In HuffPost Birth Diaries we hear the extraordinary stories of the everyday miracle of birth. This week, Rosie Parsons shares her story. If you’d like to share yours, email amy.packham@huffpost.com.
When I was 30 years old, I thought I may never kids – my partner at the time and I had had trouble conceiving. But by the time I was 32, I had three babies.
We intended to try for IVF, but the waiting list was so long that someone at the hospital suggested we try intrauterine insemination (IUI) on the NHS, which involves directly inserting sperm into the womb – and it worked! Well, not only did it work once, but three times over and we found out we were expecting triplets. As you can imagine, I was over the moon.
I was so grateful to be pregnant, but carrying three was hard. At 20 weeks, I felt the equivalent of being full-term. I was huge. My goal was to get to 35 weeks for a planned birth, as triplets are always delivered early and c-section is the safest way to do so. We planned a date for the birth around when there would be enough space for our littl’uns in NICU, the neonatal intensive care unit.
During the pregnancy, I was seeing a consultant every two weeks to be checked over, but I mostly remember counting down until that 35-week mark. The closer I got, the better I felt. But I was massive, I’m telling you.
The last week was pretty awful. I was so big and heavy that I couldn’t even get my leg over the bath to have a shower. Instead, I had to go to the walk-in shower at the hospital to clean myself! At home, I had retreated to sleeping on the sofa because it was more comfortable – I had to sleep upright because I had heartburn otherwise.
When the big day came, I was brimming with nervous excitement. I couldn’t wait to meet my babies, but I was also terrified at the thought of being cut open. It was a whirlwind, with so many questions flying through my head: Was it going to be painful? How would it feel? And how long would it take?
I was given an anti-nausea drink as I was rolled into the operating theatre (even though I felt fine) and, after I had it, I started to feel really sick. I’m pretty sure that’s not mean to happen, but it started to freak me out.
I thought I was going to be sick and that I’d choke on it and die. Honestly, my brain was in another world while they were prepping me for that c-section.
As I came round, I could feel them rummaging in my stomach, but it wasn’t painful. I couldn’t see what was happening, so it was a strange lying there in those few minutes before I was going to be a mother.
There was no concern for my babies’ health at this point, because they’d reached the stage doctors had hoped for. I just waited to hear that cry. Jacob came out first, he was held up above the sheet for me to see. And a few minutes later my daughter Sienna was born, followed by Summer.
Seeing them was like falling in love three times over. I didn’t see them for very long, as they were rushed off with one of the team to be checked over and go to special care, while I was wheeled to recovery.
I was quite out of it at this point, I had lost a lot of blood and nearly had to have a transfusion because the placenta had got stuck. I think it was probably six hours before I was taken to go and see my babies.
Jacob was on a machine helping his lungs breathe, so I couldn’t hold him and had to put my hand through the incubator. The girls were in transitional care, breathing fine on their own, and I was able to go in and hold them. The staff were pleased they were all healthy.
I was in recovery for a week and went up and saw them whenever I could. After three weeks, they all came home. It had been really hard leaving them, so it was wonderful (albeit, tiring) to be with them 24/7 and know that I’d be there when they cried. I was so relieved when we could all, finally, be a family.
My birth advice?
You know your body better than some of the nurses, so stand up for what you think is right. Take on board what they say, but listen to your body and do what you think is right for your baby.
Rosie runs Rosie Parsons Photography.