One year old.
12 months since it all started.
And here we are. You’re asleep upstairs, and I’m blogging!
In just a few hours, 12 months ago, I was lying on a theatre table, waiting for Moo to be presented to me.
My waters had broken in spectacular fashion over 23 hours previously, one day before her due date. We had been told time after time in NCT classes that you might not know if your waters had broken. It wasn’t like it was in the movies. Apart from it was. I’d been sleeping, sitting upright, on the sofa (thanks to SPD), and I felt that something was odd. I stood up, and thank goodness I was in the living room with its laminate floor, as I was soon standing in a puddle of water. I hurriedly mopped up what I could, but it kept coming! Eventually when I figured I wasn’t going to soak the rest of the carpets in the house, I shuffled upstairs to wake the Hubbie.
Figuring I had plenty of time, and that the hospital wouldn’t want to see me, I didn’t ring them iediately, and was surprised that when I did, they wanted me to come in, just for a check, and I’d probably be sent home again.
Still in no hurry, the Hubbie had a shower, I packed some food (as they always tell you to!), arranged some towels in the front seat of Hubbie’s car and we loaded up with the bags and the birthing ball… I always pack too much. But by the time we were in the car, contractions had started, were painful, regular and quick!
My waters covered the floor in the hospital every time I moved, and when they examined me I was well on my way, so they wanted me to stay.
And to be honest I can’t remember much from that point until lying there in that theatre.
The pool wasn’t available, and whilst lying in the bath really helped, I couldn’t get comfortable, as I couldn’t lie back with my SPD. So I gave up on that, I tried using the ball, leaning on the back of the bed, using gas and air, but eventually it seemed pethidine was inevitable.
Fast forward through a very silent Bumbling (I don’t share pain easily…), a very worried Hubbie, and a labour which started going backwards, and we end up with having to make the decision as to whether to have a c-section.
As advised at NCT, we asked for more time to make the decision. Give it another hour, see if the hormones work, see where we are. An hour later, still no progress, in fact the opposite. Moo was back to back, and just didn’t want to come out.
After a rather disconcerting hour of discussions with various anaesthetists trying to decide whether they were willing to risk a spinal block (they thought I had an infection and didn’t want to introduce it to my spinal cord) or a general anaesthetic (which they didn’t want to do because of increased risk factors with my asthma), it was decided to try a spinal, and if they couldn’t do it in one shot, we’d go general…
The minute I sat on that theatre table, trying to bend over round my huge bump and that needle went in, everything was right again with the world. The pain had gone. I always thought I was good with pain, but…
It seemed like no time at all until Moo was out. I got to see and touch her, and sent Hubbie out with her whilst they ran their checks and stitched me up.
But it wasn’t that simple. I was still bleeding, things weren’t contracting the way they should, and they thought they were running out of time so prepped me for a general. A consultant’s consultation and a blood transfusion later, we managed to avoid that, but I was in theatre a long time. When I came out and went into the recovery room, Moo went straight to the breast, and everything was roses in my mind. Hubbie, on the other hand, was white as a sheet, and I had to bully him to go home, get changed and get some sleep – we’d probably had less than 5 hours sleep in 48 hours!
Moo was perfect, a shock of dark hair, and the cutest chubby cheeks. I wasn’t quite as well, and was sent back to the labour ward after recovery where I could have one on one midwife care. But I had Moo, and that was all that mattered.
(To be continued…)