A Positive Birth experience : The Emergency C-Section story

Emerson August Banks O’Leary

06/10/2025

00:45

5lbs / 2.3kg

The phrase ‘positive birth experience’ is usually associated with a vaginal birth that followed your birth plan and occurs in the absence of intervention. Our experience couldn’t be more opposite but I would still class it as a very positive birth experience.

Our Son arrived 5 weeks early in a very dramatic fashion. On the 5th of October 2025 I woke up with the all so familiar pregnancy aches and pains but nothing felt out of the ordinary. In my last post I spoke about the events that lead up to this day but if you haven’t read that post I will give you a quick run down to catch you up! At 33 weeks I started to experience really bad nausea and fatigue accompanied by some vision changes and reduced movements from baby boy. We had been in and out of triage the week leading up to Emerson’s birth, mainly due to worries of pre-eclampsia. Luckily I never actually developed pre-eclampsia but I seemed to have all the symptoms except raised blood pressure. Despite all of these symptoms, Emerson’s premature arrival was never linked to any of these things by the midwives and doctors. That’s not to say it didn’t play a bit of a role but unfortunately we will never know the true cause of my waters breaking so abruptly leading to Emerson’s unexpected birth at 35 weeks gestation. On Sunday the 5th of October me and my partner had plans to travel from our home in West London to his Aunt’s house in surrey to celebrate his grandmothers 85th birthday with the whole family. That day I was feeling especially nauseous and was contemplating not attending the gathering but it was something we had been looking forward to and I didn’t want to miss the occasion. We arrived at the gathering at around 1pm and returned home by about 5pm. My nausea had reduced throughout the day but the baby felt unusually high up in my belly. A few weeks prior Emerson had been presenting breech at the 32 week growth scan but had since been confirmed to be head down but just not yet engaged. The feeling of his position on that Sunday felt oddly familiar to when he was breech the weeks prior. It’s a feeling that I struggle to describe but if I had to put it into words I would say it feels as if someone is sat on your chest squashing your lungs making it hard to breathe! I had noticed when I was sat down that afternoon I could feel a hard lump at the top of my abdomen which at the time I thought was strange as only two days before we had been told he was head down and I hadn’t felt him flip since, but now I do know it was definitely his head high up in my ribcage that I was feeling.

That evening we had planned to have a quiet one. I had a list of things I still wanted to get done before our baby’s arrival which included sewing the last two panels of a cot skirt together for underneath Emerson’s crib, and hanging up a couple of picture frames above the crib with a small shelf. My main priority that evening was to finish the cot skirt as I had borrowed Rebecca’s sewing machine for the weekend and wanted to return it to her that night when she arrived back from Paris. My partners cousin dropped us back at our apartment around 5pm and we both changed into some comfy clothes before winding down for the evening. The plan was that I was going to finish sewing the cot skirt, then we were going to watch a movie together before heading to bed for an early night ahead of my scheduled 5:30am alarm to get up for work and head on the school run. Needless to say the evening did not plan out that way!

