Unsurprisingly, over Christmas in a coastal town, the emergency department was very light on staff, so I found myself filling in forms while they called the doctor in. Within half an hour of arriving, though, it was clear that I’d need to return to Canberra – where there were more facilities for pre-term births – albeit in the back of an ambulance.
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And so, I spent the early hours of Christmas morning strapped to a gurney in the back of an ambulance, sharing biscuits with a delightful midwife who had stepped up to work on Christmas Day. Between her, the paramedics, and the doctors and nurses, the Christmas spirit was truly alive in the generosity and capabilities of these frontline workers who were keeping us safe while others enjoyed the festivities.
After I arrived back at home, it was a whirlwind. Once we were sure the baby was OK, there was some confusion about what was causing the bleeding. I had been to hospital a few weeks earlier, where doctors had given me steroid injections to help speed up the baby’s lung development just in case he did come early. This turned out to be a major blessing because after tests confirmed that my waters had broken, it was just a case of deciding when to have the caesarean we had already planned on.
A few days later, our son was delivered six weeks premature, but thriving. His lungs were operating well, and we were lucky that (aside from weighing just 2.1 kilograms) he didn’t need any breathing support or interventions other than tube feeding.
I was exhausted and still a little bamboozled by the sudden change in schedule, but grateful that the early arrival was just one of those random things with no sinister cause. We never did find out why the bleeding happened – the miracle of life remains a mystery sometimes!
Maybe I have applied this lens retrospectively, but it did feel like the plot of a Christmas movie. All we needed was a love triangle and some confusion over who the father of my child was to round out the drama (the reality is less interesting when it’s a happy, long-term relationship).
Instead, we had our own “Christmas miracle” and have spent the past year in the throes of new parenthood. While we did spend Christmas (and New Year’s Eve) in the hospital, at least our dog got the beach holiday he deserved.
Zoya Patel is a freelance writer.
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