Midwife's lie left me heartbroken
After much heartache, their dream came true
Thursday 8th May 2008
There's nothing like that moment when, after carrying a baby for nine months, you finally meet them for the first time. The rush of love is incredible.
Friends had told me how amazing it is when you give birth, and the first thing the midwife does, even before cutting the umbilical cord, is put the baby on your chest.
But when I'd gone into labour with my twins, Jonah and Teegan, on 28 February 2002, I'd had to have a Caesarean section, so I'd missed out on that skin-to-skin contact. They were already wrapped in little blankets when I'd held them minutes after the birth. Lovely — but I knew it wasn't the same.
So, when I fell pregnant with my third child, in September 2003, I was determined to give birth naturally. But then, at 34 weeks, my consultant, Mr Zaidi, had some worrying news.
'Like all women who've had a Caesarean, there's a risk your scar could rupture during labour,' he explained. 'The midwife will have to monitor your baby's heart rate constantly. If there's any sign of distress, it could mean you'll have to have another Caesarean.'
I really didn't want that to happen. But if it was for the best, I certainly wasn't going to argue. On 16 June 2004, I went into labour a few days early. This is it, I thought, excited. My mum looked after the twins while Len rushed me to Conquest Hospital in St Leonards-on-Sea, East Sussex, just after 2.30pm. But it was another hour before the midwife, Sandra Bickers, now 45, found me a room.
Of course, I was a bit anxious as I lay in the hospital bed. Especially as the baby's heart rate wasn't monitored until 4.30pm.
'You're doing well,' Sandra said, as another contraction began.
After that, she monitored the heart rate every half-hour, and everything seemed fine. At 7.30pm, Sandra's shift ended and we were introduced to our new midwife, Peter Davies, now 45.
'We'll get this baby out in no time,' he assured me. He gave me an injection of Meptid for the pain, but an hour-and-a-half later, a sharp twinge shot through my Caesarean scar. I panicked. My consultant had said this could be a sign something was wrong.
'My scar hurts,' I told Peter.
He held the heart-rate pad against my belly, and I heard the whooshing of the baby's heartbeat.
'The heart rate's up a bit, but it's nothing to worry about,' he said.
At 11pm, as Len clutched my hand, I started pushing.
'Just one more,' Peter said, after 20 minutes.
So I gritted my teeth and gave it all I had, and at 11.24pm, my baby was finally born.
'It's a girl,' Peter announced.
But gazing down at my daughter, I was horrified. Her face was blue, and her arms and legs were floppy, like a rag doll's. Then I realised…I haven't heard her cry...
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