Lisa's story - Stephen

My first son was born by emergency C-section as he was a big boy. My second son was a VBAC with forceps. I had a miscarriage with another child -- when we went in for the 12-week scan, we found out that the baby had died at nine weeks, and I had to have a D&C.

With my third son, we were placed under a specialist's care as they were concerned that he was a large size. I was told that another C-section would be my best option, but I knew that this would be our last child, so I wanted to experience the first stages of labour and see how things went.

My contractions started around midnight and we had to wait an hour for my parents to come and get the older boys so we could go to hospital. We got there around 3am and although I was in labour for several hours, I never got fully dilated. So at 9.30am I was taken into theatre for another C-section.

After the anesthesia had been administered, I told the anesthesiologist that I could still feel the contractions, but she said everything would be fine. They ran ice along my body and I could not feel it, so I assumed everything was going well. My husband and midwife were there with me -- the midwife was taking photos -- and suddenly I felt a strange pain, like if you stretch a rubber band between your fingers and then cut it. I started to cry, and my husband and the anesthesiologist became concerned. The midwife asked me what was wrong, and all I could say was, "It hurts! It hurts!" over and over again.

The procedure was stopped and I was told that I had two choices -- I could endure the pain until the baby was out, or I could be put to sleep. I didn't get to choose after all, and was told that I was going to be put to sleep and they would deliver the baby. I was crying as the mask was put over my face, because the last time I went into surgery and was put to sleep, it was to have the D&C and my baby was taken away from me. So I was understandably upset. My husband was led out of the room and it was all on.
When I woke up, my husband was cuddling this tiny baby with a mop of jet-black hair. It took me a few hours to accept that this tiny baby was my son.

When I was coming to, my husband told me that he had named the baby Cecil, and I was lying there half-asleep, thinking, "Well, that's a silly name, but okay, I can live with that..." When I woke up a bit more, I thought, "No way is my baby being named Cecil!" Luckily my husband was only joking around!

Stephen Eric ended up being my biggest baby, at 8lb 15oz and 53.2cm long. Looking back, I would do it all over again!

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