Hello

A traumatic birth

I felt dizzy, like the world was spinning a hundred miles an hour. The air didn't feel like the air anymore.

I made my way to the other car, a white ford escort, whilst holding a hand to my head. My feet stumbled, arguing with my body on where they wanted to be. The road was empty except for us. The wind whipped me, stabbing my skin as I prised open the back driver side door. The girl, no more than 3 years old, screamed until I had her in my arms. The pain in my head and abdomen were straining, pulling me onto the ground. The girl's hand gripped the collar of my shirt as I fell to my knees, screaming at the ripping sensation inside me. It felt like my baby was clawing at my insides, scraping me.

What is happening to me?

I woke up again, resting on the ground. The cold breeze chilled me as I folded my hands over my belly. Guac had to be my first priority. A gentle hand tapped my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. Every part of my body hurt.

"Mam, your water has broken and we need to get you to hospital. Conor and I are going to lift you up to get you into the ambulance." His face was round, blocking out the emerging silver sun. I tried to imagine him as Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show in hope it would bleed some life into me. If only he'd sung Sweet Transvestite to me on the way to the hospital.

Panic set in as I was strapped down in the ambulance. I needed Roger. I needed to know if the girl and her dad were okay. I needed to know if my baby was going to be okay. My lungs became mechanical, inhaling and exhaling more than necessary. I felt dizzy, I was stressed. I stopped breathing altogether, passing out once again.

In the next fragment of memory, people are asking me quick-fire questions

The oxygen mask felt like it was suffocating me and my body was pumping ice through my veins. I was cramped, cold, and in shock. The white ceiling of Great Ormond Street hospital was like a river of paint and fluorescent lights. It was the only thing I could concentrate on. I had no idea where I was going, until I heard the scream of Vivienne Florence.

"Vivienne! Vivienne please!" I yelled back, shaking my head against the pillow underneath me. I wanted to run away, to have her tell me it's all a dream. I yelled until my throat went numb and nothing could come out again. The foot of my bed slammed through a set of cold double doors. I had been in this room a million times but never like this. This was the room they gave C-Sections in and I was having none of it.

I cried. I needed Roger to tell me it was going to be okay. I needed him to hold my hand, tell me that he loved me. A familiar hand grabbed onto me, and I made a noise quite unlike anything I'd ever heard.

"Lucy, I'm here. It's all going to turn out okay. They won't touch you until they know for sure what's happened to Guac. It's going to be okay." Vivienne Florence held my hand, the other holding my shoulder down. I pressed her head to my forehead, trying to calm down. My body was in overdrive.

"We can't drug you up so you gotta calm yourself. Come on, Lucy. Good girl. Slowly. As soon as something extravagant happens, I'll get hold of Chrissie and Rog, okay?" Her voice was motherly, the opposite to her usual self. I inhaled with purpose, exhaling as deeply as I could as she coached me through every breath. At the slightest sound of metal clanking, I'd flinch and fight her to sit up, but she was always stronger than me. The constant flow of tissues from her uniform pocket kept her busy, wiping my eyes as I tried not to cry. It felt like we were hours in the same position, breathing in silence, the world around us slowly falling into a lull. Vivienne Florence was all I had. The father of my baby was in Japan and I was stuck in England.

"Emma's here to check on Guac. Do you want me down there, or up here?" I gripped her hand tighter, my way of begging her to stay. Vivienne gave a reassuring nod and gave Emma the all clear.

It felt as though my baby was doing backflips in their little home in my body, make me feel nauseas. I could hardly make out what Vivienne and Emma were discussing, but when I heard the words "foetal distress", Guac wasn't the only one who returned to panic mode.

By the time Vivienne had got hold of Roger, I was having my uterus cut open. Apparently they docked her pay for international calls.

It felt wrong, being on this side of the green sheet. Usually, I was on the other side, getting ready to grab the infant and get to work with Vivienne fluttering between me and the mother. This time, I was the mother and Vivienne Florence was holding my hand. I couldn't feel any of the incisions, or I would have been screaming or passed out, my apparent new hobby on that day.

"You holding up?" She asked, wiping my forehead with another tissue. I nodded.

"Just trying to distract myself." I whispered, staring at her. Usually you don't make eye contact with your same-gender best friend while a doctor has his hand in your uterus. This day was brimming with first-time experiences.

"You wanna hear something cool?" Vivienne asked, peering over the green curtain. I held my breath.

My baby cried for the first time.