“He was born at 40+6, so why was he in NICU?” – Sarah’s story #NeonatalVoices

We found out we were expecting a little before our wedding on January 3, 2024. I wasn’t feeling brilliant and a pregnancy test proved what we’d been hoping for. We were elated. For obvious reasons, we needed to let a couple of family members know we were expecting, otherwise they’d have tried to encourage some fizzy alcoholic beverages!

We got married, celebrated and headed off to the airport for the honeymoon. I struggle with flying but this was like a hangover of all hangovers. I didn’t want to enjoy the beach; I didn’t want to be loved by my husband; it was horrendous. Towards the end of March, I still wasn’t great and ended up bed-bound for two weeks.

Eventually, I had my booking appointment with a midwife. We calculated the ETD as 24/10/2024. Just four days after my daughter turns nine! We couldn’t have timed it any closer.

Anyway, weeks went by. The first scan revealed just the one baby, but nothing to worry about. A few more weeks passed, and the second scan came round. I’d still been feeling pretty rough, but when the sonographer said we were expecting a boy, I was over the moon! A daughter and a son. My family was going to be 100% complete. I smiled like a Cheshire Cat. The due date has been pushed back slightly to 26 October, 2024.

I remember one weekend I had chest pains. My husband and I went to the emergency department and had to wait nine hours for different things. ECG, CT scan, etc, revealed nothing. They just advised my blood came back with low platelets and recommended I have an iron IV the following day, and to just turn up after 11 am. I had to have two iron IVs a week apart. Everything else showed normal.

Closer and closer came the due date. More and more excited we were to meet our boy. The due date passed. My husband is a lorry driver, and for obvious reasons, he couldn’t guarantee where he’d be when. He’d just changed employers, too. Literally, the month we were expecting to give birth, he changed to another brilliant company with the most understanding bosses. He told them at interview stage that he had a baby due in October and the employer simply said, “Tell us when the baby arrives and we’ll sort it.”

Anyway, days were passing and still no signs of the baby. I’d had a stretch and sweep only days before the due date and was due another on 2 November.

On 1 November, that’s when the drama began. Pain started around 10am. My husband was about three hours’ drive away in his 44-tonne truck and I was in agony. My mother-in-law and my now nine-year-old daughter took me to the hospital. In triage, they checked me over, and sure enough, I was 5cm dilated, but the delivery suite was busy. Apparently, it's their busiest day!

My husband managed to get to me before any significant changes, and we were moved to a delivery room. There I began pushing and pushing and pushing to no avail. I was knackered; it wasn’t happening.

I don’t really truly recall much from here on, other than midwives whispering away, and I said to my husband, “They’re talking about me.” I had a lovely trainee midwife called Danielle. We talked about this being her 40th delivery and that she’d be signed off. I knew my body couldn’t cope with much more. I was exhausted. 

Then the head midwife came in. This is where it is a little hit and miss with my memory. They said they’d take me to surgery to try an assisted birth or opt for a C-section. They explained they were going to pull the lever, and people would come rushing in. A consultant was chatting away. I’m sure he said it was a category 1 C-section.

We were in the surgery room. It was so small. Or seemed that way. There were a good 30 people stood looking over me. Lots of raised voices and a chaotic feeling. I remember wearing some metal boots and my husband being told to leave the room. Someone placed a mask on my face and that was it.

Next thing I knew, I woke in the recovery ward. Midwives were with me but it was a general ward. They came to speak to me. Not that I was completely with it, but they explained they had to perform an emergency C-section due to various complications and I’d had a blood transfusion due to losing a large amount of blood. My husband apparently was waiting in the room upstairs, but my baby wasn’t anywhere to be seen. They explained his complicated birth meant he needed to go to the NICU and would be transferred to Bristol Southmead Hospital for further cooling. I was wheeled back to my husband, who was clearly emotional, but I was completely buzzing from whatever meds I’d been given.

Eventually, I got to meet my son. It was 1 am and I’d been wheeled to NICU, where he was covered in tubes. I cried. I begged him to please stop messing around. The staff were lovely but I needed to leave. It was a horrible experience. He was born at 40+6, so why was he in NICU?

The staff explained that Elijah needed to be sent to NICU because he’d had some time without oxygen, and as a precaution, they wanted to send him for cooling to stop his brain activity and reset him. Due to the complications he had a chance of brain damage so they needed to monitor. They called it Hypoxic-Ischemic Encephalopathy or HIE for short. Apparently, the cord was wrapped around his neck at birth. His transport was booked for 5 am, but no transport was arranged for me.

I was super uncomfortable, pressing the morphine drip every so often. One midwife in particular was so lovely, kind and caring. I remember her coming into the room to tell me it was time Elijah had to be going to Bristol, and they were wheeling him up to me to say goodbye.

It was a horrible experience. Seeing my little 7lb 13oz baby covered in tubes, a little eye mask, and various beeping machines. Why was this happening? Off he went.

A few hours passed, and some doctors came into my room saying how I should be up and walking about by now, and that the medicines needed to be removed. I was in severe agony. I was unable to walk, cough, or do anything without extreme pain.

One of them explained they could get a patient transfer for me, but my husband would need to make his own way there. I told my husband to go home, get showered, food, etc and come up the following day. My transport was 6 pm I think, so it made sense to get a better sleep.

Upon arrival at Bristol Southmead, I was put on the Percy Phillips ward, just near the NICU, where others had their healthy newborns. I was left behind a curtain, groaning and moaning and hoping someone would come to me soon.

I remember the moment the midwife came in and looked round the curtain. She said, “By god, Sarah, what are you doing down here? You should be in the delivery suite.”

With that, they moved me. Various doctors and nurses came and explained I had dilated bowels and a distended stomach. I still looked nine months pregnant.

Elijah, on the other hand, down in the NICU, was double-morphaned and had ripped various feeding tubes out, but all checks were normal. I felt awful being in NICU. Babies who were clearly extremely sick and needing lots of help, and then us. Was my boy really needing all of this?

He was cooled for four days and heated for four days. His machines were all showing perfect readings. We were sent back to Swindon for some final checks and an MRI scan for Elijah, which again showed as normal as it could do.

Nine months later and Elijah is doing very well. If anything, hitting milestones sooner than expected. My husband suffered really badly in the early days with PTSD but as life’s become a little less of a worry, I think he’s feeling better. Or at least he says he is.

I’ve said from the start that I’m fine; nothing bothered me. Deep down, I think it did bother me. We co-slept for almost nine months. I hate to leave Elijah with anyone for a good chunk of time and intimacy 99% of the time is a no-go. Whether this be fear of falling pregnant or just my hormones I don’t know.

I feel mental health-wise, we were not given any support. Matt spoke to GPs who sent him to Oxfordshire Talking Therapies, who sent him elsewhere because they don’t specialise in birth trauma. Eventually, Matt spoke with the GP, who gave him some antidepressants. Matt’s weaned himself off and seems to be doing okay.

I’m still on Sertraline. I’m in an okay place, but returning to work in September, so I'm feeling a bit apprehensive, but I’ve reduced hours, so hopefully I’ll have some work–home-life balance.

Just a crazy time all around.