How it all happened

Ok bear with me here… this is long and [‘m sure there are parts I’ve missed:

We made the most of Sunday 22nd chilling out. We went to lunch at our favourite pub and although I was feeling contractions, I didn’t make a big deal of it as they were so sporadic. It was at the pub that I noticed the change in colour of my discharge when I went for a wee and I knew something was happening. I was glad as I’d been waiting so long for something to happen!
Sunday night I decided to hoover out the car. No idea why really as it wasn’t particularly in need of it but I was a bit restless. I then decided that to take my mind of the now somewhat frequent and ‘different’ contractions, I’d have a tinker on the Xbox with DH. Something I rarely rarely do. I guess there’s something therapeutic about shooting the crap out of terrorists? What DH found amusing is that every 7-8 minutes I had to pause the game, breathe through a contraction then furiously scribble the time and duration. Suffice to say the game we played took a while! (I still kicked his arse though).

I went to bed around 11pm and carried on timing contractions and by this time I knew things were happening as they felt so different. Low down instead of the higher BH feeling. We had a go on the online contraction counter thing-a-me-bob but it was pointless when DH decided he needed a shower.
By 2am I hadn’t slept at all and I was beginning to feel most uncomfortable so I rang the hospital and told them what was happening. They suggested we go in to be checked but at 6 mins apart the contractions didn’t sound strong enough.

Of we trundled to the hospital in the treacherous rain. It was awful, with standing water everywhere and because DH had to drive slower, the journey was more painful for me. With each contraction I was clinging onto the overhead handle and breathing. DH kept saying things to make me laugh (unintentionally I might add, he has the knack of making me giggle) and it was so painful to laugh I had to tell him to be quiet and just drive.

We got to the hospital at 02:30am and after pacing in a room/having back rubs I was assessed and the midwife said I was only 2cm. I wasn’t disappointed as I was at least happy I was indeed in labour! We were sent on our way as it was not enough to keep me in so at 4am we arrived back home where DH went to bed to get some pre labour shut eye and I jumped in the bath. It helped a little and when I got out an hour later I wanted to get back in! I dozed on the sofa until 7am when the contractions started to come on more frequent at 5 mins. They were also more intense and I was starting to get the controlled deep breaths out. I called the hospital and they told us to go back in. An hour later (and through rush hour traffic) we arrived but not before the contractions decided to come every 3 mins in the car. It was the most uncomfortable car ride in my life, with every light at red, speed bumps feeling more prominent and the city being full of arsehole drivers.
We made it to the labour ward and it took me 10 mins to get from the lift to a room where another midwife (the most fantastic woman in the world!) announced I was 4 cm and they’d keep me in. She literally force fed me toast and tea as I’d not eaten properly the night before and let me do what I wanted/what my body wanted me to do which was pace back and forth then lean forwards against the wall each time a contraction appeared. Taking the weight from my back with one foot in front of the other really helped (as did back rubs from DH once he got the knack).

At tea time she examined me again and declared I was 5-6 cm and asked if I wanted the epidural.
We’d previously discussed pain relief and as I hadn’t had any gas and air as I planned to up til then, she advised I was doing so well to get to 6cm on my own that we’d see how I went. However I decided that yes I wanted the epidural as the contractions were now very painful. So it was set up and I was getting that cold sensation before I knew it. DH had to find a happy place while they inserted it as he is petrified of needles. He was so good!
30 mins later we managed to get a little sleep (30 mins or so) and then I felt a gush as though I’d literally wet myself. It was my waters and they were coming out so fast! This is when things intensified and it was then that the fantastic midwife announce she was going off shift. Aggghh! I was so upset a she had been wonderful and so supportive thus far.
We met the nightshift midwife and although I try not to judge too quickly, I could tell I wasn’t going to enjoy her company as much as the last.

At around midnight I started to feel pain again and my epidural was topped up. I was still only 6cm according to new midwife and this news made mw cry a little. 4 hours and I’d not dilated anymore? No way.
I was given the gas and air (whilst still on the epidural) which was a little confusing but I said nowt because I was too busy sucking up the entinox and all it’s hallucinating goodness. Some say it makes them sick but it just made me feel like I’d had one too many glasses of red. Not an unpleasant feeling but I didn’t like it as I felt out of control.
It was an hour later and me really struggling through the pain that the consultant came in and basically bollocked the midwife. A woman with an epidural should NOT need extra pain relief – that’s the whole point of the epidural. So I got a lovely anaesthetist come in to top me up and once I got that cold feeling in my back I knew it’d be ok soon. Sure enough it worked.

The next 3 hours are somewhat hazy. DH says I was in and out of doziness. He tried to read his book but then at 4:30am the registrar examined me and told me I was 9cm and that as Olivers’ heartbeat was fluctuating, he’d need a clip to monitor him. They didn’t bother in the end as the other monitor was picking it up fine but then they took a scraping off his head and checked his bloods. 20mins later I was examined again and told I was 10cm and that it was time to push. I couldn’t feel a thing so the midwife had to tell me to push. I must say, trying to push when you can’t feel what/where you’re pushing is a bit surreal… as is being told you’re 10cm and it’s time to push. I was a little overwhelmed that this was it!

30 mins is all I was given to push given Olivers’ HB and if by then he wasn’t here then they’d intervene with forceps. 30 mins later I had pushed with all my might and he was close but it was no good so out came the stirrups, off went half the bed and in came 4 or 5 nurses. It all became a bit manic.

The registrar told me to push and 10 seconds later I had Oliver on my chest. 8lb 4oz. He was that keen to come out. He had grade 2 meconium so he was mucky but it didn’t bother me. I cleaned him whilst he was on me and DH could only look on with tears in his eyes in amazement. He was whisked off to be checked by the DR and handed back to DH whilst I was assessed for damage and then came some bad news. I had a 3rd degree tear as the registrar didn’t have time to perform the planned episiotomy. Oliver was just took eager to come out. I had lost over a litre of blood and was still losing it so the only option was surgery quick sharpish and a transfusion. I was wheeled off down to theatre within 10 mins of delivering feeling rather worried. DH was sat with Oliver looking concerned but he was assured all was well.

In theatre I remember being hooked up with the spinal block, the screen going up in front of me. I was so tired by now having been up a good 40 hours. I remember the radio in the background playing a Michael Buble track and I drifted in and out of sleep. 2 hrs later I was wheeled to recovery and apparently made some remark about how nice it looked outside. The registrar explained my situ downstairs but it was the last thing on my mind. I saw DH waiting in the chair with Oliver in his tank next to him and I welled up.

I sent DH home about 30 mins later to call everyone and get some sleep as he too was deprived and I caught some shut eye in between staring at Oliver non stop. It was a bit surreal that this little bundle was mine!
By lunchtime I was being wheeled to the ward which I shared with 3 other women and their newborns. Not the ideal situation but who was I to argue.

From there I had 3 nights of zero sleep, hair pulling, agonising trips to the toilet as I was so weak and ear piercing cries from babies everywhere. It drove me crazy and I broke down the 3rd morning when the nurses bounced in at 6am. I was determined to come home but as I needed a blood transfusion due to the loss in labour then I had to be monitored. Thursday I spent hooked up to the bloods.. 3 units went in and Friday afternoon I was finally allowed to leave with the promise that I was feeling better and knew how to take my meds. Clexane shots each night, laxatives, painkillers and antibiotics. They screwed my arm up by piercing a vein and now I have a black arm due to the blood seeping into my muscle.. it will take a long time for it to fade. It looks hideous.

It was an experience I will never/hope not to forget.. ever. Even though it was agony at times and traumatising for us all, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.