Meeting My Rainbow Baby - November 2014

My darling little rainbow baby Ruairí was born peacefully at home on Wednesday the 19th of November at 7.17am. He emerged into water in the caul, totally unaffected by his birth journey. He crawled to the breast and fed within minutes of being born. It was an incredible experience, everything I had dreamed of and prepared for in the preceding months.

Supporters of home birth in Ireland will be only too familiar with the debacle that the HSE created with the unlawful removal of Philomena Canning's indemnity insurance.. We were one of families directly affected by this removal. I was 29 weeks pregnant when I learned of the situation via Facebook. To say it took away from the joy of my pregnancy is an understatement and I don't say that lightly. Philomena had been my midwife in 2011 when I had my daughter Evie.  I had engaged her services again in 2012 as soon as I discovered I was pregnant. Sadly that pregnancy ended in a miscarriage in the 13th week. It was Philomena I turned to for advice and support after leaving my local hospital without so much as a paracetamol, a sanitary towel or an information leaflet. Philomena talked me through the "mini labour" I would experience and advised my to have a bowl to hand so that I would be able to see the baby. This is something I am so grateful for. I was able to "birth" my baby at home, to hold him and love him and to say goodbye in a really personal and dignified way. 

Soon after, I discovered I was pregnant again and again engaged Philo's services. Sadly 7 weeks into the pregnancy I started to experience pain and dizziness and required emergency surgery after it was discovered that the pregnancy was ectopic and that I was experiencing internal bleeding. I lost my baby and my right fallopian tube. Those few months were the most horrendous of my life and there were dark days when I truly thought I would never smile again. And then in March after over a year of ovulation kits, negative pregnancy tests and sinking spirits we finally got our two blue lines and my journey towards healing my heart began.

Philomena was naturally an integral part of that journey. Her quiet confidence and calm reassurance helped me when I was sometimes so scared that I could barely breathe. To have that taken away from me with ten weeks to go in my pregnancy was devastating. It was heartbreaking to lose Philomenas care but also to see such a truly wonderful woman treated in such a disgusting way. Luckily for me the DMO for my area is a huge champion of home birth and truly couldn't believe the situation. She immediately organised to have my care transferred to Brenda O'Toole, whom I rang in a fit of tears asking her to take me on but at the same time not to take me on depending on whether or not the situation with Philomena were to be resolved. Brenda was so kind and sympathetic and we agreed to see how things panned out. After our rainy protest outside the Dail when I was 34 weeks pregnant, Philomena gave me a hug and told me she wouldn't be my midwife. I went home that day feeling deflated but I knew I needed to draw a line under it, shake myself off and focus all my energies on the positives.

The biggest being that I was still in a position to have my baby at home. Brenda was going to enable me to do that and she did. She fitted in seamlessly, being very unassuming, getting to know myself and my children, organising for our second midwife Nuria to call and meet me prior to birth and soon the horribleness of the HSE was exactly where it should be ­ far from my mind. The last few weeks of my pregnancy were hectic. Both of my children were born in the 37th week and so I had it in my mind that this baby would be much the same but as the time approached I felt run off my feet. We had a family wedding, I got a chest infection and then my aunt died. I was having a lot of braxton hicks and a couple of times felt things were really starting but then all would go quiet again and I felt that I was simply too busy and overwhelmed for a baby to be born and I trusted my baby and my body to know what to do. Every night I went to bed making sure the living room was tidy. The pool was inflated, the burco was plugged in, the hall press was full of all the things I'd need, my playlist was ready,my mood board was hanging up, positive affirmations were scattered around the house.

