How has it been seven years? It seems so unreal that I should have a seven year old right now. It seems so unreal that it’s been seven years since Oscar was born, since April 2014, the month that Oscar lived in.
I often wonder what life would have been like had Oscar survived. When I was pregnant I was originally given a statistic for “chance of survival up to 5 years old” and that figure was far too low. By the time he was born that number had moved to “close to 0% chance of surviving birth.” He always had the odds stacked against him. Even if he’d survived the 24th April 2014, there was almost no chance he would be alive today. My head knows that, my heart knows that, but it never quite stops that “what if” feeling.
Oscar wasn’t supposed to be an April baby, he wasn’t supposed to be the ultimate April fool. Oscar was supposed to have been born in March; I’d tell you a specific date, but the multiple hospitals caring for us each gave us a different one! The earliest was St Patrick’s Day (17th March), the latest was the 24th. I believe the 24th was the most accurate, and that means Oscar was born at 41+1….not bad for a baby I was given steroids for in the January since it looked like he was going to be born then.
From the very first scan in September 2013 until he left me on 24th April 2014, Oscar never did things quite as expected. “Oscar’s Way” was always his thing and those of you who know anything about him will know that Oscar’s way always turned out to be the best.
Oscar was supposed to be born “blue and struggling for breath” as the best case scenario or “stillborn” as the more likely case. The believe was that Oscar wouldn’t be able to cope with labour and that he would pass away at some point during that. On 31st March I was induced. At the point of the induction I knew Oscar was alive. From that point forward there was no foetal monitoring. It may sound a little harsh, but whatever monitoring would have found it wouldn’t have changed me needing to give birth. It wouldn’t have changed that the plan was “no medical interventions, only palliative care” for Oscar. The plan was love and cuddles, then us being transferred to the SANDS room until I was ready to leave the hospital without him. There was a photographer on standby to take what were imagined to be the only photos there would ever be. If I’m honest I was so sure that he wouldn’t be born breathing. That he would be born sleeping.
Of course, that was never Oscar’s plan. He was not only born alive, but crying and he breathed without assistance. His Apgar score was a 9 at both one minute and five minutes! If his diagnosis wasn’t known it’s possible he would have looked like any other newborn baby.
Oscar was my miracle. He was the baby who I was told to terminate. Who I was told wouldn’t survive to birth. Who I was told I would have just minutes with if I was lucky. What no-one knew is that Oscar was just as stubborn as his Mummy. That Oscar was determined to fight with everything he had. That Oscar didn’t believe impossible was always impossible. That Oscar liked to do things Oscar’s way.
My heart will never get over loosing him. My heart will never understand why I was given such a gift only for him to be taken away. But no matter how much time passes, no matter how many years, I will never ever regret giving him a chance. I will never regret being his Mummy and I will be forever grateful for the time we had together, even if it was far to short.
Happy 7th Birthday my beautiful boy
Oscar's Story 