Half an Hour Between Life and Death
Here’s something nobody knows about me…
Image © Lukas Becker
Ah, pregnancy. A time of happiness, expectation and excitement. Everyone becomes so hyped up over the arrival of that little bundle of joy that it makes it hard to confront the persistent worries that are undoubtedly present in the back of one’s mind. Despite these little niggles, expectant parents consume themselves inside the safety and comfort of ‘the pregnancy bubble,’ avoiding any mention or thought of ‘what if it all goes wrong?’ This is only natural. But how many of these families are left crashing back to reality when complications threaten to, or succeed in, popping that bubble? A strange thought, then, to think that my arrival into this world occurred as such.
Sunday the fifth of July 1998. My Mum rings her parents, worried that she is experiencing some unusual pains. It is decided that they will wait in the hope that the discomfort will cease. It doesn’t. The pain worsens and Mum finds herself incapable of walking. This is when the niggles in the back of the mind come to the fore. A Fast and Furious-esque dash to the hospital ensues. I realise that this all sounds extremely dramatic but it is necessary to reflect the reality of the situation. I can barely begin to imagine how anyone in this situation would feel. For a woman whose favourite television programme is Eastenders, it seems almost ironic that her one and only child would arrive in such a reckless and dramatic manner. Two weeks early too! We were about to have our very own ‘doof doof moment.’
At the hospital, the professionals declared that the complications are the result of placental abruption. This is when the placenta partially or completely separates from the uterine wall. With only 1% of pregnancies affected by the condition, and only 14% of cases occurring at this stage of the pregnancy, it was apparent that this was much more serious than initially supposed. Mum’s body was filling with poisonous blood. I was deprived of oxygen. There has never been a moment more prominent in my life in which I can relate to the most popular reality TV show of the last two decades … Get Me Out of Here!
But this was not a laughing matter … it was a life threatening one. In fact the doctor informed my family that if we had been more than half an hour later arriving to the hospital then it is highly likely that both Mother and baby would have lost their lives. An emergency C-Section was the only way forward to escape from a nightmare that you would not wish on your worst enemy. Meanwhile, my Dad, in his urgency, decided to stop by at his Mum’s for a Sunday roast dinner on his way to the hospital. I’m not joking. Maybe this was a soap opera after all. I reckon poor Mum almost expected Bianca to burst in wearing her infamous silver jacket and screaming for “Rickyyyy!”
Luckily we are both alive and well to this day, almost twenty-two years after the episode. Half an hour is such an incomprehensible amount of time to base your life upon and can really make you stop and reflect on how precious our time is on this planet. In an instant I would have had my first breath deprived of me, let alone my last. I would have been stripped of any chance of developing as a person and exploring the world around me. The worst part is I wouldn’t have even known. Or perhaps the worst part is that the rest of my Mum’s life would have been stolen too.
It is strange that it is only from writing this article that these realisations have dawned on me, that I have allowed myself to analyse these thoughts. The truth is, I’m not sure that I have ever really delved into it this deeply before. It is not the kind of thing that I tell people, mostly because I detest sympathy towards me. I do not want to be considered a miracle baby and I do not want people to assume that my story is more important than anyone else’s in the world, because it is most definitely not. Far from it. It is not a narrative that is appropriate to bring up out of the blue in most average conversations. How weird if I were to keep this for the awkward icebreakers in my uni seminars. A fun fact about myself. Something nobody knows about me. I think my dramatic birth is much more interesting than my favourite colour (a constant debate between blue and red) or my favourite music (anything except heavy metal and screamo. I have an unhealthy obsession with Latin pop. Oops! There goes another exclusive).
Well there it is! The thing that nobody knows about me is that I was half an hour from never living this life or ever writing this article. Beat that.
To find out more about placenta abruption or other placenta complications please visit: https://www.nhs.uk/common-health-questions/pregnancy/what-complications-can-affect-the-placenta/
