The birth of my son should have been the best day of my life.She almost kills us - blog

Maternity - One evening in December, I meet my future husband over a drink.A feeling, laughter, tenderness, a lot of complicity.An evidence.6 years later, we start the baby tests.2 months later, the pregnancy test is positive.We want to keep the secret, but Christmas arrives, so we announce it to our families (let them understand why I sulk champagne and foie gras).9 SA (Editor's note: when we talk in weeks of amenorrhea (SA), we start from the last day of the last rules.We add 2 weeks.), first echo.In front of me, the screen and on my belly, the probe.The midwife shows me the pocket, the embryo, but...explains to me that there is no heart rate.An emotional elevator, I swallow my tears by crossing mothers in the round belly.

I have to wait a week to be sure that the embryo is lifeless.

A mifepristone tablet to evacuate the embryo.Bleeding, physical and moral pains, but that is not enough.A second, 2 days later.Always not.Programming for curettage.The anesthesiologist asks me to go see a cardiologist, because my heart has excited during the operation.An effort test: hyper excitability ventricular.

I have to wait for my return from rules to resume testing.4 long and endless months...A new positive test: no more fear, less excitement, you never know.

6 weeks later, a night of pain, contractions.Fear of going to the toilet...some blood.“Take me to the emergency room.»

Indeed, 2nd miscarriage.

A swelling in the uterus (we will learn that it will be a scar due to the curettage), a programmed hysteroscopy and genetic analyzes for the 2 false layers.

Wait again.

Des remarques: “Le corps fait bien les choses, vaut mieux ça que d’avoir un enfant mal formé», »Ça arrive à beaucoup de femmes, t’inquiète pas», “Il va peut-être falloir passer à autre chose», “Au moins, ça fonctionne», “C’était pas un bébé encore», “Une fausse couche c’est rien, si ça arrive c’est que c’était pas le bon moment»...

Très peu de: “Je comprends», »Ça doit être dur à vivre».I would even have preferred silence.

In our head: the loss of 2 babies and a jealousy that rises for these pregnant women

3rd positive test, brown losses...Little hope.So we try to live normally, we go on a trip to Jordan.Ultrasound, fear in the stomach, the exciting.

And this time, we hear it, this heart that beats.

The months go by, everything is fine, I am in angels, I like to feel pregnant.

2nd ultrasound, a silence: your baby has only one kidney...Again tears.

A week later, back pain.Very bad.White nights, points in the chest, difficulty breathing. “C’est ça la grossesse, tu n’as pas fini, tu n’es qu’à 5mois de grossesse!» Alors, serrer les dents.

Blood in the urine, afraid of renal infection.The future doctor forced my hand to me.Direction emergencies.

Long, very long consultation.Echo, blood test, round trip in the room, midwife, internal then chef.A mass on the liver.

“Madame, rappelez-nous pourquoi vous êtes là et votre terme?»

_ 24sa+6, I came because I have a back pain and I had a little blood in the urine.»

_ You make a Hellp Syndrome.You no longer have plates, you are losing your kidney and your liver.We have to take out your baby.»

Hurricane that takes everything in its path.

I see my husband, her gaze, his pale face, his tears...understands him!

In a few minutes, I am connected from everywhere, in blouse and in the block.

Doctors must do corticosteroid injections to mature baby's lungs as soon as possible and magnesium injection for his brain.I have to wait for this to act and if possible, have a second dose.

I no longer understand what's going on, I got out of my body and observer from the scene.

My family comes in turn, as if to say goodbye.

Blood test every hour to control levels, tensioning every 10 minutes.Urine control.

My hand is in that of Alex (my spouse, editor's note), he is exemplary.I have anxiety attacks, I'm afraid of losing baby and dying.

We barely see my stomach, and yet I am announced that baby may be there tomorrow.

Pediatricians explain to us the management of a baby born at 24 weeks.

A few hours earlier, I created a list of desire to buy on Ikea and I was leaving my students.

My condition stabilizes ... Finally, remains acceptable.Between them, gynecologists agree: a balancingist game will be done between baby and me.We monitor my condition to keep baby warm the longest so that his organs mature.

“On vous a rattrapée par les cheveux»

I finally went up to the room the next day (well I believe, I lost all notion of time) to the GIS: intensive pregnancy surveillance.Blood tests every hour, then 3 times a day then 2 then 1 time every 2 days. Analyse de toutes les maladies possible, car les médecins n’ont jamais vu un hellp qui “stagne».Urine control maintenu.

3 monitorings par jour (qui seront de plus en plus longs car le cœur de bébé fatigue), 2 échographies doppler par semaine, car quoiqu’il arrive bébé sera un “petit poids», mon placenta ne l’alimente pas correctement.So we leave it warm for its organs, too bad for the weight.We will not have both.

Alex has his extra bed, together we manage to keep smiling, to put things in perspective.Together we are stronger.It is my emergency buoy on which I can surface.But the covid gets involved, he must leave, no more visit.I am alone, I wash my dirty laundry in the shower, I do not go out of these 7 m2.My days are punctuated by blood tests, monitoring and meal trays...

52 days, to wait, to hope and to despair.To see external, internal, chiefs, midwife, nurses, psychologist, nursing assistants.

We will not go after 32 SA, because too risky for baby.

