While fighting off another lovely skin infection and a confirmed diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes, it had been a long week. Somehow what I thought had been cystic acne the week prior had escalated into Hidradenitis Suppurativa. The very same skin condition that had landed me in emergency care the day after the news broke of Liam Payne’s death the year before – the very same skin condition I had lived in fear of returning ever since. This time it was on my face, in my hair AND under my arm. Thank god I had an appointment booked with the Obstetrician who prescribed me with antibiotics to hopefully get ahead of it – guess again!
The following few days had me in and out of bed, unable to properly get any rest – on top of that, I was an emotional wreck! Christmas was approaching, we had shopping to do, a grinch to display out the front, a train to paint and cut out, a pool to set up and a nursery awaiting the arrival of our third born. Along with all the everyday jobs that had of-course piled up due to my current state – again! I just felt like I couldn’t catch a break and the braxton hicks had also set in. I tried to limit my daily accomplishments, setting myself one task to complete before needing to rest. Which then wouldn’t last long before the lesions on my head would throb me awake again. It was a vicious cycle and one I remembered all too well. Due to my history with dermatillomania, a recognised mental health condition in Australia characterised by compulsive skin picking – it meant I physically couldn’t leave the lesions alone. As painful as it was, I had to squeeze, pull, cover, uncover, clean and redress the sites several times a day – was it helpful? Defiantly not, but that was how things were for me and why I was so defensive when families sent their children into group settings while carrying bacterial infections. Unfortunately, I was seeing the same traits forming in Charlie, again hence my defence, as for most families, one dose of antibiotics would fix the problem. But for us it would be weeks, sometimes months of constant cream applications, bathing, bandaging and not to mention pain! Fortunately, we were on top of Charlie’s skin currently, he however was struggling to regulate his own emotions again – which in turn was pulling at my heart strings.
He would flat out refuse to go into the kinder room, stating ‘want to go into Mummy’s kinder’ and throwing the tantrum to match. My colleagues would have to welcome him before I made my way across into the kinder room and encourage his friends to go out to the fence and call him over. It worked, but it wasn’t a long-term solution.
Friday saw me leave the building in tears from the overwhelming parent guilt I was feeling. There were just some days I couldn’t do or say anything to help Charlie regulate and I would constantly wonder if it had been the grief of losing Louis and the affect it had on us as a family that had caused this reoccurring dysregulation. Being pregnant again a very possible trigger.
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Once feeling somewhat on the mend, I was finally able to make a start on the nursery. I wouldn’t say it was an emotional experience, but again, more a shift into the positive outlook of our future. I pulled the clothes out of the draws and gathered the pieces that we had already been gifted into a washing basket, before even attempting to compile bedding and towels. The new prints for the wall were a hit with Charlie and I was beginning to realise that he was our Tigger, to my Piglet and Dave, Eeyore – did that make Louis our Pooh? I wasn’t sure, but it had taken this long to recognise Charlie’s character so only time would tell. Maybe our rainbow baby would be our Pooh and Louis another character?
Regardless it was a peaceful experience with all our boys close by.
The weather was becoming a real pain the arse when it came to getting things done outside, it was either too hot or too windy to focus on getting some of our time pressing jobs done. The pool still wasn’t up, we had two escapee sheep continually making their way through the fence into GrainCorp and the weeds were absolutely out of control! This on top of Charlie’s behaviour was becoming a trigger for all of us. He was cheeky, there was no doubt about that! But he was playing us against each other and Dave and I were exhausted! There were also a number of appointments between myself, baby and Charlie that threw the days out of whack. Not to mention the addition of the Diabetes diagnosis, monitoring my diet and my blood sugar levels – it was all just a lot and with no pool to relax in, things were tense to say the least.
Come Friday, I had started to feel uncomfortable. I had spent the morning catching up with an old colleague, which was long overdue! We spent the time laughing, comparing our pregnancy woes and readjusting our large baby bumps – our bumps that were due only weeks apart.
After a quick rest before returning to pick Charlie up from Kinder, things had begun to intensify. I was experiencing more than just braxton hicks, but real pain that would stop me in my tracks and I didn’t know what to do. I called Dave and asked him to meet me at his parent’s place, I expressed that I was ok but something just didn’t feel right so once he had arrived, we would reassess the situation and decide if we were to go into Hospital or not.
