This is my second attempt at my labour and birth blog considering I lost my first one! This time, I’m being smart and writing it on word first. I do hope I remember all the details I wrote in the first one, after all it was a month ago…though somehow I don’t think I will ever forget it. Not even the smallest of details. It was the best day of my life by far (closely followed by our wedding day…) so, sit back and relax with a brew because I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one!
Saturday 28th May:
A week after I was due and still no sign of baby Lewis…or rather there were plenty of “signs” including regular contractions but things just weren’t getting anywhere. I was scheduled for my second sweep, the midwife on duty called to check I hadn’t had my baby before she arranged to come round. She came at lunch time and did the sweep. She gave me a “good going over” – her words, not mine! She said I was favourable to go into labour because my cervix was soft and 1-2cm dilated. I’d heard this before so I had to ignore it for fear of getting my hopes up, though I must admit I got them up a little. If the sweep didn’t work, I was to be induced the following Thursday. Induction wasn’t what Alan or I wanted but if needs must, we’d go through with it. The whole of Saturday every twinge I felt, I was hoping it was labour…it wasn’t.
Sunday 29th May 2011:
I got up and felt a little “wet” down below (sorry TMI) I went to the toilet and it appeard I’d lost my plug. This is normal after a sweep and doesn’t mean labour is on it’s way so I just put a pad on and let it go to the back of my mind. Kind of. It was a typical Sunday for Alan and I, we went out for a late lunch to the Bluebell, Manvers as we usually did on a Sunday because neither of us could be bothered to cook – especially me at 41 weeks pregnant. I had my usual, chicken dinner with all the trimmings. We talked a lot about baby Lewis and how we couldn’t wait for him to be here. I was uncomfortable the whole morning and at lunch I was uncomfortable still – nothing new to me though and at 41 weeks pregnant it’s to be expected. I must admit, I felt different. I’m not sure how, but I did.
On the drive home, we were at the roundabout just coming out of the pub when I said to Alan, “I think I’m going to have this baby today or at least soon.” He shrugged my comment off, I’d said this before from being 28 weeks and he was right, I’d felt this before so it was probably a false alarm like all the other times. The contractions weren’t regular enough to call the hospital and they weren’t painful just uncomfortable. We got home and decided we’d watch a film from Sky Box Office and order a take away, being induced on Thursday this would be our last chance for a while. The take away come, I had a Toscana pizza. We chilled out and put the film on; you’ll have to excuse me though because I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the film. It was set in Glasgow and that’s all I know.
At 21:36pm I felt and heard a big POP then I was wet through. The weirdest sensation I have ever felt in my entire life. “Oh FUCK,” I said to Alan. He looked at me funny and asked what was wrong. I told him my waters had gone to which he replied “Oh. Shall I get dressed then?” Numpty!!! I went upstairs to change my underwear and trousers and text/messaged all the people I wanted to know. Keira and Jayne were the first two people to find out apart from Alan, obviously. I called the hospital and they asked me to wait at least 30 mins before going in because they were busy!!! I was warned the contractions could start coming more regular and stronger. I waited 10 before deciding to go up. The contractions were starting to hurt.
By the time we got to hospital, I was puffing and panting and in a fair whack of pain. As it was after 10pm that we arrived at hospital, we had to go through A&E. The nurse who let us through asked if I needed a wheel chair – I said I’d be fine walking. In hindsight I wish I’d accepted the wheelchair. We got up to the ward and there was already a couple waiting to be let in. We waited almost 20 mins or what felt like a lifetime to me before we were let in. We were shown to a room and left. When a midwife eventually came to see us, she checked me over. I was 1cm dilated – not in labour and my waters HADN’T gone, it was my hind waters (waters behind baby)…my actual waters were intact. Gutted was not the word. I had two choices: stay at hospital to see how things progressed and go home if no change after 2hours or go home. The midwife recommended I stay. There was no way I was going home, even if they sent me – I’d have chained myself to the bed.
We were shown to an empty 6 bed room on the ward so that Alan could stay with me. I was laid on the bed in sheer agony and begged for some pain killers. The midwife came back with paracetamol and codeine. I could have cried. No way was that going to even tickle the pain I was in. Fuck me did it hurt. I was puffing and panting and telling Alan I wasn’t sure I could do this. I wasn’t quite up to One Born Every Minute standard though. All of a sudden…POP! GUSH! SPLASH! Yes, in that order. My waters went and not only flooded my trousers and the bed but the floor as well. I rang for the midwife. A healthcare assistant came and I half talked half cried when I told her my waters had gone and I NEEDED more pain relief. She went and got the midwife.
