NEW BABY BOY FOR LIZ ELLIS

Netball champion Liz Ellis endured five rounds of IVF before finally delivering a perfect baby boy. Then, just days after arriving home with her newborn, massive blood loss triggered a midnight rush to hospital and a battle to save her life, writes Michae

Liz Ellis IS cradling her newborn son, Austin, – just 10 days old and already sprouting a lush growth of thick black hair – on the deck of her hilltop farmhouse, not far from Byron Bay on the NSW Far North Coast.

She is tracing the outline of his lips with the tip of her index finger – a light and gentle touch as he yawns and stretches after his morning feed. “He’s perfect, a perfect little boy,” says Liz, 43, Australia’s former netball captain and the nation’s most capped player. “You’d never know how much effort it took to be standing here with him in my arms. Sometimes, it is simply overwhelming. There are times when I sit here on the daybed and look down the valley, holding him here in my arms, and I cry and cry thinking about how lucky we are to have him.”

Liz Ellis is indeed one lucky woman. Not only is she the proud mother of a healthy newborn son and a boisterous four-year-old daughter Evelyn. She is happily married to Matthew Stocks, 47, her husband of 16 years who adores her. As lucky as that undoubtedly makes Liz, she is perhaps luckier just to be alive.

After delivering Austin, Liz suffered a sudden and massive haemorrhage,

losing almost 2 litres of blood – almost half her body’s normal 4.7 litres – dangerously lowering her blood pressure and bringing her very close to a compete body shutdown.

She and husband Matthew had already endured four years and five rounds of in vitro fertilisation (IVF) in their quest to have a sibling for their daughter, Evelyn. They had also endured three miscarriages and the harvesting of three unviable eggs, which left them emotionally drained and on the brink of giving up.

However, Liz’s sister Kath made an offer out of the blue that Liz could not decline. Kath said she’d give Liz one of her own eggs. “Kath had been through IVF herself and she knew how debilitating it can be if it’s not going your way,” says Liz. “It was such a beautiful thing for her to do, so of course, we said yes.”

Then the universe seemed to take a hand and, a couple of weeks later, Liz called Matthew with astounding news. “Matthew was working on another farm and I called him,” recalls Liz. “I said, ‘I’ve discovered a new money-saving device.’ He said, ‘What’s that?’ And I said, ‘Natural pregnancy!’ He said, ‘What are you talking about?’ and I said, ‘I’m pregnant’.” After all that time, money and emotionally draining disappointment, Liz and Matthew had finally conceived their own baby.

As life-affirming as any birth is, there are, even today, a multitude of risks for both mother and child.

“It was such an amazing thing,” says Liz. “But then we had to go through the nine months. For the first three months, intellectually, I knew I was pregnant, but I didn’t want to connect emotionally because of the disappointment we had been through. We went on holidays. I tried to keep myself busy. But every time the obstetrician rang, he said the tests are good.”

For Liz, though, the threat arose when, towards the end of her pregnancy, her doctor discovered an unexpectedly low placenta, a condition known as placenta praevia. And while this in itself is not usually a life-threatening circumstance, the complications that arose from it certainly were for Liz.

Placenta praevia means the placenta – which supplies the baby with blood and oxygen during pregnancy – has implanted at the bottom of the mother’s uterus, over the cervix or close by, which means the baby cannot usually be born vaginally.

As such, Liz agreed to deliver by caesarean section. “I know this is going to sound stupid,” says Liz, “but I really enjoyed the experience of giving birth to Evelyn and I wanted the opportunity to have that again, so when he said you have to have a caesar, I was feeling, ‘Okay, I wanted to give birth naturally, but I’ll have a caesar. As long as I have a happy healthy child, I don’t care’.”

Nevertheless, pregnancies, like life, are never certain. “He was a bit concerned because of my age and because I was overdue with Evelyn,” says Liz. “Also, it became apparent towards the end that my placenta had moved – it wasn’t as low as before, so we elected to induce the birth a week early. He was also happy for me to give birth naturally.”

Doctors induced Liz’s labour in hospital late on the afternoon of April 4.

“It took a little while for the labour to start,” recalls Liz. “But when it all kicked in, it was just like riding a bike, so similar to last time. I’d done a bit of meditation, so I was mentally quite prepared for it.”

Austin Ralph Stocks – named after both his grandfathers – was born at 9.45pm, a big healthy boy weighing in at 4.37 kilograms. “I was able to give birth to him naturally and drug-free, which I was rapt about,” recalls Liz. “But Austin was enormous, much bigger than his sister and, crucially, his head was big.”

