Taylas story – Part One – my 33 week Miracle
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“You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.”
-Bob Marley
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Little Oliver Jace was born at the start of 2026 at just 33 weeks and 6 days gestation. Weighing in at 2670g, and a length of 47cm. Tayla is a beautiful and strong mum of 4 boys who has suffered through this premature journey as well as her own personal journey dealing with mental health, abuse, trauma, addictions and so much more.
“I am a survivor! I am a mother! It is the power to rise, protect and love unconditionally, proving that a mothers strength is unbreakable.
By Tayla – Olivers Mum –
To start little Olivers story – Here is a little back story. I had my first son Jaekob when I was just 18 years old in 2017.
Then we need to go to 2020 where I was diagnosed with dilated Cardiomyopathy after having my second son Luca. We then had my third son Leighton in 2022 where during my third pregnancy I suffered from a Pulmonary Embolism (PE) in my right lung. This was terrifying.
A Pulmonary Embolism (PE) occurs when a blood clot gets stuck in an artery in the lung, blocking blood flow to part of the lung.
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In 2025 I experienced so many things mentally, it was a really emotionally hard year for me. I was really struggling to go to work every day and struggling in my relationship. I was on an absolute roller coaster of emotions.
My older kids are extremely high maintenance due to their own mental health issues. My eldest Jaekob (8) wasn’t doing well in school because of his behaviour problems, my second oldest Luca (6) has such bad separation anxiety, sleep issues, bowel issues and food aversions that he was also struggling each day during school. Just getting through each day was a battle!
So of course the last thing on my 2025 bingo card was a fourth pregnancy. Life loves to throw us roller coasters when we least expect it. It was a Friday morning, June 20th 2025 and I had woken up with the sorest boobs and for someone like me that’s very in tune with their body, I just knew instantly what that meant for me – I was indeed pregnant.
I went to my best friends house so we could walk our kids to school together and I mentioned to her that my boobs were sore and I had this strong feeling that I was pregnant. She also has 4 kids, so I definitely felt like she could understand the stress and overwhelm I was feeling.
That night I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test and straight away I saw those 2 lines, those 2 pink lines! I cried, a lot! Especially because the week before my husband and I were honestly talking about separating for a little bit due to the fact that we were not doing well at all. So I just has so many things piling up one after the other, and life kept throwing lemons at me.
My sister heard me crying and knew straight away – “no, is it positive?” – was exactly what she said to me.
Not just because of how rocky my relationship was, but because it is actually really dangerous for me to fall pregnant again after my heart diagnosis and previous PE. So so adding the extra stress and pressure of a pregnancy to an already fragile heart, big no no. So of course me being pregnant, worried my sister, it worried us all.
The first 27 weeks went by with a breeze, we found out we were having yet another beautiful baby boy, my morphology scan was perfect and everything was going well. I had my gestational diabetes test and this was the first hiccup we experienced. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes at my midwife appointment and obviously that took every thought or question right out of my mind. Any worries I had went right out the window. I honestly thought that this pregnancy would just fly by, unscathed, but I was very wrong.
After being diagnosed with GTT, I had the diabetes team call me and talk to me about my diet and just check in. They asked if I had been experiencing any symptoms which I answered and said – “no but I have been experiencing some breathlessness and dizziness”. I wasn’t sure if that had anything to do with now having diabetes or not so I figured why not mention it to them, since I had forgotten to say something to my midwife.
Anyway, the next thing I know my OBSMED doctor is calling me asking me to come in to PAC (Pregnancy Assessment Clinic) to be checked out and admitted into the pregnancy ward. During my last pregnancy when I experienced breathlessness and dizziness I had a PE (Pulmonary embolism) in my lung so I was at high risk of it happening again this pregnancy.
I was admitted on the on the 23rd of December, the worst time ever, I was emotional, I was stressed! I was put on telemetry which is a (really annoying) heart monitor for 48 hours, they then sent me for an echocardiogram, which is just an ultrasound on your heart that looks at the function or your heart and all these other crazy and fantastic things that your heart does. My heart without being pregnant, functions at 40-45% which means that when my heart is full of blood, it’s only capable of actually filtering 40-45% of that blood through my body.
