Please don’t read this if you are like I was and was just going for whatever happened will happen!
“Do you want a natural labour?”
“Do you want to have a water birth”
101 questions later … I genuinely didn’t think much about my labour. I don’t know if this helped or if this made things worse for me. It’s a question I still ask myself 17 months later. Should I have been more prepared? Should I have expanded my knowledge and therefore had more control over what happened? My answer for that is yes. Next time I will ensure I know more.
The midwife, friends, family, everyone and anyone I came across asked me different questions about my birthing plans. I openly said, “you know what, just do what needs doing”. I wasn’t going to get my heart set on anything. After having a seriously horrific early stage and middle stage of labour I genuinely gave up on the idea that anything would go smoothly. I used to have thoughts about how amazing pregnancy would be. I have always been so maternal and I thought it meant I would balloon lovely, enjoy the wonderfulness of growing life inside me. However as you will have seen in my previous post. This wasn’t the case for a long time. Don’t get me wrong. I loved being pregnant. The last stage was lovely, well the bit before my legs became a wider than … the widest tree trunk known to man. Also the bit where I could barely put any weight on my hips and had to use the wall to get to the bathroom 20 plus times a night. I really did enjoy that stage from around 7 months – 8 months! The rest had it’s positives but not quite what I had hoped for.
So, I just didn’t want any expectations for the birth. I am quite good at not allowing myself to get my hopes up, I’d rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed. If that makes any sense.
After suffering quite badly with pregnancy paranoia the whole way through my pregnancy, my final visit to the hospital with worry the doctors did the usual checks. They found I had some protein in my urine, my whole body was ridiculously swollen and they were worried that I was showing signs of preclampsia and suggested it was a good idea to induce me. I was scared, shocked and a little over whelmed but at the same time the idea that my baby would be safe in my arms soon gave me a sense of relief. I genuinely thought it meant that later that day I would be holding my baby. Oh how I can laugh now. I guess that’s one good thing about catching up on my blog 17 months later. I now know more about everything than I did when this was all fresh and happening.
I could go in to a lot of details but it honestly was such a huge time frame that I feel it’s best to summarise my birth… as much as I can.
After going home, having a long bath and making sure I had all my things with me. I even took my hairdryer. Ha ha… If I knew then what I know now, I would have not even looked at the hairdryer and would have added more packs of the gigantic sanitary towels, gigantic knickers and a life time supplies of comfortable large pyjamas. (Seriously if you’re reading this and haven’t done so – pack endless supplies of granny pants. Black ones. Enough said).
After 2 pessaries, a long time on a hormone drip, some seriously uncomfortable beds, a brown leak that I was told was nothing it was decided that because all areas had been exhausted and my big baby wasn’t going to be arriving ‘naturally’ anytime soon it was decided my waters would need to be broken – this was 20 hours in. I was given gas and air … which made me pass out. I was hallucinating thinking that I was In a tunnel. When I felt my waters go, I thought that was my son being born. As I came around I looked at my mum and my husband and asked where my son was. I remember crying a lot, thinking how the hell am I going to do this anymore. I was in a lot of pain, the machine was showing no contractions and I was having shooting pains in every bit of my body possible.
Fast forward another 7 hours, it was decided the safest option was for an emergency C section. As much as I had not thought about labour I knew this wasn’t going to be the option I really wanted, my mum was very emotional about it. She was worried about me and we both sat and cried for a bit while James went and got on his scrubs. Which amongst all of the pain I was In I do remember thinking. He looks hot!
It was all a bit of a blur but it was pretty shitty. As much as I didn’t imagine having a sparkling labour, the fact I’d been on a bed for 27plus hours wasn’t how I would invisage it. When I said no plan. I meant if I need pain killers give me them, if I am not in a pool fine … laying on a bed in pain and waiting, waiting and waiting was a drain.
The entrance to theatre instantly had me upset, the lights, the smell and the whole feel of the room brought back a rush of the feelings I had after my operation from the miscarriage. I didn’t realise that may happen and I hadn’t prepared myself for that at all.
The first complication was that my body didn’t respond well to the anisthetic, I needed far more than most people would need. The doctor kept asking if I could feel the cold water to which I had to keep saying yes, which seemed to aggravate her a lot. I got shivers over my whole body. I couldn’t talk because my teeth were chamming so much. When I finally couldn’t feel anything I was horrific. Some tugging later they announced that my son was here, he was safe and a big boy. I looked over to the side where they lifted him up.
He had a squishy back, rolls all over the place, thick black hair, the longest legs, he was covered in blood but he was my gorgeous little boy. The baby I had been growing, the sickness, the anxiety, the pregnancy paranoia, the sleepless nights, the 27 hours of labour, every single little thing that hadn’t gone to plan just didn’t matter anymore! I was in love. I cried and cried. Turning my body over to the table where they laid him down, I watched James cut the cord and stared at them both. My heart fuller than it ever had been. I can not even explain this feeling. It doesn’t go away and whenever I think about it I get butterflies.
Then the midwife brought him over to me, she passed him to me and I just came over very faint and nauseous, I asked them to quickly take him back. I then threw up all over myself, the nurse passed me a bowl and I was just sick and sick and sick… I could feel a lot happening down below. I tried to ask the doctor what was happening but I still couldn’t talk properly because I was shivering and my mouth was chamming. James kept asking me to repeat myself and I cried a lot (again). I finally stopped being sick and got to lay and watch James having cuddles with our son. This can sometimes effect people, when they don’t get the initial cuddles with their child. Luckily for me this hasn’t effected me at all. The fact James was able to have that cuddle actually was a beautiful thing to see and they were sat so close to me it was a lovely memorable moment.
we were then told that my uterus has gone inside out when they pulled on the placenta but had popped back straight away … I still don’t know the details 100% and am requesting my medical records to find out what actually happened, I want to find out befor we have our next baby. This resulted in me bleeding a lot, there was a lot of panic around me. A while later I was all stitched up. I had spots all over my body that I later found out was a reaction, I was still feeling very cold and rubbish but I didn’t care I just wanted to be In a room with James and my son.
We were taken back to the labour room where James got to put a nappy on our son, weigh him and of course take lots of lovely photos. I was totally out of it. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my mum turning up, my first feed attempt. Nothing. Pictures were taken so I know that he was put on me and we had a lot of skin to skin before I was fast asleep. I was exhausted. My mum proudly took a photo of my post birth boobs in their glory with my son on and sent this around to my friends. Something at the time that annoyed me, now I am just glad these pictures were taken because I wouldn’t have a clue otherwise.
Later that day we were taken up to the ward where I could finally start to recover with my bear in hand.
Joey James ❤ Weighing 9pounds 11oz xx