Mangled in a fishgrinder while pregnant
Rose and Alex
Monday 25th June 2007
It was a rough day at sea. The ship was pitching this way and that, as I made my way to my boyfriend Alex Laigo's cabin.
'Look,' I said, shoving the small, plastic wand under his nose. 'I'm pregnant!'
How would he take it? His face lit up.
'I'm going to be a dad!' he whooped excitedly.
I realised this wasn't the most conventional place to start a family. Alex, 26, and I were working on a floating fish factory called The Excellence, and we were anchored, 60 miles off the coast of Russia. We'd met on the ship a year ago. It was dirty, smelly work, and it was a long way from my daughter, Karma, 8, at home in Seattle, Washington. But it paid good money.
Karma lived with her dad Thomas Bard, 32, while I was at sea. We'd split up when Karma was just 3. With a little one on the way, perhaps it was time for Alex and I to settle down on-shore.
Wearing jumpers to keep out the cold, and huge, rubber waders, I made my way below deck.
As a quality control technician, I had to check the machinery for bacteria. Once I was sure the huge, vat-like fish grinders were switched off, I'd climb inside, and hose down the giant screws that mushed the fish to a pulp.
It was hard work, but today, I couldn't stop smiling.
'Wow! A baby,' I daydreamed as I hoisted myself into another fish grinder.
Suddenly, an almighty wave crashed against the ship, and we lurched sideways. Immediately, the grinder juddered into life, and the huge screws began to spin. What the hell?
'Help!' I screamed, as my waders disappeared between the screws.
Crunch!
'Turn it off!' I screeched. I was in agony. Just as quickly as it sprang to life, the machine died. It'd been on for just five seconds, but it had swallowed me right up to my knees.
'We're going to get you out,' someone shouted.
But my legs were stuck fast, and I could feel something warm pouring into my waders. At first I thought I had wet myself, but it was blood.
'Help me!' I screamed.
Suddenly, Alex's panic-stricken face appeared over the top.
'You're going to be OK,' he promised me.
I wasn't so sure. As crew members climbed into the grinder, and blasted away at the metal screws with cutters, I felt my strength ebbing away.
Then I remembered my baby. I couldn't give up. After two agonising hours, I was finally cut free and carried to the ship's infirmary.
'We've radioed for help,' someone told me.
'Will my legs be OK?' I asked. 'Let me look.'
'No,' the ship's nurse said, gently pushing me back.
They hadn't taken my waders off. Were my injuries that bad?
I was told that when the boat had pitched, someone had fallen on the grinder's 'on' button.
Alex clung to my hand.
'I hope the baby's going to be OK,' he said. 'I love you.'
After that, I drifted in and out of consciousness. Because of the bad weather and our remote location, it was 17 hours before help arrived. As I was winched up into
the grey, blustery sky, I kissed Alex goodbye and wondered if I'd ever see him again.
Finally, three hours later, I arrived at the Alaska Medical Centre in Anchorage.
'Don't cut off my legs,' I begged the doctor.
It was the last thing I can remember, before I slipped under the anaesthetic.
And the first thing I remember when I woke up? Looking down to where my feet should have been, and seeing the sheets were flat.
'Oh, no...' I whimpered.
The doctor explained that my legs had barely been attached, only held together by my rubber boots. They'd had to amputate them both just below the knee.
'You're six weeks' pregnant,' the doctor told me. 'Because of the blood loss, your baby only has a five per cent chance of survival.'
I sobbed as I called Alex.
'As long as you're alive,' he said tearfully.
I didn't see it that way. It was bad enough losing my legs, but my baby, too?
It was five days before Alex could fly to my side. He did everything, from cleaning the scars on my angry red stumps, to helping me go to the bathroom.
'I don't know what I'd do without you,' I told him.
Every morning, we'd wonder if it was the day I'd lose the baby. But when I was transferred to Harborview Medical Centre in Seattle, three weeks after the accident, he was still holding on. Now I dared to hope our child would survive.
I was discharged, and Alex, Karma and I rented a new home. I got around in a wheelchair but, as my belly began to swell, I started to panic.
'How will I cope with a baby and no legs?' I asked Alex.
'You'll manage,' he assured me.
I didn't know quite how.
I started to learn how to walk with my new prosthetic legs but, by the time I felt contractions on 21 June 2006, I still hadn't mastered it. But the baby wasn't going to wait for me. After five hours in labour, my 7lb 2oz son, Aries, arrived.
'He's perfect!' I wept.
Aries has just turned 1 now, and we all dote on him. I'm learning to get around on my new legs, and Alex and I couldn't be happier. We picked our son's name because in mythology Aries is the god of war, and there's no doubt he's a little warrior. Just like his mum, he survived when the odds were stacked against him. We're a pair of fighters.
Read more amazing baby stories only from Pick Me Up:
The battle of the babies
Pregnant with two babies... but not twins!