I sat down at my desk with the sewing machine ready to quickly sew on the final two panels. I ditched the sewing machine quite quickly as the thread kept snapping and it was driving me insane! I decided I was just going to sit in bed for half an hour and hand sew the panel on - in retrospect that was an unhinged decision as each panel was 120 cm long … I set to sewing and as I got about 10 stitches from the end of the first panel I felt a very strange sensation from down below! At first I genuinely thought I had wet myself. Unfortunately that wouldn’t be the first time this pregnancy! I quickly jumped out of bed and dropped my jogging bottoms and felt my pants. I confirmed to myself they were in fact quite wet and I ran to the bathroom. I was wearing black underwear so annoyingly I couldn’t see how wet they were and if I had taken the time to look at my jogging bottoms that were now in a heap on the bedroom floor, I would have seen how wet they were and realised a lot sooner that I had in fact not wet myself! I got into the bathroom went for a wee and thought to myself maybe I was just a lot more desperate than I had realised and maybe I just accidentally wet myself in bed. However, once I stopped weeing, the liquid did not stop coming. It was only at that point I started to think it might not be what I thought it was. The liquid stopped coming so I stood back up and then the flood gates opened. I was flooded with disbelief, panic, and an odd sense of inevitability all at once, the day I’d been waiting for, and fearing, had arrived. It was at that moment I thought it might be time to alert my partner to the situation. I had been hesitant to say anything to him until I was sure it was my waters that had broken as I knew he would go into a panic as we were only 35 weeks pregnant but the liquid did not stop coming so I thought it was time we went to the hospital. I sheepishly shouted out to him that I thought my waters had broken but that I might have just wet myself so it might actually be nothing. I have never seen that man move so fast, he came rushing in and after seeing the puddle at my feet he confidently said there is no way I have just wet myself and that he was going to ring his mum to come and get the dog and call his cousin to drive us to the hospital. Before I could say anything he had already sent those texts out and he was rushing around trying to gather up our things. I told him that there was no rush as I hadn’t had any contractions and that before we went anywhere I wanted to have a shower and wash my hair. I had been packing my hospital bag for weeks, adding things to a suitcase as and when we bought them so we already had a very organised suitcase ready to go. However, as I was only in 35 weeks pregnant and in denial that my waters had actually broken, I insisted that we didn’t need to take the suitcase with us and that we just needed to pack some phone chargers into my handbag as we would definitely be sent home from the hospital after a quick examination. I had a shower and put on the thickest maternity pad I could find. There was so much liquid still coming out that I wet through three of those maternity pads in the space of 3 minutes. I then decided to abandon that plan and just shove a hand towel in between my legs which worked a treat! I stupidly thought I would be able to put my comfy jogging bottoms back on for the journey to the hospital but when I picked them up from the heap on the floor it quickly became clear they were not wearable. They were soaked! I should’ve checked them as soon as I had taken them off as it would’ve been very obvious that my waters had broken and that I had not just peed a little bit. My partners cousin hadn’t answered our text so we decided to just call a taxi to take us to the hospital. We left our dog at home and arranged for my partners parents to come and pick him up. Our taxi arrived and we headed to the hospital with our phone chargers fully expecting to be home by midnight.

We arrived at the hospital at 8pm and walked straight into triage. Being a Sunday evening the place was luckily very empty so we got put onto a bed immediately, hooked onto the monitors and I had all my observations done. Everything came back fine from my observations except for protein in my urine. This wasn’t a surprise as the same thing had happened a few days earlier when we had been in triage. The midwife didn’t seem too concerned and wasn’t 100% sure my waters had even broken. She called for one of the doctors to come down and examine me but kept an eye on the baby’s heart rate whilst we waited. On the monitor you can see the baby’s heart beat then what is effectively a contraction tracker. I still wasn’t feeling any contractions but you could see on the monitor that they were definitely happening. We were watching the monitor and I started to notice that the baby’s heart rate would drop slightly from 140 to around 130. It wasn’t happening every time but it was something I kept an eye on. The doctor finally arrived and conducted a cervical exam using a speculum as he didn’t want to risk any infections at that stage as it was unclear if I was in labour or not. He confirmed that my waters had broken as he could see that they were still leaking but he also noted that I hadn’t dilated yet. The doctor had a long chat with us explaining that most women who experience preterm rupture of membranes [PROM] do not go into labour for around a week. He told us that the likely outcome would be that they would keep me in that night for monitoring and then have me come in for monitoring every other day until I went into labour. He said that if I hadn’t gone into labour in the next two weeks then I would be induced. It wasn’t the answer we thought we would be given as the monitor had been detecting contractions and it had been confirmed that my waters had broken. I was in fact very relieved as I had not mentally prepared for giving birth that night! The doctor left and we were told they were going to keep us on the monitor for a bit longer and then make a plan from there. Not long after the doctor and midwife left us, I started to feel contractions in my front. They weren’t strong but they were definitely ramping up. The midwife came back a little later and told us she would be taking us up to the assessment unit for the night and they would monitor us up there. Before heading up I asked to be taken off the monitor so I could use the bathroom. In the two minutes it took me to go to the bathroom the midwife had brought out a wheelchair and announced she was taking us up to labour and delivery. We were both shocked in the change of plan but the midwife said it was just a precaution as they had also noticed that the baby’s heart rate had been dropping slightly with some of the contractions. So I got into the wheelchair and we headed up to labour and delivery.