“Nous n’aurions pas parié sur vous en vous voyant arriver dans le service»

The gynecologist comes to see me to program the cesarean (given his weight, baby would not support contractions by way). “Au staff, on s’interrogeait, est-ce que le 1er avril ça vous convient?».A hell of a joke, a nice nose.

Dad can come during the cesarean, I barely see it, because spinal anesthesia drops my tension, I vanished, I vomited, I feel shaken on the table.But I hear it.I hear my 930 gram son cry.Marceau.This first name, his first name: relating to the god of war, our fighter and March, the month during which he held.

I go in the alarm clock.The hours before meeting him are endless, especially with the context, they hesitate to take me in neonat.And then finally, after 4 hours I find dad and baby.In her trendy incubator, I distinguish her face very little with her oxygen mask.I open the incubator to slide my hand.Feel your skin, hot and fine.Not thickness of fat.So small, so skinny, so fragile.

I enter my room for care, eat and pull my milk.What I would do every 2 a.m., alarm clock at night, raising myself from the bed despite my scar. J’arrive à tirer des quantités importantes, alors queMarceau mange peu.I will give the lactarium.

The next day, wait for the stretcher bearer (because the fathers cannot come to the maternity service) to return to see my son and my husband, long hours.Decide to go alone by walking like a granny as best they can.

3 days later, I can finally take my son in my arms, in skin to skin.I feel his bones, his skull still soft under my fingers.I also feel these electrodes, these sons, this probe which pulls on its lips.I can kiss her.

Blue light, catheter, blood test, kidney ultrasound, brain ultrasound.Each exam is a hell, we are afraid of having even bad news, because we have used it.Sad habit...

Every day, for 1 month and a half, we will see our son from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., every day for 12 hours we will take it in skin to skin.Every day we will push the milk syringe to feed it.Every day, we will push the doors of the neonat, this other planet in the dark, silent and at the same time if aggressive with its alarms.Every day, we will have our eyes riveted on the curves of the machines, we will be afraid of each apnea, each deturation, each bradycardia. Nous stimuleronsMarceau qui oublie de respirer.We will straighten him, because he is choking by regurgitating, the stuffed stomach.We will learn to take care of it as a porcelain doll.

Then arrives on the day of return home, in hospitalization at home.We made essential purchases on the internet as we could, because with the covid everything was closed and at 5 months of pregnancy, nothing was bought.A nurse comes every day.

Les nuits sont compliquées,Marceau fait des bradycardies, le scope sonne, il mange peu et hurle la nuit.A baby GERD?Colic?To sleep, we take it on us.The only way to calm him down.Before putting it within, we must weigh it on an empty stomach.Then put it within.Repese it to compensate for the lack of milk with the syringe by the probe.We have to wait for him to digest by keeping him standing so that he does not regurgite and risks bradycardia.Then I have to pull my milk.Clean, put in the fridge.I sleep 3 hours per night.

Nous décidons d’enlever la sonde et d’essayer de nourrirMarceau qu’au sein.Food is very complicated.He does not grow.I decide to stop breastfeeding, it breaks my heart.Certainly, nothing will look like what I had imagined...

Consultation pédiatre,Marceau a deux hernies inguinales, d’où ses hurlements.He will be operated.Return to the hospital...flashes of these bad memories.

Ville pediatrician consultation, neonat pediatrician, nephrologist for his unique kidney, physiotherapy, ophthalmo for funds, orthoptist.

Les jours, les mois passent etMarceau grandit tel un champion

Today, he has 1 year, I see him sleeping through the video of the videophone and I am so proud of him.He arrives on the weight curve, with 8 kg 840 and enters the size.Food is still laborious.Complicated sleep.But what a path!

I am always jealous of pregnant women, especially those who complain about everyday ills.I hate people who tell me that their baby is a week prema.I rehash the injuring sentences heard during this obstacle course:

“Au moins, tu as pu profiter de lui avant», “Tu as de la chance de l’avoir eu plus tôt parce que le dernier trimestre de grossesse est très dur», “Ne te plains pas, tu as moins de kilos à perdre», “Contente de ne pas l’avoir vu en couveuse, un bébé préma c’est pas très beau», “Regarde c’était pas la peine de s’inquiéter, il va bien maintenant!», “Bah moi aussi c’était un petit poids, 2 kg 600″

I like even more than before my husband who supported me and allowed us to be there today.And for whom, this path was also very complicated as a father and doctor, knowing what was going on, understanding all these terms, considering the worst consequences.

I learned to recognize the people I can count on, really.

Je suis éternellement reconnaissante du travail des soignants, qui ont su jouer avec la balanceMarceau/moi pour nous garder tous les deux en vie et en bonne santé.

J’aurai toujours peur pourMarceau, que des difficultés liées à la prématurité apparaissent.

I would always blame myself for making him suffer all this.

I will always see him making a apnea in the incubator and having to stimulate him for him to leave, and wait long seconds that his curves go up.

I hope one day to know a pregnancy in the long term, complain about my extra pounds, to be hated in my turn by these women who do not get there, to lose the waters, to grind Alex's hand during childbirth and everythingThis without the covid.

“La grossesse n’est pas une maladie»… Parfois SI.

To see also on the HuffPost: Illana Weizman recounts his postpartum and the taboo that surrounds him

Émilie P.

Mom and teacher