A world made of paper

Updated: Aug 9, 2019


At 18 I was told only IVF would help me conceive due to severe PCOS.

At 35 my husband left me as he got someone else pregnant.

At 38 I met a new partner then 3 months later I was pregnant.

At 34+3 weeks I went to my routine appointment, had concerns about my health but the Doctor said it's nothing - but I could barely walk with the pain.

I wasn't given any antenatal checks even though I had gestational diabetes and was unable to keep food or water down. I was due for induction a week later due to SPD and gestational diabetes.

24 hours later I was dying, Acute Fatty liver of pregnancy was killing me.

My partner took me in at 3am when I woke him by crawling on the floor to get to the loo and crying in pain. When I arrived I couldn't get on a bed, I was scanned standing up.

They said I'm sorry no heartbeat and left us alone for a few minutes.

Then I gave birth within seconds. I was conscious for 6 minutes afterwards then I passed out.

Over the next 9 days I woke on and off, he was always in my arms or in his dad's arms. I kept having to hear the news every time. Eventually the Doctor came in and told me how rare & random what had happened was. His words were "you were dying so your body killed the baby as a survival response". I left and had to learn to walk, eat, drink again over the next couple of weeks while planning his funeral. Even going to the loo was so painful I passed out, my 1st bowel movement was white and like chalk. 16 weeks later I went for the postmortem results, there was nothing wrong with my son medically.

I was told by the same doctor that "having another is suicide and its my job to deliver healthy babies not dead ones" then ushered out.

Since then I dream of a world made of paper, that I can't escape from and those are the only words on them, I hear voices that call me "baby killer" when I see babies. I've been abandoned by all I've ever known. I barely leave the house. My living love was conceived as a suicide attempt, 5 months later. He was born at 34 weeks, 2 weeks before his brother's 1st anniversary.

Birth would have been better if : My concerns were listened to. I was treated in a timely manner. I was given more information on what could go wrong and the signs. My consultant had one bone of human decency.

These are the cold truths that keep me in a state of PTSD, anxiety and depression.

© Make Birth Better CIC 2019

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