When we got up to the labour and delivery ward we were handed over to a new midwife who hooked us back up to the monitor and talked us through the next steps. The midwife came back with a doctor who had a few students with her. She asked us what our birth plan was and if we had a C-section booked in. We told her we never really had a birth plan except that I wanted to do it vaginally and was open to any pain relief options. She then asked if we knew how the baby was positioned. We told her that a few days prior baby had been head down but I did tell her that I had felt a lot of pressure high up that day but I hadn’t felt the baby flip so I was unsure of his position. She said she wanted to do a scan to confirm the baby’s position and then she would be able to help us make a better birth plan going forward. The scan showed that the baby was breech. The doctor told us that we now had to make a choice that would shape the very first moments of his life. After finding out Emerson was now breech we were given two options, either we go for a C-section or we could attempt a breech vaginal birth. The doctor ran us through all of the risks associated with both births and advised us that a C-section was a safer option and that she would strongly advise against me attempting a vaginal birth due to the significant risk it posed for the baby’s health. I had really wanted to avoid a C-section. My main reasoning for this was the recovery process associated with such major surgery. Although I really didn’t want a C-section, my main concern was the health of myself and my baby so I was more than happy to do whatever kept us both safe. The doctor told us there was no rush so she would leave us for half an hour to chat about how we wanted to proceed and then she would come back and make a plan with us. Before they all left the room they had me move position to laying on my side as they had noticed that the baby’s heart rate was still dropping at times with the contractions that were now a lot stronger and had moved into my back. The midwife told us that they could see all the monitors from the front desk so they would be keeping a close eye on all of the stats. I couldn’t see the monitor from where I was laying but my partner was watching it and could see that despite moving position the baby’s heart rate was still dropping. with contractions. As much as I didn’t want a C-section I knew that it was the safest option. Less than 5 minutes after the doctor had left the room she came rushing back in with the midwives and told us that the monitor indicated that the baby wasn’t happy and that they wanted to do a C-section immediately.

If im being honest the next few hours were a bit of a blur. Though my mind was spinning, I also felt a strange, protective calm, a readiness to meet our son no matter what. A set of scrubs got thrown at my partner, a midwife tied back my hair whilst I started to get wheeled out the room, a pen got put in my hand to sign all the relevant paper work and a scrub cap got put on my head. It all happened extremely fast but it was a very calm experience. It was actually better that it happened quickly as we didn’t have time to think about anything or panic. When we got into the operating room we were asked if we wanted to put some music on through the speakers. I knew it was something you could do but given that it was being classed as an emergency C-section I never thought that would be an option. Obviously I chose to put on a Taylor Swift playlist for my son to be born to! We were introduced to the anaesthetist who would be performing the spinal block and the other doctors and midwives who would be assisting in the delivery. More and more people started to arrive into the theatre and each one introduced themselves and took some time to chat to us and answer any questions we had. I was too in my head about what was about to happened but thankfully my partner was a lot more present and was able to ask some important questions that I wasn’t in the right headspace to ask. The main thing I remember him asking was if our son would cry or not when he was born and if it was something to worry about if he didn’t. The doctors assured us that it was perfectly normal for babies not to cry during a C-section delivery and that it was actually very likely he would not cry instantly. We were also told about the likelihood that he may need to spend some time in the NICU due to him being 5 weeks premature. They discussed the possibility that he may need some help breathing initially but that they would talk us through everything as it happened. I was prepared for him to go to the NICU as soon as my waters broke as I was aware of how premature he was going to be if he was born that night so I wasn’t shocked by this news. Despite the situation we were in, the entire vibe of the room was still very calm and relaxed. I never felt scared or worried about what was happening. I think this was largely attributed to the attitude of the doctors and surgeons in the room and their commitment to making sure me and my partner were fully informed about everything that was happening. The doctor performing the delivery, who we had met in the labour room, popped her head into the room and reminded everyone that whilst it wasn’t a critical emergency, the delivery was still being classed as an emergency C-section and so they needed to get a slight rush on starting. Not long after this the anaesthetist started on the spinal block. I was very nervous for this part as all I really knew about the process was that a massive needle was going to be put into my spine. I think it helped a lot that at the time he performed the epidural, I was having quite painful contractions in my back so I had something else to focus on aside from the massive needle being put into my back. My partner held my hand through the whole thing and kept me distracted with picking our next song to play over the speaker. The whole process was a lot less traumatic than I had built it up to be in my head. Aside from the initial local anaesthetic injection, I barely felt any of the actual epidural needle going in. At some points there was a bit of pressure but it was over very quickly. As soon as the medication was put in my legs started to go very heavy and a team of doctors helped me lay back down and moved me into position. A catheter was put in and apparently some medication was put up certain places! Luckily I did not feel any of this happening. All I knew was my legs were being held up by various people and I was being contorted into different positions. The anaesthetist used a cold spray up my body to test the effectiveness of the epidural and thankfully it had worked perfectly. The main surgeon came into the room and the drapes went up. No more than 10 minutes later Emerson August Banks O’Leary was born at 00:45. All I had ever heard about C-sections was that, while you don’t feel pain, you can sense tugging, shifting, and rummaging as they bring your baby into the world. So, when I heard we’d be having a C-section, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of nervous anticipation. I knew it wouldn’t be painful but I didn’t love the idea of feeling those sensations. I was also very nervous about feeling them make the first incision. I had had many contraceptive implants over the years which are always removed using local anaesthetic and a scalpel. Whenever I had had one removed I never felt pain but I always felt the sensation of them making the incision. I was very surprised when the doctors announced that they could see my baby’s feet already. I hadn’t felt a thing. I had no idea they had even started the surgery. When they were pulling Emerson out I could feel some pressure but mainly up in my ribs. The best way I can describe the feeling was as if a toddler was sat up on your chest. After Emerson was pulled out they dropped the drapes and we saw our son for the first time. I had always imagined that when my baby was born I would be handed him straight away and we would have that magical moment everyone always talks about. The second we were told we were being rush into an emergency C-section my first thought was that I wouldn’t be getting that moment of instant skin to skin which made me feel very sad and disappointed that I wouldn’t be having the birth I had imagined. But the second I saw Emerson being held up by the doctor all those feelings instantly disappeared and all I felt was love and awe that my body had made him. My heart felt impossibly full. It was truly a moment of disbelief that he was that massive bump I had been carrying about for the past 8 months, that he was a real baby that we get to cherish for the rest of our lives. He was perfect.

