Difficult Memories *very distressing subject matter enclosed*

*very distressing subject matter enclosed*

As I had posted an article on the Not Happy Thread about this kind of subject, I figured it would perhaps be an idea to do a blog entry about it too.
I will say from the outset that I find this very distressing to think about, let alone write. It is a memory that has haunted me since that time, and I suspect will continue to haunt me ever after. With that out of the way, let us begin on an uncomfortable journey...

Back in January 2012, I gave birth to my first child*, a little girl whom we named Sienna Samara Brianna** Walsh.
*I had been pregnant before, but had miscarried by 12 weeks.
**This name was chosen in memory of my deceased father, who passed away in November 2001.

I was in hospital, and I had a long and difficult labour. When Sienna finally arrived, she was not in good condition. She had become distressed during her delivery, and by the time she was finally out, she was non-responsive. I still recall the unnatural silence in the room, as she was taken over to the examination area. Being understandably concerned, I asked if she was dead. I do not remember any response to my question.
She was examined and her airways were cleared, among other things. Eventually, when she had some colour in her skin again, they brought her over to me-albeit very briefly. She was taken away to the Special Care Baby Unit, where she would stay for around 7-10 days. During that time, I was on the maternity ward, and was increasingly aware that I appeared to be the only mother who did not have their baby with them for any length of time. Instead, I went across to the SCBU, and later on to the nursery, to spend as much time with her as I could. I went back to my ward for meals, sometimes, but half the time I forgot about them entirely.
She didn't do very much, on account of being a newborn baby, but that didn't seem to make any difference to me. I was captivated by her. She was my adorable little girl.
On her first night in SCBU, I sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to her, whilst she lay in her large plastic box, with wires and such attached to her. I was so nervous just to touch her through the hand holes in the sides.
I do recall when she had the heel prick test done, and understandably she cried. I instinctively gave her my finger to suck on, which she did. It seemed to give her comfort, even if it was momentary.
I was discharged after 3 days on the ward, whilst she stayed in the nursery. I still walked up to the hospital every day to see her, and take clean clothes for her, and milk I had attempted to express whilst at home.

After about 10 days, she was finally allowed to come home to us. We dressed her up warmly, clipped her into her new car seat, and we went home on the bus. As a family.
The first night was very hard for me, as she seemed to keep crying, and I didn't know what she wanted.
By the following morning, I was exhausted. Sleep deprivation has never been good for me, especially emotionally. So when we had an unannounced guest at the door, come to check on Sienna, not surprisingly I wasn't in the mood. It was a Health Visitor. I remained in bed, and my partner spoke to the woman. She seemed concerned that I wasn't feeling up to talking with her, so I got up and came out of the bedroom.
I have no recollection of what she asked me or what I said to her. I know at some point I mentioned about having Sienna adopted, as I felt like I couldn't cope. Naturally, alarm bells began to ring.
Within the hour, we had the Health Visitor, the Mental Health team, the Social Workers, and I think Police in the flat. A plan was made that I needed to be assessed under the Mental Health Act. I was to go back to hospital. I had two "choices" before me. I could go to hospital "voluntarily" with somebody escorting me, or I could "refuse", whereby I would be arrested and taken to hospital against my will to be assessed. In an attempt to feel like I had some control, I opted for the "voluntarily" option.
I was then asked to prepare my daughter. So I gathered the things she would need, and clipped her into her car seat once more. Rather suddenly, I let out a guttural scream. She then went off to her paternal grandmother's house, and I went to hospital.
When I arrived, I was taken into a room where two men I didn't know came in to question me. I barely looked at them, my face swollen and my eyes filled with tears, and after 10 minutes my fate had been decided. I was to be admitted under the Mental Health Act.
I was taken to a new ward, intended for mothers and babies. Sienna joined me there for one night, during which time I couldn't cope alone. She was then taken back to her grandmother's.

Some time later, I was asked by Social Services to sign a form which in effect said that I agreed to voluntarily put Sienna in their care. I refused. Her father agreed. A couple of days later, I went back and signed the forms. I knew at the time it was a bad idea, but I was being coerced into it by those around me. I knew I was in a precarious state emotionally and mentally, and I didn't deny it. But I knew that that form was wrong. I simply felt it.

By the end of the year, shortly before Christmas (december 19th, I think?), Sienna was placed under a Special Guardianship Order with her paternal grandmother. I would later discover that said grandmother was in fact an alcoholic. By the time the final court date had arrived, I was so worn down and beaten that I truly believed that Sienna would be better off without me raising her, and I agreed to the Special Guardianship Order.
I went to see Sienna a few times after the court case had concluded. The last time I saw her, I ended up getting into an argument with the grandmother, and I bit her arm after she insulted both myself and my mother. I haven't seen either of them since that day in 2013.
This is the Sienna I remember, and the one I last saw.



Now she is at primary school, and about to turn 7 years old.