Amys alive. Thats all I know. The midwife is holding my face in her hands and places a kiss on my cheek and together we pray. It stops me from screaming. Amy is ventalated straight away and I get a glimpse of the tiniest person I have ever seen in the world. Thats my third born, thats my precious daughter been taken away from me. At that point I feel so useless. I feel I’m a failure as a mother as a wife and as a woman. The next few hours go in a blur. The consultant comes around. He explains that often when one twin is born and if the remaining twin stays in utero the chances of survival are very slim. To be honest I just let it go over my head. I’m in total stock. What I didnt realise at that point was that I was very ill too. Hubby (whos a nurse) keeps talking to the nurses outside. Again all goes over my head.
On Saturday morning the desicion is made to induce the second twin. I’m put on the magical drip (which I’ve had before not pleasant). I expect things to go fast but two hours in and we are still waiting for the first pain! I sit on the exercise ball, I walk the corridor but nothing. At 8pm that night I am checked over by a doctor. The conversation turns to C-section but after weighing up the pros and cons we decide to let nature take its course. I have never ever felt so low. Its the bank holiday Saturday night and lots and lots of babies arrive into the world. Its wonderful but heartbreaking every time I hear new lungs take the first breath of air. I’m not sure if I’ll ever hear it.
Sunday has arrived. Everyone is amazed that twin 2 hasnt arrived. Two days between them, thats mad I’m told!! The grandparents are brought into Neo-natal unit to see Amy. I havent seen her since as I havent left the labour ward. The older two kids are left in to see me. We need to explain the situation to them. Tears everywhere. I thought I had hit my lowest point.. I was wrong this is hell on earth….