'I asked the midwife if I was going to die…'
Ellen MacArthur kept me going in the early hours. At the point where I feel so tired that I have found myself napping while my twins breastfeed simultaneously, I imagine being on the Antarctic on Christmas Day with only packet soup to eat and a mast that needs repairing, and I suddenly feel a whole lot more lively. Being permanently tired is just one aspect of my new life, having little time to return phone calls is another, and going for days without a trip outside my postcode during the first weeks of motherhood was definitely a novelty. Welcome to my world as the mother of twins. After 37 weeks of pregnancy on July 28 in the last half hour of that day, my son Reuben and then my daughter Lois were born 16 minutes apart. In spite of my best efforts-sex, acupuncture, reflexology and champagne-I hadn't managed to go into labour naturally. So, on the evening of July 27, I was induced. Two hours later I was still showing no signs of labour so my team left me in my hospital bed to get a good night's sleep. Actually, I think they left to get themselves a good night's sleep. The obstetrician Professor Nicholas Fisk, midwife Jenny Smith and my husband Kenny had stayed to see if the first pessary had worked and, one by one, when they were satisfied nothing was happening, they had left, all promising to see me early in the morning. However, at 1am, within an hour of Kenny arriving home,I was phoning him to come back. We handled the first couple of hours of labour ourselves, Kenny inventing amazing stories to get me through the pain barrier (they involved cycling up hills, running marathons and picturing our son making his way down the birth canal). But, as so often happens with an induction, the contractions come on thick and fast and I was experiencing one every 90 seconds. I tried to wait a while before I called Jenny the midwife. She had delivered 2 babies already that week (it was only Wednesday) and I wanted her to get some good rest. But, at 3am, I had reached my limit and made the call. By 4am, we were all in the birth room with the gas and air being regularly used, mainly by me. With our favourite tunes playing on the iPod and our oil-burner filling the room with the scent of roses, things settled down. But, by 10am, with the contractions coming frequently, I was still only 2cm dilated. With hindsight, I think I was having too much fun; the gas and air had taken my attention away from the job in hand. I practised the various 'labour walks' as suggested in Gowri Motha's book, 'The Gentle Birth Method'. Pacing the corridor like a camel, I visualised the cervix getting thinner and thinner. I also meditated, but my progress was excruciatingly slow. So it was decided that I should have my waters ruptured. I was going to have an epidural at some stage-this was part of a deal with Professor Fisk, as there is a greater chance of having to have an emergency C-section with twins-and so the anaesthetist was called. Within an hour I was experiencing a very different kind of labour. My contractions slowed right down. My body was swelling in front of my eyes as the epidural was pumped into me and I was less mobile. But I was determined to avoid a C-section and kept visualising my first baby pushing his head down ready to make his way into the world. Jenny told us that an hour in labour is like ten minutes in normal life and before we knew it the sun was starting to set. I was examined again and told I was still only 4cm dilated. It was 8pm and Professor Fisk delivered the news I was dreading; if things didn't improve by 10pm I would be heading into theatre for a Caeasarean. We were all deflated; hope for my natural delivery was fading and I started to try to get my head round the prospect of a C-section. I was told to get an hour's sleep. Everyone left me. I visualised, I prayed and I cried a little, but I didn't sleep. What happened next was a small miracle. After 2 hours, Professor Fisk came back to examine me. Kenny and Jenny had returned and we waited for his verdict. After what seemed like an hour but was only a moment, he said 'You're fully dilated, it's almost time to push'. It was as joyous as being told that I was pregnant. You wait all day for a couple of centimetres and then 6 come all at once. An hour later, after about 40 minutes of pushing, our son Reuben made his way into the world. He came headfirst and everything was as perfect as we could have hoped for. I thought that I might be allowed a few minutes to have a cup of tea and a slice of toast, and maybe a pat on the back but, very quickly, I was being asked to start pushing our daughter Lois out. She was 'breach' and her heartbeat was slowing, so there was no time to chat about Reuben. She came out feet first and was on my chest in what seemed like seconds. Our family had arrived safely. We were as high as kites and I'd had the perfect birth experience that I'd craved. I can't imagine ever achieving endorphins like it again. Moments later, the placentas came out and then the real drama started. I was bleeding and it wasn't stopping. I was suddenly somewhere between here and there, almost floating above the situation, but never losing consciousness. I can remember refusing to put the oxygen mask on. The tension started to rise in the room, the lights went up, the music down, the anaesthetist came back and I heard someone ask anxiously if the theatre was ready. As I was wheeled along the corridor to the theatre, I asked Jenny if I was going to die. She said I wasn't and I believed her. My parents and brother, who knew of Reuben's safe arrival but not a word about Lois's birth, were in a waiting room and watched in disbelief as the trolley sped past leaving a bloody trail. Kenny described the room I had left as looking like a butcher's. In the end I had lost 40% of the blood in my body and I had to have a 7-pint blood transfusion. My uterus had failed to contract, causing the bleeding. This is a risk with twin births as the uterus extends so hugely during pregnancy. My babies weighed 12 pounds in total; and you can add the placentas and fluid to that, so I was pretty huge at the very end. It had certainly been a rollercoaster ride to motherhood, with tears, fears and trauma along the way. But as Kenny and I gradually adjust to life as the parents of our beautiful son and daughter, it was a rollercoaster ride I wouldn't have missed for the world.
"To say life frequently resembles a whirlwind would be something of an understatement", was how the glamorous face of ITV soccer put it." But no matter how frantic the challenge of juggling the demands of two bonny babies, busy work schedules and all the rest might be, Gabby and Kenny are revelling in the parenthood they feared might prove an elusive dream. Simple things like the family Christmas with kids of their own to marvel at the twinkling lights on the tree. "Kenny is proving even better than I dared hope as the doting dad, taking over so much responsibility when I have to dash to the studio or to the airport. Now that I've stopped breastfeeding, he certainly does his share of bottle feeding at unsocial hours, too! "We've got wonderful support from our nanny but both Kenny and I are determined to do as much hands-on parenting as possible ourselves. Both our mums have been a fantastic help as well, although both live a long way from London, so it's more a case of them offering a mixture of advice on the phone and coming to stay for a time as proud 'working' grandmothers'." Although clearly still ambitious, Gabby has made motherhood her number one priority and is sticking largely to TV commitments she had prior to her pregnancy. Try-scoring rugby legend Kenny, newly-retired from the game but still busy with a hectic diary of corporate, media and charity work both in England and his native Scotland, has made SPARKS a benefiting charity from his testimonial year. A dyslexia-sufferer himself, Kenny, whose schedule now includes being a Sky TV rugby pundit, is an active supporter of charity research into the condition. But Kenny's farm in Stirling has tended to be off-limits since the twins' arrival, says Gabby. "We both love the place, but the sheer military operation involved in packing up a mountain of baby gear, double buggies and the rest and then driving for 10 hours with two tiny tots isn't worth the stress. It's the same if you have to try and check that little lot in at the airport, too, and then pick up a hire car at the other end. "But we're determined the children will see a lot of Scotland when they're a little bit older." |
Having
finally become pregnant with twins thanks to IVF treatment, Gabby Logan,
ITV's star soccer presenter tells us how she was looking forward to fulfilling
her dream goal of motherhood. But the birth itself turned out to be a
nerve-wracking marathon that, at one stage saw Gabby, now happily restored
to health and back on screen, being rushed into the operating theatre
scared she might not live to see her new born babies…
Gabby
admits that parenthood has been an even bigger life-changing experience
than she and husband Kenny expected. 
