Tiny FIGHTER
Rachel Griggs, 33, from Coventry, couldn’t face her parcels arriving...
Coming out of the bathroom, I left the pregnancy stick on the side. ‘I’ll do the bins,’ I called to my hubby James, 36. That might seem a little strange. After all, you’d think I’d be pacing impatiently.
And trust me, for three-anda-half-years, that was me.
Only, after countless negative results, I just couldn’t face it anymore.
James and I were desperate to start our family after tying the knot in 2015, and were going through IUI to try and conceive.
We were on our second round and I just convinced myself it would be negative again.
And so, taking out the bins, I leisurely did a few chores before heading back to the bathroom. Two lines.
Walking into the bedroom, I threw the stick to James.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I gasped in shock.
I was so excited. The start of my pregnancy was wonderful. However, due to some health problems of my own, I’d been advised to rest. And so, that’s what I did. I soaked in every moment of it!
No more bins for me! I couldn’t wait to be a mum and at 13-weeks we had our first scan.
Seeing the baby, it felt so real. ‘Everything looks good,’ the sonographer smiled.
And so, like most first-time mums, I went online and started ordering furniture and travel equipment. I wanted our child to have it all.
It was all coming together. Only, at my 20-week scan, the sonographer questioned my dates.
‘The baby is measuring at 18-weeks,’ she said. That was two weeks behind.
‘I’ll need to refer you to the fetal medicine unit.’
If I’m honest, I wasn’t worried in the slightest.
James was 9lb when he was born. The idea of having a smaller baby was pleasing.
It didn’t even cross my mind that it could be bad.
Only, four weeks later, I was finally seen at the fetal unit at University Hospital Coventry & Warwickshire and the reality of the situation hit me.
From the moment I walked in, I could tell something was wrong. I kept hearing words floating around, but I didn’t understand. ‘Dopplers.’
‘Blood flow.’
Staring at the medics, James gripped tightly onto me.
‘You’ll need to stay in hospital until you give birth,’ the consultant told me.
I was only 24 plus 5 weeks. ‘That’s ages away!’ I said out loud. ‘I don’t want to spend the next few months in hospital.’
Only, the consultant’s face changed, and it was clear I hadn’t fully understood.
‘No Rachel, you’ll have the baby by the end of this weekend,’ they told me.
My mouth opened and fear kicked in.
James was stood there silently next to me.
We were sent home to pack a bag and told to come straight back.
‘Oh God, oh God,’ I kept saying as I rushed around.
What was going to happen to our baby?
I was still so early! We’d tried for years to get pregnant. This couldn’t be happening.
I couldn’t take it in. Bursting into tears, it hit me that we might not come home with our child.
That night, I was hooked up to steroids to help the baby.
‘Can we delay all the deliveries?’ I cried.
Nothing had arrived yet for the nursery, but now I didn’t want them to.
I didn’t want anything in the house in case we had to return alone.
Delaying all our orders, James and my mum Kath, 68, sprang into action.
‘Your baby has a 40% chance of survival,’ the doctor told me. It was all too much. Knowing that each day gave our baby an extra 2% of survival, I held on for as long as I could. My placenta wasn’t delivering enough blood flow and I was heavily monitored.
Knowing I needed something to fight for, we decided to ask for the gender.
‘You’re having a girl,’ the doctor told us.
‘Evelyn,’ James and I smiled at each other. Knowing that we were now fighting for her gave me the strength I needed.
I held on for five days, but Evelyn was struggling, and they needed to get her out.
On 27 November 2019, at 13.27pm, Evelyn came into this world weighing 440 grams.
All I heard was a tiny cry as she was whisked away. I was
relieved she’d made it, but I knew she had a long journey ahead of her.
A few hours later,
I was wheeled down in my hospital bed to see her, but I was a little hazy.
I couldn’t believe how small she was.
She was bright red.
It was like she was all blood with a thin layer of underdeveloped skin.
It was terrifying.
Our baby girl – she shouldn’t have been here yet.
She should have been warm and safe inside of me.
I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Why had she come so early? What had gone wrong? After hooking her up to a ventilator, a nurse suggested we take some more pictures.
‘Why don’t you put your wedding ring on her ankle?’ she suggested to James.
We both thought it was a bit weird at the time, especially when it was far too big on her.
It just confirmed how small she was. It broke my heart.
Over the next few weeks, Evelyn battled for her life.
She developed sepsis, but the nurses and doctors helped her pull through.
We thought she was on the mend, but two weeks later, we noticed she was looking puffy.
She’d doubled in size from fluid, and it turned out, her kidneys were failing.
She’d been through so much in her life and I just wanted to make all the pain go away.
The doctors tried everything, but nothing was working. The fluid continued to build. We were told Evelyn would have to fight for her life and let her body try to deal with it.
‘We welcome and urge you to bring your family,’ the doctor said. Looking at James, we knew what that meant.
Evelyn was dying and we needed to say our goodbyes. My world shattered. And so, on 10 December, both sides of the family gathered around her.
We registered her that day and also christened her in her ventilator.
It’s strange though.
That day, everyone around me was in pieces, but I felt so calm. I felt relaxed. We’d wanted a child for so long and we’d been gifted with Evelyn. Nothing could take that away from me.
After everyone said their goodbyes, James and I were left alone to say ours.
We didn’t think she’d make it through the night, but then a miracle happened.
Her kidneys kicked in! ‘She’s peed!’ I ran and screamed to James.
Her body was doing what it needed to do.
After that, each day Evelyn got a little better, and when she was three-weeks-old, I got my first cuddle.
We did skin-to-skin for fiveand-a-half hours.
It was beautiful.
I could feel her and see every part of her.
Slowly but surely, Evelyn got better and I finally agreed to fill the nursery.
Mum and I went crazy in the Mothercare sale!
And then, 173 days after she was born, on 18 May 2020, we finally got to bring her home.
She weighed a healthy 8lb 11oz and we were so happy.
James’ wedding ring no longer fit around her ankle!
However, I can’t deny that I was scared, and there were complications.
Evelyn had an oral aversion after being on the ventilator and needed lots of medication. She was being tube fed, was on oxygen and steroids. She was also vomiting. It was hard and as James was back at work, I struggled to cope.
Luckily, Mum came in the week to help me.
However, Evelyn was the light of my life.
She’s now two, and we can’t believe how far she’s come.
She’s got the most infectious smile and is such a giggly girl.
Plus, she’s a little whizz on the ipad.
As Evelyn is still tube fed and has developmental delays, she needs around-the-clock care.
It’s tough, but thankfully, we have respite care at Zoe’s Place Hospice a few times a month. Eventually, we want to give Evelyn a sibling, but right now our focus is on her.
We’ve since learnt that my placenta collapsed in the womb, which is why Evelyn was early.
Looking back, I’m just so relieved we acted when we did.
We tried for so long for a baby, and we wouldn’t change Evelyn for the world.
When we were told to say goodbye, my world shattered, but now I get to celebrate.
Some days are hard, but Evelyn never gives up.
She really is a miracle.
We’d been told to come and say goodbye to her