Another life time seemed to pass by before the midwife arrived at my bedside and I was told to get changed into a nighty and get on the bed ready for inspection. Getting undressed and dressed was difficult and very undignified. Alan had to help me with everything. Puffing and panting and telling Alan yet again I couldn’t do it, I got on the bed. It was sheer agony. I spread my legs before the midwife even had chance to tell me to – I was that eager for her to check my cervix. I was 4-5cm dilated. The midwife looked at me and smiled. “Bloody hell, that was quick! We better get you to labour suite because your baby is on his way” THANK FUCK FOR THAT. The end was near, right?
I was made to WALK to the labour ward, I think I stopped about 50 times when a contraction came to puff and pant like a prostitute. I think I may have groaned a few times too. Being female, you can’t have any dignity. Guess how long it took me to get to the room I was assigned to give birth in? You guessed it…A LIFE TIME!!! I asked for an epidural. The midwife told us that the doctors were in theatre delivering a baby so I’d have to wait but assured me they wouldn’t be long. I got on the bed and was checked over. My blood pressure was sky high so both baby and I had to be monitored continuously. Baby was fine. I wasn’t so fine. I kept asking how long the doctors would be. Let me assure you, labour is fucking HARD work. Women deserve a hell of a lot more credit than they get for this! I was crying and panting and puffing and telling Alan I couldn’t do it – this time I was getting close to the One Born Every Minute standards…OK I wasn’t but I could certainly sympathise with the women on it now.
I was really struggling with the pain. I couldn’t talk to Alan who was by my side holding my hand and reassuring me without actually saying or doing anything. We talked in dribs and drabs when I could. God it was hard work. Then…FUCK!!! I could feel my body needing to push. It was intense and hard to work through. “Alan, press the buzzer I need to push,” I panted. I’ve never seen my husband move so fast. A midwife came sauntering in. It wasn’t Kate, the midwife who was looking after me. I told her I felt ready to push. She checked me over then went to get Kate. They must not have communicated because when Kate arrived in my room I had to tell her I needed to push.
“No, you don’t need to push it’s too soon. I’ll check you anyway so we can see how far dilated you are and how long you have to go. The doctors are still in theatre I’m afraid,” Kate said to me. Once again my legs were wide open before she even had to say the words. I reckon I was quicker than a prostitute on a million dollar job. I will never in my life forget Kate the midwifes face when she checked me over. I was indeed 10cm dilated and ready to push. She was shocked. It had happened quickly. There was no time for an epidural or any other pain relief. I was given gas and air and was allowed to use it for 5 mins but then I was told I couldn’t use it because it’d make me too sleepy to push. Friggin’ great stuff. It felt like torture. To be fair though, I only just had the energy to push never mind suck on a pipe full of laughing gas. And I was in no mood for laughing.
Monday 30th May (early hours):
I remembered when Ellie had William and she was pushing for 20 minutes and he was here. I could cope with 20 minutes I thought…JUST. I began to watch the clock while I was pushing. Kate was offering words of encouragement. “Come one”…”Another push”…”Keep going”…”You’re doing great”…are just a few. Every time I had a contraction, Alan grabbed my hand and I squeezed hard. I’m surprised I didn’t shout any abuse at him. You know, something along the lines of “You bastard! This is your fault! Keep your fucking penis away from me from now on! I hate you.” Not only did I not have the energy to shout abuse at him, I didn’t have the urge to. Yes it was agony but I was happy, although I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time.
Pushing laid on my back wasn’t working. Time to try a new position. I was directed by Kate to kneel up with my arms over the head of the bed sort of on all fours if you like. This just wasn’t pretty although it was much more comfortable. Baby was laid back to back so laying on MY back would put more pressure on it and it would hurt more. I pushed and pushed as much as my body would let me. I had been pushing for over an hour. The midwife called the doctor and they told me it was time to intervene. My blood pressure was still sky high and they didn’t want baby to get into distress or me get too exhausted to continue. They were going to use the suction cup.
