Lisa’s Story
My third pregnancy was filled with the fear of having another very preterm baby or another early miscarriage. We decided to have a private scan at 17 weeks, I found out I was having another boy but he was laying in an awkward position so the scan showed his back where he was facing inward. During this time we had builders at home who were converting our loft making room for our new addition.
At the 20-week scan, I took my mum along as my hubby was living at his mum’s due to her recovering from hip surgery after a fall. As soon as the sonographer started to move the probe around my tummy she immediately asked me if I had lost any amniotic fluid to which I replied I hadn’t. Then more questions were asked as she turned the screen away from me and then she left to go and get her colleague – alarm bells started to ring.
Once the other sonographer started to scan she stated ‘Yes I can see’ to her colleague and then continued in silence.
What felt like ages was interrupted by me asking ‘Could you tell me what you are seeing please?’
Oligohydramnios
It was reported that baby had Fetal hydrops and I had Oligohydramnios. She explained that where there was a lack of amniotic fluid that meant some organs couldn’t be seen. At this point the screen was turned towards me for the first time, it was clearly visible that baby was poorly. His stomach was so round.
Sadly, as it was Friday afternoon no consultants were around and I was told I’d receive a telephone call on Monday.
It was a very long weekend waiting and researching those medical terms that had been shared so briefly. I hardly slept. Looking after my two-year-old provided the distraction during the day but the nights were unbearable; being awake with so many thoughts.
Monday morning came and I had a call from a senior consultant at 08:50 telling me that I had been referred to Fetal Medicine at St Thomas’ where they could do more in-depth scans. I received a call from them within the hour stating that I needed two different appointments. They were both arranged for Wednesday. I phoned my hubby to tell him and he was rather shocked that it was all so quick.
The scan of baby’s heart took around 75 minutes. Although everything looked good there were concerns that his lungs were squashing his heart. For the next scan, we had to wait for hours past our appointment as there had been an emergency.
Sadly, the other scan showed even less amniotic fluid which meant that there were organs that still couldn’t be seen. We were shown to a quiet room where it was discussed with a consultant that perhaps there was an issue with his waterworks due to the lack of amniotic fluid. All the time baby was inside me he was safe therefore, I would come back next week for another scan and reassess. My appointments started to be treated like a to-do list, just ticking them off and waiting for the next one.
Fetal Medicine
On our next visit to Fetal Medicine, we were taken to the quiet room straight away. It was reassuring to see the same consultant that I had seen previously. As she began to scan, she stated that my fluid had reduced even further. That more fluid was visible inside baby’s lungs and stomach, he looked so round on the screen.
The consultant mentioned that my case had been taken to a panel of specialists and that they all agreed that my baby was incompatible with life. There was no prognosis or diagnosis. That the chances of him being born alive were very slim. Even if he did make it, he may only live for 10 minutes due to the fact that his lungs were filled with fluid and unable to function normally. She explained that due to the lack of fluid around him, his limbs weren’t forming properly and that in time my body could effectively squash him to death.
I knew immediately what lay ahead as I looked down at my bump and said goodbye. I chose there and then to detach myself. The consultant stated various options for us to discuss. We went back to the quiet room.
My hubby; ever the optimist, wanted to get more scans, CT scans and a second opinion. He was adamant that more could be done. After he’d finished talking, I told him that I was the one carrying this baby and I couldn’t let him suffer anymore. I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to continue the pregnancy knowing that I would crush him to death or to give birth to then watch him die. It was too cruel. His face went pale and then the consultant came back into the room. She asked what we had decided and my hubby told her his wishes.
Medical Termination
Then she asked me and I looked at my hubby and said I would like to have the medical termination. I was numb. The realisation that those words came out of me broke me. She stated that we could wait another week and see how I felt then. I explained that I’d made the decision and that we needed to get the process started as I didn’t want to feel him moving around in me any longer. It was awful knowing that he was suffering.
She told me that I would need to come back to St Thomas’ to have a potassium injection to stop his heart and then two days later I would be induced at my local hospital. I was offered some dates that were weeks away.
It was ludicrous!
I had to wait a whole week – it was the longest week of my life. I didn’t want to eat as that always stimulated him, I couldn’t sleep or function. I hated being at home as the house was in disarray due to the extension. I existed only for my young son.
The train journey into London was mirrored by the bleak winter weather. Everyone around us was chatting about Christmas.
Once in the quiet room, our consultant came in to go through the procedure and asked me to sign the paperwork. I had to sign my name to my baby’s death sentence.
As I lay on the bed, I told the consultant that I couldn’t look at the scan. I didn’t want to see him so she turned the screen towards her and switched off the larger monitor on the wall. My hubby was by my head holding my hand as I fixated on the ceiling.
I was told that once she located his heart, I needed to stay still and that she would inject him. Then recommence scanning to check to see if the heart had stopped. It was surreal as though I was looking down on someone else. Henry’s heart stopped beating at 13:46 on Wednesday 13th December 2017. He was just over 23 weeks old.
When it was over, I sobbed into my hubby’s arms. I finally shed tears over my baby boy as up until then I had fought them away. I was given a tablet to soften my cervix ready for labour.
Labour Ward
I arrived at the labour ward on Friday at 10 am we were taken to ‘the’ room. It was suffocating as there were no windows but a huge mural of a forest. Throughout the day and night, I received multiple pessaries to induce labour which did break my waters and produce contractions however, my body wasn’t ready to let go so the first attempt didn’t work. We had to wait until Sunday to try again. We were trapped in the hospital.
Henry was born sleeping at 04:13 am on Monday 18th December 2017 at 23 weeks and 6 days. He looked extremely poorly as his limbs were misshapen and his skin was peeling. I knew that I had made the right decision albeit the most difficult choice I’ve ever made.
We didn’t receive a death certificate as he was under 24 weeks. I met the bereavement midwife after Henry was born. As she spoke to me, the cold cot was whirring away and not once did she acknowledge Henry.
We waited for months to find out the post-mortem results as we needed answers as to why this had happened to our baby.
On 28th May 2018, we received the news that Henry had Bilateral Renal Agenesis known as Potters Syndrome. He never had any kidneys. Our boy never stood a chance.
