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Mum of the Month - Zen
My Happy Ending
By Zen Labuschagne
I remember waking up from my emergency C-section, I was dazed, sore and  confused. My overwhelming desire was to see my new baby, but baby was nowhere to be seen, and no one wanted answer my questions.
The night before, I had come in to hospital in labour; my baby was four weeks early. It was my second child and I was full of hope and expectation. I could not wait to meet my new baby. The little person I had carried inside of me, and talked to and dreamed about for the last nine and a half months.
I had had a good pregnancy. Baby moved often, I’d had no problems. I had only been sick between six and twelve weeks pregnant, but apart from that, everything was fine. I took folic acid from 6 weeks. This pregnancy had been better than with my first child. I had felt so good and energetic that the previous day, I had still been at work, covering two stories for the newspaper I wrote for. All the scans were fine. Little did I know that during the next few days, my life would be turned upside down?
After examination by the nurse, I was told the baby was breech and not to push. They organized an emergency C-section. I told the anaesthetist I had an ‘s’ curve scoliosis of the spine before he injected me in my back. I was conscious until they started to cut me. Gary, my husband, sat next to me as I lay on the operating table in the theatre.
‘Hey, I can feel that!’ I shouted.
‘Oh my gosh! I can feel you lifting my skin, and now you’re cutting again!’ I yelled. It was excruciating.
I remember the panic on the doctors’ faces, and then all eyes fell on the anaesthetist.
‘Put her out, and take the husband outside,’ said one of the doctors in the room. Gary was rushed outside. They stopped cutting, and the anaesthetist told me he was going to put me out, he put a plastic mask over my mouth and nose, and I was relieved to feel myself passing out.
When I came around, I was being wheeled on a bed down a hospital corridor.
'Is it a boy or a girl?' I repeatedly asked my husband Gary as I came around.
'It's a boy. Just rest,' Gary answered.
'Where is he?' I asked.
'He is not a well boy,' Gary answered, 'Just rest.'
I drifted back to an uneasy groggy sleep.
When I finally came through, I was told that my baby was very sick. I was told that the paediatrician was going to come and speak to us.
It was very bad news. Our baby son had five life threatening things wrong with him, including a perforated lung, and a bad degree of Spina Bifida. He also had a multitude of internal abnormalities and was paralysed from the waist down. I told the paediatrician we had medical aid and would pay for our baby to be operated on. The paediatrician told us that he had spoken to a number of specialists already, and they had refused to operate on the baby as there were too many things that could go wrong, as there was so much wrong with our baby. He said we might prolong the baby’s life by up to three months if we operated, but he would still die anyway and we would just have prolonged his suffering.
All this time our new little son Christopher lay in intensive care. Hooked up to life support and sedated so that he would not pull out the tubes keeping him alive. Thankfully he was on painkillers, so he could not feel any pain.
When I saw our little son for the first time, he looked normal and handsome from the front, apart from his swollen head and a twisted foot. He was a large baby, and had broad shoulders. His reminded me a bit of my grandfather. He had dark hair. I was afraid to look at his back.
I spoke to him and stroked him, but could not hold him. We talked to him. He did not make a sound. I think it was because he was so sedated. His only response was one tear I saw run down his cheek. We spent a lot of time with him that day.
That evening was another night of sorrow. My husband and I clung to each other and to God for hope and comfort.
It was the worst night of my life. I hardly slept. I just prayed and cried the whole night. My husband was given a bed to sleep on in my hospital room. We prayed continually for a miracle for our baby, but most importantly for God’s will, and for comfort for us and our child.
The following day after consultation with the doctors, we made the heart breaking discussion to see if Christopher could make it without the life support. He did not. He died in our arms that morning. To this day my husband says there is no more helpless feeling than holding your child in your arms while they die, and knowing you can do nothing to help them.
I had to stay in hospital for the rest of the week until I was strong enough to return home after the C-section. Fortunately, they allowed my husband to share my room. I could not bear to be alone.
My younger sister took leave from work for a week, and moved into our home while we were away and looked after our three-year-old daughter. Gary's brother and his wife also visited with us and comforted us. My sister visited with us when our little girl was at playschool.
