The first night in hospital wasn't as bad as I thought. I was on a drip and it was hard to find a position to sleep in with a needle stuck in my arm. I'd spoken to the lady in the bed next to me and she'd explained a bit about hospital life, she was really nice and that made me feel at ease, also the fact that she'd been there already for ten days somehow made me feel better. Lights went out at midnight and I just couldn't sleep. I had bad neck ache, the pillow was hard. I had to tell A to bring me my pillow from home. Just four hours later lights went on and I could hear clanging noises as is something was being brought into our rooms.. They were tiny metal cots on wheels all with newborns inside crying and hungry. The nurses had brought them in to be breastfed by their mothers. I hadn't realised at first that I would be sleep deprived too being in hospital, but I was in the maternity ward after all.
It was like this every day, I was woken every four hours during the night as the newborns were brought in. I didn't mind too much, especially because during the day I was only led down in my bed and would drift off and sleep a lot anyway. A came in at all visiting times, sometimes he would bring me something that I liked to eat if the hospital food wasn't that good during the day. I'd gotten to know the other women in the ward but every three days they would change and some other pregnant woman would come and take their place. I saw them come in, go into labour and be taken to give birth and come back in where they were brought their newborn babies. Only the one that was in the bed next to mine stayed and I felt as if I had a friend in her. I learned so much about labour, birth and breastfeeding in the time I was in hospital as these were the main subjects of conversation. I got so expert that sometimes I gave the new arrivals my pearls of knowledge if ever they had a problem. It was actually nice having the company and seeing so many newborn babies every day.
Sometimes I would get quite down during my stay as the detachment didn't seem to be getting any better. The doctors said that it would take a long time for there to be any sign of an improvement but that I should be happy for the fact I hadn't lost him yet. I got taken to have a scan every day. They'd take me on a wheelchair to the scan room. A lot of the time it was a different doctor who did the scan and all they'd say was how enormous this detachment was. Once I got told that my amniotic fluid levels were low but this was ruled out the next day. I was put through so much stress that every day before having the scan I would be so nervous thinking maybe it was the day that I'd hear his heartbeat had stopped and that my bean wasn't alive. They did tell me this was a possibilty. Sometimes I'd lose liquid and get really distressed thinking I was leaking amniotic fluid, but every time the nurses did the PROM test and reassured me it wasn't amniotic fluid. One fine day about 11 days later I was having my daily scan and the doctor said there was sign of improvement, the detachment was 'rearranging itself' and had got smalled by a few millimetres. On hearing this news I felt like I was in heaven. It gave me so much confidence and I felt so proud of my child thinking how brave and strong he actually was. On the same day, the same doctor told me that I was expecting a little boy and this bit of news made me so emotional, it was a little boy in there fighting for his life, my son!
After a while I got taken off the drip, which made me quite nervous as I was worried the contractions could come back. Having so much blood in the womb irritated it and caused contractions but the doctors said I could stop the drip and go onto regular injections.
A few days later I asked if I could go home and even though the doctor who was following my case said he would recommend staying in another week or two he said I could go home as long as I promised to stay on bed rest. I promised and A came to pick me up. My legs felt like jelly as I tried to walk out of the hospital but I was so happy at the thought of coming home. Walking out of the hospital I actually felt a bit of nostalgia, I missed the people who had lived this major event of my life with me for these weeks I'd been admitted!