The pregnancy was pretty great. The grottiness at the beginning was wiped out by the elation that it had actually happened at last, then just as I started to feel blooming lovely we had a perfect wedding and honeymoon. Italy is a wonderful place to go if you are pregnant - they LOVE babies. The staff in the hotel took such good care of me and seemed genuinely pleased for us.
The weeks ticked past, slowly but surely. I loved feeling my little boy dancing inside me but his nightly hiccups did keep me awake. I had my heart set on a natural birth and did all the preparation I could: yoga; aqua yoga; Daisy birth classes; hypnotherapy cds; NCT; read loads of books and blogs. In fact, I was so set on my peaceful water birth that I pretty much switched off whenever drugs or c-sections were mentioned. That wasn't going to happen to me. HA!
40 weeks came and went. It was August, hot and my ankles were enormous - lovingly named the meat-feet by my husband. By 40+4 I'd had enough so my husband cooked me a nice meal to cheer me up. I'd been feeling a bit weird but not wanting to get my hopes up, but between the starter and main the pain increased a lot. The first contractions! Bouncing away on the ball, we downloaded an app and started timing them. It was pretty exciting at first but soon got very tiring and very, very uncomfortable. I kept visualising waves breaking on Woolacombe beach and by midnight we'd got to every 4 minutes or so.
Off we went to the birth centre in the dead of night. It was all very surreal. We got a very warm welcome and taken in to one of their amazing rooms - more like a spa-hotel than a hospital. Of course, things had slowed down by then. I got back on the ball and was examined after another hour. Only 2cm! I couldn't believe it. As dawn broke we were sent home to rest.
The next day was spent watching the fourth test of the Ashes (luckily England were on fire and kept our spirits up) and colouring in. And more bouncing. I'd get a massive contraction every 15 minutes but they didn't get any closer. That night I lay in bed, wide awake for the second night in a row, trying to stay calm but desperate for it to hurry up.
Next morning the contractions were at 10 minutes. Then my waters broke! I caught what I could on a pad, as advised at NCT, and called the birth centre - there was no room. Disappointed, tired and fed up we headed off to the assessment centre in the hospital instead. I had assumed that waters breaking was one event, and once it had happened it had happened. Oh no! Turns out it just keeps coming. But by now were were in a crowded, hot waiting room, still clutching my disgusting soaked pad, hidden in an envelope. Everyone else looked about 6 months pregnant and horrified as they watched me, overdue, massive, sweating, panting through the contractions that were getting stronger all the time, leaking fluid everywhere. It was the worst hour of my life. Yes, hour.
Finally we were seen by a 12 year old nurse who had to tell me I was still only 4cm. I cried. But she did manage to get us a room in the birth centre so off we went again, this time armed with plenty of thick pads.
I then spent 3 hours labouring in Cossham birth centre and it was just how I imagined. The pain was awful but my husband was rubbing aromatherapy oils on my back, the staff were lovely and there was plenty of space to move around. We were both feeling really good about it again, but then I had a bleed. They couldn't explain it and they couldn't keep me, so before I knew what was going on I was being wheeled into an ambulance and whisked off through Saturday afternoon traffic to Southmead's Central Delivery Suite. My husband lost us at the first set of lights and I threw up the only thing I'd eaten that day.
Then everything I knew I didn't want to happen did. I was lying down, connected to monitors, in a small depressing room. I was still only at 6cm and the pain was getting unbearable so after more hours I gave in and started on the gas and air. Totally over-rated. I was hoping for some head-spin at least but it did nothing. So then I tried pethidine - also disappointing. It was all still horrifically painful and just went on and on. In the end I was advised there would be no medal for doing it without and accepted an epidural. I would have been massively disappointed if I hadn't been so exhausted. Luckily the 8pm to 8am shift was taken by Holly, a young but fabulous midwife to whom I am incredibly grateful. She kept me sane and gave us so much encouragement.
While I was focussed on surviving each contraction my husband had a whole different world of pain to deal with. I didn't really realise at the time as he was so calm and reassuring in front of me, but afterwards he told how terrifying the whole thing was. As well as worrying about me he had his eyes glued to the baby's heart monitor, which kept dropping, plus he had to keep updating the parents as we'd stupidly told them when we went to the assessment unit. I honestly think it was more traumatic for him.
I think the lowest point for me was when they decided they needed to take blood from the baby's head. I was manoeuvred into a highly undignified position while a young and handsome doctor attempted to collect the sample. Every time it was an 'insufficient amount' and he had to try again. This went on for an hour and during that time, probably because of the stress and the unnaturalness of it all, my contractions stopped. I'd got to 8cm but no further. Syntocinon didn't get them going again and by the next morning, after 3 nights with no sleep, 2 days with no food and 24 hours after my waters had broken we had to call it a day.
After all that waiting and worrying, suddenly everything happened really fast. We met with the anaesthetist, had the spinal block and went through the strange process of checking if I was numb enough. All of this was unexpected as I'd been too cocky to listen to the information about c-sections. It should have been scary but the staff (and there were lots of them) were all so kind, confident and in control that I actually felt really excited about it. Plus we were finally going to meet our boy!
And then minutes later it was happening, he was out! The smiles on their faces told us he was ok but we didn't breathe until we heard that first indignant cry. He was held up so we could see - scrunched, battered and bloody, the most beautiful thing we'd ever seen. Very quickly he was weighed, wrapped up and brought over to us. At that point it all got too much for me. Overwhelmed by everything that had gone on, and by the fact that my son was finally here, all I could do was cry. The midwife went to place him on my chest but I panicked that my arms were going numb and I couldn't hold him. Thankfully his dad held it together and snuggled him up. They went off to recovery to start bonding and I spent 30 minutes being stitched back up and freaking out that my heart was going to stop, which I suspect was to avoid freaking out that I was going to be a shit mum.
My heart kept beating, the surgeon successfully put me back together and before long I was wheeled to rejoin my family. I couldn't believe it when the midwife squeezed my boob and drops of colostrum appeared, Baby B lapped them up like a little kitten and nestled into to me. It was the most wonderful moment of my life and I was smitten from that point on.
Looking back there are things I would have done differently. I'd have found a way to sleep on that first night of contractions and not gone near a hospital until I was crying with pain. I'd have refused to be continuously monitored and kept moving and squatting to keep things progressing. I'd have stayed in hospital longer than 1 night after the birth; I didn't know how much I hurt or how much I was relying on the hospital bed to help me sit up until the painkillers wore off and I couldn't get in or out of my bed at home. I'd have stayed in until I was more confident breastfeeding and maybe avoided getting shredded nipples.
But that was our story and it happened how it happened. I'll learn lessons for next time and just be eternally grateful that we all came out of it safe and healthy and that we have such an incredible NHS to look after us so well.
No comments:
Post a Comment