A week ago Archie celebrated his first birthday and I have been meaning to write about his birth for many many months but a lack of time, and perhaps not being quite ready to write about it, have held me back.

Today, however, I feel ready to write Archie’s birth story.  I want to write about when he was born because I want to remember how I felt, to relive the feelings and also to celebrate how far we have all come.  I have always secretly quite liked the idea of birth stories, even though they seem a bit Americanised and a bit self indulgent but I never got round to writing about the arrival of Jamie, Ollie, Sam and Harry.  I have filled in their Baby Book and have countless photos of all my children as babies, but none of these provide an honest and personal record of those first few days when our children joined us in the world.

So Archie’s birth story is my recollection and although time and situations will have changed my perspective on Archie’s arrival, I am going to try to try to write an honest and open account of his birth.  Some of it will make harsh reading and I am not proud of some of my feelings or some of the things that I said when Archie first arrived in the world but those feelings and words need to be acknowledged and recognized as they form part of the journey towards acceptance – and now the happiness and joy that I feel on having Archie as part of our family.

So here it goes; Archie Alexander Payne.  This is my story of your arrival – a story that I feel most privileged  to write.

On Tuesday 9^th November 2010, I woke up and did the normal school morning routine of a quick shower, threw about a few instructions like ‘quick get dressed’, ‘Jamie can you get me a nappy…please’, ‘ Clean your teeth ..again’, ‘Put your bowls by the sink’etc.  I got Harry dressed and rushed out the front door and into the car.  It was pouring with rain, which would be a disappointment to some people but my children were quite happy as it meant we would go to school in the car and it broke the normal walking routine which we were tied into as I so desperately wanted this baby to arrive on time.

The first interesting part of the day was that Jamie found one of the big purple Quality Street sweets that I had bought for my friend Jo covered in little sharp tooth marks.  After much discussion and accusing looks at children it was decided that perhaps a mouse had got into the car!  Shock/horror from me as I am not keen at all on animals especially mice! I dropped Jamie and Ollie off at school and Sam at Poppets and drove round to Helen’s house where I frantically used up a whole packet of wet wipes cleaning away any traces of potential mouse footprints.  Whilst this occurred, it was pouring with rain and so by the end of my thorough cleaning I was soaked.  For some reason I decided that it was good idea to go into Bournemouth and go shopping.  I am not really a shopping person and I hadn’t really bought anything new for the new arrival as we already knew it was another boy and we already had lots of lovely stuff, however as everyone who has ever had a baby knows, a new baby needs one new outfit to wear when it first arrives in the world, so my mission for the day was to buy a babygrow and a baby book.

So Helen and I headed into Bournemouth and I parked in the top car park even though it was raining but it is by far the cheapest one in Bournemouth and is at the top of town so involves a hike back up to it, which in my head meant I had done something to get this baby moving in the right direction.  We trotted off into town – all completely soaked.  Harry in the buggy and drenched and me squeezed into my 13 -14yrs old pink rain mac with bump bulging out and Helen looking glamorous and correctly dressed for the weather.  To cut a long story short the trip in to Bournemouth was good – baby book bought, two little babygrows – one with a car on it and one with planes on it purchased, lunch in Debenhams and I managed to persuade Helen to buy a knitted tunic.  So a successful day was had and we made it back to collect the boys from school, which is always a good thing.  I can remember driving along Wick Lane at about 2.50pm and feeling a bit of a twinge but not really thinking anything of it.  This may seem mad as I have four other children, but this time it was two weeks before the due date and to be honest the idea that we were really having another baby still hadn’t fully sunk in.  We had stuff down from the loft, my baby bag was packed but with four other children to look after and supply teaching, the thought of having this baby hadn’t yet taken priority.

Tuesdays is always a mad day for afterschool clubs for Jamie – he does far too much and subsequently this has now changed – but on that day Jamie was doing cricket from 4 -5pm at Hurn so we all packed into the car, with me feeling a few cramps, dropping off and then heading home where instead of phoning Jez to tell him that I had a few twinges I felt it necessary to quickly feed the boys, make packed lunches, empty the dishwasher and frantically pull out all the car seats, clean windows, brush seats, wipe dashboard, steering wheel and hoover the car in search of this elusive mouse.  Forty minutes later, red faced, sweaty and out of breath we had a tidy clean car that I was convinced was mouse free and the twinges of labour had really started to kick in.

We collected Jamie from cricket, dropped off at tennis and then I phoned Jez to tell him to come home from his first day at his new job in Gillingham – not because I thought I would have a baby in the next hour, because I know it takes flipping ages for me to have a baby but because there was no way that I wanted to have go out and collect Jamie from tennis and take to cubs.  I was exhausted!

