Dear Emma,
Pregnancy is the most insanely miraculous journey. It's mind blowing. If it's a journey you choose and are blessed to take, I pray for you only the healthiest and happiest of times.
You are now 11 months old and I can't believe that it's time for me to start writing your birth story. In under a month you will be a year old. Time has surely sped up!
Today, I'm writing to you to recall my pregnancy. I loved asking my mom questions about when I was a "monkey on the mountain." Yip. I come from a time when the stork delivered babies and mommies never admitted that daddy's put them in there instead!
So, I hope these bits of: "Emma on the Inside" are of interest to you!
I spent the first 13 weeks of your gestation in Cape Town.
I knew I was expecting you within 2 weeks of your conception!
My earliest symptom was a mouth that continuously filled with excess saliva...
Of course, this soon escalated to unbearable nausea that persisted to week 15.
There was the standard, frequent trips to the toilet and the kind of exhaustion that often saw me nodding off, at my desk, at work.
The best way I have ever been able to describe the 1st trimester is to compare it to a raging hangover! The kind that cures you of even mild social drinking for at least a week.
I didn't really have any cravings.
Rather, with a poor appetite from feeling unwell, I found that if I was in the mood for a certain food at any time, I was driven to the point of distraction and obsession until I was able to track it down and get it in myself. I learnt early on to stay ahead of it... If the cheese burger crossed my mind, get it. Before it consumed me instead!
I did go through a stage with lemons! I went through bags full, daily.
I'd gotten it into my head that it was the only thing that eased the nausea.
Sucking on salted lemons. What a time!
The first time I saw you was surreal. I was 8 weeks along, with your dad beside me in Cape Town. The gravity of your presence was astounding. Pulsating on the screen. A tiny heart, beating just beneath my own.
I was your mom from the moment you were confirmed to me.
At 12 weeks pregnant, just before leaving Cape Town, we had our Nuchal Translucency scan. That's a big one. And, Emma, it was magical!
You were perfect and a show off. Bouncing and sliding down the walls of my uterus, with your 10 fingers and 10 toes and your perfect measurement of fluid.
Incredibly special was being able to share this doctor's appointment with our, Nicci Creed. She dialed your dad in on a video call, so he wouldn't miss out.
But even more special, was having your granny there to hold my hand. She was so excited about you. To see her, see you, for the very first time... What a gift!
It was at this scan that the doctor confirmed whether you were a little boy or girl... with strict instructions not to tell us what she saw! Instead, she jotted in down on a post-it and sealed it in an envelope, where it burned a hole in my consciousness, until your dad and I opened it together, over dinner in AD.
(For the record... Daddy won the bet! I was convinced I was carrying a boy. Your dad always knew you were a little a girl!)
Physically, I really enjoyed pregnancy.
I can't say that I ever felt unbearably uncomfortable, tired or hormonal. (Your father may disagree here!)
I enjoyed watching my belly grow.
I loved feeling you kick. That never got boring or annoying, ever.
I was excited every time you reminded me that you were in there.
I was devastated when my easy pregnancy took a terrifying turn.
Today, exactly 1 year ago, I was 30 weeks pregnant when my water broke.
I made an effort to try to stay healthy and active while carrying you. The morning of 27 September 2017 was no different. I had a slow morning in bed. Your dad was working from home and walked me down to the pool for a swim to start the day well.
By 09h15 I was in the kitchen, still in my swimming costume, when I felt extra moisture.
I say "extra", because I was in wet swimmers. And, because it was nothing like the movies. There was no great, explosive splash, down between my feet. Instead, I was checking up on a spreading, wet warmth.
Out of my swimming bottoms I realized that it was a steady flow of blood and clear fluid.
You're predicted due date was 02 December. You needed 10 more weeks of safe growth. I was panicked. And so, I pulled on jeans and we went off to the hospital.
We lived 14km's from the hospital that we were serviced by. By the time that we arrived there, I had lost so much fluid that I was able to tie the top button of those jeans. A button I had been fastening with an elastic band extender for over a month.
I prayed during that car journey, Em.
I had no idea what to expect, and I certainly couldn't have imagined that in less than a month you would be born or that it would be 5 weeks before I saw our home or the inside of the car again.
Now, this letter is long, but are you getting into it?
Bear with me. This is your story and I want it told...
Pregnancy is generally a time of reassurance a-plenty!
Everyone is always telling you how good you look and how well you're doing.
Doctor's visits, in a healthy pregnancy, are soothing! The doctor generally does what is good and right, and then entertains our first-time mom paranoia. Confirming that the freakish symptoms you're describing are all completely normal, rather than the telltale signs of suddenly sprouting a third breast or developing a humped back.
