07/08/2025
🌸 The Unexpected Arrival – My Labour & Delivery Story (Part 1)
It all began on Monday, 2nd June 2025 — a day I had planned to go shopping at Montercare. But something just felt... off. I was overwhelmed with laziness, a kind I hadn’t felt before — even taking a shower felt like climbing a mountain. Little did I know, my body was whispering a quiet warning: “Get ready, mama... it’s almost time.”
But I brushed it off — after all, I was only 32 weeks pregnant. Labour was the last thing on my mind.
The next day, 3rd June, I went to work as usual. But on my way home, I felt heavier than ever. My legs dragged with every step, as if I was walking through water. By 11:30 PM, I was supposed to catch a bus from Valletta, but I was moving so slowly... the driver left without me. I didn’t want to disturb my husband, so I made my way home on my own. It was 1:00 AM by the time I finally stepped into the house. I took a shower, crawled into bed, and tried to sleep — but my body had other plans.
By 2:30 AM, I rushed to the bathroom… and that’s when I saw it — blood.
My heart dropped. I was scared, confused, and shaky. "Who bleeds during pregnancy?" I kept asking myself. I quickly called the doctor, and their words were short but urgent:
“Get to the emergency room. Now.”
I woke up my husband. He looked panicked, trying to stay calm but clearly worried.
“Are you okay? Can you still feel the baby moving?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, “but something’s wrong.”
We packed our hospital bag — just in case — and rushed to the hospital. After a scan and several checks, the doctor confirmed my worst fear:
I was dilating.
I could see the fear in my husband’s eyes — silent questions he didn’t dare ask aloud. The doctor explained everything: because I was going into preterm labour, they needed to administer medication to help protect our baby’s brain and lungs in case she came early.
My husband begged them:
“Please… is there any way to delay the labour? Just a few more weeks... at least until 35.”
He had work the next morning but didn’t even think twice — he stayed right by my side, holding my hand, whispering encouragement. The doctors tried to slow the labour, but the contractions kept coming. Through the pain, his words were my anchor.
He would go home, cook healthy meals for me, and bring them back to the hospital. He stayed strong — for me, for our baby girl, for us.
Then came 5th June. The pain intensified. I was moved back into the delivery suite.
Every contraction felt like a wave crashing over me, but there was one constant: my husband. His hands, his voice, his presence — they reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
Then finally… in the early hours of 6th June 2025, at exactly 2:42 AM, our little princess was born. She weighed 2 kilograms — so tiny, yet so perfect.
The moment they rushed her to NPICU, my heart ached, but I knew she was in good hands. My husband, though scared, held it together — making sure our daughter was okay, while staying with me as doctors delivered the placenta and stitched me up from a tear I had during delivery.
Afterwards, he helped me to the bathroom, gently assisted me in showering, and later helped me move to the ward. It was already 4:30 AM by the time he left the hospital.
And by 9:00 AM? He was already back — with breakfast for me and essential items for our baby in the NICU. He was exhausted, running on empty, but never complained. He kept checking on both of us, making sure we were okay.
I can’t thank him enough.
Thank you, babe.
For your strength, your love, and your sleepless nights.
For being our rock during the storm.
Stay tuned for Part 2, where I share the emotional journey of our NICU days, recovery, and finally bringing our baby girl home.
Because every miracle has its story.
And this is ours. 💕
