Letting Go: Remembering Poppy’s Birth…

After 4 years, I still struggle with my memories of the night my beautiful Poppy was born. That night, and the long days and weeks that followed, are still lost in a haze of bitterness. Bitterness that has always managed to overshadow the joy of her arrival into the world. Bitterness that I struggle to let go of, even to this day, years after it happened and after everything turned out exactly the way it should have. Exactly the way I imagined it to be.

My labour was fairly short and non-eventful to begin with. I managed through most of the ordeal with just the gas for support, biting down hard on the mouthpiece during each long, painful contraction. My obstetrician was in and out of the room for routine checks. Things were moving along well. Just as expected. I was doing fine. Contractions were getting stronger. I was getting closer to meeting my little girl. A daughter we knew we were having and had already named.

Poppy Lil.

When things finally progressed to the next stage I begged and pleaded for an epidural. ‘You don’t need it’ I heard the mid wife say whilst the rest of the room faded into the background. I saw the anaesthetist turn around and leave. I begged, screamed at my obstetrician to give me the darn needle. Soon after I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to remain calm, keep still, while the needle made its way into my spine. I thought the hard part was over.

I pushed as hard as I could. With every last bit of energy I could gather, I pushed. She was stuck. My obstetrician tried to pull her out but she was stuck. I saw the forceps and looked away. Closed my eyes and told myself not to open them again until I heard her cry. Minutes went by and still nothing. Then I heard it. Not her cry but words that changed everything.

” There’s something wrong with this baby. There’s something wrong with her face”.

And that was it. She wasn’t placed on my chest to hold. She wasn’t mine yet, and all I wanted was to see her. I would know if I saw her. Know that my deepest, darkest fears had been realised by some cruel twist of fate. During the pregnancy it had always been at the back of my mind. At every ultrasound, I had tried to look for signs that it was there. Memories of childhood came flooding back. Facial asymmetry, orthodontics, reconstructive surgery. All I could do was cry. Kenn was cutting the cord. Doctors were being called, there was noise, lots of noise and lots of talk. I didn’t hear the words i was longing to hear. No ‘Congratulations’. Instead I heard words that are forever etched into my memory.

Syndrome. Dysmorphic. Tests.

It was late in the night. Poppy had a team of staff surrounding her. The head of Neonatology, a Geneticist, Paediatricians, Nurses…. Again, I heard the word ’syndrome’ and then Craniosynostosis. They thought the bones in her skull had fuzed prematurely. Her features were dysmorphic. She had a high-arch palate. My obstetrician said that he had never seen a baby like this in all his 25 years. For sure he said, it is some type of syndrome. Or she may just be an FLK. A Funny Looking Kid he said.

I was beyond devastated.

X rays were ordered at midnight. My mum and sister arrived not long after. The hospital was making an exception for us. They knew we needed support. That night I cried myself to sleep. There was no joy. Only fear.

The next day we were to be seen by a genetic specialist. He would determine if all of her features added up to a medical ’syndrome’. I hated that word. Questions were asked and answered. Family history given. Measurements of facial features were taken. Her features did not seem to match any tyoe of syndrome he said. But the obstetrician was adamant there was something there. With all due respect, he said, he is not a Geneticist. There would be more tests done and no answers for at least 6 weeks.

But, there was hope.

On top of everything else, Poppy was moved into the Special Care Nursery. Difficulties feeding due to her palate and lots of jaundice. It was all too much. Then on day 3 while laying in my arms after feeding, she stopped breathing. Turned blue. She was moved to Intensive Care.

I was recovering but Poppy would need more time. There were no more ‘dusky spells’ as they called it but she remained in Special Care for monitoring. More heat lights to get rid of the jaundice. Lactation Consultants to help sort out the feeding issues. I was being sent home without my baby. The hardest thing I had to do was leave her there and drive home with the empty seat in the back of the car.

For the next 7 days we drove back and forth to the hospital, met with specialists, organised follow-up appointments and watched our little girl slowly transform. Features were evening out, she was starting to look different but nothing was certain. There were still more tests and one final appointment with the Geneticist to get through.

12 days after her birth we finally brought Poppy home. She was still jaundiced and feeding was a major issue but she continued to do well. The meeting with the Geneticist 6 weeks later revealed no medical syndrome. No chromosomal abnormality.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

And, at last, there was joy.

Happ Birthday to my gorgeous girl. You are more beautiful than I ever could have imagined…