At 39+2 I went to bed with some back ache. I listened to my positive affirmations and I felt my baby squirming. He was really active,much more than he had been for days and I took that as a sign that we wouldn't be meeting for a while yet but a little while later a real sense of calm came over me and the words 'I'll be there soon Mommy' rang in my ears. I fell asleep with a huge smile, hugging my precious bump. I woke at 3am with that nagging periody ache. I couldn't settle back to sleep and by half 3 I thought I better pay attention to surges. I got up, made tea and a hot water bottle and pottered about for a few minutes. Surges came every 15 minutes and at 4.30 I decided to text Brenda. I was feeling nauseous.. I went to wake Alan, my husband and told him that I thought the baby was going to be born that day. He groggily said he wouldn't go to work, to which I replied never mind go to work, you need to get up now. I think it was only at that point that I knew the baby wasn't far away. We both went back downstairs. I rang Brenda and she said she was on the way. I lit my candles and oils and started to get in my comfort zone while Alan started to fill the pool. My daughter had been born in such a hurry that I hadn't gotten to use it last time and really wanted this baby to be born in water. When Brenda arrived at 5.30 I was using the ball to stretch out and listening to my relaxation tracks. Surges had gone pretty much straight to five mins. Brenda had a listen into babs and all was perfect. The next hour passed quickly, I was using the ball to rest my elbows on while circling my hips, or leaning against the wall during surges and really rocking my hips deeply from side to side, trying to stay loose and limp. Brenda was doing some really light massage on my back which really helped to focus me. I tried to use my tens machine but couldn't adjust it properly and was getting flustered. By that stage Nuria had arrived and both herself and Brenda just stayed in the shadows. By about 6.45 I was feeling a lot of pressure and was in and out to the toilet. The last trip to the toilet I asked Alan to come with me and while there I had a really big surge and felt a bit out of control. I was pacing and I remembered the feeling of being a lioness from the birth of my daughter. It’s that raw power of your body taking over and you just have to go with it. I went back to my den and quickly had another big surge. I said to Brenda that I felt I should get into the pool. I wanted to sit back and birth baby and catch him myself but two attempts at sitting down were too uncomfortable and so I stayed on my hands and knees,letting the water ease me. I must admit that I didn't feel particularly calm but then Nuria listened to the baby and took my pulse and she said 'wow you are both so calm, it's obvious you are athletic because your pulse is barely raised'. That made me feel like a total champion. In my head I thought 'yeah damn right I'm an athlete'!!!.

Alan was holding my hands and I could feel our baby descending and reached around to feel his head emerge. One more surge brought the rest of his body and I felt my waters release. Brenda passed our beautiful baby boy to me and I held him there in the water and my heart swelled with love and pride for the wonder that is birth.

It was 7.17. Alan brought our other children in to meet their baby brother and it was just so lovely to be all together. They had come in at 7 to say good morning and were watching cartoons and eating breakfast in the play room and then a few minutes later were greeting their brother. It was magical and for me just felt full circle.

I moved from the pool to the couch and delivered the placenta quite quickly thereafter. We named our little boy Ruairí and I placed him on my tummy and watched mesmerised as he crawled to my breast and started to feed. Later after lots of naked cuddles he was weighed and measured. He was 7lbs 6 ounces and 53cms. Nuria had asked me when he was born if she could take some pictures and I'm so glad because Alan had said he would but these things quickly get forgotten when there's a tiny, handsome newborn to stare at! She got some great pics and then we took some more with herself and Brenda before she left. Alan started to clear up, Brenda was doing her notes etc and I was laying on the couch wrapped in blankets holding my new love.

At about 11 Alan sat down with me and said 'this is exactly how it should be, look at us, at home, fire lightening, everything is cleared away, all our children are together, it's great'. And he was so right. It was exactly how it should be and so much more. It was magical.

Brenda was incredible. Her care was beyond fantastic, bringing me scones and homeopathic remedies when feeding was a struggle, suggesting books and articles I might find useful, constantly encouraging me. Nuria has also been great. As a lactation consultant she has been at the end of the phone for me with great advice while we wait for a tongue tie assessment. These two women enabled me to have the birth I desired and I'm so incredibly thankful for them and the work they do.

Philomena, although not physically present was with me in my heart, where there will always be a place for her. Sometimes I look at my little son and can't believe he's actually here and sometimes it's like I've always known him, with his little dimpled chin and calm way. He's like a missing jigsaw piece. I am totally and utterly head over heels and I feel complete.

I am once again honored to call myself mother to these three wonderful earth children and my two butterfly babies and I'm thankful to the HBA, AIMS, Gentle Birth and the three strong, passionate, loving midwives Philomena, Brenda & Nuria that I've been lucky enough to encounter for helping to empower and inspire me to have the births I wanted and to give myself and my babies the best possible start to their precious lives.

Thanks women, ye are terrific. Keep on keepin’ on!

Loosing My Midwife - A Letter to Leo Varadkar

Dear Minister,

I am 32 weeks pregnant.  I opted for home birth care under the HSE Home Birth scheme.  Two weeks ago I learned via social media that my midwife would no longer be in a position to care for me as her indemnity insurance had been withdrawn by the HSE.  She was notified of this on a Friday evening at 5.30, mother's in her care have still to receive official notification of this.  The HSE left mothers due that weekend in limbo, stressed, panicked, anxious - not things a woman needs to be subjected to during the most vulnerable time in her and her babies life.

My midwife and friend is Philomena Canning. She's an incredible woman, strong, caring, kind and a professional through and through. In 31 years of service to women all over the world she has had zero negative outcomes.

Yesterday I watched her enter the High Court to fight for her right to practice a profession that she lives and breathes. On the streets outside there were tears from those of us who have been lucky enough to bring children into the world under her care, those of us currently on her books left unsure of the route our impending births will take, colleagues,friends & women concerned for the future of birth rights in Ireland. Philomena champions those rights.

