I'm writing my story in as many places to view online as possible just to make people aware to beware of peri-partum cardiomyopathy and don't let doctors, midwives, etc., tell you things are normal when you know for sure it's not normal for you. Use your own gut instincts. Here's the story of our gorgeous little girl's birth, but also the tragic aftermath and neglectfulness of a few.

Chloe was born January 28 (one week overdue). The contractions started after having the sweep on Friday. I never felt right and had niggles from 3 to 4 p.m. Friday night onwards but didn't know if it was the real thing because it was like period pains. But it was the real thing. They were my form of contractions and they got worse as time went on.

By 1 a.m. they were five minutes apart, but I didn't go to the hospital till 6 a.m. By then I was feeling all done in and as if surely I couldn't wait until the hospital. On the way to the hospital the road was blocked off after an accident.

I pushed for hours with only gas and air as pain relief and would've delivered naturally too but Chloe had her head on a tilt, causing me to only dilate to 9.5 centimeters, so it wasn't possible. We were going to use forceps but they realized she was face up so they decided on a Cesarean at 7 p.m. By that time I was ready to let them do anything as long as I could rest and lose the pain of constant contractions.

They told my partner not to look down at the sight of the Cesarean being performed, but he went ahead and looked. Within seconds his face was grey and they were spraying oxygen at his face while escorting him to recovery. So by now I was saying over and over, "Who's my birthing partner now?"

Once back on the ward in the hospital the nurses noticed I had a cough and kept asking if I was a smoker. I kept saying no, the cough had started only since coming to the hospital.

I had to have a catheter fitted, which is general procedure for after a Cesarean as it's an operation. The catheter was draining very poorly and this was written in my notes only to be removed within less than 12 hours from the operation.

(When going home I looked at my notes. They'd written I was a smoker when I'd said I wasn't, obviously thinking because of my cough I must be and taking it upon themselves to assume.)

I was home from Monday till Saturday feeling worse with every day passing. Wednesday the cough I had in the hospital was causing me not to be able to breathe. Thursday was worse. Friday I had to phone the general practitioner to come out as I couldn't do anything. Even holding Chloe five minutes was too much weight on my chest and I was in constant tears worrying that it just didn't feel right. I couldn't even get up the stairs in less than 30 minutes.

But when the general practitioner came he said I had a chest infection. He prescribed antibiotics and went. Less than 12 hours later I told my partner at 3 a.m. that I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt so ill I was sure I was dying. I text Mam and Sis at 3 a.m. saying it was serious but kept hanging on, thinking maybe the antibiotics would kick in soon. My partner phoned the NHS helpline for me and they told me to go straight to the out-of-hours outpatients clinic.

The general practitioner there said my breathing rate should be between 12 to 16 and was 60 beats per minute and it wouldn't be too long before my body would tire out and give up at that rate. So he referred me straight to the hospital.

After a tracing of the heart and an X-ray, within the hour I was transferred up to the intensive care unit and linked to all machinery. That night they told me was critical and that I was in a very poor state of health. If I got over tonight they would be happy but it was a possibility they may need to sedate me, attach me to breathing machinery and transfer me for a heart transplant within the night. They took Mam, Dad and Sis aside to tell them the severity and I had to try to go to sleep with three staff members monitoring me from the bottom of my bedside.

Things improved and I was transferred the next day to coronary care and then to ward 4. I had many tests done and redone as well as investigations on 24-hour urine collections, heart echos, tracings, X-rays, MRI scan, etc. My heart was twice its size upon arrival at the hospital.

I only just got home yesterday and now Chloe is 18 days old. I've spent most of that in the hospital, and it was hell having to be without her, but I'm extremely grateful to be alive.

I was recommended to have my tubes tied and not to have more children as the condition I have suffered from is extremely rare. It is called peri-partum cardiomyopathy, a form of heart failure due to the pregnancy. The odds of getting this condition are 1 in 15,000. But I would very likely suffer again once having suffered already from it and leave the possibility of two children motherless.

The signs to look out for are:
Excessive swelling (my feet went from a size 8 to 11 and the midwife said this was fine). Also my hands went like balloons, as did the whole lot of me.
Fluid retention also linked with swelling, but the maternity knew my catheter had poor draining and said nothing.
A cough, which was also overlooked and assumed to me being a smoker despite saying previously I wasn't.
Coughing up blood, which I told to my general practitioner and he thought nothing of and diagnosed it as a chest infection. He told me to wait till Monday, but at the hospital Saturday they said if I hadn't been in the hospital that day it would've been too late, never mind Monday.

But although I knew I was very poor and said to my partner at least 48 hours before going to the hospital that I couldn't take anymore I kept saying I didn't want to go back to the hospital. I'm so pleased I stopped thinking so foolishly though and went. Although I am not entirely to blame, as a lot of people overlooked it as seen above.

My advice to people reading this is to use your own judgment. Go when you know there's something wrong and not before it's nearly too late. I might not be able to have more children but we have Chloe and the main thing is I'm still alive.

Upon leaving the hospital today I have six boxes of medication, appointments for the hospital for weeks to come and the last word from the consultant was that my heart still has significant damage. How much it repairs itself is still to be seen.