Hubby died while I was in labour
Monday 13th April 2009
It was how things should be. Me with my feet up, hands resting on my swollen tummy, while my husband, Andy, tidied up around me. 'I think that was another contraction,' I smiled. She's definitely on the way.' 'Is that right, Cora?' Andy, 30, said to my bump. 'Now don't go giving your mum any trouble.' I was in labour with our first baby, and we were both nervous, but so excited. It was a day we'd once thought would never come. Back when we'd married in September 2002, I thought we'd never have kids. I had a tumour on my pituitary gland. It wasn't dangerous, but it had sent my hormones haywire, and doctors thought I'd never get pregnant. Instead, we'd thrown ourselves into renovating our dream home, a ramshackle old house in five acres of land. It was a mess, but Andy had seen something in the crumbling walls and overgrown garden.
'We could really do something with this place,' he'd said. It was a labour of love, but seven years later, Andy's picture was a reality. He'd done up the house, dug out the pond and filled the yard with sheep, goats, horses, ducks, cats and dogs. The perfect place to bring up a family. But Andy and I thought we couldn't have that, and knew we were lucky just to have each other, and the lovely home we'd created. Then in July last year, Andy watched in awe as I did three pregnancy tests, each one positive. 'Amazing!' he yelled, leaping to his feet.Later that day, at the doctors, when we saw our baby's heartbeat for the first time, there were tears in his eyes. 'Let me get the door for you,' he said, guiding me up the steps back at home like I was made of china. 'Give over,' I laughed. 'I'm only six weeks gone.' 'But you've got precious cargo now,' he grinned. The pregnancy went well. Andy had a congenital heart defect, and the doctors warned us there was a chance it could be passed on to the baby, but at the four-month scan, our little one was given the all-clear. 'I can tell you the sex if you like,' the doctor said. 'Yes please,' I replied. 'No,' said Andy. 'I'm going to leave the room, I want it to be a surprise.' 'We'll see how long that lasts,' I laughed to the doctor.
Sure enough, one day later… 'I can't bear it,' he said, nearly exploding. 'Put me out of my misery.' 'A little girl,' I laughed. Big softy. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes brimmed with tears. I knew in his heart he wanted a girl. We decided to name her Cora, after his mum. After that, everything Andy did was for Cora. He read book after book on pregnancy, bought Moses basket and put it next to his side of the bed, and hand-painted a huge farmyard mural in her nursery. He even started work on a toy box. 'Goodnight, Cora,' he'd say each night, stroking my growing bump. Then, at Christmas, he had a very special present for me.
'I made them myself,' he said proudly, handing me an envelope. Inside were vouchers he'd made. This voucher entitles you to one full night's sleep. There were also vouchers for nappy changes and back rubs. So sweet.
When my waters had broken, he'd sat up with me and packed my hospital bag. Now, he'd spent the morning tidying, washing up and making sure everything was perfect for when we brought Cora home. At about 11am, it was nearly time to go. My contractions were still quite far apart, but the hospital was a 30-minute drive away, so we wanted to be on the safe side. 'I'll just go out and feed the animals,' Andy said. 'We could be gone some time, and I want to make sure they've got enough food.' It was a big job, so he'd been gone about 45 minutes before I started to worry. 'Andy?' I called, heaving myself off the settee and to the front door. I saw him straight away. He was slumped on the ground by the gatepost. Even from 30ft away, I could see how pale he was and that his eyes were open and bloodshot. 'Andy!' I screamed, struggling over to him, holding my bump. How long had he been there? I touched his cheek. He was cold. 'No,' I wailed, hurrying back to the house for the phone. He's gone I thought. I know it. But I tried to block out those thoughts as I called an ambulance. I've got to try, I thought, racing back to Andy.
As I knelt down to give him CPR, my tears splashed onto his cheeks. 'Cora's coming, Andy,' I pleaded tearfully. 'Please wake up. Please.' Ignoring the contractions, I kept pumping his chest until the paramedics arrived.'It's his heart,' I wept. I watched numbly as they worked on Andy. I couldn't take it in. Despite his heart problem, Andy was so fit and active. He worked on the farm, played tennis, went for walks with the dogs. He couldn't be that cold, still man being stretchered into the back of the ambulance. As I stared helplessly, my contractions were getting stronger. Oh God! The baby. 'Let's have a look at you,' one of the paramedics said. 'My waters broke last night,' I babbled. 'Andy was just going to take me to hospital…'
Then, the paramedic who'd been working on Andy came over.'I'm so sorry,' he said, pale-faced. 'There's nothing more we can do.' 'No!' I screamed over and over. Arriving at Reading Hospital, Pennsylvania, was a blur. All I could think was that Andy was here, too. In the same building. But while I was in the maternity ward, Andy was in the morgue. One by one my family started to arrive. My mum hugged me, Andy's dad, Dennis, wiped away my tears. My labour was progressing slowly, and the doctors had to give me drugs to speed things up. It was almost as if Cora wasn't ready to come into a world where her daddy was dead. But finally, at nearly 9pm, eight hours since Andy had died, I felt the urge to push. 'Your husband is here in spirit,' the doctor said. I knew he was right when after just 24 minutes, and four pushes, Dennis cut my umbilical cord and Cora was placed in my arms.When I looked at her, all big pale eyes and downy black hair, it was Andy looking back at me.
In hospital for the next few days, I was a mess. I couldn't keep my food down and couldn't close my eyes without seeing Andy on the ground. Every time Cora cried, I thought she was crying for her daddy, and I tormented myself, wondering if I could have done more to save him. When I came home two days later, I stifled sobs as I walked through the gate where I'd found Andy. Indoors, everything was exactly the same. But completely different. My family had cleaned out the house, taking Andy's clothes and aftershave, to make it easier for me. Even so, everything I saw was a memory. In the fridge was his favourite crab salad, our wedding photo hung on the wall… My family got me through the next few days, but I struggled. 'Andy was the one who'd read all the baby books,' I sobbed when I struggled to breastfeed Cora. 'He should be here.' I had so many people looking out for me and Cora, but none of them were Andy.Seven days after Cora was born and Andy died, I dressed my baby girl in a black-and-while polka dot dress and took her to Kuhn Funeral Home in West Reading to meet her daddy.
On the way there, I felt numb, but when we walked through the doors and I saw Andy's name on a board, I broke down. It was real. 'I can't,' I said, gasping for breath. 'I can't do this.' Knowing Andy was here, in a casket in the next room, was too much to bear. I couldn't see him like that. But Cora had to. It was her first and last chance to see her daddy. 'Please take Cora through for me,' I sobbed to Mum. 'Put her next to Andy in his coffin.' I wanted her to know Andy's touch, and I wanted his dream of becoming a dad to come true. My sobs echoed around the room while I watched them disappear into the room where Andy was. 'She was good as gold,' Andy's cousin, Tim, said later. It gave me some peace, knowing Cora had seen her daddy. It's been two months since Andy died. It still hasn't sunk in that I'll never get to use those vouchers he made me, or that he'll never get to finish Cora's toy box.But if Andy really had to go, thank God he gave me Cora first. She's been robbed of growing up with a daddy who would have adored her, but she'll know all about him. I'll make sure of that. Cora's a living, breathing tribute to her dad, and I'll love her enough for both of us.