For some reason this preggo journey is the most difficult to remember even though it’s the most recent! I always wanted a ‘few’ kids, naively thinking this would be a given. After Cara I was so grateful to be healthy and to have Cara home healthy I point blank refused to even discuss going again until she was at least one. That was also the advice given by my consultant. She said she always advises a year after giving birth but my section was particularly traumatic on my body and she said it needed the year to recover fully. After Cara’s first birthday we began thinking and booked an appointment in the Rotunda. I wanted to know every statistic, likelihood, risk that may be involved with having another baby. Aidan and I often wonder how the F we ended up together considering how different we are. He really only ever sees and remembers the positives ‘sure you were grand’ and I focus too much on the negative ‘eh Aids I could have died’. Maybe we balance each other’s extremes out?

We met my doctor (separate fee for this extra appointment which she wouldn’t charge me for, have I mentioned how much I love her?) and asked every question possible about going again. She had the perfect balance of answers for us, not too positive or negative, just the facts. I had a one in two chance of developing pre-eclampsia in subsequent pregnancies and a high likelihood of another C-section. The risks of developing HELLP syndrome again were more like a one in four chance, still kind of scarily high considering how dangerous it can be. Aidan took the positives and I took the negatives away from the appointment and concluded that although it may be risky I had already gone through a dodgy situation in which I received amazing care and this time everyone would be on the lookout for symptoms so it might be spotted earlier or not happen at all!

After maybe 2 or 3 months of trying I got my period and was so disappointed. But that disappointment confirmed how much I wanted to be pregnant. The following month I just felt a little different so took a pregnancy test while we were on our holidays in west Clare. It was negative so I didn’t even bother telling Aidan I took one and we went out and I thoroughly enjoyed a few beers. I then got my period but it was late, short and just weird. I took another test and this time a faint positive appeared. We booked an appointment for the hospital to get an early 8 week scan. My dates were all over the place because of that weird non-period. The early scan looked more like the size of a 6 week baby. The doctor said to come back in 2 weeks and we would know more. It felt a bit familiar though and I really thought the baby had actually stopped growing and I seriously expected to miscarry every single day of those two weeks. Such a shit two weeks because I didn’t tell anyone either so the internal worry was overwhelming. Another thing that added to my anxiety in these two weeks was when I discovered a lump in my underarm. I went to my GP who referred me to Beaumont Hospital to have it checked out. Me being me I worried constantly about this too. A day or two before the baby 8 week scan the nausea started. It was beyond blissful and wretched at the same time. Puking in school is never the craic but it made me so relieved that I was sure things must be ok in there. I kept whispering to it to grow and thrive and thankfully it/he did!

8 week scan was much better baby growing grand and strong heartbeat. The doctor changed my dates to reflect the size of the tiny foetus and we were booked in again for four weeks’ time.

Two days later I had my appointment in Beaumont. They did an ultrasound but couldn’t get a good enough look at the lump and so sent me for a biopsy. All that was going through my head was the worst case scenario and how would I get treatment while being pregnant. It seemed to take forever but the consultant was happy that it was a swollen lymph node and nothing sinister. She wanted me back in three months to be sure but I was delighted and felt so unbelievably fortunate.

Due to my pregnancy history I was considered high risk and had loads of hospital appointments. I was scanned so often my handbag was stuffed full of scans that I couldn’t bring myself to throw out so eventually asked for doctor to stop printing them. My early scans showed I had a low lying placenta which I was told would more than likely move by itself in the coming weeks. My big scan at 20 weeks was done by a fabulous sonographer who got Aidan’s humour immediately and was bouncing off him cracking jokes. She did notice that my placenta was still lying low and wanted to refer me back to Jen, my own consultant, to have another look at it. So we waited and had another scan. Jen said that at that moment I had placenta previa. I only recognised the condition because Kim Kardashian had it and I remember it seeming serious but then again one should try not assume knowledge based on Kim Ks insta. It’s a condition where the placenta is lying low and potentially covering the cervix. It was completely unrelated to my previous issues and something that for 90% of women moved after the 20 week mark. My gut just knew I would be in the 10%.