For obvious reasons I couldn’t go over and see my baby but my partner was told that he could go over and see him. I couldn’t see anything from where I was but the amazing anaesthetist stayed by my head talking to me the entire time letting me know what was going on with Emerson. My partner kept coming back over too to show me pictures of our little boy as he said he was conscious of the fact I couldn’t see what was happening with our little boy. This is something I will always be grateful for. Although I’m gutted I didn’t get to witness it, I am so glad he also got to cut the cord as it’s something he was very excited to do. A few moments later my partner came over cradling our baby in his arms and handed him to me for the first time. With all the wires and drapes hanging off of me it wasn’t the easiest to hold my baby but we made it work! It was everything I had dreamed of. The doctors were very impressed that Emerson didn’t need any help breathing and that he appeared to be doing well despite his early arrival into the world. Once I was all stitched back up they transferred me back to the hospital bed the same way they transfer whales to a different pool at Seaworld. Conversely to the whale, I was wrapped up in a massive sheet instead of a tarpaulin, I was then shoved from side to side, jiggled about and slid onto the hospital bed. All I can say is thank god I was still completely numb because I imagine if I wasn’t, being moved around like that after major abdominal surgery would not have been a pleasant experience. I will be honest, at this point I have no idea where my partner or my baby was and even after asking him, he admitted he too had no clue as it was all such a blur. The next few hours seem to merge into one. I remember being on the recovery ward, baby in arms, taking in all his perfection. It quickly became apparent that my instance to leave the suitcase was a massive mistake. The midwives kept asking if we had a hat or a nappy to put on the baby which we repeatedly had to admit we did not. I felt so guilty that we had come so unprepared and that we were having to use nappies from the ward and that some midwives were going on a massive hunt around the hospital for a hat for our baby. I kept apologising to all the midwives but they were extremely understanding of our situation and told me they would have done the exact same thing if this has happened to them! He was still doing amazing but had developed a slight rasp in his breath which they wanted to keep a close eye on. The midwives had told us if by four hours after birth this hadn’t resolved, he may need to go up the the NICU for some assistance with breathing. What felt like a minute passed by when they came back to check on his breathing but it had already been just over four hours since he was born. The rasp in his breath was still audible but it had definitely improved. Because of this improvement they said they were happy to give him two more hours until they made any decisions on the NICU. It wasn’t long after this that his the rasp in his breathing started to get louder and more noticeable. They let us keep cuddling him for another hour before announcing that he needed to go up to the NICU for some breathing assistance. Although I had been anticipating this happening since my waters broke, it was still heartbreaking to have my baby taken away from me. As much as I wanted my partner to stay with me, I also didn’t want Emerson to be alone so I insisted my partner went up to the NICU with him. I think for him it was a slight relief that I was insisting he went up to the NICU as he was caught in a dilemma of wanting to be there for me but also wanting to be there for our son. They took him from me, placed him in a tiny cot, and wheeled him up to the NICU with his daddy following close behind. I don’t remember what happened to me after this. I can only assume I was taken down to the transition ward at some point. We were put on a bay with other mothers and fathers who had babies in the NICU and once Emerson had been released back to us we would be moved to the next door bay with others whose babies had just come out of the NICU. I remember my partner sending me pictures from the NICU and I distinctively remember the feeling of helplessness when I saw the picture of him covered in wires with a feeding tube coming from his nose. My partner rang me and told me everything that had been happening with our baby. He said that less than hour after being up in the NICU, Emerson’s breathing had stabilised without the need of any intervention and he was moved out from the intensive care unit into the low dependency unit. This was a massive relief but there was still a lot of uncertainty over how long he was going to need to be up there. It was extremely frustrating for me not being able to just stand up and walk up to see my baby but the midwives had said they would arrange for a porter to come and take me up there as soon as I had regained all feeling in my legs. My partner came back down to see me once things had settle down with Emerson and instead of waiting for the porter he found a wheelchair and we went up together. I can’t describe the relief and happiness I felt when we were all back together again in the NICU. Although it was hard seeing Emerson like that I knew it was the best thing for him and that we would have him back in our arms in no time.

