The doctor said it's a pain in the arse...

As I type this and in fact for the last fourteen-fucking-weeks I have been in intense, face scrunching pain and all the doctor could do was to make a joke about it being a “pain in the arse!”  Yeah, thanks for that, dickhead.  If you’ve read my birth blog you’ll know I had a fairly difficult labour, if you haven’t go read it and catch up or just take my word it wasn’t easy, not that labour is ever easy but you catch my drift.  And for the men out there who read this, imagine being kicked in the knackers a billion times and you’re not even close.

Fourteen weeks ago today I had my beautiful baby boy Alfie born on Monday 30^th May 2011 at 2:37AM weighing 8lb 8oz.  That’s when the “pain in the arse” my doctor so insensitively described started.  It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I got my diagnosis, I’d had a couple of doctors check me out but the pain was too bad for them to get a proper look.  If you’re wondering what the “pain in the arse” is…it’s an anal fissure.  For those who are unsure an anal fissure is a tear in/around the anal canal and in my case was caused by child birth.  That’s right people I tore my arse during labour.  Nice eh?  Basically it hurts most of the time but the pain is worse than child birth when I go for a number two and I really am not exaggerating.  It takes 20-30 minutes for me to “go” because of the pain and in that 20-30 minutes I sweat, I cry and I bleed, a lot.  Yep you can bleed from it.

So for fourteen-fucking-weeks I have been suffering with this fissure.  I was given some cream to put on it and some stool softener [Lactulose] to help make bowel movements “easier”.  The cream causes extreme headaches as soon as I use it because it is absorbed by the body that quickly.  The headaches last for about an hour or two and then fade away.  They’re bad enough to make me need to lay down – not easy with a fourteen week old baby.  The lactulose does sweet F.A. aside from maybe make me fart more.  I don’t drink enough during the day because Alfie can be so demanding at times and obviously dehydration can cause constipation.  A big hard shit is a bitch to pass with a fissure…I often cling on to the towel rail or bath whilst biting a towel [what a picture you have now!].  I’ve started to drink more water but it isn’t helping so I decided enough was enough and made another appointment with my doctor.

I went to see him today and explained I feel the fissure is getting worse and the amount of blood is definitely increasing.  I told him about the cream giving me headaches but apparently all creams for fissures will do this…it’s a common side effect.  He told me to keep taking the lactulose despite it doing bugger all and to continue with the cream.  The doctor told me there is nothing else they can do and it will get worse with each bowel movement.  He was concerned it had been going on for fourteen-fucking-weeks but not enough to do something.  Just so you know, a fissure that lasts more than 8 weeks is considered “chronic”.  You’re not chuffin’ kidding!  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to argue with him because I was concerned for Alfie…he came out in a rash on his legs this morning and I was more concerned about that.

I’m lucky in that I have a friend to talk to who has gone through a similar experience and she suffered for a long time too but thankfully hers cleared up after 12 weeks.  I was hoping 12 weeks would be the magic number for me too but no fourteen-fucking-weeks later and still suffering.  As I type this, I could actually cry the pain is that severe.  The bleeding is awful – I bleed all over the bathroom trying to sort myself out and clean myself up.  Tonight was the last straw for me, I was in agony and all I could think of was the doctor joking about it being a right “pain in the arse”.  Hmm you’re not kidding mate.  The first time I saw him, he told me it was pretty bad and that it brought tears to his eyes so he couldn’t imagine how I felt.  I thought then that he understood.  How wrong was I?  He made the “pain in the arse” joke at my first appointment and he made it again today.  Very sensitive Doctor, thank you.

I have made the executive decision to book in with another doctor, a female one who will perhaps understand more or at least have the decency not to joke about my torn arsehole.  I am refusing to leave the office until I am taken seriously.  I have wrote this post half in jest because if I didn’t I’m damn near sure I’d cry.  The pain is terrible and unless you’ve suffered with it before, it’s hard to describe.  I don’t know eh, the things they don’t tell you about giving birth!!!!

Top Ten Tuesday - Before Baby Arrives

Following on from last week with my Top Ten Tuesday – BabyBuys, this week I have decided to concentrate on ten things to do whilst you’re pregnant/ before baby comes.  These are the things that I did/ wish I'd done before Alfie came:

1.       Date nights and dinners with friends.  A few hours before my waters broke, I was sat in a pub restaurant having lunch with my husband – we went out at least 3 times a week, if you can’t afford to go out a DVD and a cheeky pizza is just as good.  This is what we were doing the very moment my waters broke!  We also had lots of dinner plans with friends, we went for dinner and to see a movie on my due date!