Austin was indeed healthy, but not everything was well. Doctors noticed an abnormality in the placenta known as a succenturiate lobe. “Basically, it’s a bit that grows out the side and can stick to your uterus,” says Liz. “I had this great birth. The obstetrician was saying, ‘Here’s your baby, he’s a boy’, and I was saying, ‘Oh, my God, that’s fantastic.’ I didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl as long as the baby was okay.

“In that moment of elation, the obstetrician was also saying, ‘Right, up on the bed, we’ve got to get this placenta out.’ And he was looking concerned. I was still on the happy

hormones thinking I’ve got my baby and then, suddenly, everything became very serious.”

Succenturiate lobes are associated with retained placenta and an increased risk of postnatal infection and bleeding. Research indicates such lobes are associated with increasing maternal age and are more common in women who have received IVF.

“The doctors were all very concerned,” recalls Liz. “They were trying to get bits of placenta out, but there were bits that wouldn’t come out, so I lost about 600 millilitres of blood. Eventually, they were saying, ‘We think we got it all.’

“Later, the obstetrician said, ‘There might be something left in there so you might have a bleed’, and I was thinking, ‘Yeah, I’ve got my baby, whatever.’ I didn’t listen.”

A week later, Liz was back at home on their property in the Byron hinterland. She and Matthew were getting ready for bed when Matthew heard his wife call out from the bathroom.

“I heard Elizabeth calling out to me, saying, ‘Now, I don’t want you to be alarmed or panic, but I want you to come and have a look at this … ’,” recalls Matthew. “I raced in and there was blood everywhere.”

“I just felt something was really odd,” says Liz. “I went to the toilet and suddenly there was blood all over the place. I pulled my pants down and there was blood all over my hands and running down my legs. It was as if someone had been murdered in the bathroom. Matthew came in and he looked like he discovered the body.”

Matthew took charge nonetheless and immediately called the hospital. They advised him to get Liz there as soon as possible. Outside, a storm was raging, with teeming rain and ashing lightning. Their home sits atop a hill more than a kilometre from the front gate over dirt roads, and more than an hour away from the private hospital on the Gold Coast.

“It took us more than an hour to get to the hospital and it was the longest hour of my life,” says Liz. “We had to call my mum, who lives 20 minutes away, and wait for her to get to our place so she could take care of Evelyn.

“On the ride in, I could feel myself bleeding and I kept thinking, ‘I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I can’t die – I have two children to care for’.”

Magnifying her terror was the fact that Liz knew a netball journalist in Adelaide who had died from postpartum bleeding. “It was the saddest thing,” says Liz. “I kept thinking about what had happened to her and, all the way on the drive, it kept popping into my head. I kept thinking about her and telling myself, ‘This can’t be happening’.” By the time the hospital sign appeared in their headlights, Liz could feel her blood pressure dropping.

“I knew that was the danger and it was de nitely more terrifying because I knew what the risks were,” she says. “But I clearly recall pulling into the hospital and having the biggest sense of relief.”

Liz was quickly stabilised and her bleeding stopped. Next day, she went back into surgery and the surgeons removed some small remaining sections of placenta left behind post-birth.

“They were talking about giving me a blood transfusion, but after a series of blood tests, they realised my blood counts were still okay so they decided to send me home. Apparently, I looked dreadful, all the nurses said so, but I said to Matthew, ‘I haven’t had a coffee yet that’s probably why I look so bad.”

Today, two weeks later, Liz appears to be regaining her usual zing and her positive take on life.

“It was three days of added drama that we probably didn’t need,” she says. “But the truth is that it’s all good. The doctor estimated that I lost a further 1.5 litres of blood, so no wonder my blood pressure was down. But I was still conscious when we arrived at the hospital and that was the good thing. But it must have been close.”

She is on strict orders from her doctors to rest, something Matthew is trying to enforce, but it’s an argument he admits he’s losing. “It’s like trying to keep the chooks from running around – impossible,” he says, laughing.

“Evelyn is so excited to have her little brother home,” says Liz. “It’s beautiful to see them together, the way she holds him and talks to him is so sweet. They’re going to be great together.

“I’m at home, of course, and I’m making myself rest, but that’s more dif cult than I thought. I want to be out doing stuff. I’ve got gardening to do. I can see the weeds growing through the windows. I’ve got a vegie patch that needs love, not to mention Evelyn and Austin – I’m a mother, I haven’t got time to rest.”

“I heard Liz calling out, saying, ‘I don’t want you to be alarmed’ ... I raced in and there was blood everywhere.”