As the day went on some new issues came to light, the main ones being his inability to regulate his blood sugars and his intolerance to the formula he was being fed down his tube. We were initially told that Emerson would be coming out of the NICU the following morning so that evening we were moved into the bay with other parents whose babies had been released from the NICU. We decided that night my partner would sleep over at the hospital with me as I needed some help getting up and about after my C-section and Emerson would be coming down early in the morning. At the end of the day we knew the chances of Emerson coming down to us were quite slim as his blood sugars were not stabilising but we were told by the midwives on our ward he would be down in the morning still. The NICU is open 24/7 for parental access. As we hadn’t slept since Saturday night at this point we thought it best to actually try and get some rest Monday evening - or as much rest as a 6’4” man who had to sleep on a chair, and a woman who had just had major abdominal surgery can. I think I slept for about 3 hours in total as my body was still full of adrenaline and all I wanted to do was be upstairs with my baby. At around 6am we were told that the NICU had phoned and that Emerson would need to stay up in the NICU. As soon as we were up and ready we rushed straight to the NICU to see our little boy. Everyone working up there was a saint, they were the most friendly and helpful people we had ever met. The nurses looking after Emerson unfortunately couldn’t give us any indication of when he might be discharged, we just had to take it all an hour at a time. To add stress to the situation my doctor was trying to discharge me on the Tuesday morning. The medical team had reviewed my status and determined that as I was making such good progress with my recovery, I was able to be discharged that morning. Normally this would have been amazing news. Being discharged only 24 hours after a C-section is a welcomed surprise. However for us with a baby in the NICU still, this gave me immense anxiety on how we were going to still be able to see our baby. Although our hospital isn’t too far from our home, we no longer have a car so to get there we need to either take two buses or take the central line, neither of which sounded feasible whilst recovering from surgery. If we were discharged it wouldn’t be as simple as popping in the lift to the fourth floor to visit our baby. I spoke with the midwives and they said that unfortunately there wasn’t a lot they could do if I was going to be discharged but that we should speak to the NICU staff about reserving a parent room on the fourth floor that would allow us to continue sleeping at the hospital until Emerson was discharged. When we went back to see our baby we mentioned this to the NICU nurse. She was extremely empathetic to our situation but warned us that all of the rooms were currently occupied and that they were understandably given to parents of babies in critical or palliative care. We just had to hope and pray we were able to stay near our son.

As the day progressed it became clear Emerson would not be coming out of the NICU just yet. His blood sugar levels were still unstable and he was throwing up a lot after every feed. We spent Tuesday going back and fourth from the NICU and the ward. I attribute my speedy recovery to Emerson being up in the NICU. I was so desperate to go and see him that I made an effort to be up and walking the same day as my surgery. I didn’t want to have to wait for a wheelchair and someone to take me upstairs every time I wanted to see my baby. If I could have I would have stayed in the NICU next to our son the entire time but as much as he needed medical care, I did too. As I had just had major surgery, there was a lot of medications I needed to take throughout the day. Me and Emerson were also both on IV antibiotics for the duration of our hospital stay as the midwives were suspicious that it may have been an infection in the amniotic fluid that caused my waters to break so prematurely. After many tests it was confirmed that neither me nor Emerson had any infections so the cause for my PROMS is still undetermined. Towards the end of the day on Tuesday, the only thing keeping Emerson in the NICU was his inability to keep any of the formula down. As a nanny I have come across a few babies who are just unable to tolerate formula. Formula can be a bit harsher on a newborn’s tummy since it’s harder to digest than breast milk. In the NICU, Emerson consistently struggled to keep the formula down and his little stomach just couldn’t seem to handle it. My goal was always to breast feed. In the time Emerson was in the NICU I had been able to breastfeed him intermittently in between formula feeds. Every time he breastfed he was able to keep the milk down. To me it was obvious that the issue did not lie with Emerson’s feeding, but with what we were feeding him. I found myself almost begging the nurses to let me try exclusively breastfeeding my son. For reasons I still don’t understand, I was told by the nurse that I couldn’t do that and that they would try switching the formula to another brand to see if he could tolerate that instead. For us this was extremely frustrating as it felt like we were just going in circles. Unfortunately it was out of our control and by 8pm we decided to go back to the ward to order some food and I was going to try and get some rest whilst my partner sat with Emerson until 11pm when he would go back to our apartment to feed our cats and get some sleep in our own bed. The only positive thing to come out of that evening was the guarantee that they would let us stay in the hospital and wouldn’t discharge me that day.