Our health service is failing us.Women are entering hospitals and leaving in coffins.Women are leaving our maternity hospitals carrying their dead children home to be buried.9 staff were found to have 'a case to answer' in the death of Savita Halapanavar.  Not one was suspended never mind fired.  All are still practicing in GUH. Inquests in Sligo. Investigations in Portlaoise. This is what the HSE call care.

I'm utterly saddened to be a pregnant woman in Ireland today.  I simply cannot fathom why pregnant women are being treated in this way over what amounts to a witch hunt.  I informed my of the situation via telephone as soon as I became aware of it via social media at 9.30 on a Saturday evening. She had no knowledge of it and later had the situation confirmed to her via a text from a superior - is this really how the HSE do business?

My DMO has been so supportive of me and my homebirth application since the beginning and I am thankful for her care.  I am not thankful that I had zero contact from HSE on this, that I had to push for an explanation and when contact came via email it was devoid of any emotion, empathy, explanation.

Philomena Canning is no threat to me or my baby. She was with me for the birth of my daughter in 2011. She was with me through a miscarriage is 2012 when I was sent home from hospital without so much as an information leaflet, a paracetamol or a sanitary towel.

She was with me through an ectopic pregnancy in 2012 and she's been with me every step of the way in this pregnancy when I've sometimes been so scared I can scarcely breathe.  

And now at 32 weeks her care has been removed and my option is a stranger to me and my family or a hospital and frankly I'd rather birth on the side of the road than enter an Irish hospital as a pregnant woman.

I'm saddened beyond words.  It's simply not good enough.  I have never met a more kind, caring, competent healthcare professional in my life. 

The HSE should be ashamed of its treatment of this stalwart of birth and it's treatment of pregnant women.

Please Minister stop allowing the HSE to operate without impunity.

Kind Regards,

Ethna Quirke

Carlow

 Rainy Day Protest Outside the Dáil

Healing My Heart - My Experience Of Miscarriage & Ectopic Pregnancy - Written in 2013

When I discovered I was pregnant for the third time, I was over the moon. I have two fantastic children and always knew I wanted more. I love being a mother and it's one of the few things in life that I feel really good at. My pregnancies had been very straight forward and there was no reason why this one should be any different. No reason at all, but it was.

In my 13th week I started to bleed and a scan revealed that my little beans heart had stopped beating. There aren't words to describe the devastation I felt. All our hopes and dreams for the future of my little bump were stilled by the quietness of the screen and the sympathy in the eyes of the hospital staff. I'd never really thought about miscarriage before. Obviously you have anxieties as an expectant mum but it wasn't a real concern, I'd never talked about it with someone who had been through it. If it was mentioned it was in that stilted, nervous way we have about discussing things that make us uncomfortable.

I was so frightened leaving the hospital. We were told to come back in two weeks for a follow up scan but that was about it. I wasn't prepared in anyway. In fact we didn't even receive an information leaflet and even though I had gone in with bleeding, I was not given a sanitary towel or so much as a paracetamol. In times of despair, I have found it is the little things, small kindnesses that mean the most and I feel insulted by how we were treated.

Thankfully for me, my daughter had been born at home the year before and I had again engaged the services of the most wonderful self-employed community Philomena Canning, whose very presence makes you feel like you can achieve great things. I rang her straight away and she talked me through the "mini labour" that would happen in the coming days. Two days later I delivered our baby. It was a shocking, painful and utterly sad experience but also one of great peace. Holding my tiny baby in my hands, seeing those perfect miniature fingers and toes is something I am so thankful I got to do. I felt so much love as we wrapped our bub in a piece of his dads t­shirt and found a lovely ornate box I'd collected on some far flung adventure and I lay with that box in my arms and cried until I thought I couldn't cry anymore.

I started to work frantically, almost manically on a corner of our garden where we decided to create a special space for our children. I wanted the baby to always be apart of our family, to be included. I wanted my baby to have a beautiful resting place but when it came to burying the box, I just didn't have the strength. I had placed a little note and some family photos inside and wrapped in my husbands arms we said our goodbyes.

The following weeks are a bit of a blur, friends and family rallied but it was pretty much business as usual. Life goes on but it's forever changed. I took huge comfort in my children. My youngest was under one and still breastfeeding and sharing our bed so to be able to snuggle up with her warmed my heart. Not long after we were surprised to discover I was pregnant again. We hadn't really discussed our future plans and although I was excited, I was also terrified. It was a very confusing time. I left disloyal to the baby we had lost but I knew that the new pregnancy would also take away some of my sadness. I tried not to think about the baby growing inside me too much, but of course you can't stop yourself, wondering whether we'd have a boy or girl, thinking of names, imagining family dinners, summer holidays, weddings. We didn't tell many people I was pregnant. I had made a big public announcement last time round and felt a bit humiliated, again a testament to our awkwardness as a society around the loss of a baby.

