Jayne was celebrating her best friend’s special day, but she was the one who was in for a big surprise…
My best mate Hannah and I shrieked with delight as my cousin, Chris, zipped us around in a golf buggy.
We’d come to the local driving range to celebrate Hannah’s 29th birthday, and we were having such a laugh and enjoying a few cans of cider along the way.
But something kept spoiling my fun…
For months, I’d been suffering from sickness and tummy aches.
And now, I felt worse than ever.
As I winced in pain, I said to Hannah, ‘I might have to go home, I feel awful.’
I’d already been to see my GP.
But after prodding my tummy, he’d said, ‘You’re constipated.’
He’d prescribed laxatives, but they weren’t making any difference.
I’d lost my appetite and had shed more than two stone in weight within five months.
Friends had been complimenting me on how well
I looked, but I felt awful.
‘Oh, you can’t go home yet,’ Hannah said, handing me another tinny.
I really didn’t want to be a party-pooper, so I took the can of cider from her.
‘OK,’ I said.
At around 9pm, we all went back to Hannah’s house, where my partner, Michael, joined us.
Michael and I had been together for two years, and he had children from a previous relationship.
But when I was aged 27, I’d suffered a benign tumour on my pituitary gland.
It led to fertility issues and doctors had told me I wouldn’t
be able to get pregnant.
It was heartbreaking, as
I’d always wanted
to be a mum.
But, in time, I’d learnt to accept it, and I enjoyed being the fun aunt to my friends’ kids.
Now, as I winced through my tummy pains and tried to enjoy Hannah’s birthday, Michael looked worried.
‘You should go back to the GP tomorrow,’ he said.
I nodded.
But when the pain became too unbearable, I went upstairs to crash out on Hannah’s bed.
Next morning, I woke with agonising cramps in my tummy.
I dialled 111 and was advised to go to A&E.
As I climbed into my car,
I texted Michael and asked
him to meet me there.
I felt worried my appendix might have burst.
As I hobbled into A&E, I was groaning and crying in pain.
A nurse ushered me into a side room.
‘This is more than constipation,’ she said to me. ‘Are you pregnant?’
‘This is more than constipation’
I shook my head.
‘There’s no way,’
I said.
But I gave a
urine sample as requested.
Minutes later, the nurse returned.
‘It’s come back
lit up like a Christmas tree,’ she said. ‘You’re definitely pregnant!’
‘What?’ I said. ‘I can’t be.’
I didn’t look pregnant – I’d even lost weight!
True, I hadn’t had a period in months. But, since the tumour on my pituitary gland, they’d been irregular for years.
I felt overwhelmed with emotion and burst into tears.
‘There must be some mistake,’ I kept saying.
A midwife came to examine me.
‘You’re in labour – you’re 4cm dilated,’ she said.
My mind went into overdrive and I felt terrified.
In recent months, I’d taken flights abroad, ridden a rollercoaster, and had nights
out down the pub.
I feared I might have unknowingly harmed my baby.
Just as paramedics were carrying me out to an ambulance to be transferred to the labour ward of another hospital, Michael appeared.
When it was explained to him what was happening, he turned as white as a sheet.
But his initial concerns quickly turned to happiness.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ he said, squeezing my hand.
We weren’t prepared for this
at all.
Michael had to make his own way to the hospital.
On the journey in the ambulance, I just kept thinking, What on earth am I going to tell my parents? What are people going to think?
But the pain kept pulling me out of my thoughts.
The gas and air make me feel nauseous.
At hospital, Michael rushed to be by my side.
He phoned Hannah and Chris to let them know what was happening, and they travelled to the hospital.
But my parents still had no idea.
It was evening by the time I gave birth.
As the midwife placed my baby into my arms, I looked down at my newborn son and could hardly believe my eyes.
He weighed a healthy 6lb 7oz.
As I handed the tiny bundle to Michael to hold, it felt surreal — like I was having an out-of-body experience.
But the love I felt for our son was instant.
‘Where’ve you been hiding?’
‘Where’ve you been hiding?’ I whispered, taking in his crumpled face and shock of jet-black hair.
I felt ecstatic that my dream of becoming a mum had come true.
But I was scared about how completely unprepared Michael and I were for our surprise arrival.
After measuring our baby, the midwife estimated that I’d given birth at 35 weeks.
I couldn’t believe I’d gone almost full-term without realising I was pregnant!
After Hannah and Chris had a cuddle, they went to tell my parents the news.
They reported back that Mum and Dad were stunned but happy for me.
As Michael and I discussed names,
I said, ‘We could name him Freddie.’
My parents had missed out on the build-up to becoming grandparents, and I thought it might soften the blow to name my baby Freddie after Fred Trueman — the legendary Yorkshire cricketer, who Dad was a huge fan of.
‘That’s a great idea,’ Michael said.
I announced the birth of our son on Facebook.
The absolute biggest surprise and shock of my life! I wrote.
It received 400 likes and 300 comments.
Apart from a bit of jaundice, Freddie was a perfectly happy and healthy baby, and after a few days, we were discharged from hospital.
Back home in Northallerton, North Yorkshire, Michael and I settled into
life with a newborn.
Hannah posted on Facebook asking for donations
of baby equipment, and friends Sophie and Colette from our local pub, The Jolly Minister, organised a whip-round and bought me a pram, cot, clothes, nappies, bath and more.
Michael and I felt beyond grateful for the kindness of local people.
I worked as a community nurse and had to go on emergency maternity leave.
But my boss was so supportive.
And it helped that Freddie was such a chilled baby.
Now, Freddie is a year old and toddling about.
Everyone comments on what a smiley and gorgeous baby he is, and I might be biased, but I couldn’t agree more.
The GP who misdiagnosed me with constipation has since phoned to apologise – and congratulate me.
I’m just so happy that Freddie is here, and he’s healthy and happy. I feel so blessed.
By Jayne Truman, 35, Northallerton, North Yorkshire