2.       Soak in the bath for HOURS.  If you’re like me and you love a good soak in the bath, get them in while you can because they will be few and far between these luscious soaks in the tub!  You get to have time to bathe when you have a baby but usually it’s short or with baby.

3.       Buy yourself something nice – not something you need, it has to be something you WANT that isn’t baby or pregnancy related.  It will be a long time before you treat yourself after baby arrives, you’ll find your clothes interest shifts to baby clothes etc!

4.       Read a book if you love to read because when baby is here, you’ll spend your spare time doing everything you don’t enjoy.  If you’re not a book worm, watch a few DVD’s get your feet up and enjoy a good weepy, apparently good for bringing on labour (old wives tale!)

5.       Dress up.  I’m not talking fancy dress, although if that’s what floats your boat do it!  I wanted to be heavily pregnant at Halloween so I could paint my bump up as a pumpkin!  Seriously though, go out and get dolled up because for the next few months and even years your clothes will be covered in baby sick/poo/wee/milk/food/spit.  Dressing up also makes you feel good about yourself so do it yummy mummy J

6.       Pregnancy massage – I can’t recommend this enough!  Whether you suffer with a bad back or not it’s fabulous for helping you to relax.  Pregnancy massage is safe from 12weeks + by a trained professional – some essential oils aren’t suitable during pregnancy but if you go to a reputable beauty spa that offers pre/post natal massage they will advise accordingly.

7.       Cook meals and freeze them in advance – I wish I’d taken this advice myself because for the first few weeks of Alfie’s life we lived on takeaways, not great especially if you’re breastfeeding.  Make up big batches of meals that can be frozen and it’s a life saver for a quick meal because you need to keep your strength up mummy!

8.       Have a heart to heart with your partner.  Pregnancy can be stressful on relationships but having a new baby to look after can put even more strain on a relationship.  Work out how you plan on getting time together, tell each other how you feel, let each other know that if things get tough you’re going through it together.  This was a life saver for me and my hubby as I knew I’d be irate at times if I was tired.

9.       Have a baby shower/ get together with friends baby related – I wish I’d done this because it’s something nice for you to enjoy with friends before baby comes that gets you and them even more excited for your new arrival.  Friends can often become a little distant after you have a baby especially if they don’t have them themselves because they can’t relate/you don’t have time etc…spending time with friends now especially at a baby shower helps them realise they are still important to you and your baby.  It also helps friends feel involved.

10.   Blog it!  Do it how I have or in a personal diary but either way I really recommend blogging from pregnancy.  Writing things down helps you work your thoughts out, it helps you get things off your chest and it records all those magical and not so magical moments for you to tell baby when he/she is here.  I also started a personal diary for Alfie that’s handwritten.

Where babies come from...



R as flower girl on our wedding day

After my x-ray appointment this afternoon, we decided to visit hubby’s mum.  We arrived and Alfie was sleeping peacefully, cue four year old R [niece] and therefore cue Alfie’s tears.  She seems to have that not so magic touch in not only waking him up but making him cry.  R is an over excitable four years old, possibly due to a combination her excessive sweet consumption, late bedtimes and the ability to wrap her parent’s around her little finger.  She is an extremely adorable curly haired, red headed little girl that looks like butter wouldn’t melt – until she opens her mouth that is!  R always gets very excited when she sees Alfie, so excited she gets her she’s/he’s mixed up and poor Alfie often gets referred to as a girl [she]!  It’s lovely that she is excited to see him but she gets in his face a lot and often makes him cry by being too boisterous and loud.  Today she wanted to feed Alfie but he’s had tummy ache all day and hasn’t been in a great mood not to mention he weighs almost as much as we do so we said no, according to R this meant no one loved her.  We assured her we do but she insisted we didn’t!  Annoying but very adorable.

We changed the subject quite swiftly before R felt the need to attention seek more.  She’s cute but sometimes very annoying.  The subject somehow turned around to having babies, where they came from and all that malarkey.  A funny old subject when discussing this with a four year old, especially one who is quite forward.  Hubby’s older sister thought it appropriate to tell R that babies come out of ladies “fluffies” to which R replied, “No they don’t! They come out of their tummy!”  She went on to explain babies get out of their mummy’s tummy by squeezing daddy’s hand tightly.  If you haven’t given birth before, I can assure you this isn’t how babies get out of your tummy, unfortunately.   Alan’s mother quite inappropriately asked R if babies get pumped into mummy’s tummy by daddy.  I couldn’t believe she said this!  R quickly responded with a “No they don’t” and advised us all that babies get in mummy’s tummy by “magic” – this has some truth to it, depending on if you’re speaking to the man or the woman ;-)

Aren’t kids funny?