I was ok, but the pain was coming fast and once we decided we were going, the pain intensified and we were thankful to be on our way. Every bump on the drive in triggered another pain and Dave commented that he hadn’t seen me in that much pain since labour with Charlie – making things feel all the more real. Bub was still moving and that I was thankful for, but something was defiantly wrong. Making our way up to Birth Suite was a slow journey with the need for several stops, but once arrived we were taken into the same consult room as we had been admitted to months earlier. Again, I was thankful and I was scared. I’m not sure I would have been physically capable of entering the room where we had first heard those horrible words – ‘We can’t find a heartbeat.’
The midwife on duty linked me up to the monitor, reassuring us that bub’s was ok with the sounds of his happily beating heart filling the room. The monitor also documenting the pains I was experiencing. The Doctor popped in to perform an ultrasound, confirming again a happy baby. However, she wanted to confirm my uterus wasn’t opening and to do that they needed to perform an internal examination – my favourite! There was also a sample they could take to rule out infection or pre-term labour – it needed to be done and I needed Dave’s hand to squeeze! It was quick, but invasive and I was screaming as the tears ran down my face. It wasn’t anything the Doctor did or didn’t do, I had history and any internal examination was the same – painful and traumatising. But results were quick to reveal a negative result to being in pre-term labour and that my cervix was indeed closed.
It had been several hours since we had arrived and I was getting tired and hungry, but before long a familiar face appeared in the doorway. A midwife we recognised from our time spent on the ward with Louis, Hayley. She opened the door and offered a gentle ‘hi, how are you?’ She asked about Charlie, checked the monitors and asked if we knew what we were having this time around. ‘Another boy! Three boys, you’re a boy mama!’ she said, it was the first time I had laughed since arriving as I replied, ‘yep, that’s me!’
Before long we were informed that as the pains hadn’t settled, I would need to be admitted overnight onto the ward which now displayed our little Louis’ name on the memorial wall.
This wasn’t a trigger for me, infect I found it more a comfort – I could feel him there with me and as Dave left to return to Charlie, I didn’t feel alone. I felt I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, but awakening to every pain or need to use the toilet – again! Finally, things were settling and it was 1am before I was awoken to the lovely Hayley, checking in and reassuring me that because I had managed to get some sleep there was no need to repeat an internal examination – thank god!
I was awake for a while following Hayley’s visit and I could hear the cries of a little bubba – again not triggering, a reminder I wasn’t alone and reassurance that soon we would be listening to the cries of our own baby. I was hungry again so I made my way down to the lounge area to raid the kitchen. Once there, I was overwhelmed by the sight of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree lit up in front of the window – again I could feel Louis surrounding me.
Before long I was back in bed asleep and the sun was beginning to rise. My observations were taken at 7am and I was anxious to hear from the doctors – I wanted to go home, but more importantly, I wanted conformation that baby was ok! I could still feel him kicking around and after a shower and time continued to pass past 8am, I questioned where my breakfast was – I was getting hangry. The midwife found me some food and hooked me back up to the monitors to check in with bubs – stating if all was ok there was a strong chance I would be cleared to head home.
Dave had checked in via phone call, Charlie in the background asking about his ‘Mummy’. I relayed the lasted and we agreed they would start making their way in, if not to take me home, to at least visit.
Before long the Doctor’s made their way around the ward and although without any definitive answers, the only red flag from results taken the night before was a slight elevation in my white blood cell count. The Doctor’s explained that this finding suggested some kind of infection – great! My skin had ‘possibly’ caused all of this! They went onto explain that during pregnancy, the uterus can be very sensitive and be triggered by all kinds of things – including antibiotics. Regardless, as things had settled without any form of intervention of medications, they were happy for me to head home. The pains were still coming and going, so I was to be cautious, take things easy and return immediately if things were to intensify again. But for now, I was free to head home.
The boys had stopped over to pick-up some new Lego in a hope to keep the child entertained for an afternoon at home – we could only hope! It wasn’t long before I could hear a little voice coming towards my door, ‘Mummy at Doctor’s,’ he said, ‘Doctor’s check baby,’ he concluded before the door opened and I set sights on his beautiful cheeky smile. As my stay wasn’t a planned visit, I didn’t have a lot to pack up so we made our way out of the ward – but not before making a quick stop via the memorial board. Louis’ name was now accompanied by his friend Harvey, who’s family like us had added his name to the wall on his one-year anniversary. The experience was bitter-sweet to see the boy’s names together – for who knew if our paths were to have crossed without the losses we had encountered, but I was thankful.
'Our Little Louis' 