While Stacey was about to welcome her baby into the world, her own mother was in dire straits...
Watching my mum Kathy as she tucked into her salad, I felt a wave of nausea.
‘I don’t know how you can eat that,’ I said, pulling a face.
‘You should have some,’ she replied encouragingly. ‘It’s full of nutrients that’ll be good for the baby.’
I was pregnant with my first child and I wanted to make sure I did everything right.
I should take a leaf out of Mum’s book, I thought.
She was always eating healthily and even had a personal gym in her basement.
For 65 she was fighting fit.
Mum and I had always been close and she came to visit me regularly.
‘I can’t wait to meet the baby girl,’ she cooed.
Mum already had seven grandchildren, but because this was my first pregnancy she couldn’t contain her excitement.
My husband Richard and I had decided on the name Alora for our daughter.
My pregnancy had been smooth sailing, but when I hit the 39-week mark the doctor decided I needed to be induced.
As soon as the date was booked in for the following week, I texted Mum to let her know.
The day soon came around and Richard drove me to hospital.
At 9pm the doctor started inducing me. But it wasn’t until 7am the next morning that I was given the epidural.
That’s when the contractions really kicked in.
‘Argh!’ I screamed as the pain tore through me.
It got so bad, I started to vomit.
I’ll be there soon, Mum messaged.
Thankfully the pain subsided.
Before I knew it, I heard Mum’s familiar voice as she burst through the door.
‘I’m here, Stace,’ she soothed.
A few minutes later, she went to use the toilet in the next room.
When she came out, she looked the worse for wear.
'There's a lot of pressure on my chest'
‘I don’t feel well, I’m going to be sick,’ she said.
There was a small sofa and she plonked herself down.
Without warning, she grabbed the bin next to her and threw up.
‘Oh, Mum, what have you eaten?’ I asked.
‘Just my usual breakfast,’ she replied, before throwing up again.
After vomiting several more times she seemed to perk up a bit.
The nurses came in to give me a quick once-over and left.
‘There’s a lot of pressure on my chest,’ Mum complained.
Seconds later, she clutched at her chest.
‘I think I’m having a heart attack. Get the nurses!’ she exclaimed.
I quickly pressed the buzzer.
Seconds later, the rapid response team rushed through the door.
Mum was dripping with sweat and struggling to breathe.
She was quickly strapped to a trolley.
‘Mum, I’m fine, just call when you can to let me know you’re OK,’ I said, knowing she’d still be more concerned about me than herself.
‘Oh my God, Stace!’ she shrieked as she was wheeled away.
It was heartbreaking to see her in such distress, but I tried to keep calm.
I knew she was in the best possible hands.
My contractions were still coming and I tried to breathe through them.
Twenty minutes later, doctors, nurses and a chaplain came into my room.
The look on their faces told me something was wrong.
'I'm so glad I get to meet you'
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘Your mum went into cardiac arrest in the hallway,’ said the doctor.
‘There’s no heartbeat, but we’re still doing CPR on her,’ he added.
‘But she was fine! She was talking,’ I replied, in shock.
I couldn’t believe how quickly things had taken a turn.
She can’t die on the day I have my daughter, I thought.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
The thought of losing Mum at the same time was just too much to bear.
But after just 15 minutes, I was given the news I was dreading.
‘I’m sorry, we couldn’t restart her heart,’ confirmed the doctor.
‘No!’ I shrieked.
‘I’ll let the family know,’ said Richard sadly, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
I was in bits.
I was so distressed that my doctor gave me a look of concern.
‘Please try to be calm. Think of your daughter,’ she said.
But it was impossible to concentrate on her when I’d just been dealt the most devastating blow.
My head was all over the place.
‘I can’t do this right now,’ I cried.
‘OK, we’ll stop the epidural,’ the doctor agreed.
While my labour was put on hold, I finally had time to think.
I can’t believe Mum’s dead, I thought.
My world felt like it had crumbled around me.
Then, the chaplain came back.
He told me some news that was even more shocking than the last.
‘They’ve got a heartbeat,’ he said.
‘Oh my God, she’s alive?’ I replied.
I burst into tears of joy.
How can she be back?
I wondered.
Mum had been clinically dead for 49 minutes.
Staff told me they were taking her to an intensive care unit nearby.
Two hours later, I made a decision.
‘I’m ready to start up my labour again,’ I told my doctor.
I was still waiting for news on Mum’s condition, but knowing she was alive gave me the strength to go on.
Unfortunately, my labour was long and painful. I was given updates about Mum here and there.
‘She’s still in critical condition,’ said a doctor.
A whopping 24 hours later, I was still struggling with the stress of not knowing if Mum would be OK.
Now, it was affecting my baby.
‘We need to do an emergency Caesarean,’ said my doctor.
Twenty minutes later, my girl was born.
‘Why isn’t she crying?’ I asked.
Suddenly nurses whisked her away.
I hadn’t even seen her.
Then, I fell into a deep slumber.
When I woke up, Richard was by my side.
‘Alora’s OK. She’s in the NICU,’ he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘What about Mum?’ I asked.
‘Still the same,’ he replied.
Later that night, I was finally able to meet my daughter.
‘You gave us quite a fright,’ I whispered as I touched her little hand.
Four days later, Mum was finally awake and I was allowed to see her.
It broke my heart to see her hooked up to machines and monitors.
All of her organs had been damaged from lack of oxygen.
She had a breathing tube down her throat, so when she came round she wasn’t able to talk to me.
I handed her a piece of paper and a pen.
Are you and Alora OK? she wrote.
That was Mum, always thinking of others before herself.
‘Yes, we’re both fine,’ I smiled.
‘I can’t wait for you to meet your new granddaughter,’ I added.
I showed her the few pictures and videos I’d taken of Alora, and her eyes lit up.
Mum was in the ICU for two weeks.
She was slowly getting better and stronger by the day.
She was lucky not to have suffered brain damage.
Then she was transferred to a rehabilitation centre.
Her ribs and sternum had been broken from the CPR and she still had a lot of healing to do.
Two weeks in, she was finally able to breathe without a tube.
She started talking, walking and eating again.
She astounded staff when after just two more weeks she was strong enough to be discharged. They had anticipated it would take her up to six months to recover.
But she was so desperate to meet her new granddaughter.
That was her motivation.
When the day finally came for them to meet, Mum was still in her wheelchair.
I lowered Alora into her arms.
‘Hi, beautiful, I’m so glad I get to meet you,’ she said.
Her words were poignant.
Things could’ve been so different.
I was beyond thankful to the hospital staff.
Without them, Alora would never have met her grandmother.
Now, apart from her ribs still healing, Mum’s doing well.
We always tell people that it’s thanks to Alora that she’s alive.
If she’d been born earlier, Mum wouldn’t have been in the hospital when she went into cardiac arrest.
‘Alora’s my guardian angel,’ she says.
I couldn’t agree more.
Stacey Fifer, 38