Jez came home and got on with sorting the children out and taking and picking up from clubs whilst I wallowed in the bath and did short bursts of ironing and phoned Mum and asked her to come up.  Jez and I took photos of my bump.  Mum came up and Jez phoned Poole Maternity unit and told them that I was in labour and that I wanted to come in whilst I instructed him to tell them that I wouldn’t have a baby for ages because I am rubbish at giving birth but that I just wanted gas and air and then I would be fine.  He then dropped in that it was our fifth child and they were fine about us coming in – no babe was to be born on the Wessex Way tonight.  We headed off to the hospital at 11.30pm leaving the quiet, peaceful, calm environment of our home and I remember thinking the next time we are back here we will have our new baby with us and we will be a family of seven and how great it will be not to be being sick three times a day!

We arrived at Poole and were ushered in through the big heavy doors, which make you feel like you are walking into a tightly run high security prison and in we went to what would become our home for the next few hours.  I quickly but in my most polite way, asked for gas and air and again stated ‘I am rubbish with pain and I am not probably in labour but it really hurts’ and then with the gas and air set up and monitor on, the two midwifes left us.  And so it continued, except now I was a happy pregnant person in labour, I spoke with Jez and felt ok.  Jez played on his phone, tweeted etc., Alicia Keys’ ‘Empire State of Mind’ sung out of the hospital radio, whilst I huffed and puffed and held tightly onto the gas and air praying that it wouldn’t suddenly run out.

Giving birth this time was relatively easy.  I’d been through it four times so you would hope that I would have learned something from the previous experiences and I was determined to make this last giving birth experience a good one!  I knew what position worked best for me; standing up and leaning on the bed, I had perfected how to use the gas and air most efficiently and I even remember thinking ‘oh  this is the …. stage because I feel….’. I felt calm and was quiet and ready for our babe to arrive.  My waters broke and then three pushes later at 2.22 am our baby arrived into the world.  I scrabbled around to grab him, to hold the little baby we had been waiting for and he was perfect.  Red face, blotchy, crying but perfect.

And so the next hour was spent blissfully cuddling all 6lbs 6 oz of him to warm him up and then I had a shower and fully expected to be allowed to go home.  In fact I thought we would be home before the boys went to school.  I remember thinking ‘How cool for the boys to wake up and meet their new brother.’

However this was not be….. as the minutes turned into hours and morning came, Archie’s temperature didn’t come up and his colour didn’t correct itself and then a paediatrition came to feel his head and I can remember starting to panic.  I could feel the panic welling up inside me and the blood rushing to my head as we were asked to go up to the Post natal ward and Archie was put under lights to warm him up.  I had a restless sleep whilst Jez sat with him and then due to his tempereature not coming up we had to go down to the neonatal ward.

Cue entering into a new world –  one that I knew existed but only through watching Holby and Casualty – a world where flashing lights, low light, hushed voices, beeps and the smell of hand gel are common.  Where tiny babies fight for their life and parents sit huddled around little fish tanks, tightly gripping hands, a world where brave and hopeful smiles mask feelings of despair and fear.  But I kept thinking it was still OK, because they are just doing a blood test to check Archie’s haematocrit levels.  I kept telling myself it would be fine, we would be home by the time the boys were home from school and everything would return to how I had planned things.

Archie’s blood wasn’t fine.  His haematocrit levels were too high and the basic procedure was to take out some of his blood and dilute it down using saline solution and then he would be fine – so we entered into the world of neonatal care.  Our team prepared for the procedure and talked us through what would happen and showed us to our little space in the line of fish bowl cots and then we sat, waited and watched.

At around 12.30 we were asked to come through to a small side room called ‘George’s Pad’ and I remember thinking ‘why are they taking us into here’ and even though I knew that it seemed probable that they had more news for us I had no idea of the news to come.  This is the moment our family life changed, this was the moment when I really properly grew up, where I knew what it felt like to feel proper sadness and grief.  The Dr sat us down and faced us both, looking us in the eye and said that he wanted to keep us informed of Archie’s care and the thoughts of the professionals.  He said that various features and symptons led him and some of his colleagues to suspect that Archie might have Down Syndrome and that they would need to do a chromosone test to check this.  It was like a train had whooshed though the room scattering all in its path, in that moment I felt my nice, solid, comfortable world pulled away from beneath my feet and there was nothing I could do to change it. I started planning Archie’s life, thinking about what school he would go to, how would he interact with his brothers, how we would make this work for us as a family, racking my brains for memories of any contact I had ever had with people and children with Down Syndrome.  And then the additional worry started how would I tell the boys, my family, my friends and other people – I suddenly felt that I had let everyone down, that I had done something wrong because my baby was different.  Today, 12 months on, I know that this is most certainly not the case but in those first few hours that is how I felt.