I managed to get some sleep that evening but I woke up at 2am with an unwavering desire to be with my baby. My boobs were solid at this point and it was obvious my milk had come in. Instead of trying to get more rest I decided I would head up to the NICU for a few hours to cuddle my baby and check on how the formula change had gone. When I got up there I saw a nurse I hadn’t seen before. I asked how Emerson was doing and if he had thrown up and she said he was doing great and hadn’t been sick. This was amazing news, I thought that finally we might be making progress! A few minutes later the nurse that had told us about the plan to change the formula came back from her break. I expressed my happiness over Emerson’s progress but instead of a positive reaction from her I was met with a confused expression from her. She went on to explain that they had actually stopped feeding Emerson all together. She said that they never tried changing the formula but instead the doctor had decided to make him nil by mouth until the next doctor started their shift at 8am. I can’t lie I was shocked that we had taken such a dramatic step in the wrong direction. I broke down in tears as I just felt like we were getting no where and my baby was no where near coming home with us. I felt every ounce of fear, exhaustion, and fierce love all at once. I just wanted to fix everything for him, and couldn’t. All I wanted to do was call my partner and ask him to come back to the hospital but I had to remind myself that it was 3am and unfortunately even if he did come, there was nothing he could do to change the situation. Instead I just sat in the chair and snuggled my baby. At around 4am he woke up extremely distressed and obviously extremely hungry. He was going crazy looking to latch onto my boobs and screaming the loudest I’ve ever heard him scream. As I am writing this Emerson is currently 4 weeks old and the scream he let out that night is still the loudest I’ve ever heard him cry. I begged the nurse to let me feed my baby but she reiterated that the doctor wanted him to be nil by mouth to almost ‘reset’ his tummy before trying the new formula in the morning. I had to just sit there cradling him and sobbing as he screamed to be fed. By 6am he had settled back down and the nurses on the ward had called me to come back to the bay for my IV antibiotics. It was extremely hard to leave Emerson that time but I knew my partner would be arriving in the next hour to sit with Emerson. My favourite ward nurse came back on shift at 7am. She was the kindest woman I have ever met. She took the time to chat with me and ask how I was doing with Emerson in the NICU. She would always ask to see pictures of him and ask on his progress. She would even call the NICU whilst I was having my IV to get an update on how Emerson was when we weren’t able to be with him. She was also very conscious that we were in the bay with other people who had their babies and that we still didn’t have ours downstairs. She asked on several occasions if we wanted to be moved back into the room with other parents without their babies as she understood it must’ve been very hard for us being with other babies. We assured her that we were absolutely fine as it really didn’t bother me. We weren’t in the bay much anyway as we spent the majority of our time with Emerson in the NICU. That morning she was asking if my milk had started to come in and if I wanted to be shown how to use a breast pump to take some milk up to the NICU for Emerson. Coincidently it definitely had come in that morning and I was very keen to pump some milk to take up to my son. She brought in the pump and set it up for me, showing me how to use everything. She gave me a long talk about not getting discouraged or disheartened if I don’t manage to get much milk out. She assured me that I had only given birth 48 hours prior so it was very normal to not get anything out when pumping. She left me with the pumps and I was going to try it after my IV finished. I ended up falling asleep for a few hours until my partner arrived back at the hospital at around 9am. I filled my partner in on what had been happening whilst he was gone. We then headed up to the NICU together to see Emerson. I had been extremely stressed about Emerson and the prospect of him being in the NICU for yet another day. To make things more stressful I was told by the NICU staff that the doctors had told them I was being discharged that morning. Desperate to be allowed to stay I spoke with the nurses to see if there was anything we could do to either secure one of the parent rooms or ensure we wouldn’t be discharged. She told us she would ask again about the parent room but again she couldn’t promise anything.

