The crash

June 17, 2010

I open my eyes and it feels like I have landed in an episode of ER. I am laying flat on my back, have all kinds of things attached to me and there are about 20 faces starring at me.

I recognize my midwife among them. She asks my name. I tell her. Someone else asks me where I am and I tell him in the hospital. How come these guys don’t know my name surely it’s on the file. And we are clearly in a hospital.

I start to think that the whole thing is cool in a weird way as I have certainly never experienced anything like it before. All the 20 faces look quite concerned and are concentrating on attaching me to more strips and drips and monitors. I want to tell them to chill out, that I am perfectly fine and no need to make such a fuss about me. But instead I ask my midwife what happened. She tells me that I passed out.  The nice doctor from the night before is there again and asks me in my native language  if I know what happened and I tell her what the midwife told me. She nods.

At about this point the 20 faces around me seem to relax a bit and things feel less tense and more routine. At some point a consultant comes in and tells me that I have lost some blood but thinkgs are looking all right now. I still think that it’s an awful lot of fuss about loosing a bit of blood.

I feel ok. My partner, my mother and the baby appear again and I am pretty happy and start to make jokes. The 20 faces disappear one after another and I am left with my midwife and someone – don’t know who he is – who tells me that he doesn’t work on Labour ward.

I pick up that the 20 faces were the crash team who were called when I passed out.

My mother and my partner look quite shaky. I am not quite sure why. Days later they tell me that they really feared for my life. Apparently I went completely white and some people look like that when they die. I am still not 100 % convinced.

The day I finally realize what went on is a week later, the day after we have been discharged from hospital. My community midwife comes to  my house on a home visit. She has just read my notes in the morning and she seems quite concerned. We talk about my labour and at some point she cries a bit. And that’s when it really hits home. She is a brilliant professional with many, many years of experience. She doesn’t cry just because someone had a little difficult labour (at this point I still think that that’s what I had). So I ask her if you could actually die in situations like this and apparently you can.

But – hey – I didn’t !

So thank you very much again to my midwife, everyone at the Labour ward and the Whittington crash team for delivering my son AND saving my life.

I am so glad that I am still around to enjoy my son – he is simply fantastic.

And thank you very much to my brilliant community midwife for helping me to make sense of my experience and for the great after care.



2 Responses to “The crash”

  1. Hi Sara, Steve and baby! What a nightmare – sorry that it was such an ordeal but very glad it turned out OK in the end. Look forward to catching up when you’re ready to receive visitors. The offer of washing up help still stands!

  2. Alice Hoyle Says:

    Blimey- sounds scary- I love the community midwives- was it Paula from Woodside team? I made her cry too talking about my birth! Poor love- we must stop upsetting her! hehe

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