For the next four hours the Drs and nurses worked on sorting Archie’s blood out.  They squeezed and pumped blood and saline in and out of his tiny body whilst he lay there breathing rapidly, his chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath but gradually his colour changed from reddy purplish like a plum to a beautiful pink and we could finally see our little baby boy.  He looked beautiful and although the suspected diagnosis of Down Syndrome lay in my mind, at that point we simple wanted to know that Archie was ok.

But then came the need to tell people and to make the phone calls and this is where Jez was brilliant.  I couldn’t speak.  I couldn’t say the words Down Syndrome and I didn’t want to tell the people I love our news because I knew they too would feel the sadness I was feeling and on top of that they would want to take the sadness that I was feeling away.  Jez made all the phone calls and did the texts to people.  We only told the people closest to us about the suspicion of Down Syndrome and kept everyone else informed with text messages.

This was the first one…  ‘Sorry for the impersonal generic text henceforth… Thanks everyone for your lovely texts today, they have all been much appreciated and enjoyed.  Archie was admitted to Intensive Care this morning for some tests, scans, investigations whatever and a bit of ‘blood dialysis’ (amateur term, made up by me …) following some complications that aren’t life threatening, but do need looking into.  Suffice to say it’s not all been a barrel of laughs, but he’s gorgeous and we can’t wait to be allowed to bring him home and show him off, but we don’t know when that will be.  Please don’t text Hil now/during the night cos she’s trying to catch up on sleep, we’ll let you know if there’s any news.  Thanks once again for your lovely message, sorry we haven’t replied personally.  And sorry that despite me asking you not to text at night, this has come through at 11pm… We just appreciated your thoughts and wanted to let you know what was happening.  Lot of love, Hil and Jez.  Booyashacka Aii.  Keep it real.‘

Then we sat and watched our new baby boy lying in his incubator, resting after his traumatic first day in the world and I can remember just sitting, curled up on the hospital green chair and simply thinking ‘this wasn’t what I planned’.

At 8pm Jez went home and we left Archie in the capable hand of the neonatal team and I went up to the postnatal ward.  And that is where the grief, the sadness, the pains, the worries for the future, the uncertaincies started to truly kick in.  Alone in the hospital room I suddenly realised the differences and felt a heavy weight of sadness that I couldn’t shift.  I didn’t have my baby with me – I wanted my baby, I loved Archie but I didn’t love Down Syndrome and I wanted that part of my new baby to go away.  Even though we didn’t have an official diagnosis I suddenly knew something was different and I felt stupid for not realising sooner and I wanted so desperately to go back to the comfortable life that I knew.  The life where my biggest worry was whether or not Ollie had had a good day in school and got all his smiley faces on his behaviour chart or if the boys would get their homework in on time; silly worries which suddenly felt so small and insignificant and as I curled up on the hospital bed I just cried.  There were people that I could have spoken to, a midwife came in to ask if I was ok, I spoke with my Mum, I could have phoned numerous friends or spoken to Jez again but at that moment none of them would have been able to help, I needed to cry.  I needed to cry for the baby I had been expecting who hadn’t arrived and in their place was Archie. I needed to cry for loss of the hopes and dreams I had for the baby I had been expecting and that night I shook, I tossed and I turned.  I probably slept for no longer than half an hour at a time.  The wind and rain came in through the small hospital room window which I had opened before I went to sleep and I lay there watching the blind flap in and out, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of Poole hospital at night and I didn’t have the energy or the willpower to get up and shut it.  I woke up properly at 3am and stared into the small hospital rectangular mirror.  My face was red, my eyes swollen and I had a big sctatch across my neck where I had clawed at myself as I tried to contain some of my sadness, my jaw felt stiff from gripping onto the gas and air mouthpiece and my body weak and tired through lack of food and the exhaustion of giving birth.  I watched as morning chased the night away, desperate to go and see Archie but scared to come out of my room alone in case I had to see anyone, in case a midwife wanted to talk to me, in case I had to hear the cries of other people’s babies.  I just wanted to see Archie, to hold him, to be his Mummy and to tell him it would be ok and to truly believe it myself.

And so at 6am I crept out of my room, head down, dressed in the new pyjamas and dressing gown and slippers Mum had bought me.  I remember hearing a lady speaking/moaning to the midwife about how little sleep she had had and could someone take her baby from her so she could get some sleep and I remember thinking how I would do anythimg to swap places with her.

