Joshua's Journey — A Father's Perspective
The Pregnancy
I was working as a Mobile Patrol Officer on a high-profile estate in Surrey when Lena told me she was pregnant. My first reaction was happiness, quickly followed by nerves. I had grown up without a father or father figure, as he left before I was born and chose not to be part of my life, leaving my mum to raise me alone. The only examples of fatherhood I had were from watching my friends' dads, or seeing other parents visit children at boarding school. In truth, I had no idea what being a father would look like — but I knew one thing for certain: if I ever had children, I would always be there for them.
When Lena and I met, she already had a daughter, Sara, from a previous relationship. During Sara's birth, Lena had been treated for sepsis, so when we found out she was expecting Joshua, extra care was needed throughout the pregnancy. We attended every appointment, every scan, and everything seemed to be going well.
As the due date approached, we learned that Joshua was in the wrong position. If he did not turn naturally, a caesarean section would be needed to ensure both his safety and Lena's.
Around the same time, work spoke with the client and created a new role for me in preparation for Joshua's arrival, promoting me to Senior Patrol Officer. Life was busy and full of change. While preparing for fatherhood, I was also repainting and laying new flooring in our two-bedroom flat, getting everything ready to welcome Joshua into the world.
The Birth
Lena and Sara were at one of her sister's home when she called me to say her waters had broken with no warning. I was still finishing off the flooring, dropped everything and rushed to get her. I picked up Lena and we went straight to Wexham Park Hospital. We rushed straight to the maternity ward and booked in. We were taken into an examination room and a midwife came to examine Lena. Within a few seconds she went to the wall and hit the call button to summon extra help. No one came, so she stepped out into the corridor briefly — and came back with 5 or 6 people: a doctor/surgeon in scrubs, nurses, midwives. We went from happy and excited to feeling like we had hit a wall. A million things going through my head — are Joshua and Lena going to be ok?
The medical staff grabbed Lena and rushed her up the corridor — they were going to have to perform an emergency Caesarean Section. A few minutes later there was a loud but muffled scream. A scream that I can still hear. A scream hard to explain to anyone who has not heard one like it. This was not a scream of fear — you could tell it was one of unimaginable pain. Because it was muffled and came from up the corridor, I could not make out if it was Lena. To be honest, when I heard it, it hadn't fully registered with me.
A few more minutes went past. No sign of anyone. Then a few staff came rushing down the corridor with an incubator. I went to the doorway of the examination room — no one else there. My mind bending every way, wondering what was going on. Then a midwife came and told me Joshua had suffered cord prolapse and cord abruption. Lena was sedated and the doctors were closing her up. Someone would come and take me to see Joshua when he was settled.
One of the nurses came and took me out of maternity, across the corridor and into the Intensive Care Unit. I'm not sure I can fully explain what was going on, other than there were amazing staff everywhere doing everything they could — not just for Joshua, but for other babies in the unit too. I was taken over to Joshua's incubator.
A consultant told me that the cord prolapse and cord abruption had resulted in oxygen being cut off to Joshua. He was on a cooling mat to help reduce his heart rate and limit the brain damage caused. The noise from the machines, the people, what you're seeing, feeling and thinking — it is overwhelming. The consultant went on to say they were trying to arrange transport to take him to a specialist ICU at John Radcliffe or Great Ormond Street, depending on availability.
A little while later I was informed Joshua was going to John Radcliffe. A consultant arrived from John Radcliffe in a specialist St John's Ambulance. They prepared Joshua in a transport incubator that I can only describe as a mini mobile hyperbaric chamber — which, again, had me terrified. But just before Josh left, Lena made it to the ICU on a bed to see him. We were unable to hold him due to all the cables and the air tube.
Joshua was born Saturday 22nd August 2015 at Wexham Park Hospital. He was then transported to John Radcliffe for 10 days in their specialist ICU. Believe me — the story is about to get harder to read.
As Lena could not go, I had to follow Josh up by myself. Lena stayed at Wexham; her sisters and Sara visited over the weekend as Lena had to be kept in. I spent the weekend driving from Wexham in Slough to Sara to make sure she was ok and had everything, then on to Oxford — and repeat throughout the weekend. I just wasn't sure where I should be, as Josh was on limited access at that time. He was in the ICU on a cooling blanket, wires and tubes everywhere, but he was being well cared for.
Joshua — 4 days old, 26th August 2015, Wexham Park Hospital
That tiny grip — holding on.
Then the story takes a turn. Monday came around. I got to Oxford, to the ICU, and went to sign in. I was then called into a lounge-type room with a counsellor and a midwife. Immediately — what is going on? What's happened?
I'm not going to lie — anything about the birth and the following few months I have never been able to actually talk about. This, combined with the scream at the birth, is why.
The counsellor very gently asked me to sit down. She looked at the midwife, then at me. She took my hand and her eyes started to swell with tears. She said: “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but you need to prepare yourself that you may not ever be able to take Joshua home.”
Prepare yourself that he may die!!!
When things had settled down Lena and I spoke. Do you remember that scream at birth. Lena told me. That was not her. It was a mother who had gone to term and had to give birth to a stillborn child. That unimaginable scream of sorrow and loss. That’s why life is a gift. A fragile gift, no matter who’s it is, what it is, or what form it takes. Although Joshua will forever have his additional needs and limitations, and for us as parents demands that need to be met, we were lucky. We got to bring him home in the end.
Josh spent 10 days at Oxford before then returning to Wexham Neonatal for 3 months i believe. During this time Lena and I were learning about Joshua. Easiest way to describe this is what someone once told me, sounds harsh unless you have experienced similar:
‘You mourn the child you lost, while learning to love the child you have.’
What that means for us in our terms is all the dreams and expectations of being able to do what healthy people do, and way of life, ended abruptly when Josh was born. We need to learn how to live life as fully and inclusively as possible with whatever challenges may face Joshua. It doesn’t mean Joshua’s life will be lesser than someone else’s, he’s our son and we love him like any parents would. It just means we have to plan for Joshua’s needs and abilities, medically, physically, and emotionally. He is who he is. Our Son. ALWAYS, with a huge smile and full of laughter, no matter what life throws at him.
I digress. During his stay at Wexham we had to learn about how to feed him through an ‘NG tube’. Tube that goes down nose to stomach. And how to care for him. We had a day trip to Neurology in Oxford to see extent of brain damage. After around 3 months i think it was Josh came home. Finally.
— To be continued —
Early Years
— Coming soon —
Current
— Coming soon —
A father's account of his son Joshua's emergency birth at Wexham Park Hospital in August 2015, the discovery of cord prolapse and abruption, and the critical early days in intensive care. A deeply personal story of medical crisis, parental fear, and resilience during one family's most challenging moment.