torn.
Today is not a celebration,
Although in truth it is.
Today I gave birth to the most amazing little boy,
Who's left a massive impression upon the Earth.
Alex is his name
Laughter, Love and Happiness were our gain.
Happy Birthday my little man,
I hope you're happy wherever you are.
I hope you run; you laugh and continue to smile,
I hope you do all the things this world limited you for a while.
Happy Birthday my little prince,
my first born
my baby
my first love of everything
Love n miss you more than words can ever say.
Your mam always xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Today the Fiifth book of the A Broken Paradise Series was released. Alex inspired the ABP Series.
Lineage
Things are coming together, things Awen could never have thought possible eight months ago. All she wanted was to learn more, and who else to learn from than her own people. Awen takes 'the List' from the Company for her own benefit and goes off in search for answers. On her travels around the world, she's summoned by a different kind of Company, a different faction with their own agenda - To find the sovereign, unite the Alliance, protect the Prophets. However, this isn't just some average congregated mass of hopeful fools, this is the Vatican and they've been waiting for Awen for centuries.
After months of searching for answers, she's given up and just wishes to leave the clutches of the Company and the Vatican and head for Los Angeles where her friends are. To live the life she'd never lived, to do the things she'd never done, and be the person she'd never been.
"Los Angeles here I come. Let the good times roll and the drinks flow. It's going to be messy!"
After months of searching for answers, she's given up and just wishes to leave the clutches of the Company and the Vatican and head for Los Angeles where her friends are. To live the life she'd never lived, to do the things she'd never done, and be the person she'd never been.
"Los Angeles here I come. Let the good times roll and the drinks flow. It's going to be messy!"
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