Monday

*Contains details about labour, may be too much information for some!*

We were all settled into our cabin and had had a full day with Robyn on the Sunday. Markets, shopping, a meltdown in the supermarket, trip to the beach and time in the indoor pools. She absolutely loved the pool and I loved being in there with her. I went to bed feeling a bit tried, but that was totally normal. Our first proper full day of holiday had been exactly what we hoped for.

A few hours after going to bed I woke up and felt some slight cramps in my stomach, they were stopping me sleeping. I’d never had Braxton Hicks before but I assumed that’s what they were – I was just over 26 weeks so did not expect it to be anything else. I did worry a bit at that point that if something did go wrong I’d have zero idea where the hospital was. Mark and I both did some late night googling to put our minds at rest. A little while later I could feel that my shorts were wet, I went to the toilet and there was more fluid. My heart sank. I knew something was wrong, we needed to go to the hospital.

Coincidentally Robyn was on one of her usual wake ups so we scooped her up, gathered a couple of things and went out in the dark to the car. It was about 3-4am, Robyn probably thought this was an excellent time to get up and get going! Mark had managed to do some of his usual preparation and we were at the hospital in no time. We thought we were at the right entrance but it was locked, and there was literally nobody around. Mark tried to speak to someone on the intercom system, she could speak no English, my ‘cramps’ were getting stronger and Robyn was starting to get upset. Panic was setting in for me.

We got inside within a few minutes (minutes that felt like hours), and were lead upstairs by two nurses. The place was totally dead, no other patients or staff, the nurses couldn’t speak English and our French was limited to ordering food. Even Google Translate didn’t feel like it was getting us anywhere. I had to just trust them, I lay down on a bed as they talked between themselves and hooked up a few things.

Mark set Robyn up on a chair looking out of the window watching Bluey on the iPad. She loves Bluey.

The next woman who walked in the room was AMAZING; Dr Catherine Frey. As soon as she opened her mouth I was like, ‘thank god!’. Her English was perfect, she was calm and confident. She told me that it was too soon for the baby to come (duh) and they would give me something to try and slow down my contractions to delay the birth. Confirmation – I was in labour. The next unwelcome news was a scan to tell me that the baby was breach – so if the ‘something’ didn’t work then I’d probably have to have a C Section. Oh, and if the baby does come now she would prefer me to be transferred, by helicopter, to the hospital in Nantes (a city about an hour away) because there is a specialist baby unit there. I don’t have the words for what all of that news felt like, but I’m sure you can imagine.

Things progressed very quickly from this point. I’m so glad I had the experience of my labour with Robyn to know what things felt like and when to call things out. My contractions were getting stronger and stronger, I had to ask Mark to get the Doctor back in the room urgently. She came back and examined me and I heard words I will never forget, and ones I doubt anyone in labour wants to hear “I can feel his feet”. Sorry, what?

And yes – we were having a boy, but we hadn’t told anyone. Perfection, one of each.

Robyn was still in the room so I asked Mark to take her away. This obviously left me on my own but that poor girl had already seen and heard way more than she needed to and was starting to get upset. The nurses and doctor were getting their scrubs on and moving me onto a different bed and down the corridor. Everything felt very tense and rushed, there was no time for a C Section. I was already feeling a need to push but was holding on, literally waiting to be on the right bed and the staff to be ready.

Within a few minutes he was born. Silence. They whipped him away into another room. I 100% thought he was dead. I didn’t think there was any way he would survive being born so early and so quickly. For a fair chunk of time I lay in the bed looking out of the window, it was light outside now. All the usual stuff happened – I delivered the placenta, I was examined and ‘cleaned up’. I was left on my own for points while everyone went to him. I just felt totally numb. What the hell just happened.

I’m pretty sure I was there for 30-40 minutes before Mark was brought in. Robyn in tow, bless her. A lady came in and told us he was ok and getting ready to be transferred to Nantes in a helicopter. She asked if I wanted to see him before he left, I said yes. Then I remember turning my head to the side and crying, overwhelmed. I felt ashamed of it at the time but part of me didn’t want to see him, I was scared, I thought he’d look awful, like an alien or something. Surely he was nowhere near fully formed? 

I was wheeled out in a chair to the corridor where the helicopter guys were getting everything ready. I remember the man giving me a really kind smile and the nurse hugging me. Mark managed to leave Robyn with one of the nurses and came out to join me. We couldn’t really see much of him, he was all wrapped up, with a hat on and in an incubator but he didn’t look anything like an alien. He just looked like a tiny baby. I took off my t shirt so he could have my scent wrapped around him. He kept that t shirt with him all of his life, and still has it with him now.

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