A Scary Start

We tried to conceive for about 4 years with no luck. We were seriously thinking about getting a referral to a fertility clinic when we realised I was pregnant. We immediately signed up for the 'best' private doctor we could find and made sure we were doing everything right. I planned to continue working as long as I could.

Everything progressed just fine for the first few months, my doctor was happy with our progression, even going as far to say we were 'boring'. During my pregnancy I put on about 30 kgs (I'm only 5'2" so I was huge!), but my doctor was unfazed. In the last 2 months things started getting really uncomfortable; my ankles swelled really badly (I could squeeze my calf muscles and my fingers would leave imprints that would stay there for up to a minute), I would get stabbing pains under my ribs. A few of my friends voiced their concerns, but because my doctor had told me everything was fine I told them not to worry. I ended up taking leave from work a fortnight earlier than I had planned.

A week into my eighth month the doctor told me that my little man hadn't turned yet and I would probably be looking at a C-section. When I asked how big he was likely to be, he told me that we would find out when he came out. This surprised me because my friends who were pregnant at the same time, were given an idea of what to expect from their doctors, as well as having regular internal examinations which I never had, although I wasn't bothered by this at the time.

So anyway, about 4 days after what ended up being my final appointment, I started to have contractions. I was 2 weeks early. They continued to be about 10 minutes apart for 2 days. When I rang to speak with my doctor, I got his 'fill in' who told me not to worry about going in yet so I went out to a BBQ with my family, with my hospital bag in the car. Everyone who was there was shocked at how bloated I was (which I hadn't noticed really but looking back on photos I looked like a beach ball). Nothing happened that night.

The next day I woke up with a raging migraine. I couldn't hold down food, I couldn't face the light. I rang the doctor (and got his 'fill in' again), who told me not to come in yet because my contractions were still 10 minute apart, but to take some panadeine and lie down. I couldn't even hold those down. So, frustrated and uncomfortable, I went back to bed and eventually fell asleep at about 2 in the afternoon.

An hour later my husband, who happened to be in the next room thank goodness, heard some funny noises and rushed in. I was having a seizure. He rang 000. We had 3 ambulances there within about 5 minutes. I came around briefly in the ambulance looking for my husband, but I had 2 more seizures on the way to the hospital and another one there. The raced me in for an emergency C-section.

My little boy was born 5lb 3oz, but healthy enough, although he was in baby ICU for 2 days because I was too drugged up to feed him myself. Meanwhile, I had been put into a coma. That night they asked my husband if he wanted to be notified when I died, or if they should wait until he got there in the morning. They also told him and my mother that I would most likely have serious health problems when I came out of the coma which could include a stroke, heart problems, or any number of other things.

They bought me out of the coma the next day. I had missed the whole birth of my son and so did my husband, and yes, we do feel dissappointed still, 2 years later. I later found out that I had protein in my urine at my doctors visits, as well as being hugely overweight, both of which were key signs of pre-eclampsia apparently, but it was never diagnosed. So all the doctors could tell me was that I had full blown eclampsia and we were both extremely lucky to be alive. If, by chance, my husband had of been at work at the time, both my son and myself would have died (and that is hard to acknowledge even now).

Looking back, I wish that I had listened to the concerns of my mother and friends more seriously and gotten a second opinion. My husband, when my doctor did eventually turn up 2 days later, told him not to bother coming back.

Now, my little boy is healthy, I have no health problems, but no-one can tell me whether this will happen again. As an added bonus I had an infected c-section wound for 4 months, which again, was not noticed by the doctors when I left hospital. Consequently I have no plans at this point to have anymore; I am 32, and I want watch with my husband my little boy grow up. I don't really want to tempt fate a second time.