Our Dragonfly
Our dragonfly was born on 21st March 2011. She was seven pounds nine ounces, and perfect. She slipped through our fingers.
Ours was a straightforward pregnancy - lots of activity (her and me) and no cause for any concern. We chose to give birth at home, and followed a hypnobirthing course to help us prepare ourselves for the big day. Both my husband and I were excited, but, as is our way, also calm and clearheaded.
Nothing happened on D-day. We waited and waited and eventually when we'd all but given up hope of labour happening naturally, my waters went and contractions started. We went home (we'd been in hospital for monitoring after a final sweep to see if things could be got going without cause for induction) and by 11pm things were hotting up. We had a wonderful calm (hard) few hours where I went from bath to birthing pool, and then Eliza's heart rate started to weaken and not return to normal after contractions. What followed was not nice: suddenly the mood turned from one of calm expectancy to panic (on my part, and the midwives') as the ambulance failed to turn up. Once at the hospital all is a blur. I was put under a general anaesthetic and in the end Eliza was born by forceps and a deep episeotomy.
The sadness begins after this. Memories of waking with my mum looking at me with love and restrained emotion, holding a bunch of primroses and me trying to be with it and not quite knowing what it all meant. Simon appearing. Looking shaken. In scrubs? Slowly reality dawning as staff member after staff member began to infiltrate the news into me that our baby was not well.
And Simon bringing a photo. This is our girl. And me not knowing what it meant. Knowing what it meant, but not knowing what it MEANT.
And wheely beds and wheelchairs and seeing her.
So perfect. So gorgeously perfect. And vulnerable and sad.
My sister. Amazing strength and beauty in the face of our disaster. Graceful and bold. Helping us with names.
Eliza.
Eliza Lilly.
With two Ls (Simon).
And so began our weird and wonderful journey.
Thank you Lizee.
Ours was a straightforward pregnancy - lots of activity (her and me) and no cause for any concern. We chose to give birth at home, and followed a hypnobirthing course to help us prepare ourselves for the big day. Both my husband and I were excited, but, as is our way, also calm and clearheaded.
Nothing happened on D-day. We waited and waited and eventually when we'd all but given up hope of labour happening naturally, my waters went and contractions started. We went home (we'd been in hospital for monitoring after a final sweep to see if things could be got going without cause for induction) and by 11pm things were hotting up. We had a wonderful calm (hard) few hours where I went from bath to birthing pool, and then Eliza's heart rate started to weaken and not return to normal after contractions. What followed was not nice: suddenly the mood turned from one of calm expectancy to panic (on my part, and the midwives') as the ambulance failed to turn up. Once at the hospital all is a blur. I was put under a general anaesthetic and in the end Eliza was born by forceps and a deep episeotomy.
The sadness begins after this. Memories of waking with my mum looking at me with love and restrained emotion, holding a bunch of primroses and me trying to be with it and not quite knowing what it all meant. Simon appearing. Looking shaken. In scrubs? Slowly reality dawning as staff member after staff member began to infiltrate the news into me that our baby was not well.
And Simon bringing a photo. This is our girl. And me not knowing what it meant. Knowing what it meant, but not knowing what it MEANT.
And wheely beds and wheelchairs and seeing her.
So perfect. So gorgeously perfect. And vulnerable and sad.
My sister. Amazing strength and beauty in the face of our disaster. Graceful and bold. Helping us with names.
Eliza.
Eliza Lilly.
With two Ls (Simon).
And so began our weird and wonderful journey.
Thank you Lizee.