Wahmtastic

MISSING FORCEPS!

Most stories start at the beginning; my starts at the end. The end of a pregnancy I was happy to leave. Second time round, my pregnancy was no different than my first: I absolutely disliked it and never intend to go through it again! At 38 weeks I was admitted to hospital with respiratory difficulties and a few days later I was admitted again, falsely believing my waters were broken. Deep down I was hoping that this was it and while I had a Caesarean booked for 40 weeks after an emergency C-section in Pregnancy 1, I successfully begged the doctor to forward my Caesarean date to the next Monday. I would be exactly 39 weeks. My midwife had hoped I would stick it out and try for a natural birth but weighing up the options, I was happy to go forward with my decision. So I was able to go home, rest over the weekend and pack my bags.

Sure enough I went home and did not relax. We had moved house a week before and we spent the entire weekend scrubbing and cleaning our other house ready for settlement. My Mum stayed the Sunday night to look after our 2-year-old daughter Charlotte and my husband Bryan and I awoke at 5am to be at the hospital ready for an early start.

It was bizarre planning the exact time my bubs was to be born. We were shown my shared room where syringes and swabs were awaiting ready to insert the bung for my drip (ouch). Our time would likely be 10am, as there were 2 elective caesareans that morning. At 9am we were told there was a delay with the first caeser due to a dispute between the anaesthetist and someone else in the surgical team. As you can imagine, by 10.30 when we still had not left our room, we were feeling just a little anxious about our surgical team!

Sure enough our time came and at about 11am I was driven on the trolley upstairs to be readied for the operation.

I remember my first pregnancy being a blur. After 6 days of horrid labour pains (apparently false labour – they obviously weren’t in it!) I underwent an induction. After 2 hours, my first-born was showing serious signs of distress with the heartbeat dropping from 150 to under 50 with every contraction. Petrified about what was impending, it was one of those situations where all emergency buttons were pushed, code something was called over the loudspeaker and all of a sudden dozens of people were rushing around my side. An epidural was inserted with a contraction and within 10 minutes my darling Charlotte was born. I hadn’t even realised as she didn’t cry as she was still in distress. The whole Caeser experience lasted about 20 minutes. So imagine my surprise when I was wheeled up second time round to find nurses and doctors relaxed and taking ages to prepare the room and me.

This experience was in fact a bit more daunting than the first as I was aware of everything that was going to happen. To add to my disgust, I could see all the surgical tools prepared before me as the whole preparation of the epidural and getting ready for the operation took about half an hour in itself. The anaesthetist (whom you might remember had an alteration in the previous mum’s operation) actually put in a complaint about my midwife. As a joke, she had commented to give me a warning next time about the cold pack put on my back to numb the area! It felt like a lifetime of pushing and pulling on my stomach (which I didn’t have first time round due to the fast action). And before long I heard the heartily cry of my newest family member: Poppy Matilda. Another 20 minutes and I was stitched up and Poppy and I were reunited in the recovery room where she had her first feed.

All seemed perfect. The operation was a success, my 2-year daughter loved having a baby sister and I was recovering superbly well. Poppy was a healthy average height and weight and seemed to adjust to the ‘outside world’ remarkably well. That is until her second bath on day 2 when she cried her little heart out. It was then I was told something I never considered actually occurred during operations, although we have all heard of such stories in the media. To be honest, the doctor could have chosen a more suitable time to share his news and I had to ask him to repeat his words as I was enjoying being mobile and bathing my new baby for the first time. I was also slightly shocked at what I heard:

‘I have some bad news to tell you,’ he said quite calmly with a slightly embarrassed smirk on his face. ‘During the operation we do a count, and then a second count of our surgical tools. Unfortunately for you we seem to have misplaced an instrument.’

‘You’ve what!’ I exclaimed, hardly believing what I was hearing. This can’t be happening I thought. ‘You mean you can’t find one of your tools? What are you missing?’

‘Umm, the forceps.’ And with that my husband and I burst out in a grin. I didn’t exactly feel as though I had a huge set of forceps inside of me. You’d think I would have known about it!

‘It’s highly unlikely that they’re in you. They may have been accidentally wrapped in the disposed materials, or someone in the team may have pinched them (apparently they’re expensive),’ the surgeon continued. ‘However, we will need to send you for a full stomach X-Ray to make sure they’re not there.’

While convinced there was not a chance there were forceps inside of me, there was still that underlying fear that perhaps that’s where they were. What if they found them? Would that mean another lengthy operation? Who’s going to look after my baby while I’m under? Maybe I could sue them! I wonder how much money one could inherit if they actually did find them in me? Two hours or so after my horrifying news, I was wheeled again for a trip in the elevator, but this time to the X-Ray room where my stomach was photographed. Even the sonographer laughed at the possibility. I smiled the whole time!

It was an anxious wait to hear if I was in the clear and in the meantime the surgeon was to perform a thorough search for his lost tool. That evening the registrar on duty informed with tongue in cheek: ‘It seems the forceps aren’t rattling in you after all.’ I was relieved even though I had spent some time feeling my stomach just in case they missed it in the X-Ray.

I spent the next 3 days in hospital as my daughter took some time learning to feed well and lost more than 10% of her birth weight. She is now 15 months old - The forceps were never found and I often wonder their whereabouts. Did someone really pinch them and if so, why on earth for? Have they disappeared into hospital waste, wrapped in the surgical disposables? Or were the forceps well hidden inside of me and didn’t show up in the X-Ray? Are they still inside of me! Perhaps I will never know. Unless one day I have an ultrasound for baby three and…. No – Never!

not the stuff that hollywood movies are made of...or perhaps they are.....sounds like some dodgy maternity wings over in melbourne glad i got to have mine in adelaide...had very easy organised births compared to yours....no missing instruments that i know of....perhaps the forceps are laying in someones salad bowl proabably make very good salad tongs or for the bbq good size...you never know.

I am wondering which melb hospital now!!! Yes, the nurse should have done a better count BEFORE they sewed you up. Thats normal procedure.

I had both my pregnancies end up in melb hospitals and my first ceaser the same thing happened to me, though it was a surgical pack they couldnt find!! maybe it was the same nurse/hospital!!!

No, it wasnt in me either, but often gets me thinking!!

I bet you have 2 gorgeous girls!

My business is also named after my girls too!

elizabeth