She explained that if it didn’t move in the next 2-3 weeks that a c-section was a certainty, this didn’t bother me in the slightest as I kind of assumed that was inevitable. She also said that it may mean I would deliver early again, possibly the 36 week mark, again this was slightly worrying but I’d had Cara at 33 weeks so I knew the baby would more than likely be ok. Finally she informed me that there was a small possibility that I would have to be hospitalised for a few weeks before they delivered, this was devastating news. I was massively attached to Cara and couldn’t imagine not being with her for any length of time. The doctor reassured me that this was unlikely and we would only do that if she felt it were necessary. I was a bit down about that news but tried to think positive like Aidan.

At 24 weeks I had a bleed. It was the middle of the day on a Sunday and Cara was napping. I calmly went to the kitchen and told Aidan. I remembered from Cara being in the NICU that babies at 24 weeks could survive. We called my mam to come mind Cara and got to the Rotunda as quickly as possible. I was sick with worry and was seen by the midwife quite quickly. They gave me an anti-d injection as I’m rhesus negative blood type so any bleed requires an injection. I was sent back to the waiting room until the doctor could see me. So typical but in the waiting room I met the eyes of a former pupil, one of my absolute favourite students ever. She smiled at me and I smiled back and mouthed ‘hope you are ok’. She nodded at her friend and I realised she wasn’t there for herself. I was relieved to think she wasn’t going through anything emergency wise for herself and thought what a lovely person she still is to be there for her friend. I was called to the doctor soon after seeing the midwife and she told me she had already contacted my consultant given my history. She examined me and told me all was well. Relief flowed through me like an icy water on a warm day. They had agreed that although the bleed was small and had stopped that I needed to be admitted for observation. They said if all stayed the same id be discharged the next day. Needless to say I didn’t sleep a wink in the hospital that night but was well looked after.

All was well and Jen came to see me the next morning. She told me that even though they were discharging me she wanted to see me every week and any more bleeding and I would be admitted immediately until the birth. I was ridiculously gentle on myself the next few weeks didn’t push myself in any way for anything. Aidan was unreal. He really is the best husband in the world. He did everything for Cara and took her every night refusing to allow me to miss one minute of sleep. I’m so lucky.

At 28 weeks I had both internal and external scans. The placenta had of course not moved but she also noticed that I had an artery covering my cervix. So this was serious. This was now placenta previa vasio. The artery was connected to the baby’s blood supply. This meant if any more bleeds happened or my body went into any sort of labour or God forbid the pre-eclampsia struck again then me and the baby could be in serious trouble. If I went into labour it could rupture this artery causing scary blood loss for me and the baby. So she smiled at me when I asked her if she was admitting me there and then. ‘Not right now’ she answered me. I was 28 weeks and I was envisioning 8 weeks without my favourite person in the world. Unthinkable. She told me to come back in a week, bags packed for the long haul. She said their goal was now to get me to 36 weeks and plan a c-section for that week. I was now 100% certain I was having another tiny baby but was hoping the extra few weeks might make them stronger than tiny Cara was.

I was resigned enough to what was coming and also very sure I would be in the best possible place if anything did happen and I kind of went into organisation mode for Cara (very unlike me). I started planning the logistics of me not being there. We organised it well with the support of both families and I packed my hospital holiday bag. I spent every minute of that week with Cara on my lap and in my arms, I soaked up her smell, her laugh, her cuddles and even her tantrums. I actually felt like I was coping well until I went into work and told them. Everyone couldn’t have been nicer but I lost it for the first time. I bawled crying with my lovely co-workers and just said ‘why is this happening again?’. They showered me with hugs and said all the right things. Then I balled crying again to Gerard my work ‘little brother’ in his classroom in front of his whole class and legged it and made him SO AWKWARD, Sorry Gerard!