The results of the echocardiogram showed that the function of my heart had dropped to 30-35% so unfortunately within a month my function had dropped so my team had to try and work out a plan to stop my heart from dropping any further. I started new medication, the blood thinner injections I was on from the start of my pregnancy to prevent any blood clots were increased and I was on close monitoring with more frequent appointments and echocardiograms. I was finally discharged from the hospital on New Year’s Eve – then having weekly echocardiograms and cardiologist appointments after that.
On January 12th 2026, I had another echocardiogram and my function was still going solid at 30-35%. I was just plodding around, slowly getting things ready for our little baby, just trying hard to take it as easy as you can with 3 crazy little boys.
Then again on January 19th I had yet another echocardiogram and cardiologist appointment, my husband and my youngest came with me to keep me company, my echocardiogram seemed fine during so I wasn’t worried about seeing the cardiologist, but as soon as I walked into her office I just knew something wasn’t right. As of now everything has dropped and my heart was functioning at 25%. My cardiologist wanted to make sure that the results were correct, so she sent the echocardiogram to a private cardiologist to have a look as a second opinion.
After this appointment, my cardiologist sent me home and told me to start preparing everything and to keep my phone on me as I would be hearing from her soon. So we went home and I went to go for a nap but for some reason I just couldn’t go to sleep. I was probably internally stressed out but just not “feeling” stressed, like I would normally feel stress? If that even makes any sense. (This is a form of disassociation).
Something told me to grab my phone and I started getting a call from a private number and I answered it straight away – “Hi Tayla, it’s _____ from Mater Mothers, we need to come into PAC and be admitted to be monitored and deliver your baby via C-Section, which means because of the gestation of your baby you need to be given steroids first, we will see you soon”.
I was absolutely speechless. I was 33 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I was oddly calm. I think because I knew for a while I would probably have to have my son early. We always have this gut sense as mothers. And I feel we also know how to remain calm in the serious situations in our lives.
I had grabbed my bags, put the capsule in the car, grabbed any last minute things that I needed and off we went. I got to PAC, was put into a room and put on the ECG monitor and sat having a laugh with my midwife. I was given the first dose of steroids Monday afternoon and then was due to have the second round Tuesday afternoon.
I spoke to my midwife about what was said to me on the phone about needing to have a C-Section. My midwife was really confused because I have previously had all successful and fast vaginal births prior to this pregnancy and didn’t understand the need for a C-Section this time. I thought maybe because of my heart, it possibly was necessary. My midwife went on to assured me that it’s definitely not necessary and that she was would speak to the head of department about my history and prior births and see what the plans were and if they may be open and happy for me to be induced instead. I could have the epidural and be closely monitored as safety precautions. 20 minutes go by and she comes back to give me the good news – that I don’t need to have a C Section and I am all good to give birth vaginally again with the epidural and have an induction starting with the balloon method. Thank god – I felt a huge sense of relief!
I was worried about having to heal from a C Section while having 3 young boys as well as a newborn. Tuesday rolls around, Im given my second steroid injection to help with babies lungs. Next – my midwife gives me a cervical exam and tells me I won’t actually need the balloon because I’m already 1-2 cm dilated so she should be able to just do a stretch and sweep and pop my waters. Everything is going smoothly so far. My midwife goes ahead and does the stretch and sweep
Tuesday night and I try to get some sleep, However I was just so excited to meet my baby, that I struggled to get any sleep, I think I got maybe 3 hours.
5:30 am roles around and I wake up and just can’t get back to sleep so I get up, go to the tea room and make a coffee. 5:45 my midwife calls me and you could tell by her tone she is pumped – “Im just calling to make sure you’re awake and ready to go” she says on the phone. I finish my coffee, go back to my room and wake my husband up, gather all my stuff and off we go to the Birthing Suite to start the process of welcoming our little boy.
We get settled into the room and not before long the anaesthesiologist comes in and explains to me that because of my heart and needing to be monitored so closely I’ll need an Arterial IV line which is pretty much just a wire that needs to be put into a vein in your arm so that they can monitor your BPM and blood pressure most accurately. So he gave me local anaesthetic and attempts to place the line, something that was supposed to take a minute or 2, took 5 and it was the worst pain ever, even with the local; or so I thought.