High risk pregnancy conversations are a lot more sobering. I had only had the fairy tale kind before. I didn't like the way that the atmosphere changed when the doctor confirmed that my water had broken. I didn't like the way that the team supporting him suddenly acted urgently to prepare for your possible, imminent arrival.
Because, as kindly as they were, strapping me up for fetal monitoring, and as gentle as they attempted to be administering the lifesaving injections to boost your tiny lungs... As the mother, this attention does nothing to alleviate the fear that your baby might be born... TODAY.
I was terrified and overwhelmed and sad. Employing every ounce of my strength to remain calm, understanding that adding any additional stress would do nothing to help you.
When your water breaks, it is assumed that you will go into labor within 24-72 hours.
The plan on day 1 was to wait, and be prepared.
I was admitted to hospital, under strict bed-rest. Only bathroom privileges.
Ultimately, that was where I and how I would stay for 4 weeks, until you were born. Resting, being prepared.
Once, and if labor started spontaneously, we would not be able to stop it.
However, the hope was of course to keep you baking. As long as the risk of your prematurity outweighed the risk of infection.
Initially the goal was 32 weeks. By the grace of God, we made it to 34.
For the first 3 days, we had fetal monitoring (CTG) day and night, every 2 hours.
It was exhausting! Day 3-6, it was 4 hourly. Thereafter, every 6 hours.
I would listen to your reassuring, galloping heartbeat so often, that I eventually learnt the value in figuring out how to turn the sound off on the monitor so that I could sleep through our sessions.
We checked on you and how much fluid you were swimming in every 2 days, through ultrasound. The ultrasounds were done in suites 4 floors down. It was an outing I looked forward to. Seeing beyond room 305.
High risk pregnancies are traumatic. Often, we are too busy getting on with the business of being moms, wives, friends and employees; or romanticizing the parts of pregnancy that are pretty, to effectively deal with the parts that scared us or scarred us.
In the spirit of honesty that I hope you and I will always prioritize, I can share with you my Em... This was a very difficult stretch of my pregnancy.
It was lonely. It was the end of the vision of pregnancy you imagine when you have longed for motherhood.
I told very few of my friends and family what had happened or that I was waiting in hospital. In my naivety, I was worried about my mother. Not long before, she had gotten news that her cancer was back. She was so excited to meet you and to visit us. I didn't believe it wise to worry her. Especially when I had no idea what was happening myself. I had no definitive or reassuring news to share with her. And so, I sat on it. Alone.
I told my sister and 3 girlfriends.
All of them thousands of km's away.
I tried to create a daily routine for myself. Wake up and shower. Wash and style my hair. If I had an ultrasound scheduled, I'd wear something other than pajamas and put some makeup on. I was clinging to ways to feel like a civilized woman. I had lived in this country for 3 months and I was stuck in a hospital with barely a visitor. I didn't recognize the horizon outside of my window. I was scared and I missed home.
I'm, ashamed to admit, that I was devastated when the goal post moved at week 32. We had made it and would push on to 34 weeks if we could.
I knew that every day you spent in me made a massive difference. I just didn't know if I had the mental stamina to survive it.
But, survive it we did, my love! And, you have thrived and thrilled me and banished the darkness of that time from the moment your tiny, bright light emerged earth-side.
If you haven't seen it yet, ask your dad to show you.
He captured so much footage and so many images of our bittersweet time there.
Us sharing meals on my bed. Playing countless games of backgammon at the window to pass the time. (Your dad taught me how in the room!) There are fun videos of us racing the wheelchair through the hospital, where you'll see some of the nurses who cared for us so kindly. The CTG machine with the bands wrapped over my barrel belly and me singing and dancing in the room on the morning that labor was induced.
For 4 weeks, we struggled. But, there was always beauty in it my Em. Because, there was always you.
PPROM affects just 3% of all pregnancies. Read up on it if you can. It affected our journey, but it didn't rob us of the magic.
I love you,
Mommy Xx
Ps, here are some preggie pics and some bits of "Emma on the Inside" trivia!
* I felt you kick for the first time at 20 weeks. (this might seem late, but I had an anterior placenta... right behind my belly button, cushioning your kicks)
*I had the most insane dark linea nigra. From my bikini line, up between my breasts. (You can see it in the pictures)
* I have an allergy. My skin react
s to direct heat application. It disappeared while I was pregnant with you and came back after you were born!
* My bra size increased by 5 cup sizes. FIVE!!!
* I lost my mucous plug at 26 weeks.
* I used to call you Sadie Baby or Strydie Baby.
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