I finished work and tried to leave my folders in a reasonable ish state for whoever was subbing for me for the remainder of the year. I was sad to leave so early when I actually felt so well, it was strange to say the least. The staff gave me such a lovely send off and showered me with so many gifts to make my time in the hospital nice. I’m so lucky to work in such a happy and supportive school.

I went to my last out-patient appointment for Jen to check if the placenta or even artery had moved from the cervix. It hadn’t and she made arrangements to admit me. A lovely midwife found a private room available to me and quickly put my suitcase on top of the bed. It was the dream start to my hospital holiday, blessed to get a private room as I was on the pre-natal ward so of course most of the women admitted were in labour so sleep may not have been as easy as it was on my own. Aidan had taken the day off and treated me to a last lunch out. It was lovely to have a bit of time but I was strangely eager to be in the safe confines of the hospital, I’d been described as a ticking time bomb by a few people at this stage. I got settled in the hospital was given a cup of tea and had bloods done and blood pressure checked. All was well and I felt very safe.

My hospital holiday was grand. I had bouts of guilt about Aidan at home trying to do everything and Cara being shipped to every grandparent and not having me there. The Rotunda is a wonderful place the food is lovely, nurses so brilliant, cleaners so kind, doctors so competent and present and I was allowed visitors every day. I can’t believe how lucky I was considering the lockdown the country has been in since. My mam brought in my favourite little girl every day from half 3 til half 4. I lived for this hour. Mam would chill in my room and id bring Cara to the hospital garden and we would run around jumping in every muddy puddle we could find. When they left Cara would cry ‘mammy mammy mammy’ and it absolutely broke my heart. I would cry too but for much longer than her. Mam would give her raisins in the car and she was grand. Took me a little longer, I hated her leaving even though she was having the most fun with everyone minding her. Aidan came in most evenings and we just watched telly and ate every possible treat going. We probably had more quality time together in those evenings than we had since having Cara! I had so many lovely visitors, family, best friends, brothers bringing me lunch. I walked the hospital a lot and got to know all the security staff. My blood pressure was taken at least 3 times a day and I had a trace every day. I also had numerous bloods taken and another anti d injection, in the ass, not pleasant. The kicks I was getting were so strong I had a feeling I had a little future footballer inside.

After two weeks of feeling too well to be in hospital I had another bleed. I woke up on the 1^st of March in the morning and noticed bleeding and pulled the emergency chord. I told the midwife to call my consultant as I assumed the baby would be coming now, she tried to calm me down saying they wouldn’t deliver this early unless absolutely necessary. I knew the baby was coming it was too dangerous to wait. As it was a Sunday there was an on-call doctor. He came and examined me. The bleeding had stopped and he was happy that I was in the clear. He rang my consultant anyway and she came in that evening. I was kept on the trace for most of that day and went to sleep that night a little worried. At least I was in the right place. That night I got labour pains and there was more bleeding. At 6am I rang the emergency bell again and this time a new midwife arrived and I asked her to call my doctor immediately as the baby needs to be delivered now. She again tried to tell me that probably wouldn’t happen but did as I asked and five minutes later Jen’s friend Dr. Etaoin came in and said ‘hi Sarah you know the baby is coming now yes?’ I said yes absolutely now can you tell the nurses that?

She said Jen was on her way and to ring my husband to come immediately. Aidan was dropping Cara to the minders so was only 15 minutes or so away from the hospital. They prepped me for surgery and within ten minutes Jen had arrived and I was in scrubs being wheeled to theatre. Jen asked where Aidan was and I answered Mobhi road and she made a face. Nothing could have prepared me for how quickly I was being cut open. I estimated about 15 people in theatre prepping me in one way or another. Still no Aidan. Just before she began he walked in in purple scrubs. I had been a ‘trooper’ to quote a nurse up until that point. The second he grabbed my hand I started to cry. I was 32 weeks and knew I would yet again not get to hold my baby. In that moment I prayed for a healthy big, strong and resilient baby. I felt myself fainting and couldn’t speak. I looked at the anaesthesiologist and she looked back reassuringly. I closed my eyes but kept squeezing Aidan’s hand because I didn’t want him to think I was dead. Absolutely ridiculous but I was out of it on all kinds of medication!

