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Saved by Mummy's cuddle

After years of pain, our baby dream was threatening more heartbreak


Published by: Dawn Murden and Emma Pietras
Published on: 29 November 2012

For the first time in ages, my cheeks were sore from smiling. ‘It was fantastic!'
I beamed to my hubby Simon, 43. We'd just been to see Shayne Ward in concert.
Oh god, it felt good to laugh. Me and Simon had been trying for a baby since we'd got together 18 years before. I'd been diagnosed with polycystic ovaries, so despite falling pregnant six times, I'd miscarried every time. It was heartbreaking. We weren't getting any younger, so it had put pressure on our relationship. ‘I can't give you what you want,' I sobbed to Simon. ‘You should leave me.'
‘Don't be silly. I love you,' Simon soothed. ‘We've got each other.' He was right. Even though we both wanted kids, we couldn't let it destroy our relationship.
‘If it happens, it happens,' I finally agreed.
So, we'd decided not to try anymore. Strangely enough, even though I'd given up my dream of a family, it was like a weight had been lifted.
Climbing into bed after the concert, I felt elated. Normally, I'd be holding my ovulation calendar up to Simon's nose. Sex had been so routine, joyless.
But, not tonight. We had the best sex in years! A few weeks later, I suddenly realised my period was late.
What if...? No, I couldn't get carried away. Me and Simon had been our happiest in ages. What was the point in ruining that? Still, I mentioned it to him.
‘Do a test anyway,' he shrugged. Later, my hands were shaking. Two tests had come back positive. I broke down in tears. ‘I can't go through this again,' I sobbed. ‘I'll never make it past 12 weeks.'
Five of my pregnancies had ended between seven and 11 weeks. My dream of becoming a mum had been over before it'd even begun. I couldn't handle any more miscarriages.
‘You take it easy,' Simon said, swept up in it all. ‘I'm not going to let you lift a finger.' I blocked out all thoughts of a baby, though. I couldn't tempt fate.
Soon enough, our 12-week scan had come along. The nurse put the cool liquid on
my tummy. The baby's heartbeat rung out loud and clear...
‘Oh my god,' I sobbed, clutching Simon's hand. It was the first time we'd ever heard any of our babies' heartbeats.
As the weeks passed by, I would panic, thinking back to my first pregnancy when I was 23. I'd suddenly started bleeding and had been rushed to hospital.
‘You've lost the baby,' the doctor said. ‘You were 20 weeks gone.' They had to operate to remove my precious little boy.
‘This is so horrible,' I'd sobbed, looking down at the blue blanket that drowned his tiny body. I'd kept a picture of him in a memory box ever since.
So, I was especially relieved when 20 weeks passed this time. ‘We've made it,' I smiled to Simon. ‘Lets go and buy some baby bits,' he said, all excited. ‘Not yet,' I replied. ‘I don't want to know the sex either.'
Two weeks on, I was watching TV when I suddenly got a pain in my tummy. ‘I'm losing our baby!' I panicked. ‘Everything will be fine,' he hushed. We rushed to hospital and I was taken in for a scan.
‘The baby's fine,' the doctor said. My body relaxed with relief. ‘But the head is engaged,' he added, with concern on his face. ‘You're three centimetres dilated. You'll have to deliver now.' I was only 26 weeks pregnant! ‘We'll do everything we can,' the doctor said.
‘Whatever you think is best,' I replied, tears in my eyes.
After 22 hours in labour, I finally pushed my baby out.
‘It's a boy,' Simon cried. ‘Shayne,' I grinned. Well, he was conceived the night of the concert!
I barely got a glimpse of my precious son before he was whisked away in his incubator. Doctors needed to put him on a ventilator.
Later, the midwife showed me a photo. ‘He's 1lb 14oz,' she said. I was proud as punch. Gazing at the picture, I felt sadness, too. The photo really reminded me of the one in my memory box.
That evening, we went to see him. Wires and tubes snaked Shayne's tiny body, while machines beeped around us.
‘Mummy and Daddy are here,' I whispered. Looking at Simon, I felt such overwhelming happiness. ‘We've done it,'
I mouthed, as he took my hand in his. The doctor was back. ‘We're going to take him off the ventilator,' she said. ‘If Shayne doesn't learn to breathe on his own
now, his lungs will become too weak.'
I nodded. We had to wait outside for 40 minutes. It felt like an eternity. Eventually, we were called in.
‘I'm sorry, but he didn't respond,' the doctor gently told us. It felt like the whole world was coming crashing down around us. ‘No!' I gasped. ‘You can't stop trying!'
‘We've been trying to resuscitate him for 30 minutes,' she said, shaking her head. ‘I'm really sorry. He's gone.'
Looking down at Shayne, I could see his skin had turned grey. The machines had fallen silent. He was gone...
I felt so hollow and empty. We'd been so close to having our own family.
The midwife wrapped Shayne in a blanket and handed him to me. We needed to say goodbye.
‘I really thought you were the one,' I sobbed, nuzzling his cheek.
Tears streaked down Simon's cheeks. ‘We should have him christened,' he said. Every part of my body ached as I handed back my son.
We waited in the hospital chaplain for the nurses to bring Shayne down. Half an hour later, they still weren't there. Simon went to see where they were with our boy.
Suddenly, he burst through the door, panting.
‘He's alive!' he gasped.
‘What?!' I cried, leaning against the wall in shock. Simon pulled me to my feet and I staggered to the ward. There was Shayne in the incubator. His little chest moved up and down in a smooth rhythm.
‘This has never happened before,' the doctor said. ‘We think the cuddle from his mummy restarted his heart.'
I'd saved my little boy.
I was completely overwhelmed. ‘Shayne is still very poorly,' the doctor added. ‘His brain was starved of oxygen. He could have brain damage.'
But I felt hope for the first time. My little one had cheated death...
For the next few weeks, it was touch and go, as he remained on a ventilator. We sat by his side, day and night. Finally, five weeks on, he was stronger. An MRI scan confirmed he didn't have brain damage. He'd fought the infection he had, too.
‘It's time to let him breathe on his own again,' the doctor said.
I was so nervous. What if he died again? Surely, a cuddle couldn't bring him back twice. Five minutes later, though, the doctor came out. ‘He's fine,' she smiled.
This meant I could cuddle him. I was so nervous when the doctor put him in my arms. The last time I'd done this, I'd thought it was goodbye. ‘Hello, darling,'
I cooed, tears pouring out.
Eleven weeks after he was born, we were allowed to
take him home. ‘It doesn't feel real,' I said, staring at him as we drove home.
Now Shayne, one, is the most perfect little boy. He has the cheekiest smile and can already say Dada and Mama. At long last, I'm the mummy I've always wanted to be, and I've got so many cuddles for Shayne. And
it was a cuddle from his mummy which is the reason he's still here with us.
Kerry Welsh, 39, Walsall, West Midlands