You’ll get through this

I didn’t want them to leave. And I suppose my face said it all as we stood in the doorway of the bathroom. She had just helped me out of the shower and had applied antiseptic cream to my infected scar. I was bent double, in pain and in grief, and I didn’t want to look at her in the face because I knew that when I did I would have to let go. Those tears would have to streak their way down my face and I would have to admit that there was a baby down there that I wanted nothing to do with. Not in a neglectful way. In a detached way. And then she did what only your mum can do. She took me into her arms and held me. And her words, though brief, have stayed with me ever since. ” You’ll get through this.”

you'll get through this_ghostwritermummy.co.uk

And did I? Did I get through it? Some days I am still finding my way. Some days I don’t think of it at all. Some days I do.

It was snowing. Really thick and heavy snowflakes had been falling all day, and so they had to leave early. They needed to make their long journey home before it became too treacherous. The world was laying down a gentle blanket and pulling me into the cold. I watched the snow continue to fall long after their car had disappeared into the white and I stayed like that for a while. The Polar Express was playing on the television but nobody was really watching it. The baby, for now, was quiet. The world seemed to go to sleep. (more…)


Made to Measure: a perfect fit after all

One year ago, we stepped out onto a path unknown. Unchartered territory for us as parents to be. We’d done this all before. We knew the score. A growth scan was no big deal. We intended to humour the doctors for this one appointment, then opt to cancel the rest. We were so sure they would tell us that baby was small, but everything was fine. We were so sure this pregnancy, my last, would see it’s natural end around 42 weeks or so. We were so sure.

We were so wrong.

As expected, baby was small. We smiled knowingly and told the monographer that all our babies were small. And all were fine. A lot of fuss over nothing, but at least we were being checked. And in the waiting room, we chatted about names and and we talked about where we’d go for lunch. Normal things. My name was called and we trotted off, again so sure that all was fine.

Made to measure: a perfect fit, after all Ghostwritermummy.co.uk

It was a different doctor this time, and her demeanour was strange. She slapped my files down on the small table and asked me to sit on the bed. A student wanted to feel my tummy and listen to the heart beat, was that ok?

That was ok.

The student had shaking hands but she measured and it was recorded. The doctor though, was not happy with her measurement. She took her own, and summoned the student into the side room that connected ours with another consulting room. Thin walls. We heard her tell the student that the baby was ‘too small’ and she must make sure she measured from x to y for an accurate result.

We rolled our eyes. That damn measuring tape!

And so our patience was wearing thin. We wanted out of here. What we got instead, was a calendar full of appointments.

Baby is too small.

Yes, we know. We expected that.

We’ll try to get you to 34 weeks.

Hang on, what?

Made to measure: a perfect fit, after all Ghostwritermummy.co.ukAnd then we’ll take baby out by c-section.

No, no. I want a VBAC.

You’ve had three sections?


You’re not having a VBAC! (laughing. Yes. Laughing)

I don’t want another section.

34 weeks is too early to induce you. And after three sections we can’t induce you safely. Baby is too small for a vaginal delivery.

34 weeks? (more…)


I still wanted a VBAC

Even with the surgery date in black and white, I still wanted a VBAC. Even with the forms signed and the pre-op meds prescribed, I still thought I might have a chance. And even knowing that going into labour would mean an immediate, but not necessarily urgent, c-section, I still hoped beyond hope that it would happen.

One contraction.

One glimmer of hope.

Just one.

Even if that glimmer of hope was going to be dashed before it could thrive.

Just one little flicker of life within. Life wanting out. Life wanting to make itself known.

I still wanted a VBAC~ Ghostwritermummy.co.uk

I was terrified of delivering early. And while 37 weeks is not early to many, it was to me. 5 weeks too early. But if labour began spontaneously, it would mean that baby was ready.

That was what I wanted.

I wanted baby to be ready.

She wasn’t. Her body temperature was way too low. Her blood sugars were not stable. She didn’t know how to feed. (more…)

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My son’s birth story

Five years ago my son was brought into this world, limp and blue and alone. His birth happened to me, despite me and in spite of me. A stranger’s hand plucked him from my tummy as I slept, and he was taken to have tubes inserted. A stranger coaxed that first breath into his lungs and watched as his skin began to turn pink. A stranger held his little body and wrapped him in a blue blanket, safe and snug and breathing at last.

And I slept on.

Luka's birth story~ Ghostwritermummy.co.uk

I knew I was in labour. I’d known for hours but had been too scared to tell anyone. My body was betraying me and I wanted to deny what was happening; I wanted my elective section in three days time, not these messy contractions. Not this fear. Not this terror. And I was terrified. (more…)


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