Janine’s son, Alex has a few personality traits like his mother - both of them are clumsy, both of them are super-smart. But they don’t look similar, and he doesn’t really look like his dad either.
While in her heart of hearts she knows that he is her son, those factors combined with the fact that she never saw medical staff ‘label’ him at birth have given her some occasional ‘what if’ thoughts over the years.
This is the birth story of Alex, as told by his mother, Janine.
I was carrying really low for the last couple of weeks of my pregnancy, but being my first child, I didn’t know what that meant.
What I know now is that my baby was getting ready to make his entrance… five weeks ahead of his due date.
Janine had a normal pregnancy, until the end when things sped up ahead of time.
“I thought I had lost control of my bladder - it was the amniotic fluid!”
With six weeks to go I started ‘leaking’. I just thought I was no longer able to control my bladder with the weight of the baby pushing on it. What was actually occurring was a slow leak of my amniotic fluid.
I used pads to soak it up. I was so naive about the whole thing.
On Sunday night I noticed that I had started spotting and I did know that that was something I should do something about.
I called the hospital, who suggested that I came straight in. At about 10pm I went in and the staff immediately put a bunch of monitors on me, before announcing that I was in labour.
Say what, now? I still had over five weeks to go, I wasn’t ready to give birth. I didn’t even have a mattress for his cot, or my hospital bag packed - hell, I had to be at work in the morning. This was all too soon.
“My plans for a water birth went out the window”
Despite not being entirely ready, I had made some plans, although I had not yet had time to actually submit my birthing plan, I did know that I wanted to try for a water birth.
However, because of the spotting, that idea was vetoed.
I was placed on the ward and given some paracetamol to help with the pains I had been experiencing. Paracetamol? This was not going anything like the movies had led me to expect.
The contractions really started and hung around all night. This was when it really dawned on me, I really was in labour.
“And then… nothing”
On the Monday morning they ran some more tests. There were no complications, I was just labouring early.
Finally, on Monday evening, the action started. The pain ramped up and I was moved to a birthing suite. Or as I like to call the ‘spectator pavilion!’ Because I was considered an ‘interesting case’, I seemed to be the must see attraction for all the training midwives. No less than eight of them passed through during what turned out the be a 40-hour labour.
I won’t lie, I begged for the pain killing drugs. I started with gas and air - pffft! Please, that didn’t touch the sides and only made my mouth dry.
We tried what felt like a smorgasbord of other medications, and finally the sweet, sweet relief of the epidural was offered. I actually got what felt like some kind of electric shock from it when they put the needle in my back - but, boy was I glad for the break from the pain.
“Dilation took it’s sweet time.”
The dilation seemed to take forever.
Trainee midwives kept checking and measuring. Let me tell you, nothing makes you lose all sense of modesty than giving birth with a room full of trainees. I didn’t care who took a look, just get this baby out already.
Finally the time came to push, but that epidural was so effective that I simply couldn’t.
So we had to wait a bit longer - at this rate it felt like the baby might actually make his due date after all - and then I pushed and it was a freaking nightmare.
My son had turned too far and was not correctly positioned to come out. I was in so much pain and nothing was working. They wanted to use forceps and I was against that - I don’t even know why, I just felt that that wasn’t what I wanted.
So they used a ventouse to pull him out. I was so relieved when he was finally out. It was done.
I tore and they used a ‘running stitch’ to sew me up. I wanted to know ‘how many stitches?’ - If I was having a war wound, I damn well wanted to know how bad it was.
Baby Alex, early but perfect in every way
“They said ‘That’s him’ and pointed to a baby in a capsule”
He was given to me briefly, but they took him back to check his vitals – he was fine although a little jaundiced. Looking at his face, he didn’t really resemble his dad or I.
They did bring him back again all wrapped up and put him to my breast, but I think we were both so exhausted that neither of us was interested in making that work. He was completely disinterested, so they took him to the Special Care Nursery while I rested.
It was hours later that I went in to see him and it was then that I realised that at no point did I see anyone ‘tag him’ up.
They said “That’s him” and pointed to a baby in a capsule.
Could there really have been a mix-up?
Sometimes I worry he might not be by baby - there might have been a mix-up, I honestly don’t know . I think probably not. He was ‘crowning’ for ages before he was born, and that gave him a swollen face and damaged his left eye, which was noted on his birth records. His left eye is still a bit wonky, so I hold onto that.
But to this day, I still worry that he might not have been labelled correctly and that I’ve got someone else’s baby. I just wish I had seen them put on that damn tag.
I can’t describe the feeling that I had at that point. My entire future was in the hands of these people, I simply had to trust that he was my baby. It was such an odd feeling, and difficult to put into words. I just had to believe them. I had no choice.
He’s nine now, and in every way he is my adored son. He’s such an incredible kid and I am so lucky. But in truth, I just do not know if there was a mix-up, and what are you meant to do with that?
I know I could not possibly love him more - he is amazing.
Janine and Alex
