Pregnancy is supposed to be happy and joyful and things aren't supposed to go horribly, but they sadly do. I know there are women that have been through worse, I'm lucky enough to be able to get pregnant, for my body to handle pregnancy and I've avoided miscarriage twice. I know I'm lucky, so there are a lot of women far worse off then me.
I'm lucky enough to have a support group around me that when I feel like there's no light at the end of the tunnel, that I failed my baby and that it was all my fault will pick me up.
Zachary Kevin Golightly was born a year ago today, 2nd October 2012, at 5:10am. I have no idea how long my labour was, I didn't feel much at all thanks to an epidural and the fact the disease that caused his death was making my body want the placenta out immediately. The only thing I am grateful for (if anything) is that I didn't have to labour at home like some women have to, I don't know how I'd cope knowing my baby had died and having to surrounded with all his unopened and brand new clothes and toys.
Pre-eclampsia hit me like a train, but I had no idea I had it. All I knew was that from my toes to my knees I had a ridiculous amount of swelling, I couldn't wear socks or tights and I cried daily my clothes didn't fit. But I had no idea there was anything wrong, I think I subconsciously hid and tried to pretend there was anything wrong. I know I was terrified but I didn't want to admit it. I put it down to working full time and being constantly on my feet. I blame myself often, I should of gone to the hospital, I should of done more. I did go to my GP and he didn't perform the checks and I know that's to blame as well.
I remember going to my midwife and that's when the alarm started going off and my panic set in, there was a lot of protein in my urine, my bloog pressure was sky high, she couldn't find his heartbeat with a Doppler and she glanced at my swelling and sent me straight to hospital. Within seconds of being on the maternity ward I was scanned and it was confirmed, Zachary had died. All I remember is screaming and being held by my partner as I continuously apologised to him, all I thought of was I killed him, it was my job for 9 month to protect my baby and I had failed.
I was moved into another room and I was told that I would have to deliver a dead baby, and depending on my blood pressure that I would be induced and sent home until I was ready to deliver him. My mother called this barbaric but I was numb and 90% of my wanted to leave the hospital and end my life. But I knew I had to stay for Johno, I had to protect him and I didn't want Zachary down. I wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for Johno. My blood pressure was too high and I was told that I had to stay in hospital to deliver my baby, I was then tied to a bed by a spaghetti junction of tubes and wires.
I was then told I was seriously ill, my liver was beginning to fail due to severe Pre-eclampsia, if I left the hospital I'd be dead in days. Zachary's placenta killed him and was now trying to kill me, this didn't matter to me, I didn't care. Zachary was gone and that's all I knew. I had 4 lots of magnesium, to stop me having a seizure, this caused me to vomit and I also lost control of my bladder, it burned through my veins and caused me to cry. It was horrific. It didn't help my blood pressure was high due to my anger about then worrying about me, not about my baby. I was then given an epidural and my labour induced. I kept swaying in and out of consciousness, until around 4am when I felt my hip crack, and was told that was my waters breaking. 1 hour later, Zachary was born, 2 small pushes and he was out. I was told not to look as he wasn't in a way that I may want to remember, so Johno covered my face and held me. My midwife took Zachary into another room to clean him up then she came back to help me tidy myself. Soon after my midwife warned me he may look very pink, his face may be distorted and he will be skinny. Then I met him, he was perfect. He looked like his father, long legs, big feet but my chubby fingers. I was happy, I was terrified he wouldn't look right, and my only memory of him would be of him not looking like a baby. But he did, he was perfect. He was light, 1lb 12oz and his placenta was the size of a coaster. Which put it in perspective how hard he worked and how long he fought for, 4 weeks he worked as hard as he could to survive. I'm very proud of him, he passed away in the best place, inside of me. He was destined to die, and I'm glad it was as calm as possible. I avoided going into labour at home or at work, I avoided seizures and bleeding, Zachary didn't have to fight in the outside world, he was safe, warm and knew he was loved.
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