Why Worry?

Hannah Deacon - 10 Feb 17

There is only one thing that worries me about motherhood at the moment, and that is how not worried I am. Although when the baba briefly sputters on a piece of scrambled egg, it’s also not ideal.

Sometimes, when I log onto Facebook these days, I have a little stalk of any other new mothers I know and their comments are full of “ooh they make you worry, don’t they” and “it’s a rollercoaster”. I am not finding this.

Now, I know, I have a VERY well behaved 7 month old, and for this I am massively grateful (although I am quite prepared for some blisteringly terrible two’s) but I am just not really worried about anything. I honestly think this is contributing to her own chilled out nature.

I do wonder about these mothers; what are you worrying about? You’re home, you’re warm, you’re all fed – sorted! I do realise if everyone’s not sleeping there’s going to be a general air of fractiousness, and God knows if that was us, there would have been more that a tantrum or two along the way (and that would have been just me).

Alternatively, maybe I already used up my quota of worry?

Following the loss of my first pregnancy at 22 weeks in 2015, the second was bound to be stressful. Thankfully I became pregnant very soon after the loss (and subsequent health issues) so I didn’t have much TTC to worry about, but as soon as the pregnancy started there was lots of other issues to be concerned with.

After a battery of early tests the baby was given the all clear at around 13 weeks, and at 20 weeks this was all confirmed again. However, I was continually monitored due to my bicornuate uterus (slight heart shape) as this can cause a shortening of the cervix later in pregnancy. However, as the pregnancy continued, the doctors seemed happy that this was not going to be an issue. Instead, at 28 weeks, I woke up at my Mum and Dad’s house with what I would describe as “a small leak”.

It was early morning so I went back to bed for a bit, but around 9am I woke up again and was pretty sure something wasn’t right. By the time Dad was driving me to hospital an hour later, I was gushing. At the hospital, it was confirmed that my waters had broken and I was inconsolable, convinced I was going to lose another baby, as my Mum sat with me on the gyny ward, surrounded by curtains veiling other women whispering about their waters and inductions. I stayed a couple of days for monitoring and was pumped full of steroids and antibiotics to help the baby mature in the womb and prevent infection for both of us.

I was sent home to rest up (although they no longer prescribe bed rest) and was told that if I didn’t deliver naturally I would be induced at 34 weeks to reduce the risk of infection.

At 30 weeks, the backpain started and my husband and me trolled into Derby hospital, better safe than sorry. I was there all afternoon, and the contractions really started to kick in. Then we were told there was no room at the inn (no beds for baby in NICU) so we would have to be transferred to Leeds St James, at Midnight, in an Ambulance! Just what you want.

I spent the next day in varying degrees of pain, told by the Leeds staff that I wasn’t in established labour, “this could go on for 2 weeks” (I nearly died right there and then), “it’s just wind” (!!!) – you get the idea. They were very angry that I’d been examined at Derby as this could have introduced infection and just continued watch my progress with those monitors you have strapped across your belly.

Unfortunately for them (or maybe just me?) I was having a back labour, which I’m fairly sure I pointed out to them, but they just ignored. Anyway, they wheeled me off to Antenatal, safe in the knowledge that nothing was happening, and some poor nurse tried to reattach my stomach monitors while I writhed around in pain, bearing in mind all I’d had up to this point in well over 24 hours of labour was 6 paracetamol tablets and some peppermint water.

Then I told the poor nurse I was desperate “for the loo” (if you know what I mean, which I’m sure you do) as they’d just given me a laxative for the bleeding non-existent “wind”. Thankfully she had more sense than anyone else I’d encountered up to that point, and popped off to find a Doctor. She rushed back to say “perhaps we ought to have a little look first” – and low and behold: Baby was crowning! Not in labour… my arse.

Thankfully the delivery team and NICU staff that were assembled as I was hurriedly rushed back to the delivery suite (all 20 odd of them) were on it, and we delivered our baby pretty much without incident, or much pain relief.

Then it was only 5 short weeks split between Leeds and Derby NICU before we got to bring our Rainbow home.

So yeah, maybe I ran out of worry some point around then…

P.S. Literally straight after I finished writing this, my baby girl screamed the place down for about 15 minutes for reasons that are not fully clear, and terrified the living bejesus out of me. Just goes to show you are never done worrying 🙂

Hannah Deacon

Hannah Deacon is mum to one Rainbow Baby, Isla, and is currently a stay at home mum. Lover of food, clothes and the occasional glass of vino, you can also check out her Instagram if you're interested.

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