16 weeks gestation
I married in 1990 at a very young age. It came as no surprise that almost two years later; I was filing for divorce.
In the summer of 1992, however, I had a brief reconciliation with my husband. Ultimately, I decided that it was not going to work out and therefore continued with divorce proceedings.
During the remainder of the summer, I started to feel unwell and lost a lot of weight. Nausea and dizziness soon followed and I went to see my GP. I was completely taken aback when, after a routine urine test, I was found to be pregnant!
I decided that I would keep the baby, and raise it on my own without the help of my soon to be ex-husband. I admit that I was very shocked to learn that I was pregnant, but as time wore on, I became used to the idea of being pregnant and indeed started to look forward to the birth of my baby and the life thereafter.
However, I continued to feel ill... I finally came to the conclusion that I should not be feeling as ill as this, even with pregnancy and went to the doctor. A large lump had appeared in my abdomen, not through pregnancy, and I was referred to another hospital to take a look at this lump.
Many many tests and biopsies later confirmed that I had a tumour on my ovary and it was attaching my ovary to my bowel wall. I had cancer! I was told that it was very aggressive as the hormones being produced by my pregnancy were facilitating the rapid growth of the tumour.
I had options put to me:
terminate the pregnancy and commence cancer treatment and/or surgery
continue with the pregnancy, risk my life, and start treatment soon after the birth of my baby
I chose the latter as I did not wish to jeopardise the life of my baby growing inside of me, even though I was advised to the contrary.
However, things later took a turn for the worse...
During a routine appointment with the obstetrician, I had an ultrasound scan on the baby to check that all was well in view of my diagnosis with the oncologist.
During this scan, I was told that my son’s heartbeat could not be found. The sonographer checked for what seemed like an eternity. However, after a fruitless search, she turned to me and said “I’m so sorry, but your baby has died.”
My world collapsed. How could this be? Surely there must be some mistake? Another, more senior, sonographer came into the ultrasound room and scanned me. Then an obstetrician came in, and a feto-maternal medicine specialist. All scanned me in turn and went into a group huddle.
“I am afraid that your baby has a heart defect that has meant that it has died in-utero”, I was informed. The rest of that afternoon was a complete blur. I was almost 16 weeks pregnant and now my baby had died. What could I do, what should I do, what could I have done? My mind was a complete mess.
It transpired that my baby, a boy, whom I called “Scott Ian” had a congenital heart defect called “Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome” and due to his heart not growing and developing properly, it did not have the strength to function to support his growing little form... in short, his little heart gave in and he had heart failure in-utero.
After another blur of an afternoon being swamped with advice and information, I was told that I would need to induce to deliver Scott Ian, as he had now passed away.
I received medication to try and kick start an induced labour, but nothing happened. I so wanted to see my little boy and hold him and touch him. However, it soon transpired that I would have to go to surgery as the induction failed and I had started to get an infection.
My firstborn little son, Scott Ian, was taken from me surgically at 7.45pm on October 23, 1992. I now regard this date as his Heavenly Birthday and think of him often. I was told that I would not be able to see him, and therefore have no reminders or mementoes of his presence with me here on earth. I can only look into the stars on a clear night and imagine him being the shiniest twinkliest one there...
Scott Ian recently had his 10th Heavenly Birthday... I often sit quietly and think of him, and even more so now that he has a little brother to take care of in Heaven... my second son, Elliott David, whom I lost to Potter’s Syndrome in January 2000.
My one wish for eternity is that when my time comes, both my boys will be there to meet me when I reach those pearly white gates of Heaven, and be with them once more... only this time it will be forever.
Click on the Carousel to email Lynda personally
Return to the "Other stories" page