But I’ll never regret having my princess
As I lay down for the ultrasound scan, I crossed my fingers.
After two boys, I was desperately hoping for a girl – although I didn’t want to jinx anything, so I kept it to myself.
‘It looks like you’ve got a healthy little lady growing in there,’ the sonographer announced with a smile.
‘That’s amazing!’ I shrieked.
I was so excited.
As soon as the scan was finished, I rushed out to the shops and splashed out on all the girly things I’d had to resist when I was pregnant with Declan, then 4, and Dylan, then 6.
The rest of my pregnancy seemed to fly by and, before I knew it, I was at 31 weeks.
Me and my partner at the time decided to go for a meal to make the most of some ‘us’ time before the baby arrived.
The food was delicious – and I was stuffed.
As I rubbed my full belly, I realised I couldn’t remember the last time I felt the baby move.
‘Maybe she’s just asleep at the moment,’ I thought.
I gave it another hour, but I still couldn’t feel anything.
Starting to panic,I called the Delivery Suite at the local hospital, who told me to head in.
I rushed there, expecting bad news, but they quickly found my baby’s heartbeat and reassured me she was OK.
A few days later in October 2014, though, I felt the familiar twinges of labour pains.
I rushed to Whiston Hospital in Prescot, Merseyside. A scan showed that my placenta had effectively died – and the baby was in danger.
‘You have to save her!’ I cried.
‘We’re doing everything we can,’ the midwife said.
Shortly after, I went into surgery for an emergency Caesarean.
This story is from the January 19 2017 edition of Chat.
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This story is from the January 19 2017 edition of Chat.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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