My two boys: our journey through premature birth and intensive care

Catherine has two boys, Francis and Victor. Both were born prematurely, by C-section, although the two experiences were wildly different. Francis’s birth was more traumatic ‘on paper’, but it was during Victor’s birth that Catherine thought the professionals involved could have made a big difference if they had really listened to her.

TRIGGER WARNING: Please read this story with care. If you’re finding the content challenging, please give yourself permission to step away. If you need support click here, if you need urgent help click here.

In my first pregnancy, the problems started when I had a major bleed at 19 weeks. From then on I was in and out of hospital, and I started having contractions at 25 weeks. Early on Boxing Day morning (with a baby due at the end of March!) I went to maternity triage yet again. This time I had started dilating. I was given drugs to lessen the contractions – every day counts at that gestation – but in the middle of the night things accelerated when I started bleeding heavily. The obstetrician took one look and pressed the emergency button, stating ‘cord presenting’. My baby was on his way, three months early, breech, and umbilical cord first. The theatre team materialised in seconds, threading my arms into a gown, placing consent forms under my nose, and wheeling me to theatre.

Distraction
Francis, born weighing one kilogramme, was immediately taken away. While I was being stitched up, my husband Vikram was invited to go and see him. I didn’t want to be left alone, but the anaesthetist distracted me by showing me photos of her two kids. She said that she and her husband both worked at the hospital, and both of their children had been born there. Her openness in sharing that detail about her own life really helped me feel calmer, and I’ll always remember it. When Vikram returned with some photos of Francis, I couldn’t stop asking everyone if he was alive. I just kept asking again and again, ‘Are you sure he’s alive?’

“It was incredible to finally have him home, but a big challenge caring for a baby with high needs. Two months later I discovered I was pregnant again.”

Home at last
I first held Francis when he was a week old. He was still on a ventilator, so it was a delicate, frightening process. Premature babies typically stay in hospital until their due dates, but Francis did not come home until he was six months old, still on oxygen and tube-fed. It was incredible to have him home at last, but a big challenge caring for a baby with such high needs. Two months later things became even more interesting, when I discovered I was pregnant again.

Any predictability welcome
My second pregnancy was also spent in and out of hospital, this time due to Francis’s health. He suffered repeated respiratory crises and was admitted to intensive care four times, each time on a ventilator, in an induced coma. It was such a strange feeling, sitting beside him, stroking his still hand, whilst my unborn baby kicked inside me. At times we were told that he would not make it. Vikram and I didn’t know whether we should buy a cot for the new baby, or a double buggy, because we were not sure whether we would have two children, or one. Thankfully, I did not suffer complications in the second pregnancy. My obstetrician told me that I would have to have another C-section, as my due date fell less than eighteen months after my first caesarean. To me this was a relief – any predictability was welcome.

“I remember the lovely midwife holding my arm and saying: ‘Are you crying because the examination hurt, or because of something else?’”

'Stomach pains’
When I was 28 weeks pregnant, Francis had another intensive care admission and was in hospital for five weeks. The night that we came home, I fell ill with a sickness bug. When I started having ‘stomach pains’ at regular intervals, Vikram persuaded me to go to hospital. Leaving Francis with him, I went off on my own. At maternity triage, the doctor found that I was dilating. I was so shocked that I had what I think must have been a panic attack. I was hyperventilating and couldn’t speak. I remember the midwife, who was lovely, holding my arm and saying, ‘Are you crying because the examination hurt, or because of something else?’ When I calmed down enough to talk, I explained about Francis’s extreme complications of prematurity.

Pressured
My dad joined me at the hospital. Things were progressing very quickly, and the consultant said that there was no reason not to try for a natural delivery. I explained that I had been told this was risky so soon after a prior C-section. I also explained my circumstances: that my son had just been discharged from an intensive care admission, that I had not eaten or drunk for twenty hours (no joke if you’re diabetic), that I did not have my partner with me and that I was totally unprepared. The doctor again assured me that there shouldn’t be any extra risk. I understand that he was the expert, but that did not change the fact that I had been told that a natural delivery would be unsafe. I still can’t quite believe that, knowing everything we had been through, having witnessed my panic attack, and seeing me accompanied by my bewildered dad (no offence, Dad), he thought it appropriate to pressure me into a natural delivery, when my firm preference was for the ‘planned section’ written clearly in my notes.

“The fact that I had to advocate so hard for myself when I was so vulnerable, still makes me angry”

Advocating hard
I held firm and reiterated my concerns, and eventually he conceded. I know that unnecessary surgery is best avoided, but my circumstances were extreme. The fact that I had to advocate so hard for myself when I was so vulnerable, still makes me angry. I’m also aware of the social privileges that gave me a better chance of being listened to: I wonder if the same grace would have be given to someone who did not speak English confidently, to someone of a different ethnic or class background?

A quick glimpse
Vikram made it in the nick of time, and the surgery went smoothly. Moments after Victor was delivered, we heard him cry, which was the sweetest sound on earth – Francis could not make a noise until he was six weeks old. He even got waved in front of me for a quick glimpse before being taken off to special care. Later that night he developed breathing difficulties and had to be taken to another hospital. Vikram went with him, but I was not able to see him until he was four days old. Happily, he made great progress and was discharged when he was two and a half weeks old: happy, healthy and feeding well.

“When I see them storming the playground and attempting climbing frames, I can scarcely believe how far they have come”

Making sense
I started keeping a diary when Francis was days old, initially just to keep track of events, but later to make sense of our experiences. I had no idea that his journey would be so complicated, or that I would have a second premature baby, let alone so soon. Given that Victor’s arrival was less dramatic, it’s easy for me to sometimes dismiss or overlook what he and I went through, which by most people’s standards would be quite extreme. I’m interested in how early adverse experiences affect people in the longer term, and I’m now writing a book about my journey through premature birth and intensive care, and its legacy.  

These days, Francis is free of oxygen, and both boys are doing well. When I see them storming the playground and attempting climbing frames well above their pay grade, I can scarcely believe how far they have come.