Placenta Previa is a complication
of pregnancy in which the placenta grows in the lowest part of the womb and
covers all or part of the opening to the cervix. The biggest risk is severe
bleeding that can be life threatening to the mother and baby.
It’s November 30th
2003 and having already suffered a couple of major bleeds mid afternoon my
partner suffers another massive bleed only this time she’s been receiving steroid
injections in an attempt to strengthen the babies lungs in case the baby is
born prematurely. The expected date of birth was a little two months away
still. So that afternoon we found ourselves in the back of an ambulance en
route to the West Suffolk Hospital in Bury St Edmunds. It’s worth noting at
this juncture that despite the bleed there were certainly no signs whatsoever
of my partner having gone into labour.
When you suffer a bleed and go
into hospital they monitor the heart rate of the baby and run through a series
of checks so here we found ourselves once more with mother and baby being
monitored only this time something was different; the babies heart rate was
considerably different to what it had been the previous trips. Now despite
school letters arriving addressed to myself from the school as Doctor Ryder it’s
safe to say I’ve never had any medical training other than being a trained
first hander as my role as a Child Minder. So for me to suggest at this stage
to the Doctor that my partner was in labour would seem a tad strange but I had
done some reading up on the subject so it wasn’t just guess work. The doctor
dismissed it out of hand though. I have no idea how long had passed by the time
a mid wife came onto the ward to do some checks but it seemed like a good
couple of hours had passed. I raised my concerns and stated again why I thought
what we had on our hands was a painless labour. Let’s just say that I might
have had a decent run in medicine had I ever started to become qualified. I don’t
know the exact number of people in the operating theatre that afternoon but I
believe it was over 20. I wasn’t allowed in instead I was about to take the old
fashioned root into fatherhood and I went off to wait on the ward. Time seemed
to stop as I anxiously waited for news. I tried to keep occupied by watching
the TV, just trying to do anything to keep my mind from wandering and over worrying.
Finally a nurse came and found me
and led me down a series of corridors. I was off to see my child. She said
something along the lines of “he’s on the Special Care Baby Unit,” to which I
replied that had ruined the surprise. I can’t remember what she said back but
my mind wasn’t really concentrating. I was thinking I’ve got a son and
wondering if my partner was alright. The nurse promised to try find out if she
was OK and told me she’d let me know as soon as she knew which is fair enough.
I was lead onto the ward of the
Special Care Baby Unit. If you’ve never been on one of these wards it’s a bit
like walking into a library where the silence is only interrupted by the beeps
of life support machines. In front of me was an array of life support machines helping
keep premature babies alive, one of which included my own baby. Now normally at
this juncture I’d have probably have cracked under the pressure but from the
depths of I don’t know where I stood up to the game and this was the first time
I guess I’d ever really felt like a grown up. Probably quite worrying given the
fact I was 25 and probably hadn’t thought through the real ramifications of
what becoming a father for the first time was going to be like for me. I
certainly hadn’t been expecting the first sight of my child to have been in an
incubator fighting for its life.
Inside one of the incubators on
the left side of the ward was my child. The way the ward works is as the
children get better they move around the room until they are hopefully well
enough to leave. It’s quite normal for children who are born premature to have
to spend the rest of the time they would have been in the womb in the unit
before they might get to go home. I was told to prepare for two things firstly
my baby was fighting for their life and might not see out the end of the day.
Secondly if they did chances were that we were looking at a seven and a half
week stay before the baby could go home. Trying to take all this in wasn’t
easy. Now I’ve always been a natural born worrier. I think it might be genetic
as my own father is very much the same. I guess I should have been really
worried at this point but I think I was numb to what was really going on and
the seriousness of the situation facing me. Finally with everything explained
to me it was time to meet my first born child. I was lead to an incubator which
was helping keep my baby alive. Oxygen was being pumped into the babies lungs
which were seriously underdeveloped. I was told that none of the babies vital
organs were working and the baby was being kept alive by means artificial and
there were no signs that the body was responding or beginning to work under its
own steam. If the baby didn’t respond in the next few hours it didn’t look
good. It dawned on me that I really should be preparing for the worst.
Having washed my hands thoroughly
with alcohol gel I was allowed to open the door of the incubator and I sat and
ran my finger over the smallest arms and legs, hands and feet that I’d ever
seen. Even the smallest sock on the ward was far too big drowned the baby’s
foot.
This was my introduction to
fatherhood. This is how Amelia Jane Austin-Ryder came into the world. I hadn’t
had a boy obviously I was a first time father to a little girl who was possibly
hours away from death and I still had no news about the condition of my
partner. I don’t believe in God at all but just in case I was saying my prayers
all the same as a safety bet. Well you would wouldn’t you at a time like that?
It’s only natural I guess and it wasn’t hurting anyone. I can vaguely remember
the next couple of hours but I couldn’t tell you the sequence in which they
happened. I phoned my parents to tell them that they now had a granddaughter
and not for the first time that day, I masked the true seriousness of the
situation, thinking it unfair that everyone was going to be spending the next
few hours worrying and going through hell. I phoned Amelia’s older sisters who
were thrilled to have a little sister and I did the same with my best friend
whose partner had given birth five weeks earlier to my God son. I sent several
texts out announcing her arrival and went back onto the ward trying to find out
any information I could on my partner. Finally they wheeled her onto the ward
where I was sat with Amelia but she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the
incubator convinced the baby was going to die and feeling that she had failed
her and me. I went with her to the ward trying to convince her that she hadn’t failed
any of us but high on drugs and emotion none of it was doing any good. The next
few hours were spent running between two wards trying to convince her that
everything was fine and that Amelia was doing well and wasn’t about to die when
there was a very real chance she wouldn’t last the night. I was asked several
times if I was lying. Of course I wasn’t I said despite the fact that I was
clearly lying through my teeth and wanted my partner to come down onto the ward
and spend what might have been the only hours of her life. I didn’t want to
leave either of them but unable to convince her to come down onto the ward I
thought it best to be by Amelia’s side. Physically and mentally exhausted I was
basically told by the staff to go home and assured that sleep would be the best
thing I could do right now and that I also needed to look after myself. I tried
to argue for a while but in vein. In the small hours of Monday morning I made
my way back to my parents home and managed to grab a couple of hours sleep
before going straight back to the hospital.
