Toby – a miracle survivor for Bettina and Chris Martin

It was 2am on a Saturday morning in April 2001, two days before my due date, when I felt a sudden gush and woke to find my waters had broken.  There was a lot of it, probably because I had too much amniotic fluid, a condition known as ‘Polyhydramnios’.  I had been given a number of scans because of the excess fluid and was advised to be aware that, if the membranes ruptured, there was a slight chance that the waters could bring down the umbilical cord.  Apart from this, my pregnancy throughout went well.

I felt excited that at long last I would see my baby soon and, at the same time, extremely nervous about the birth.  Then to my surprise, I noticed that the colour of the amniotic fluid was reddish – it was obvious that there was blood in the fluid.  This concerned me although I couldn’t quite recall, in my confused state, whether this was normal.  I was sure that my NCT teacher had told me that the waters were normally clear or tinged slightly pink.

My husband, Chris, rushed to the telephone and the midwife at the hospital told us not to worry and said that redness in the waters can be quite normal.  She advised us to visit the hospital in 2 to 3 hours in order to be examined, and in the meantime, to have a bath.  The midwife did not feel it necessary for us to go immediately in to the hospital.  After all, she said, we would no doubt be sent home again before the onset of labour.  My instincts were telling me strongly that something was wrong, and ten minutes later, I decided to make a second call to the midwife.  Despite the redness of the fluid, the midwife still didn’t seem concerned.

On the advice of the midwife, I then took a quick bath, in between trying to clean up the many red coloured stains all over the carpet and bed sheets.

My husband and I then decided to drop everything and just get to the hospital.  On arrival at the hospital about an hour later, our baby’s heart was monitored only to find that the baby, who had turned to the back to back position, was in some distress.  The heartbeat kept disappearing during the time I lay on my back and seemed to faintly reappear when I lay on my side.  I then had a very painful internal examination and to the midwife’s horror, over a litre of fresh blood gushed out.  I can only assume the midwife to whom I had spoken on the telephone thought I was exaggerating about the colour of the amniotic fluid.  I was now in a state of shock, wondering whether the placenta had detached from the uterus wall, or whether there was a problem due to ‘Polyhydramnios’?

The Registrar was called immediately and he made a quick decision to rush me into the theatre for an emergency cesarean.  He said that he was not sure whether the blood was coming from me or from my baby.  I was given a spinal epidural. After that, it all became a bit of a blur but I remember Chris, so wonderfully supportive, comforting me and tightly holding my hand.

I remember Chris asking the doctors a couple of times “is that the baby whimpering?” but there was no reply.  We were both aware of a lot of activity behind us but we had no idea whether we had a boy or a girl or even if the baby was alive.  It was only a while later after I had been stitched up that we were told that our baby boy was born at 4.19am weighing 7lb 10oz and that he was extremely poorly.  I felt distraught when the Pediatrician told us that our baby, Toby, had needed to be resuscitated and was given a full blood transfusion before being taken to the Neonatal unit.

It was explained to us, soon after, that the problem I had was a ‘rare’ condition called ‘Vasa Praevia’.

After a couple of hours, the Neonatal team allowed Chris in to see our baby boy.  I was shown photographs of him, and felt distraught at seeing the tubes in his mouth and nose.  I called my sister in Sydney in floods of tears.  She was very understanding as she had recently given birth to a baby girl who had a rare syndrome and who was later diagnosed as being blind and deaf.

It was 3pm before I was able to see my little boy for the first time.  We nearly lost him; I was so frightened yet so positive about the outcome.  My instincts this time told me that our baby boy was a fighter and that he would get through this somehow.  His kidneys and liver were both affected, both of which cleared up within a few days and the Pediatricians said that it was a good thing that he had been so well nourished in the womb.  It wasn’t until about 6 days later that we were told the outcome looked positive and that he was likely to survive.  But the main worry then was whether he had suffered any brain damage through loss of oxygen.  We were so thankful to be told that the various brain scans, including the MRI scan, were clear, although they did say that they may be some minor abnormality in the future such as holding a pencil.

I have to say the staff in the Neonatal Unit were excellent.  We later heard that the Head of Neonatal was telephoned at 4.30am the day he was born, and that she had decided to come in immediately to help.

10 days later, Toby was discharged.  He had pulled through this whole ordeal.  We were so unlucky, yet so lucky to have this wonderful baby boy that we both so desperately wanted.  With the help of a cranial osteopath who worked wonders to overcome Toby’s traumatic experience, we had a happy, healthy baby who was so alert you wouldn’t think he had been through such an ordeal.

As time went by, I felt very angry about the whole experience.  I made an appointment to see the head of the midwifery team to explain my feelings towards the midwife who told me to stay at home and to have a bath!  We had telephoned not just once but twice with our concerns – surely this midwife should have listened to our doubts and called us in immediately.  The head of the midwifery team just offered me counseling, but that was not what I had wanted.  If my baby had died, I would have contemplated suing the hospital, and my main reason for this appointment was because I did not want this to happen to someone else.  I was also angry that my baby had suffered so much distress in the womb, and that I should have been given a general anesthetic to save the ongoing suffering, and the possible death of my baby.

To this day, I still feel angry but also so lucky to have Toby who is now 5 years old.  He is healthy, full of personality and seems as bright as a button!  Another few minutes in the womb, my story would possibly be very different.  The appropriate scan needs to happen and I do hope that Consultants and the National Health trust will soon recognise the importance of this test.

Toby has a sister, Kitty, born by elective caesarean on the advice of my Obstetrician, who said he had never known, in the whole of his working career, of a baby who had survived ‘Vasa Praevia’.

Good luck with this worthy campaign - I am fully behind you.

A note from VASA PRAEVIA raising awareness:  Toby’s story represents a truly miraculous survival – to survive undiagnosed vasa praevia is one thing – but to survive with apparently no ill effect is an exceptional feat.  In our experience babies like Toby are in a very rare minority and we have included this account to demonstrate that miracles can and do happen – so if you find yourself in the same position as Toby, Bettina and Chris and your baby is fighting and hanging on in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit – please do not give up hope.