By Jade Glen
Rochelle Montgomery says her son, Loic, is the bravest person she knows.
After a dramatic entrance to the world, little Loic was in Casey Hospital’s Special Care Nursery when he suffered a seizure in his mother’s arms.
He was transferred to Monash Children’s Hospital, staying for more than three weeks while doctors investigated what caused his seizure.
“Every test under the sun,” Rochelle said.
“We had to eliminate bacterial and viral infections, electrolyte imbalances, you name it. Everything came back clear until he was sent for an MRI. It was a Saturday morning and the doctor pulled us into a meeting room. He showed us images of Loic’s MRI and showed us areas of his tiny little brain that were showing damage. The lack of oxygen at birth had caused a vessel in his brain to burst.
“Our tiny little precious boy had had a stroke.”
A lack of oxygen during birth was considered the likely cause of Loic’s stroke.
Rochelle was anxious during her pregnancy with Loic as her eldest daughter, Euphemia, was born via emergency caesarean after a long labour. She and her partner, Haydn, also experienced a devastating miscarriage in early 2016.
“Despite my fears, the pregnancy progressed exceptionally well. Two days before my due date my blood pressure was slightly elevated, so they decided to induce me, just to be safe,” Rochelle said.
“My labour progressed reasonably well, and after five hours it was time to push. I was pushing for an hour, to no avail.
“My son started going into distress, and they also noticed that he had the cord wrapped around his neck. They used vaccuum suction to get him out and called a Code Blue. He had the cord wrapped four times tightly (around his neck), was non-responsive and completely floppy. I was haemorrhaging and my blood pressure dropping quickly.
“The room filled with at least 30 people. I lay there with tears in my eyes as I watched them actively resuscitating my baby for what seemed like an eternity (it was for around 10 mins). I was begging and praying to hear a cry from him and finally it came.”
Loic was rushed to Special Care and Haydn followed. A short time later, Rochelle was allowed to see him properly for the first time; he was in an incubator and on a c-pap machine to assist his breathing.
“It broke my heart to not be able to hold him … . all I could do was hold his little hand through the hole in the crib and rub his sweet little cheek.”
Rochelle and Haydn did not get much sleep that night, with Rochelle expressing breast milk every three hours and Haydn running it across to the special care nursery to Loic.
“The next morning, I finally got to have a cuddle and he got to meet his big sister – we were so happy,” Rochelle said.
Their happiness was soon cut short, as later that day Rochelle was holding Loic when he had a seizure.
“It was pretty horrific – it wasn’t your typical textbook seizure. He was really grizzly, and then he went limp and stopped breathing. He was on the bed just arching his back, and it was a few minutes before he started breathing again,” Rochelle said.
Loic was transferred to Intensive Care at Monash Children’s Hospital that evening for further monitoring.
“I went in the ambulance with him – it was the scariest, most tiring, painful experience of my life,” Rochelle said.
There were no facilities for parents to stay, so Rochelle and Haydn travelled back and forth from their home in Beaconsfield to be with Loic each day. Luckily their families were able to care for Euphemia and ensure her usual routine and kindergarten days continued as normal.
Loic came along in leaps and bounds during his stay at Monash.
“Our boy is a fighter with a joker’s spirit … he started feeding like a champ, smiling at the nurses at only a week old, being a sticky beak and checking out the other visitors in his room,” Rochelle said.
“Six months on and he is doing amazing. We have weaned off his seizure medication just last week and so far no sign of his seizures returning – (still keeping my fingers crossed) – which is a big deal for us because he was needing weekly blood tests to assess the medication levels in his blood, and it got to a point where he no longer cried when they jabbed him.
“He is also not only meeting his milestones, but meeting many of them early. He amazes both his paediatrician and physiotherapists. He is almost seven months; he sits on his own, rolls over both ways, can feed himself, is a huge piggy with his food, is almost crawling, can pull himself to stand, is trying to clap and wave and has the cheekiest and most infectious smile.
“He adores his big sister, but loves pulling her hair and laughing when she gets in trouble. He is absolutely perfect in every way. He is a warrior, a super hero, the bravest person I know. My son – stroke survivor and my hero.”