Sex After Birth

I won’t go into the story of the birds and the bees but we all know how babies end up in mummy’s tummy.  We all know it takes two to tango.  Sex during pregnancy and after birth seems a bit of a taboo subject and a subject I’m going to tackle focusing on my own personal experience.

Obviously we had sex to conceive Alfie but at 6 weeks pregnant I suffered with severe hyperemesis gravidarum and that lasted up until 16 weeks pregnant and even then it only calmed down and I was sick until the day Alfie was born.  So with the sickness, sex was off the menu and that included our wedding night.  We did have sex once on honeymoon but it was more out of guilt than lust on my part, I felt so bad for my new husband going from 3 times a day to bugger all a week!  After that, I just never felt “in the mood” so we never bothered, much to hubby’s disappointment.  At around 39 weeks, we gave it a try to see if it would kick start labour as the saying goes.  It didn’t work and it felt very awkward but we managed to laugh about it.

12 weeks after giving birth, I have no desire to have sex.  I don’t feel desirable or attractive despite my husband’s best and most inventive advances!  I think given half the chance, he’d have had me in bed the night I came home from hospital!  Aside from not feeling attractive, I don’t feel ready to have sex again.  The feeling is almost like being a virgin and considering sex for the first time, it’s daunting and scary and sometimes you’re just not mentally ready for it.  Then there’s the physical side of things, with my dislocated coccyx (did I mention that before?) and the fissure, I’m in pain as it is without trying to have sex which may make things feel even worse!

Hubby mentions sex now and again, often with a sexual innuendo or cheeky remark but he understands it isn’t that easy for me.  Hubby understands it’s not easy for me and equally I understand that the frustration (and not just sexual) for him must be terrible too.  I often worry that our sexless marriage will bore him if I don’t get my act together soon and he may leave me.  Hubby assures me on a regular basis that he loves me and our son and although sex would be nice, it isn’t the be all and end all for him.  I still can’t help feeling guilty though and his understanding makes me feel even worse.  I wonder will I ever feel sexy again?  Will I ever want to be intimate again?  I don’t know the answer, I probably will but only time will tell.

Thursday, hubby and I are having our first ever date night that is if I have the guts to carry it out.  I asked one of my best, oldest and most trusted friends to baby sit Alfie for a few hours while hubby and I go to the cinema to see The Inbetweeners and maybe some nosh afterwards.  I’m dreading it already but it’s got to happen at some point – we have Lee Evans tickets in October!  I’ll probably be on my phone checking up on Alfie every 2 minutes but I need to learn that my husband needs my attention too.  I spend all my time with Alfie and when he’s asleep he’s on my mind or I’m doing something for him, lately my husband has been a little pushed out of it all.  I plan to get a little dolled up (as much as a visit to the cinema permits, don’t worry I won’t be in my clubbing gear – not that I own any clubbing gear!) and to enjoy the time as much as I can with my husband.  The whole of our marriage the main focus has either been being pregnant or having Alfie and while focusing on Alfie will never change for either of us, we can just for one night be a couple.  I hope.

I know one day we will have sex again because I want to.  I don’t feel like it yet but I know I want to feel intimate with my husband again and I know that time will heal any physical or mental things I am going through that is stopping us.  My husband would happily come home from work tomorrow morning to ravish me but he won’t even try because he knows it’s just not that easy for me.  He understands that physically and mentally I’m not ready although I have to admit I often use the physical as an excuse because it’s easier to explain than the mental aspect of things with a lot less questions.  With the physical pains stopping me (coccyx and fissure) he knows that they will heal but the mental issues aren’t on a time scale –they could last weeks, months or even years!  I’m hoping for the months, obviously.  I have to give myself credit though, 12 weeks after having a baby is no time at all in the grand scheme of things.  My husband loves me and I very much love my husband and we both still find each other attractive – my feelings of sexiness just aren’t there yet but as long as we talk about things it will never be a massive issue.

The key to a successful marriage is not sex it certainly helps but it isn’t the key, no that is a combination of love, understanding and communication, sex is just the thing you do when all of the above are in harmony.

Alfie Paul Lewis born 30.05.2011 at 02:37am weighing 8lb 8oz

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.

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.