For the past few days we had had the same nurses rotating shifts but when we got back upstairs on Wednesday there was a completely new nurse on shift. She immediately gave off the most positive attitude and took the time to come over to us and introduce herself. She explained that the doctor had agreed to let him start feeding again but asked us how we wanted to proceed. This question stunned us as up until this point no one had asked us what we wanted to do with our son’s feeding. We explained to her that I had always planned on exclusively breastfeeding but that I was open to whatever worked best for our baby. I told her that the times I had tried feeding him on the breast he had not thrown up like he had with the formula. She immediately just said that we could try breastfeeding him that day and ditch the formula. We honestly could not believe what we were hearing. Someone was finally listening to us. This incredible nurse also told us that she had heard the doctors were trying to discharge us so she had reserved us a parent room so that we didn’t have to be away from our baby. We couldn’t believe how incredible this angel of a nurse was. We felt so blessed that she had been put in charge of Emerson’s care that day.

Late morning a lactation specialist came round the NICU to speak to anyone who wanted help breastfeeding. We got chatting to her about how Emerson had always latched perfectly and seemed to be feeding well and I told her a nurse had already given me a pump to try on the ward but I just hadn’t had a chance to try it yet. She said that she was more than happy to go and find a pump I could use up on the NICU and that I could try pumping then and there. When she came back with the pump I got given the same speech I had downstairs about not being disheartened if I was unable to get anything and she gave us all the equipment and left us to try it out. The nurse looking after Emerson then told us she was going on her break and that if we needed help with the pump she would be back in half an hour. Throughout the last month of my pregnancy my boobs had been leaking like crazy so I was silently confident that I might be able to get at least some milk out with the pump. I set up the pumps and got going. I was only pumping for 7 minutes when I had to stop because I had filled both containers to the top … I placed them on the side of the sink to give to the midwife when she got back and continued cuddling my baby. When she returned she sheepishly asked how I had got on with the pump. I pointed to the full containers on the side of the sink and she genuinely did a double take. She simply just said ‘fair enough’ in disbelief and put them in the fridge! Even though everything felt like it was going wrong with our son’s progress, at least I had enough milk to feed all the babies in the NICU.

We continued to exclusively breastfeed the entire day and Emerson wasn’t sick, not even once! It finally felt like we were making some progress and getting closer to our baby being discharged back to us. Even though everything was going amazingly that day the nurses were still unsure when Emerson would be leaving the NICU. I made a plan with the NICU nurse that I would come up every 3 hours in the night to breastfeed Emerson. At 7pm another new nurse came on shift and we discussed the plan going forward with feeding Emerson throughout the night. After the 8pm feed me and my partner said good night to Emerson who had just pulled out both his feeding tube and cannula in the space of 10 minutes! Luckily neither of them were needed anymore. We just took it as a sign that he was more than ready to come join us on the ward and was just trying to speed the process up! After some last snuggles me and my partner went back down to the ward to order some food then we decided it was best that my partner went back home again to get some much needed rest. During the night I went back up to the NICIU to do the 11pm and 1am feed. The nurse then reminded me that I had pumped milk earlier in the day so she could bottle feed him for the 4am so that I could get a little bit of rest. As much as I wanted to come up and do the feed myself I thought it best I let her bottle feed Emerson that once so I could shut my eyes for a few hours as at this point I had only slept for about 7 hours since the Saturday night before he had been born. I was running on pure love and adrenaline. I told her I would definitely be back for the 7am feed to breastfeed. The nurse then said that the doctor had just told her that Emerson was coming down to us on the ward at 6am so there would be no need for us to come back up. I genuinely couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My baby was finally being discharged from the NICU. My instant reaction was to just cry [a lot]. Im not sure whether they were tears of joy or relief or most likely both. Although he had only been in there for 3 nights, it felt like a lot more. That week had been filled with so much stress and uncertainty but suddenly it felt like everything might finally be ok. All I wanted to do was ring my partner as I knew he had his phone on loud incase I needed to contact him about Emerson but I also knew that him coming to the hospital at 2am wasn’t going to make Emerson come to us any quicker and it was best at least one of us got some rest. Instead I sent him a very emotional text about how excited and elated I was that we were finally going to get our little baby back in the hopes that he would see it as soon as he woke in the morning and rush over to be with us. After the 1am feed was done I went back down to the ward to try and get a couple of hours of sleep. In-between being woken up for blood pressure checks and struggling to sleep through the excitement, I think I managed to get a few hours of sleep. At 6am I was woken up by my sweet baby boy being bought into the room to me, free of wires and tubes and finally wearing some clothes for the first time! As we hadn’t anticipated having a premature baby the smallest clothes we had were newborn. One of the sleepsuits was luckily a very small newborn size so it just about fit him, even though he still looked like he was being swallowed by fabric. He was finally all mine. We were lucky in that everyone else that had been in the bay with us had been discharged the night before so we had the space all to ourselves. I picked Emerson up, which was so much easier now he didn’t have wires hanging off of his body, and we just sat in silence and cuddled. I have never felt happiness like it. The love I felt for my baby in that moment was nothing I had ever felt before [except for the first time I met my precious cat Banksy who yes I did name my son after much to my partners disgust…] We had about an hour together alone before my partner arrived back at the hospital and we were all together again. Throughout that morning we had various doctors and midwives come by to do some tests on Emerson and final checks on me post-surgery. We both passed all our checks with flying colours and we were told we would be able to be discharged as soon as all the paperwork had been processed. It didn’t feel real. We were actually being allowed to go home and start our life as a family of three.