However morning came and with morning came hope.  I changed Archie’s nappy, he came out of the incubabtor and I held him and it was so very, very lovely and I fed him and things began to feel more normal.  I felt like his Mummy.  His little face looking up at mine, holding his little body close and beginning to feel love for him, real powerful protective love and although things didn’t feel completely normal they began to feel better.

The boys came to visit and they loved Archie from the beginning.  My fears and guilt for not giving them the brother they had been waiting for were washed away as I watched them simply accept and love Archie.  He was the brother they had been waiting for.  At this point they didn’t know that there were concerns around Archie, they just loved him, accepted him and just wanted their new baby home.  I remember thinking how different they seemed.  It had been less than 48 hours since I left them sleeping in their beds but how they had grown and changed.  I remember looking at them and wanting to hold them all at the same time and squeeze them and smell them and appreciate every little part of them, their feelings, hopes and dreams but equally I felt detached; everything felt different.  Here we all were in a hospital and it was all so different to the scene that I had imagined in my head  only days earlier when I thought we would be all together at home.

Jez took the boys out for a special tea and Mum came and sat with Archie and me in the neonatal care unit.  The senior nurse Fiona let Mum stay a little bit longer than the normal visiting hours and I will always be very grateful for her kindness.  At that moment in time I just really needed my Mum.

Following his visit Ollie created his own neonatal ward in his bedroom that night using his cuddly toys as babes. How I love the kind and caring nature of Ollie and how at the age of six, his eyes took it all in.

Archie continued to make super progress in hospital and he came out of his incubator.  On the Friday we were moved through to the going home room.

Helen came to visit on the Friday and as much as I really wanted to see her I felt nervous – things were different now, my child was different to the one I had been expecting and I felt scared.  I hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of our family for what felt like days.  I know now that I had no reason to be scared – Helen arrived, I cried, we cuddled Archie and she told me that he was beautiful and that he would be fine because he was ours and that we would be fine too.  She brought new little babygrows for Archie, which was brilliant because the very sight of the ones I had bought in Bournemouth at the start of the week made me cry.  Archie had worn one of them when he was first born and just the sight brought me back to those first few hours when I thought things were all ok.  Once again I will be forever grateful on how easy she made that first meet up, for the things she said, for the presents she brought and for her general loveliness.  There was no awkwardness, I didn’t feel like I had to try and be brave – Helen loved Archie from the beginning, no questions asked.

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Helen went home and it was just me and Archie and I remember just holding him, rocking him, saying over and over again ‘it will be ok’, trying desperately to convince myself.  Sometimes today I still say those words along with my other most overused question ‘will it be ok?’

Then Dad arrived – having travelled by bus up to Dorchester and then changed bus to get to Poole and it was so lovely to see him.  We didn’t chat that much about Down Syndrome, he just cuddled Archie and just his very presence was reassuring.  He brought chocolate and a buggy book for Archie, which he had brought at Waterstones on his way to see us.  Today that book sits by Archie’s side when he is in his buggy and is a small reminder to me of those first few hours when Archie first met his Grandpa.

Granny Payne, Abby and the boys visited and then finally on the Sunday we were allowed to come home and it felt amazing but also so scary.  At this point we still had not got the official diagnosis of Down Syndrome and until we had this I just wanted to stay with our family in our house.  I felt vulnerable and scared of people and so another text message was sent…..

‘Once again, sorry for the general text, but we have been very fortunate to have lots of lovely friends send messages and kindness and we promised to keep you updated – this is the most effective way…! We’re very chuffed that Archie and Hil were allowed to come home this afternoon so we can start to be a family again.  There are some important test results that we are awaiting early this week that will provide us with a clear picture about Archie.  We’ll let you know, I promise, and until then we’re going to spend family time together.  We are looking forward to introducing you to Archie soon.  He’s very lovely, but then, we would say that!!! Thanks for your understanding.  Peace out.  Respek.  Keep on keeping it real.‘

We returned home and had a special tea with a wonderful cake that Catherine had made, watched the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and this song ‘Just Drive‘ was on their highlights and I can remember staring at it and thinking ‘Just Drive‘,  just keep going, because things will change, you will feel differently, this is just a phase to go through and you have just got to keep going.

We received the results from the chromosome test on the Tuesday, when Archie was six days old.  We had to drive back to Poole, I cried all the way there and all the way back.  Hot heavy tears and I grieved for the baby boy who I had thought was joining our family and for the loss of those hopes and dreams.  Today I am crystal clear on my thoughts – Archie was meant to be with us and I have hopes and dreams for him just as I have for the other boys. As Alicia Keys‘ lyrics say ‘Even though it ain’t all it seems I’ve got a pocket full of dreams”. But at that precise moment I felt that my world had been truly shaken and I felt consumed with sadness.