After my miscarriage I had started to follow a paleo diet and was exercising and physically had recovered well so I was confident that all would be well. Sadly, I was wrong. I started to have a lot of severe pain and dizziness and some bleeding. The hospital said sit tight for a few days. I started to feel better but was advised to go in anyway for a scan to make sure everything was ok. It was a month before Christmas so we decided to have a day out, bring the kids with us, have our reassuring scan, have some lunch and do some Christmas shopping. Simple. I went to the hospital alone as our daughter was asleep in the car. Sitting in the waiting room was an anxious time. Only a few months before my life had changed in that hospital but I kept telling myself everything was fine. I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen when the time came. Maybe I knew, maybe it was fear. Either way there was nothing to see. The screen was blank and the pain started to creep over me like a dull ache.

A second internal scan was done but there were no words of reassurance. I was crying at this stage and asked could they see anything. The nurse sat beside me and rubbed my arms and told me that sadly what they were seeing was an ectopic pregnancy. My baby was outside my womb and would not survive. I was completely and totally devastated. I was asked if I would like to see my baby and although at first I felt I couldn't, I knew I had to and sure enough there was my bean, with it's flickering strong heart beat, just in the wrong place. I couldn't believe the cruelty of it. Everything happened very quickly. The obstetrician came in and explained that I had internal bleeding and needed emergency surgery to remove both my baby and my right fallopian tube. I had to sign a consent form and I knew in doing so I was signing my babies life away. The surgeon explained that there simply was no other option. Myself and my husband had so many questions but as we had our children with us we tried to stay calm. I was admitted straight away. My husband left to bring the children home and pack me a bag and I felt utterly shocked and alone. I was on the maternity ward. There were women waiting to birth and newborn babies crying and I was so angry and jealous. They had so much and I was being left with nothing. Saying goodbye to my husband before being wheeled to theatre was very sad. He had delivered our daughter at home in such extreme happiness and I knew that in this situation he felt completely powerless to help. I knew he was as scared as I was and I hated leaving him. The hospital staff were fantastic and took very good care of me. I am very grateful for their kindness.

Waking from surgery was horrible. There was a sense that something didn't feel quite right and then the realisation dawned. I was completely empty. I was numb. My heart and my arms were aching to hold my baby. I was also extremely angry. At myself, at my body, at a god I don't believe in, at the first baby because if it hadn't died then I wouldn't have been pregnant again and wouldn't have had to endure this horrific experience. I found some comfort in my husbands arms but grief separates you from others, you feel alien, misunderstood, you feel tainted and you feel very, very alone.

In the weeks and months that followed I have made some peace with my experiences. I have amazing friends and family who have cried with me and for my babies. I will never be the same girl I was. Pregnancy, should we decide we want to try again will never be that pure, untainted, all consuming joyous experience it once was. I'm more anxious now. I sometimes have horrific nightmares. My perfect world is not perfect anymore and I've realised it's not safe. No one is protected from pain and loss. In some ways I'm a better mother because I truly know what I have lost. I look at my two playing in the garden or fighting over lego and the enormity of what I have lost hits me but it's not as raw anymore. It's not as all consuming. I don't struggle to get out of bed and face the day anymore. I don't feel like a failure anymore. I don't feel that my body let me and my babies down. In fact I now look at what I have come through and am astounded by my physical and mental health. I never would have imagined I could endure what those six months threw at me but here I am coming out the other side, with such absolute respect for women.

Miscarriage affects one in every four pregnancies, while ectopic pregnancy occurs typically in one in every 80 pregnancies. That's huge. That means each and every one of us knows someone who has lost a baby, and yet no one is talking about it. I am astounded by that. I had to talk. I have to talk. Talking and sharing are helping me to heal. I have also found solace in exercise in the last few months. I decided to take part in this years TriAthy triathlon on June 1st. Training has given me focus and a sense of purpose. It has given me an appreciation and new­found respect for my body. It has given me a way to pay tribute to the lives my tiny babies won’t get to live. Although initially I just wanted to compete, I have since decided to raise some money for the Miscarriage Association of Ireland and Ectopic Pregnancy Ireland to help in the important work they do. These organisations have been hugely informative for me. Ectopic Ireland also send out a gorgeous butterfly tea light holder to families affected by ectopic pregnancy and it’s such a lovely gesture, a symbol of light in a very dark time.

Since opening up about our losses, so many people have gotten in touch to share their own stories. I am glad that they felt able to. It helps me to know that I am not alone. That although altered, I will recover and someday when I think of my babies, I will be able to smile knowing that they are not lost but are in fact in everything I do.

 http://ectopicireland.ie/ http://www.miscarriage.ie

Approaching the finishing line 

Couldn't have gotten through it without the support of friends