Time for the epidural to be placed! I’ve never had an epidural before so I was actually excited, all of my other births were all natural with no pain relief. The same anaesthesiologist gives me some more local in my back and we wait a couple of minutes for it to kick in, he then starts to place the epidural and HOLY, I’ve never felt pain like that before. I almost fainted from the pain! Another anaesthesiologist had to come in and attempt to place the epidural because he couldn’t get it in the right place. Thankfully the other doctor got it put in the right place and it was time to sit back and relax.
Not too long after my midwife started the Pitocin drip to induce labour and the ball starts rolling. A few hours go by and I’ve eaten a chicken curry, fruit salad, an iced coffee and some biscuits. It is now getting close to 3pm and my midwife needed to start her handover.
I start to feel what I can only describe as a ball in my vagina – so I mention to my midwife that I can feel something in my vagina and ask her to check, she takes a peek and says “oh okay, it’s time to have this baby!”. So on the next contraction I feel I give as big of a push as I can scramble, because if you’ve ever had an epidural, Your body doesn’t give you the feeling or urge to push, you are totally guided by when your health professionals tell you to push. I give the biggest push I can, with the next contraction she stops me mid push and tells me to pretend like I’m blowing out a candle, and again, and again, and one more.
His head is out!! My 33+6 weekers little head is out!! I give one last big push, grab my tiny little baby and bring him up to my chest. He is just the smallest little thing I’ve ever held in my life. He lets out this big, loud cry! I start to absolutely bawl my eyes out, I have never cried before in any of my births but for some reason I absolutely bawled with this little baby that I had just birthed.
Of course the nurses have to take him, check him out and make sure he’s okay, weigh him, measure him and do all that important stuff. After all of that, I finally get to give him another cuddle thats when the doctors notice he’s trying really hard to breathe so they mention he may need to go on some breathing support called CPAP.
They take him into a seperate room and i’m just stuck in the bed, not knowing what’s going on, I can’t see my baby, I can’t hear my baby, absolutely nothing. What felt like 3 years, 5 months and 2 weeks, he finally comes back into the room with this huge thing on his face that makes him look like he’s about to go deep sea diving. Im literally numb at this point, both mentally and physically. I knew this was most likely going to happen but the reality of it was more scary than I could explain. Seeing breathing support is extremely overwhelming.
They ask me if I have a name for him and I just look at his little face and say “Oliver”. This little baby that for 33 weeks and 6 days didn’t have a name – finally did. For those 33 weeks and 6 days, I couldn’t find a name that fit, that I didn’t feel like “fit” our other boys names. Every name someone threw my way just didn’t sound right, but now he finally had a name.
Our little Oliver Jace.
We got to meet him early and I felt so lucky but then they had to take him away from me, he needed to go to NICU and get extra help for his breathing and even though I knew it was the best place for him to go, I hated it. While Oliver went to NICU – I had to go to the coronary care unit to make sure I didn’t go into acute heart failure. I had to be there for 24 hours to be monitored. Which meant I had to go 24 hours without seeing my baby, without holding my baby, without feeding my baby. It broke me! It felt unfair! Even though we both needed extra care, even though we were in safe hands, it just felt like punishment.
After the 24 hours were up I was transferred to the mother’s side of the hospital and could finally go and visit my little baby. I was so excited, I pretty much threw my bags in the room and ran to him. Luckily Oliver with off CPAP and he only needed it for 12 hours. He had a feeding tube because he was born premie and was too little to latch to a bottle or boob. I sat with him for about 5 hours and then needed to go an have a sleep because I was delusional at that stage.
Friday I went and sat with him most of the day and only left to visit my husband and our other kids for lunch. He was moved from NICU to the Special Care Unit on Friday afternoon. My other midwife came and visited me and noticed I had a rash on my chest which was from the sticky pads of the Cardiac Telemetry Monitoring, but the midwife and nurses suspected it was shingles. Just another thing in my journey. I had a swab done, antibiotics were started, I was put in isolation and again not allowed to see Oliver again for another 24 hours while I waited for the results to come back. I knew it wasn’t shingles and I knew it was better safe than sorry not to see Oliver just in case there was that very small chance it was shingles. All I could do was cry and think I was again being punished.