It fell to my wonderful husband Jez to share the news with our friends and I am so very grateful for his humour, his confidence and his love because at that precise moment I felt in total shock.  So a third and final text message was sent…

‘Archie update.  Third and final.  Firstly, thanks once again for your kind thoughts, words and deeds throughout the past week.  We feel very lucky to have such lovely friends and your understanding and support have made the last few days much easier than they may otherwise have been.  Tonight, tests confirmed that Archie has Down Syndrome.  Although this has come as a big shock to us we feel incredibly fortunate to have him and already he has become an irreplaceable member of our boy band.  Now we know what’s what, we are looking forward to getting back to life as normal which means no more of these texts, for a start! We are looking forward to introducing you to Archie and know that you will treat him just like the other boys – it’s Jez and his inappropriate Ali G impressions that need the sensitive handling…. Thanks again, Love Jez and Hil Xx‘

I found the feeling of sadness hard to deal with because I feel most comfortable being happy, so for the next few week I found the feeling of sadness hard to carry around.  I found its weight heavy and so many times I wanted to be free of this heavy sad feeling.  I wondered when I would ever feel normal again, when I would be interested in clothes, in shoes, in things for the house – all small, insignificant, frivolous things, but things that shape me as a person.  I wondered if having a child with Down Syndrome would define us as a family and would be our main focus forever.

So for a long time I simply entered into my own game of ‘Fake it till you make it’ – and so I practised pretending to be happy and some days I believed it and other days the grey, the worries for the future were all consuming.  But slowly and surely I have returned to the same person as before, my heart has healed and I have worked through the sadness to get to the happiness.  I simply have a slightly different perspective on things and have discovered new meanings to my life and our life as a family.  My comfortable, stable world was shaken by the arrival of Archie – for the first time in my life I felt sadness and it has taken time to rebuild and rationalise my thoughts, but I am now stronger, more capable, more aware of the potential in everything and everyone.  Through some deep and sometimes dark questioning I now have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of my life and my family’s life.  I know that I am in charge of my own happiness and that comparing my life with others and wondering and questioning why me, why us will not help me and that it is my state of mind that is cultivated by my choices and habits that will make me happy.  I know for certain that I simply love my children because they are mine – it really doesn’t matter how clever, how talented, how well behaved they are – they are all perfect to me.  Perhaps it has taken having a child with a disability, having a personal connection, to truly change the way I think and therefore forced me to leave my comfort zone and learn and question my own thoughts; to become more compassionate, more gentle, more resilient and concerned.   As scared, vulnerable and sad as I felt after Archie’s birth and for many months afterwards and even today and for the times I feel like this in the future I  am still grateful, privileged and proud to have been pushed in this direction where every day I truly recognise the beauty in difference.

I have dealt with stupid things that people say and I have learnt much about other people and their perspectives.  Some old friends’ comments have surprised me and some people who I only knew a little bit before Archie’s birth have become firm friends.  I have had much advice from other people, some of which I have binned instantly, some of which I have clung onto like a security blanket and as a family we have received much, much kindness from friends and family.

Today we have moved on and I fully appreciate and love the life that we have and am inspired to face the challenges ahead.  I am well aware that the path ahead may not be as easy and as smooth for Archie and that he will need support, but so will our other children at various times and in various ways and Jez and I will both be there for them all.

As the quote on my stairs reminds me:

‘Life is too short to wake up with regrets, so love the people who treat you right, forget about those who don’t, believe everything happens for a reason, if you get a chance take it, if it changes your life let it, nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.’

Today Archie is a happy, healthy and loving boy and our focus had been rearranged and is back onto growing and moving forwards as a whole family. For the majority of the time, Down Syndrome has found a comfortable place in our family and in family life and everyday events and celebrations take priority. I have heard the saying ‘You go where your child takes you’ and this is so true – physio, portage, hearing tests, review meetings and music therapy are part of our family calendar along side cricket, Poppets nursery, supply teaching, football, play group, tennis practices, piano and choir.  I am very thankful for friends, for my family, to Jez, to my boys who constantly remind me to live in the presence of day, when my worries for the future pop up.

And for the record the mouse mystery was solved.  One week later Jez put a mouse trap in the car and behold the next morning a little mouse was found.  So despite all my efforts of cleaning, hoovering and pulling out all the car seats in search of the little pest he had avoided my efforts and had Jez not left a sausage roll wrapper in the car the mouse could well have gone unnoticed for a very long time!