Having a transabdominal stitch was one of the happiest days of my life
Starting a family
We always knew we wanted to have a family and I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant in December 2017. It was an easy pregnancy, only a little morning sickness, and watching videos of the growing baby each week brought us great joy.
At the 20-week scan, we found out we were having a boy and that he was already lying head down in my pelvis, in a cephalic presentation. I was booked in for a follow-up 2 weeks later where he was healthy but still in my pelvis. I explained I could feel a pressure on my private parts but the sonographer offered no advice and I was sent home.
The next evening, I went to use the bathroom and felt something coming out of my body. My husband came and saw the fetal membrane was visible and bulging out. My cervix had silently dilated.
Labour at 22 weeks
The ambulance rushed me to Barnet Hospital where I was told I was going into labour and nothing could be done to save my son because, 2 weeks shy of 24 weeks, he was not viable.
I clung to my faith because that was all I had. I knew I could not lose this baby.
I had done everything right, taken all the vitamins, attended all the appointments. Before I could gather my thoughts, contractions kicked in and I was in severe agony, physically and emotionally.
On the morning of 18 May, 2018, I gave birth to my son. It was the day before Meghan and Harry’s wedding and there was a real sense of celebration in the hospital as I lay sorrowful in a darkened room, begging myself to wake up from this dreadful dream.
He was born at 10:59 am. I couldn’t look at him. I was in denial. Besides, I could feel him kicking in my tummy. Was it my uterus contracting or was it my son kicking? Then I saw my husband, Rob holding him. That's when I realized the magnitude of what I had lost. A gorgeous baby boy who, at 5 months gestation, had all his features. He looked so much like his dad, he was perfect. Our son lived for an hour and we named him Junior.
Leaving without Junior
We were discharged 3 days later, and it was a punishment to go home without him. We took the back exit to avoid the maternity ward. The taxi driver assumed it was a false alarm and asked, “Aw, no baby yet?" I burst into tears. Rob comforted me and was my biggest support through it all.
The next few days were the worst of my life. I felt so guilty for not asking for a second opinion, for not advocating, for not fighting for my son.
For most African women, marriage and children are the highlights of life, and I felt like my womb had failed us, had failed my son.
I had many appointments and was given 2 bereavement officers by Barnet Hospital, but that didn't help. So, I contacted St. Thomas' Hospital and was connected to Tommy's, who assigned me to a bereavement midwife. She provided statistics but also reassured me that losing my first pregnancy did not preclude me from having a rainbow baby in the future. She and the doctor went through my son's autopsy results and found no abnormalities. They attributed the cause of the miscarriage to an “unknown cause”. I was devastated.
Searching for answers
After tons of research and sharing my son's autopsy results with any doctor who would listen, I discovered 2 Facebook groups: UK TAC and Abbyloopers. My life changed forever. The group introduced me to women in similar situations and after reading their stories, I self-diagnosed that my miscarriage was caused by an incompetent cervix (IC), also known as weak cervix.
I learned from my research that most women are forced to suffer 2 or more second-trimester miscarriages before receiving a diagnosis.
I refused to go down that path. I spoke to Doctor Arthur Haney of UChicago Medicine who gave me all the information I needed regarding a transabdominal cerclage (TAC), the synthetic band stitched high on the cervix to prevent it opening during pregnancy, but I needed a doctor in the UK.
That’s when I found Doctor Nicholas Wales of Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. I told him I knew I wasn't the best candidate for a TAC but there was no way I was going to risk a second pregnancy without one. He offered a transvaginal cerclage which had a 70% success rate, and said it would be suitable because I had “only” lost 1 baby. I cried and begged him for the TAC. I told him I needed the 90% assurance that it came with.
Having my stitch
He heard my cry, answered my heartfelt prayer and booked me in for my TAC surgery on 7 September 2018, one of the happiest days of my life.
After the surgery, the next battle was conceiving which can be a challenge with PCOS. We underwent various treatments; invasive and non-invasive. One year later, on 27 April 2019, I found out I was pregnant. It was a bittersweet moment. A cloud of fear and sadness spread. I had prepared for this journey physically but realised I had done nothing for my mental health.
I had scans every 2 weeks alternating between Newham Hospital and Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. These biweekly scans were by choice because I knew how quickly the cervix changes.
It was a beautiful and uneventful pregnancy. My cervix remained consistently strong and closed. The TAC was doing its thing.
By week 30, I felt more confident, and by week 34, Rob and I both had the courage to buy our daughter her coming home outfit.
Welcoming our daughter
I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and at 37 weeks was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia after suffering from painful migraines and changes in vision. On 4 December 2019, a day before my planned C-section, at 37+1 weeks, my angel, my world, my heartbeat, was born. We named her Victoria Nicole. Nicole was in honour of Doctor Nicholas Wales for going against standard operating procedures and blessing me with the TAC.
Registering her birth was the best part because, for our son, we were only given his death certificate. Nicole's birth certificate felt like an award for our tireless efforts in bringing her here. We ordered 4 copies and framed one.
My experience has changed me
I miss my son every day and I always wonder what might have been and what could have been done differently. I’m still not the cheerful Mary of 2017 but the experience has taught me a great deal. I’ve made incredible friends and I'm appreciative of what it taught me about how important it is to advocate for my own needs, particularly when it comes to the health of myself and my family. Since weak cervix runs in families, I’m also glad to have the knowledge I’ll need to prepare my daughter for her future.
It’s also rewarding to be able to help other women.
I hope sharing my experience will inform women of the warning signs of an incompetent cervix and offer comfort to those who are grieving that there is hope for the future.