A C-section is so strange, there’s really no pain at all but you can feel rummaging. It feels like someone is frantically searching for their pencil case in their schoolbag. In a very short few minutes Ruairi Michael Downes arrived bawling crying, the most wonderful sound. Jen asked Aidan to tell me and he was delighted to report it was a boy! I was as thrilled as you can possibly be while out of it. We had already agreed on Ruairi and I could hear the paediatricians calling him by his name as they did their checks which was lovely. He was again whisked away to the NICU as they were leaving the doctors told us he was a whopping 4lbs 6 ounces, a beast for 32 weeks!

The next few minutes were scary. It was taking a lot longer after he was out than before. This worried me. I asked Aidan ‘am I ok?’ he nodded but I am sure he had absolutely no clue. Eventually Jen said ok Sarah all done, go to recovery and I’ll be in to see you in a bit. In recovery I felt fine and we text our families with the great news. Jen came in and said it was a success but there had been some complications, I’d lost a litre of blood and may need a transfusion in the next few hours. Luckily no sign of high blood pressure or pre-eclampsia but the placenta was tricky to remove. I wasn’t really sure what all of this meant but there was nothing I could do about it anyway. I was taken back to my room and let recover.

The recovery was intense and painful. I needed a lot of painkillers and was not comfortable walking for at least three days. I could muster enough strength to go to the toilet but that was it. I got to see Ruairi that evening and he was in nearly the exact place Cara had been 2 years previous. It was surreal but brilliant to see him. Again couldn’t hold him until the next day but I wasn’t upset as I felt I was an expert at the NICU now. Over the next two weeks he absolutely thrived piling on the weight and learned to feed quickly. The most special days are walking into the NICU and seeing him out of his incubator and after another few days without feeding tubes in his nose. He was also a little pet, never crying just sleeping and eating, happy out. Covid 19 was now in Ireland and the hospital stopped the dads coming to the NICU after about a week and a half. That was tough on Aidan but totally understandable. The staff in there are so specialised I can’t imagine if the virus took hold in one of the rooms and the staff were depleted it would be so scary. After a week I was discharged and was delighted to get home to cuddle Cara. After another week we brought her baby brother home to meet her and her excitement was too cute I’ll never forget it!

The day I was discharged was the day they stopped all visitors including dads to the hospital. I can’t find the words to describe how lucky I felt with the timings and when we got out. The whole of Ireland was isolating and Ruairi got to meet his extended family through our front room window. He was 5 pounds coming home and I was expressing to feed him. I had built up quite a stash of breast milk to keep him going for a while. It was hard work with Aidan back in work and Cara needing way more attention but I felt it was worth it.

At home the recovery was taking longer than id expected and hoped. I was weak and tired and had bad pains when going to the toilet. I went back to Jen and she diagnosed an e-coli infection. Im allergic to penicillin so it was difficult to find an antibiotic that would work for me. I was also suffering with sharp bowl spasms which at times were so painful I would cry out and have to bend down on my knees. Theses lasted a good few weeks and I was very glad to see the back of them. I also had to inject myself daily with inohep to reduce the chance of a blood clot. Another gross after effect of a complicated surgery. Id say it took the full 6 weeks to feel back to myself.

One day I will never ever forget and still can’t really think about it without getting upset is when I went out to put more breast milk in the freezer when I noticed the door ajar. All of my milk had thawed. All of my hours expressing every three hours for the past 6 weeks was gone. All that time (about 30 minutes to express each time every three hours every day and every night) away from my kids on a stupid fucking milking machine, all gone, all for nothing. I can’t really describe how utterly devastated and disappointed I was. Aidan held me as I cried over my spilled milk. Then I went into my two little miracles and ate a shit load of chocolate and got over it.

Thank you if you made it to the end of this ridiculously long essay! Writing about these moments in my life has been so therapeutic I would highly recommend it to anyone who has given birth whatever the circumstances!