At 1pm we dressed our little 5lb baby into his going home outfit that was also way too big for him, and bundled him into his car seat, complete with a William Morris blanket of course! We hailed a taxi, jumped in and strapped in our precious cargo. As the taxi pulled away from the hospital, it hit me that we were really doing it, we were taking our tiny boy home. I looked out the window in silence, clutching Emerson’s little hand, overwhelmed by gratitude, disbelief, and love all at once. He looked completely lost in his oversized outfit and bonnet, but he was ours, finally. After everything that had happened, it felt calm, surreal, and perfectly ordinary all at once, just the three of us heading home to start our new life together. Emerson August Banks was finally home with us.

Our whole pregnancy we told everyone around us that we were waiting until the baby was born to find out the gender. However that was a massive lie! We had actually gone for a gender scan at the end of May as we couldn’t wait to find out. We decided to keep it to ourselves as it felt like special being the only ones who knew. We also wanted to avoid the inevitable questions about what we were going to name the baby and we were not keen on hearing people’s opinion on any names before he was born. The name Emerson took us quite a while to come up with. Me and my partner have quite different taste in names, I prefer more unusual names whilst he would have preferred we used something traditonal. Emerson felt like a happy compromise between the two. I also only wanted to use names for our children that we could shorten. For Emerson, the shortened version we use is Emery. Neither of us had come across the name Emery before falling pregnant. I can’t remember where I first saw it but it just felt right for this baby and we both really loved the name. We then had the challenge of finding a longer version of the name that we could put on his birth certificate which is where the name Emerson came from. At first my partner wasn’t too keen on the name Emerson and we almost just called him Emery but with time he came to love it. For a while we were stuck between the names Emerson, Quinn and Atticus. For the name Quinn we had a similar issue where we couldn’t agree on a longer version of the name and Atticus just didn’t feel right for this baby. His first middle name August was chosen by us both as it is the month me and my partner met. We also plan on giving all of our future children August as a first middle name so if when they are older and any of them change their surname, we will still have something linking us together as a family. We decided he’d have a second middle name too, and this time, I got full control of the choice! The reason being me and my partner are not married nor are we planning on getting married anytime soon. We therefore have different surnames. Before we even got pregnant we had always discussed the possibility of creating a whole new surname for when we got married, or take another family name such as one of our grandmothers maiden names. We had never come to a proper conclusion around this though and when we unexpectedly fell pregnant earlier this year, my partner expressed a desire for the baby to take his surname. My only condition was that I got to choose the second middle name without any input. He agreed, so Emerson ended up being named after my first cat, Banksy. My partner wasn’t exactly thrilled about it (he’s never quite shared my deep affection for Banksy), but that cat but that cat has been such a constant in my life. I got him a few years before we met, and he’s been through everything with me, every move and every new chapter. Some people might think it’s a little mad to name your child after a cat, but Banksy was family long before Emerson arrived, and I love that a small part of him lives on in our son’s name.

Looking back, nothing about Emerson’s arrival went the way we planned, yet I can’t imagine it happening any other way. Every twist, turn, worry and sleepless night was all worth it in the end. Those first days were messy and raw and beautiful all at once, a blur of fear, love, and disbelief. But through it all, what stood out most was the overwhelming love and awe of finally holding him in our arms. We brought home the tiniest baby, yet he managed to make the world feel so much bigger. We love you more than you’ll ever know baby Emery.