The Secret Midwife by The Secret Midwife & Katy Weitz

Author:The Secret Midwife & Katy Weitz [Midwife, The Secret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Blake
Published: 2020-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

Once Betty was stable, I called my mum and dad to tell them what had happened and they rushed to hospital to see us. It wasn’t until the following day, while Mum was watching Betty, I took a minute to pop across to the labour ward to tell my colleagues what had happened overnight. At first, they almost failed to recognise me, as I was in such a state – my hair was a mess, I was horribly sleep-deprived and still wearing my pyjamas from the night before. They could see what a state I was in, and they put their arms around me as I poured my heart out to them, telling them what had happened and how horrendous it had been. From that moment, they all took it in turns to come over to see me in the neonatal unit.

All in all, we were in hospital for a week together, and I didn’t leave Betty’s side the whole time. I slept in a recliner chair by her bedside, watching her, making sure she was okay. Betty was so poorly she slept almost that entire time, just trying to fight off the infection. Will was working fifteen-hour shifts, grabbing something to eat, coming in to see us then going home and doing it all again the next day. It was a testing time for all of us.

‘Come on, darling, you have to have something to eat,’ insisted the sandwich lady when she visited our room.

‘No, honestly, I’m fine,’ I yawned, stretching my legs out. It had been another rough night. I found it so difficult to sleep in that damn chair – even so, it didn’t cross my mind for a second to go home.

‘You’re feeding, my darling, you need to keep your strength up.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ I smiled, picking out a tuna and cucumber roll from her trolley. Since Betty wasn’t able to breastfeed, I was expressing in order to give her my milk through a bottle. I kept trying, but each time I put her to the breast, her oxygen levels dropped. She just couldn’t drink and breathe at the same time.

When we finally got home, I carried on expressing because Betty now would only take milk through the bottle. It was tough going. At one point I got very bad mastitis from a blocked milk duct and ended up in utter agony. But I pushed on through. Like a lot of new mums, I was utterly determined to do everything ‘right’. And in my mind that meant giving her breast milk, even if she wouldn’t actually take it from my breast. I can’t say I enjoyed being attached to the pump for hours on end – it made me feel like a Jersey cow – but I persisted nonetheless.

‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’ Will asked one day, as I nursed a sore, swollen boob with a pack of frozen peas. I was still on antibiotics for the mastitis.

‘It’s the best thing for her,’ I insisted.

‘Really?’ He seemed sceptical.

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