Saturday afternoon the results came back and I was cleared, it wasn’t shingles, so I ran straight to Oliver in Special Care and sat with him for a few hours.
Sunday I was discharged and sadly had to go home without my baby, I cried all the way home, I’ve never had to leave my baby at the hospital before, it broke my soul. This is something so so many mums experience every single day, however when its happening to you its a whole different feeling.
All I could think was that Oliver thought I had abandoned him, that we just left him behind. When I got home I cried again, a huge big ugly cry, my husband asked “why are you crying” – so dumb right. What do you mean why am I crying?? I just had a baby, I just had to leave him at the hospital and it’s freaking storming, it’s his first storm and we’re not with him. It was a lot and I just felt so guilty.
It was Monday, the day before school started so I thought it would be a great idea to take all the kids up to the hospital so they could meet their baby brother – I was wrong. It was chaotic! It was so stressful! I was so overwhelmed. I felt like the nurses were judging me because I had my 3 year old running around like a crazy chicken, my 6 year old was sitting there telling me he was so bored and my 8 year old just asking to hold the baby. My anxiety just just too high to cope and just wouldn’t let it happen – so we left. Again, I had to leave my baby behind. Monday night I went back to the hospital alone and just sat there in silence with Oliver, if I could I would’ve sat there all day every day BUT I had 3 other kids that needed their mum too.
How do you decide who needs you more? One person, freshly postpartum, how can I seperate myself into 4?! Once school started I would take my 6 and 8 year old to school, then take my 3 year old to daycare and off to the hospital I would go. I put the older boys into after school care so that I could spend until 4pm every day with Oliver and then head home to do dinner, bath and bed with my other kids. It was exhausting, but I did it. I got through it and my kids as they grow up will think i’m a superstar for how I handled this time in our lives.
While the big boys where bathing I would pump milk for Oliver, once they were in bed I would pump again and then I would wake up at 7am and pump again. Every. Single. Day. On the weekends it was obviously a little different, Conrad would stay at home with the 3 boys so that I could go and be with Oliver, it wasn’t as long because the guilt would hit and I’d feel bad for not being with the big kids.
Once Oliver hit 35 weeks he was able to come home on a program called HOPE which meant he would come home with the feeding tube but I had to be educated in tube feeding and testing the tube was in the right place. For Oliver to be eligible he needed to have at least 2 x 20 minute latch feeds a day in special care and be over seen by a lactation consultant. He was doing amazing with latch feeding, everyone was so proud of him. We then needed to be seen by the lactation consultant, she was crude. Because she missed his feeds and when he latched she made me feel like I was lying about him latching and feeding actively. The nurse on that shift also missed the latch feeds so it made me feel even worse. Thankfully on the day he was being discharged there was a different lactation consultant who was very understanding and kind so Oliver passed and we were able to bring him home.
He was 35 weeks and 2 days corrected, but 2 weeks and 2 days old when we were able to bring him home. It was a lot. It was overwhelming! I was scared because now he was fully my responsibility! He was 100% in my care. I had to make sure he was gaining weight! I had to make sure I woke every 3 hours! I had to fill out every feed, every nappy change and make time for a nurse to visit us every single day – which of course meant making sure that my house was clean, there wasn’t any mess because if there was mess that meant my other kids were living in filth and I didn’t care for them… right?
After about 2 weeks of seeing a nurse every day and also taking Oliver to the neonatal clinic every Wednesday we finally got to the point where he was breastfeeding for 48 hours straight and the feeding tube could be removed. This meant we would be discharged from the HOPE program.
We are now 6 weeks and 3 days postpartum and Oliver is thriving.
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In mama’s words:
Our journey was very unexpected. After having two children with no complications, the decision to have another seemed very easy.
Unfortunately, what played out was no easy journey.
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We decided to start trying again and very quickly pictured our life with 3 children. A few months into the journey we had not yet seen a positive test but kept telling ourselves it can take time even though it had been longer than with the first two.
Months passed and still nothing.
A visit to the GP happened but we were told it was still within the normal time frame. After we hit the 12 month mark had come and gone we decided at that point it was time we were referred onto a specialist.
