Stroke of pluck was healthy and Charlotte a surprise carefree one minute, next... mum at death’s door the
It was the cutest thing ever. A tiny little Babygro, covered in superhero bunnies.
‘Adorable,’ my mum, Claire, grinned.
I was 15 weeks pregnant with my first baby. This had announced itself in spectacular style.
Crossing the road in front of a police car, I’d fainted. I was rushed to hospital and, after blood tests…
‘You’re about four weeks pregnant,’ a nurse smiled. ‘What?’ I’d spluttered.
I’d already split with the baby’s dad, and was more interested in going out with my mates.
Besides, I already had seven babies – all with four legs and hooves.
The horses I cared for at the stables where I worked.
But, as the news sank in, broodiness blossomed and I excitedly bought clothes and nappies.
Then, as me and
Mum walked around Mothercare, I buried my head in my hands.
‘I just wish I could get rid of this headache,’ I muttered.
‘Pregnancy does strange things to your body,’ Mum soothed.
I’d had the headaches pretty much since finding out I was pregnant, but I’d put it down to hormones. They were already giving me terrible morning sickness and making me want to suck the sponge in the shower!
At my 20-week scan, I discovered I was having a boy. ‘Little Logan,’ I smiled. But, a couple of days later,
I got terrible stomach pains. ‘I can’t be in labour,’ I panicked. I called an ambulance and paramedics took me to the maternity ward, just in case.
‘We think it’s Braxton Hicks contractions – not the real thing,’ a doctor reassured me. But my headaches grew worse and I started having minor seizures. After a CT scan, the doctor revealed, ‘You have a clot on your brain.’ Most likely down to my increased hormones. I was at serious risk of having a stroke. ‘But my baby’s OK?’ I fretted. ‘We believe he’ll be fine,’ the doctor said. ‘We’ll give you injections to thin your blood. Hopefully, the clot will disperse.’
I was taken to a specialist ward, where stroke patients were painfully struggling to move.
‘Logan needs you,’ Mum urged, when she saw me looking low.
In the night, I went for a wee. Suddenly, everything went woozy. I was having another seizure! The last thing I remembered was crashing to the floor, hitting my head hard.
The nurses got me back to bed but, when I woke up…
‘I can’t move my arm!’ I screamed. In fact, the whole of my right side was paralysed.
‘When you hit your head, the clot burst and you had a stroke,’ a doctor explained. ‘Will I be OK?’ I sobbed. ‘We’ll do regular scans and give you physio,’ I was told.
It was terrifying, but I had to get better for baby Logan.
I did physio from my bed. Mum brought my ipad in. I watched
Penguins Of Madagascar on loop! ‘We’ll watch this together one day,’ I whispered to Logan.
I shopped for baby stuff online as Mum decorated Logan’s nursery with Winnie-the-pooh accessories.
Slowly, my strength came back. I wasn’t able to stand for long, but I could move my arm and leg and shuffle around.
It was enough that, when Logan was born at 38 weeks, weighing 6lb 3½oz, I could dress him in that superhero bunny outfit.
‘You’re worth everything,’ I smiled. After eight days – and four-and-a-half months in hospital – we came home.
I still had daily blood-thinning injections. And, as my strength grew, so did our bond.
Logan is three now. He loves dinosaurs and diggers and, of course, knows Penguins
Of Madagascar off by heart! I’ve had three mini strokes since he was born. The last left me needing a zimmer frame. Logan’s so understanding. ‘Here you go, Mummy,’ he says, getting it for me if I need the loo.
I’ll always be at risk of another bigger stroke, but Logan’s been worth every scare.
Feeling broody! Logan’s worth all the worry