I didn’t have an easy pregnancy. I struggled with various problems and immense pain, including subchorionic hematoma from eight weeks onwards.
It was causing me to bleed every day and once a week I would haemorrhage and pass clots the size of my hand.
With every visit to A&E I was told I was having symptoms of a miscarriage and to be prepared to miscarry. It was mentally exhausting.
Following more severe pain at 20 weeks, I was told to stay in hospital until delivery, which was heart-breaking as I was separated from my two-year-old daughter the whole time.
I was closely monitored, and after another haemorrhage at 24 weeks, I made the decision to have steroid injections to support Lea’s lungs and magnesium for her brain; the best decision that I made for Lea.
At 26 weeks, I was in too much pain to move. It wasn’t until two days later that my mum came to visit me in the hospital. I remember we were having a conversation and all of a sudden I felt myself gasping for air, then a sudden pain like nothing I could have ever imagined come out of nowhere and I couldn’t stop screaming.
I still have horrible flashbacks about this now. I just knew that this pain wasn’t normal and that if I didn’t deliver Lea then and there, we were both going to die.
I remember being rushed to theatre with my partner with me on 31 July 2022. I remember hearing the doctors rushing to discuss whether to put me under general anaesthesia or to see whether they had enough time for local anaesthesia.
There were 20 doctors in the room - eleven of them were for Lea alone. Before I knew it I was being operated on and I had to beg my partner to block my ears. I didn’t want to hear what was going on and I wanted to block out hearing what I feared most would happen to me and my daughter.
I could feel when Lea was being taken out and the room just went silent. It was as if the world came to a halt and I felt as though I was at a funeral - no one was speaking, no one was saying what was going on. I kept begging to know whether she was okay but everyone was too focused to respond.
I remember my partner trying to look behind the curtain just so he could give me an answer. Before I knew it a lady tapped me on the shoulder and said, “sorry mummy, we are going to have to rush baby upstairs so that she can be placed onto oxygen”.