The specialist had no concerns but ran a few tests just to check on everything – which all all initially came back normal. The specialist was however happy to track a few cycles with bloods etc. Again, all results came back normal.
It’s hard because you don’t want anything to be wrong but at the same time something wrong maybe means it gives you some answers and validation as to why this is happening and then gives you something to work towards fixing.
We continued on with tracking for a while. After a while we opted to do some more further and invasive testing – including a Laparoscopic surgery which all again was normal.
This then began the talk about commencing fertility treatments.
At this point, this journey was really taking an emotional and physical toll on us. You never fully understand the pain and all the emotions that come along with infertility until you are living it.
I had friends who had been through their own journeys and I personally have always tried my best to understand, and I really thought I did. However everyones journey is so different and you really don’t know exactly what its like until you are in the depths of living it.
It’s all you think about constantly and it consumes so many aspects of your life, you’re whole life. Everything revolves around tests, treatments, anxiety, distress, despair and both dealing with the unknown if this will ever work and also guilt and shame about whats casing it to not happen.
“To want something so desperately and it be so out of reach is so beyond difficult.”
“What is meant to be something so natural becomes the complete opposite.”
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After some time we did decide to commence some fertility treatments and after another couple of months (which felt like a lifetime) our dream finally started to play out.
To see that positive test after well over 2 years of trying was unbelievable, we felt every emotion, we were in shock for quite a while.
I remember with my other pregnancies the excitement and joy that we felt was instant, this time however we had excitement but it also came with immense anxiety. This pregnancy was so precious and we were so anxious to let ourselves believe it was actually happening, that it was actually true.
The weeks started to pass and we finally started to slowly let the wall down. After the first trimester we did get some relief and let finally were able to let ourselves feel that excitement.
Then our little miracle arrived! Absolute perfection!
Right up until the day we met our baby we did still feel that constant anxiety. Now baby is here and we are just so grateful.
“The joy and love we feel is indescribable.”
Our hearts are so content and we know just what an absolute miracle and blessing our baby is.
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Unfortunately, infertility can affect any one at any time. Roughly 18% of the worlds population –
or 1 in 6 people experience the distress of infertility within their life time.
It’s a journey you would never with upon anyone, not even your worst enemy. I have a whole new level of admiration for all the other families/woman/people who have been through this journey or have been effected by infertility.
It takes a whole new level of strength and there are so many days you think you just cant keep going however you pick yourself up and somehow find that inner strength to keep on going.
The journey is tough and thankfully for us we got our miracle.
“This journey has changed me in ways I never thought were possible, not only as a mother but as a person. It puts life into perspective and has given me a whole new level of appreciation for the life I now live.”
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This time in my life is just so magical, I am so grateful to be living the life I dreamed of. The life I waited and longed for, for so so long.
I look at these photos by Life with Lou Photography and I am so grateful for what they have captured. I look at these photos and my heart is so grateful. I know every time I look back on these, I will feel that same gratitude as it will be a beautiful reminder of this time in my life.
My Story of Infertility – Written by one Amazingly Strong Mama
– (With the help & images from Lou – Life with Lou Photography).
Written in September 2025
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A little update and message from this mama –
Written in March 2026
“Lou made me feel so comfortable during my shoot with her. Being postpartum I was hesitant to show as much of my body as I did, however during this shoot I actually felt so empowered and confident.
She was so gentle and kind in her approach to the shoot and I appreciated the level of care she showed to make sure I was comfortable.
I look back on those images and still can’t believe I DID IT! The shoot was out of my normal style but what the images captured is the raw beauty of motherhood. Given our journey and the fact that this baby is our last I really want to cherish each and every moment because I am just so grateful for this chapter of my life.
The images capture the pure beauty of the closeness I feel with my baby and I will cherish them so much.”
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Quick little reply from Lou – March 2026
“It is always an absolute honour to be able to capture these images of such a raw moment in a mothers postpartum journey. Knowing I have helped you to feel embowered and confident whilst using a gentle approach means so much to me and I am grateful to be able to provide that level of comfort.
And YOU DID DO IT! And I am so incredibly proud of you!”