The days after Christopher died were days of mourning. During that time I realised why tragedy can change a person. One day I reached a cross-road in my grief where I actually had to decide whether I would sink or swim. I realised I could let this tragedy break me and turn me into a broken person like I had never been before, or I could use this tragedy to become stronger and move on and become a person my son would have loved and been proud of if he had lived. I chose to move on and grow stronger.
My husband and I also grew closer during this time. During our shared grief, we loved and leant on each other. I realised that not only had I lost my baby, but it was his baby as well, and he was also suffering. We chose to draw together, instead of drawing apart. Three years later our marriage is even stronger than it was before the tragedy because of that decision we took.
I remember clearly the day I left the hospital. In my arms was a huge pink bouquet of flowers instead of a baby. I felt a failure. When I had first arrived at the hospital doors the week before, there were three of us - Gary, baby and I. Now there was just Gary and I, baby was dead.
The days and weeks afterwards were obviously tinged with sadness. I kept going over and over things in my head and trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I kept wondering was it my fault and if something I might have done had caused it.
I spent a lot of time reading the Bible and found the story of Job really comforting, especially the end where everything he lost was restored to him above and beyond what he lost originally. Reading the story about the death of David and Bathsheba’s first child, and how David dealt with it, also encouraged and comforted us.
During this time I also read the biography of Doctor David Livingston. He had also lost a few children while working as a missionary in Africa, and reading about how he and his wife sorrowed and coped with their many tragedies, made mine feel small in comparison. His story really encouraged me.
The autopsy on Christopher proved that the abnormalities he suffered were due to a virus I contracted between 6 and 12 weeks of my pregnancy and had interfered with his internal development. It was a relief to know it was nothing genetic, and that we could try for another child if we wanted to.
The love and encouragement from our churches, family and Irish friends was overwhelming and wonderful. Neighbours, family and church friends were a great encouragement to. For two weeks I had meals cooked for us by friends! Our house was full of flowers and cards.
One important lesson this experience also taught me, was to love and appreciate my daughter more. It also gave me more patience with her. During this time I also came to the realisation that my family was more important than my career or money.
Six months later I returned to work at the newspaper. Two weeks before the first anniversary of Christopher's death I found out I was pregnant again. It made facing the anniversary a little less frightening for me, as I had been dreading dealing with the emotions of remembering all that had happened again. It was still a very sad time for Gary and I, but now our sadness was tinged with hope for the future and another baby on the way.
I gave up work when I was 17 weeks pregnant with Seth. I wanted to give the baby the best chance possible. I deal a lot with the public as a Journalist and also faced a lot of stress, so I wanted to avoid catching any unnecessary illnesses again, or getting over stressed. I decided it was worth giving up the job and the maternity pay.
This time round I attended the same specialist, but after the last incident, he booked me in for extra scans and 3D scans with a professor in Dublin. In January 2008, we found out we were going to have a baby boy and that he was fully formed and in good health. We celebrated!
On May 15, 2008. Seth Gary was born. We called him 'Seth' because it means 'God has restored'. Seth was born four weeks early, but in good health. He had a natural birth, and the labour took an hour and a half. After Seth was born, I just held him in my arms and cried and cried. The nurse looked at me as if I was mad. She did not know what had happened with my previous pregnancy. It was such a relief. I felt like I had reached the end of a very long journey.
I'm so glad that we had another little boy. God has been so good to us. At first, every time Seth reached a milestone I would get sad as I thought about what Christopher had missed out on. But then Gary wisely pointed out to me that it was not meant that Christopher would ever have lived, and so he would not have reached those milestones, so I was full of sorrow for nothing.
Having Seth will never replace Christopher. But he has helped heal me. They are each separate, special little people. I never want to forget my Christopher. I don't want to forget what having him taught me about life, and about appreciating my little girl and loving my family more than I ever did before he came along. I have realised how short, unpredictable and fragile life is, and to cherish those you love while you have them.
My heart is mended now. I still cry occasionally about Christopher and will never forget him. It still hurts to look at photographs of him, and I still cry on his birthday. But that time in my life is over now. I'm stronger and a better person for what I have learnt from my experience. I also have more faith in God.
A person gets to choose how they respond to the situations life throws at them. They can either lie down and become a victim of circumstance and lose themselves, or they can take an experience and use it to grow stronger and wiser. I chose the positive option.
Baby Christopher (below)
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