Upon returning to the ward I was
told that my daughter had managed to have a wee. As I said I’m not medically
trained and I had to ask the significance of what seemed quite a trivial act by
the nurse who looked like she’d just won the national lottery. I will never
forget the smile and genuine excitement on her face. She explained to me in
simple terms it meant that Amelia’s vital organs had started to kick in. It
might have been one of the smallest of toilet actions ever recorded – something
like 0.2ml but that didn’t matter. She now had a chance. She had also been
trying to pull the oxygen pipes off her face – she’s a fighter I was told. I
felt relieved not only that Amelia was starting to respond to treatment but
more importantly my lies had been covered up. I arranged for the girls to come
up and visit their new baby sister and their mother. Seeing both of them upset
brought out my first tears I’d cried since my daughter had been born. I’d
stayed strong throughout but now I was starting to crumble inside, overcome
with emotion. I have tears rolling down my eyes as I speak thinking about it
now.
Over the next couple of days
Amelia started to meet people from our lives; her sisters, my parents, my partner’s
mother and her brother, my best friend, her best friend. Most importantly I had
managed to get Amelia’s mother down onto the ward for the first time. Whilst
things weren’t great for Amelia and we were looking at a seven and a half week
stay ahead of us including Christmas in hospital, they could have been far
worse in hindsight.
The next few days were somewhat
of a blur but finally Amelia had progressed well enough to be able to come out
of her incubator for the first time. I’m welling up again just thinking about
the kindness from my partner when it was decided that I should be allowed the
first hold of my daughter something I will always be grateful for. She was so
tiny and delicate. The width of her hand couldn’t have been much more than a
centimetre at best. I was petrified I was going to break her like a china doll
in my hands she was so delicate. She won’t thank me for saying so but she
looked like a little monkey looking back she was so hairy but at the time she
looked the most beautiful baby on earth. I was so proud and felt really quite
overcome once more by everything.
As the days went by we were
allowed to get more hands on in Amelia’s care and undertook feeds and changed
her nappies like any other parent would do, the only difference being that most
babies weren’t wired up to machines helping keep them alive. To feed a
premature baby you have to put the milk down a tube which goes down into the baby’s
stomach. The tube can be inserted through the nose or the mouth neither of
which Amelia liked and she was constantly trying to pull it out. I think she
actually managed to dislodge it quite considerably when it had been through her
nose so the staff had changed tact and put it through her mouth instead. I’m
glad that I didn’t see the tube going in or out.
Changing a nappy with monitors
attached to a baby’s foot isn’t the easiest of things. The first time I did it
I managed to knock the wire off which nearly resulted in me having a heart
attack. After the umpteenth time I’d done it I would put my hand in the air to
acknowledge my mistake and calmly put it back onto her foot.
During the time of Amelia’s stay
in the Special Care baby Unit I was still having to go to work during the day. I
would visit the ward first thing in the morning and do the feeds and get her
dressed and changed and my partner would take over during the day. For most of
the time we were passing ships in the night as I was staying at my parent’s
house closer to the hospital. Neither of us was able to really support the
other at that time and it was quite a tricky time trying to juggle Amelia,
work, the girls and every other part of everyday lives that goes on in between.
The staff on the ward were, hand
on heart absolutely amazing throughout Amelia’s stay. The levels of care would surpass
your wildest imagination and expectation not just for Amelia but for the parent’s
as well. Words simply cannot express the genuine gratitude I will have for
every member of staff who cared and looked after my daughter during her stay.
The fact she was home just nineteen days later remains testament to the amazing
job they did. At Christmas time we took every single member of staff a handmade
box of Belgian chocolates as a thank you for all they’d done for Amelia. Amelia’s
eldest sister went on to raise over a thousand pounds at her school which she
donated to the ward.
The cost of Amelia’s stay was we
were told was in six figures. Had I the money I would gladly have repaid it
back to them twenty times over. Raising money for them once more is a way of
once more being able to say thank you to them. The work that a Special Care
Baby Unit does and the teams that staff them can never be underestimated not
only in the importance of what they do but what it means to the parent of any
baby that comes into the world via their special and fantastic care. It’s immeasurable
it really is and we can as parents never fully come back to repaying all our
gratitude. We can only help that by fund raising that we can help other babies
and parents in the future and to do that we need your help. The level of
support has been amazing so far but keeping the word going will help us achieve
our goals and enable us to move onto more projects in the future and continue
to help other people in the name of our amazing daughter Amelia Jane.
Thank you to everyone’s amazing
support so far but an even bigger thank you to everyone at the Special Care
baby Unit at the West Suffolk Hospital. It’s an honour to raise money and to be
able to start to repay once more the amazing work you did for our daughter and
our family.
If you aren’t familiar with the
Athlete song ‘Wires’ look it up on YouTube. The lyrics to the song fit
perfectly to what I felt at the time of Amelia’s birth and more than eight
years later the song has me in pieces thinking about Amelia coming into the
world and the miracle that she not only survived but more importantly thrived to potentially one day
become a Paralympian.