snugger

Elizabeth at about 5 and a half months

One year ago today, Gary and I went into the city for the afternoon. It was cold and grey, and I was wearing my Batman sweatshirt. We probably didn’t eat any ice cream, but I’m fairly sure we must have spent some time at Borders, perhaps we even bought books. Our time together as just a couple was drawing to a close, and we were feeling nervous, excited, a little scared. I do remember that we stopped at a coffee shop outside the city library. I had a cupcake and some hot drink, I think Gary had a pie. We then made our way back to the Citycat to get home, probably walking across the bridge to the Southbank ferry terminal.

We had parked near the university, and we may have talked over what we might get for dinner, perhaps we contemplated watching a movie. It was just 4 days from my estimated due date, and I was feeling heavy and tired. We left the parking lot and were shortly heading along what is the main road into the university area. I suddenly realised that Gary had slowed down. He could see that a car approaching from the other direction was driving erratically. Some people were milling about the roadside, appearing to follow the car. It lurched closer. And closer. Gary sounded the horn.

I remember screaming, and I was thrown forward slightly. None of us were injured, though I was quite worried about Elizabeth (at that time known only as Snuglet). Worried about what the rush of adrenalin I had had might do. The woman driving the other car was not completely with it. Our first thought was that she was under the influence of… something. She tried to start her car and drive off, apparently not aware that our car had effectively stopped her from going any further. Gary got out and called the police. The people who had been milling about told him that they had been watching her coming up the road, and had already called the police. She had hit 2 other things already, I don’t remember what they were.

The house we crashed outside belonged to some students, and they invited me in to rest and keep warm. One of the girls made me a cup of tea. I could feel a lot of movement coming from my womb, kicking or punching it felt like, and I kept hoping that everything would be ok. Gary stayed outside. Eventually the police arrived, and shortly after that, an ambulance. One of the paramedics came in to talk to me, she reassured me that everything would be ok, though I later learned that she should have recommended that I go to hospital for a check up. I heard shouting outside. The paramedics were dealing with the other driver. She was diabetic, and she was having a hypoglycemic episode. I’m guessing they must have given her some glucose or something, as she eventually came round and was able to exchange insurance details with Gary, and explain what had happened.

So here’s the first silver lining – Our crash stopped her from going any further. It wasn’t an easy time for us, but we weren’t injured, our insurance provided us with a loan car while ours was being fixed, and it was able to be fixed. But what if we hadn’t stopped her? She may have run someone down and not even known about it. She may have had a worse crash, possibly injuring herself and others. Where does the hypoglycemia end? Does your body eventually sort itself out, or can you be permanently disabled by it? I don’t know enough about it, but I’m glad that she was helped before it went any further. Even though at the time I was feeling upset about what this crash might mean for us.

We had lost a light on one side, but the car was drivable, and we eventually got home. I called our midwife, who, after asking whether I’d been thrown forward, said I needed to go into the hospital for monitoring. I would likely have to spend the night there – without Gary. It wasn’t appealing. But a risk associated with a crash is that there could be abruption of the placenta, which is even less appealing. I called my mother as planned, but didn’t tell her anything of what had happened (Sorry again, mum). We wanted to be sure of what was going on before causing anyone any worries. We called on a friend who I was planning to have present at the birth to take us into hospital so that Gary didn’t have to drive. Our midwife met us at the hospital, and I was attached to a fetal heart monitor and brought a warm blanket. They monitored me for 4 hours.

After some confusion over when I might be going home, I was eventually admitted to the ward to spend the night, and have another round of monitoring the next morning. My room mates were a woman being tested for gestational diabetes – sleeping; a woman being induced – having early labour pains; and a woman with a 2 day old baby – trying to sleep. I didn’t have all my pillows, and most importantly I didn’t have Gary. I didn’t sleep well. Our friend had left earlier, and Gary got a taxi home. I think he eventually got home at about 2am. I had 2 more 4 hour monitoring sessions the next day. I was now more convinced than ever that I would be leaving the hospital as soon as possible after the birth. I’d had my stay in the labour ward thank you very much. After the final monitoring, the registrar on duty came to talk to us. She was the 4th doctor I’d seen since the night before, but definitely the friendliest. She said that there was a blip. She said that if you were to monitor anyone’s heart for long enough you’d get a blip. Hearts have blips. It’s perfectly normal. And there was nothing else to cause any concern. But I should ask my midwife to do another monitoring at my next checkup. Then she let me escape home.

There was no facility for monitoring at my antenatal clinic premises, so I called our midwife to discuss it with her. She arranged for me to have a full checkup at the hospital day ward on the Tuesday – my estimated due date. They took blood, 11 vials of blood. They did more fetal monitoring. They did an ultrasound.

The ultrasound.

I guess the ultrasound is the second silver lining. It really didn’t feel so at the time. It felt awful to be honest. The sonographer was very impersonal, talking through what was going on as if we weren’t in the room. I don’t remember much, but I do remember 4 particluar words: “we’ve got a breech”. Perhaps she thought we already knew that. We didn’t. What followed was several days of confusion, stress, second guessing, questions, negotiations, an ecv, a meeting with an obstetrician, and something I swore I would never do – acupuncture (never say never). It was a horrible time. I kept wishing that I could just click a little commlink and ask Scotty to beam the baby out. I didn’t want to be in that maelstrom anymore, I just wanted my baby. We began to feel that until we could make a final decision about the birth, I wasn’t going to go into labour. We needed to reach a point of letting go, to let it happen, however it might end up.

But now looking back, I see that had we only discovered that she was breech once I’d gone into labour, her birth story could be very different. We wouldn’t have had the time to think, discuss, be more informed about our choices. We’d have been vulnerable, scared, and would have likely bowed to whatever the registrar on duty wanted to do. Knowledge really is an empowering thing. And silver linings can be seen in dark clouds (even if you have to look back after they’ve passed to see them).