By Anna, London UK
PROM at 17 weeksDelivery at 18 weeks.
Story added: 2014-04-18

Like many other people here, I discovered this website while in hospital after my PROM. Like others, I was praying and hoping for a miracle, unfortunately, it didn't happen for me, but it may for you, so PLEASE don't give up yet! I apologise that I will go into lots of detail. This post is also a way for me to let it out and remember my story. I first got pregnant when I was 19 years old, unplanned; sadly, it had to be terminated at 16 wks as I developed a life-threatening kidney condition. Seven years later, I got married and we started trying for a baby. It turned out to be not so simple. After 2 years of trying, we had an early miscarriage at 5 weeks, then a failed IVF. On a New Year's Eve, only one cycle after the failed IVF, I got pregnant naturally. I was over the moon and was hoping it would be third time lucky. I was monitored closely because of my kidney condition, but the doctors reassured me that I should be fine this time. I was so naive - worried about another early miscarriage, then about my kidneys, but life had a different surprise for us. The pregnancy went well, without any complications. I was trying to be extra careful. Between 14 and 17 weeks I was increasingly concerned that my bump wasn't growing as I expected. My midwive reassured me that it was ok and I shouldn't worry. Perhaps, it was my early intuition. On a Friday, at 16 weeks, 4 days I I couldn't wait any longer and had a "reassurance" scan. It showed that everything was fine and that we were expecting a boy. I have been dreaming of a boy all my life and my dream was about to become true. For the next 3 days I could be finally worry-free. 3 days after, on Monday, 31 March, I was 17 weeks exactly. I was at work, went to the toilet and suddenly felt a gush of fluid. I came back to my desk and started googling "uncontrolled urination"; it didn't even occur to me that waters could break so early. After 10 minutes, another gush of fluid came, I was all wet, but thought I had just peed myself, perhaps something with my kidneys...Just to be on the safe side, I called the maternity helpline, who said "it happens in pregnancy, don't worry". Not convinced, I called the early pregnancy unit, who told me to come immediately. The scan confirmed that my membranes had broken and there was no fluid left around the baby. I remained relatively calm and just naively asked "how bad is it?" I had to wait for the doctor to give me the answer and was hesitating if I should call my husband, as I didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. I did call him eventually and he came by the time the doctor arrived with the news: I would be hospitalised as I was likely to go into labour in the next 48 hours. If not, they would need to terminate the pregnancy as otherwise I am likely to develop an infection which can spread to the body, they may then need to remove the uterus, I would be infertile, etc. Even if the baby makes it a viable stage of at least 23 weeks (the chance of it happening is about 5%), they explained, he is likely to have undeveloped lungs and joints due to lack of fluids and inability to move in the womb and other disabilities. He may be unable to breath and then will die shortly after birth. My kidney condition made things even riskier and more complicated. Yet, our son had a strong heart beat. I didn't go into labour in the next 48 hours and considered it a victory. A week went on, my husband was allowed to stay with me in the hospital and sleep on a mattress. He was incredible and very supportive! For the first 3-4 days, different doctors came every day and kept warning us of the risks. After a while I was so used to it, it didn't even scare me anymore. They also monitored me for signs of infection, but I had none. I only asked them to listen to the heart beat. My husband said that as long as our son is fighting and my life is not at risk, we have no right to give up on him. I couldn't agree more. I just couldn't decide to terminate his life, especially, after my first termination, even though then I was given no choice as it was a life and death situation. This time around, I was prepared to fight for my baby. Although I had doubts and fears occasionally, it helped that we stayed together with my husband and strong for each other. We also agreed that if I develop an infection, we may need to decide to terminate. Between days 3 and 6 in the hospital I had some bleeding, not heavy and without pain. I was told that it happens often after PROM, but it's not necessarily a sign of infection or labour starting. The doctors also urged me to move around as I was at high risk of developing blood clots as a result of lying in bed all the time. I was not sure whether I should follow this advice. After reading this web-site, I preferred to stay in bed most of the time, except for going to the toilet, showering and short rare walks around the ward. Thinking back, perhaps, I should have stayed at complete bed rest, but who knows if it could have helped. On Sunday morning, 6 April (7th day in the hospital), I went to the toilet and felt that something was different "down there". The nurse and the doctor separately examined me (externally only) and haven't noticed anything. In the evening, I went to the toilet again and saw something was sticking out. Horrified, I called the doctor. I also called my husband from home (he was planning to return back to work next Monday so went to sleep home that weekend). The doctor confirmed that the baby's umbilical cord had slipped through the cervix and come out. When it happens, this causes a spasm and the baby's access to oxygen is cut off. The inevitable was about to happen. To our shock, despite this grim news, our son still had a strong heart beat! We couldn't believe what a fighter he was!!! On Monday, 7 April, I must admit I sort of gave up and was waiting for the end; secretly I was still hoping and praying that somehow miraculously the baby would turn around and pull the cord back. The doctors said that once it's out, there is nothing they can do. For the first time, my husband and I started talking about the funeral and decided we need to name our son. Somehow, the name we had been thinking about before PROM didn't seem right. We wanted a name reflecting his strong will and fighter character, but couldn't find anything appropriate. In the afternoon, a priest came to give a special service and a blessing. We decided to name our son Michael, although it translates as "who is like God" and has nothing to do with "warrior" or "fighter". An hour after the priest left, the doctor couldn’t find the heart beat any more. They sent me for a scan to re-confirm this. I felt strangely relieved and almost happy. When I entered the scanning room, I was smiling, the sonographer even asked me if I understood what was happening - I must have looked crazy! I still think (and hope) that my son stopped fighting after the priest and we let him go. It was too much for him and, perhaps, for us to bear. Shortly afterwards, I was induced and gave birth the same night, at 11.40 pm on 7 April. The delivery was quick and easy, almost no pain (although I did take some painkillers). Even then, my son was gentle to me. They took him away and I managed to sleep half of the night next to my husband on the mattress on the floor. Next day, they brought him to us in a little cute basket, we spent a couple of hours together. My husband was devastated, but I couldn't even cry properly, no tears came out. I sang him a couple of lullabies and felt sorry, I knew so few. I was also surprised how big he was and how he fit into my tummy as at 18 weeks I hardly showed at all. We ordered an autopsy, but according to the doctors, most likely it won't reveal anything. They say, that I was just "very unlucky" - PROM happens very rarely at such an early stage. We will bury him next week, after Easter. Next time (that is, if there is a next time and I do get pregnant), they will probably put a stich on my cervix to prevent it from opening early. This should help. But will there be some other surprise next time? I am still full of hope. It has now been 11 days since he died. I am feeling better and starting to accept what happened. I try not to ask myself "why" as I know there will be no answer. I am discovering faith (it hadn't been too strong until now) as I desperately want to believe that I will meet him one day. Perhaps, this is one of the lessons I will learn. I am grateful to God for these 18 weeks of pregnancy and for the 8 days in the hospital - I am now a proud mummy of my little angel-boy. I am also happy and grateful that we fought till the end together with our son and that we didn't have to make a decision to terminate. I am not judging those who do make such a decision, but at least urge you to take time and think about it and not blindly follow what the doctors tell you. Miracles DO happen (I do still believe in it), but you must also believe in them to give them a chance! When I saw my son, I thought he was already a miracle, even though not the one I was hoping for - a little human being created from nothing but love.