I had read about ventouse (suction cup/kiwi) deliveries in magazines, on blogs and in forums. No one had a pleasant thing to say about them. Everyone had, had a bad experience. Needless to say I was terrified. There were now two doctors and two midwifes. My legs were put into stirrups – this was painfully painful and painfully undignified but I didn’t care. I was given the gas and air whilst the doctor cut me *down there* (it’s called an episiotomy) but it was soon taken off of me once I had been cut and injected with anaesthetic. None of this made a blind bit of difference to the pain I was in. I was now telling the doctors, midwifes and Alan I couldn’t do this. The suction cup was inserted and I was surprised and pleased that it didn’t hurt. It probably would under normal circumstances but the contractions were controlling me completely.
The doctor explained the suction was attached to my baby’s head and I had to do all the work but when I pushed they would pull. They also explained my baby’s head could come out slightly misshapen from the suction. I already knew this. I’d been reading about labour and birth for weeks and I covered all circumstances. So the pushing commenced again. “Push push push push” and “Come one, one more” and “1…2….3…” were all I heard. I was saying I couldn’t do it. They were all saying I could. I gathered all my energy. I wanted to meet my baby. I wanted to cuddle and kiss him and tell him how much I loved him. I pushed like they told me to, on cue and everything. Eventually, I heard “we have a head,” and I was relieved. Then I was told to hang on and not to push until directed because the cord was around my baby’s neck. You can imagine the things that went through my mind – you hear horror stories about these things. My heart sank and I was about to cry when the doctor told me not to worry baby was now untangled and I could push with the next contraction. Relieved was not the half of it.
I pushed and pushed then POP! SPLASH! And all of a sudden there was a baby on my chest. My boy was here! The doctor said no wonder I was struggling to get him out, there was MORE water blocking him from coming out. The water came out with my baby and drenched the doctor. I was slightly pleased at this after all, the bastard made me do all the work without pain relief. My baby didn’t cry but he was awake and alert and appeared healthy. When Alan and I discussed this moment from when we found out I was pregnant we both agreed we wanted baby cleaning completely before he was handed to me because I’m quite squeamish. All that went out of the window and I didn’t even notice the blood and guts covering my son. He looked just perfect to me. He was wrapped up and passed to Alan, or “daddy” as the midwife called him. Wow that was strange to hear. It was even stranger when they said “…while we stitch mummy up.” OH. MY. GOD. I’m a mummy!
Now I was given the gas and air whilst the doctor stitched me up. Bloody typical or what! I was exhausted so I didn’t notice the pain much but I sucked the gas and air anyway. I felt I was owed at least SOME pain relief even if it was too late for the worst part. It felt like forever and a day when they were stitching me up. I just wanted to cuddle my baby. I was finally finished and the midwife asked how I wanted to feed baby. Breast obviously, it’s been drilled into society for chuff knows how long that “breast is best” (there will be another blog about this, shortly). Baby was placed on my chest and he latched on instantly. It wasn’t painful or weird. It felt right and natural. The midwife said, “That’s perfect. You two were made for each other.” I welled up at hearing this. I was the proudest mummy on earth.
After his feed, the midwife asked what we were going to call him so she could sort out a tag for him. Alan and I looked at each other and both said, Alfie was the right name. We did have others we liked and agreed on but couldn’t decide on. When we looked at him we just knew he was Alfie. Kate weighed him and gave him his vitamin K injection. She then went to get his tag and then dressed him for us. A bath was run for me and Alfie was given to Alan whilst I got myself sorted.
I was in the bath and felt faint so rang for the midwife. She got Alan to help her help get me out of the bath safely. I remember asking where Alfie was. He was in the crib, in my labour room. I got out and the bath was filled with blood. Alan helped me to get dressed. The midwife came back and at this point I passed out. Alan later told me a wheelchair got me to my bed and I was put on a drip whilst I slept. They put it down to exhaustion. It wasn’t until the next day on the ward that I was told I’d lost a lot of blood and needed a blood transfusion. That’s why I passed out. Alfie and I stayed in hospital for 3 days whilst I was treated. He was perfect. Just perfect.
So, there you have it: my labour of love.
Alfie Paul Lewis born 30.05.2011 at 02:37am weighing 8lb 8oz.
Perfect.
Alfie Paul Lewis born 30.05.2011 at 02:37am weighing 8lb 8oz.
Perfect.
So, here’s to a life time of happiness with my new little family as a mummy and a wife. I couldn’t be happier. The blog posts that follow this will be all about my life as a mummy and a wife. I’m much more than that but they are the most important things I am and I’m proud of it.
