Out of all my pregnancies, this last one was the only 'surprise'.  The Husband and I had marriage shattering debates on the topic as I desperately longed for one more baby and he categorically declared no.  It's hard to accept something that someone else has decided with regards to something that means so much to you.  However when it comes to having children, both partners have to be on the same page.

So how apt that after all that, our darling Moomin decided for us, there would indeed be a fourth baby.

I knew from the very start that this is it, my last ever pregnancy and wanted to cherish every moment of my final pregnancy.  Pregnancy enthralls and fascinates me.  I find it awe inspiring and magical that a whole life...a soul..a person is created.  Yet it's hard to enjoy something when you're so affected. 

By 39 weeks I'd had enough.  We're not talking the usual full term fed up blues here.  We're talking about being virtually housebound for months leaving the house around once a week due to chronic pain.  Hip pain, pelvic pain, back pain.  It hurt to sit, to stand, to lay down. Everything hurt then add to that sciatica that felt like it was on steroids.  9 months of unmedicated mental health wasn't helping combined with the M.E/CFS and Insomnia.  I couldn't go anywhere or do anything.  Even the family annual day out to Blackpool was cancelled because of my pain.  The summer holidays were a wash out, it was heartbreaking not even being able to bend down to pick something up or walk to the shops let alone do anything with my children.  This has the knock on effect of The Husband having to do everything.  Then came two weeks of back to back headaches/migraines and a chest infection which 5 weeks later i'm still recovering from.  Needless to say I was miserable.  All out of cope.  I spent my time either in tears or in a venomously vile mood.  I was awful to be around.  The straw that broke the pregzillahs back was the sweep, or lack of.  It had been agreed with my Midwife for some time that i'd get an early sweep at my 39+5 appointment.  I was living for this day.  It was the beacon that stopped me spiraling into quite frankly, despair.  

39+5 came.  I knew my cervix was favourable.  I didn't get a sweep.  Moomin was still 'free'.  The Midwife declared the (small) risk of cord prolapse meant she couldn't do it.  I respect this.  I'd never want her to do something she wasn't comfortable with.  Yet not once did she discuss ways to get her to engage or even the fact that Moomin is my fourth baby and was unlikely to engage before labour anyway and that labour itself is often what makes them engage. However, knowing my predicament she had several choices:

1. Refer me to the hospital to see if they'd be willing to do a sweep

2. Offer to check babies position again in a few days

3. Discuss induction

What she actually did was say 'see you in a week'.  

This quite frankly broke the tiny parts of me that weren't already broken.  I'll be honest, I felt let down and abandoned by her.  She just didn't seem to care, at all.  The level of pain i was in and the mental health issues should have flagged her to keep an eye on me, she just didn't care.  When she left I had to disappear to my room, away from The Spawn and cried, for 40 minutes solid.  

I couldn't talk about sweeps, labour, babies or pregnancy without falling, hard, into the dark.  I finally got to a GP for antibiotics after three weeks of a chest infection and broke down in tears.  Bare in mind, apart from in this particular pregnancy, I don't cry.  Especially in front of anyone. Even The Husband has only ever seen me cry around 5 times in 14 years and three of those were in this pregnancy.

The darkness was around me.  My head was broken.  I even did something I'd never done before and cut off one of my only lifelines to real people and deactivated my facebook.  Sounds mellow dramatic but other than my family, the only contact I have with other humans is online.

The antibiotics I got at 40+3 didn't agree with me at all.  I started to feel nauseous, I couldn't eat or sleep and just felt shaky and 'strange' so had to stop taking them.

My bottle of clary sage oil was now empty.  I'd been riding my birth ball like a cowgirl on crack.  I'd been twiddling my nipples like a bored porn star.  Nothing.  Nada.  Not even a tickle let alone a cramp.

Don't get me wrong, I'd have begrudgingly held on an extra month if I wasn't so debilitated, in fact it would have ensured Moomin would start school at 5 instead or 4 which I'd love.  

40+5 The Midwife came round.  Immune to my misery and despondence.  Moomin still not engaged yet now she decides she actually would try a sweep despite my situation being identical to last week when she'd refused.   

She recorded me as having a Bishops Score of 6, stated I was 2-3 cm's dilated and that my waters would be incredibly easy to break.  She booked me in for an induction for 41+5.

With Things One & Two labour started 4 hours after my sweep.  With The Little Dude (formerly The Preschooler) labour started within 24 hours.

Back on the birth ball I went, yet no cramps or anything.  That evening I lost lost copious amounts of the mucus plug and soon that was followed by bloody shows which continued throughout the next day yet that was it.  No twinges or cramps or anything else.  Zilch.  Nada.  Induction it would be then. A whole week to get through.

Until i woke up two days after the sweep at exactly 41+0. I went to run a bath and felt a drip down my thigh.  Not an 'oops my pelvic floor is drunk' drip.  Strange.  I returned to my room and felt, heard then saw random splats of clear liquid hit the carpet.  My waters have never broken on their own before, they'd always been broken during labour by a Midwife, usually minutes/seconds before a baby followed.  

In labour tradition I text my bestie.  Still unconvinced it was my waters yet unable to substitute an alternative explanation for the splats of liquid that were constantly dripping.  Still no pains, no cramps not even a rumble in the tummy.  This was approximately 09:35am.

09:50 I phoned antenatal Triage.  She told me to put a pad on and a community Midwife would call round within 6 hours to check on me and to phone back if any pain started.  

At around 09:55 the community Midwife phoned to tell me she was on a visit but would come round within the hour.  Dean called his parents telling them to start the two bus journey to get here.

10.00 Ouch. No preamble.  Full on knee buckling contraction.  The Husband phones his parents back and tells them to sod the buses, get a taxi. NOW.

10:10 I'd had three huge contractions lasting 1.5-2 minutes each.  

After the next few I stopped timing because they were on top of each other.  I couldn't tell when they started and stopped any more.  I was breathless, in tears, leaning over the cot gripping it for dear life.  Waters still dripping, then gushing....continually.  Knickers and pad are saturated.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't talk.  10-15 minutes before this I was 100% fine.

I call Triage SIX times, they're engaged.  I'm panicking. The Community Midwife calls to check on me and tells me to go to hospital immediately, she'll tell triage for me.  Dean phones for an ambulance but not until his parents arrived to look after The Spawn, I was on all fours rocking, gasping through none relenting pain, trying to remember how to breath as my waters continue to gush and drip through what seems like an eternal contraction, no break.

The ambulance took 30+ minutes to get here.  I won't lie, I had images of The Husband having to deliver.  

The paramedics come up to my bedroom where i'm on all fours on a nest of towels, the 999 phone operative had tried to get dean to convince me to lay on my back, wasn't going to happen. The longest walk ever ensued, hobbling down the stairs, rigid with pain, a towel between my legs, in my slippers up the outside steps and towards the ambulance where thank fuck, they had Entinox.

When in pain, I become incredibly detached and internalised, this is often mistaken for an absence of pain when in fact it's the reverse.  The more removed from people and situ I become the more I'm engulfed in pain.  I was guessing I'd be at least 8cm.  I refused to accept I'd be any more.  One of the reasons I barley have to push to birth my babies is because I block out the feeling of needing to push so that they descend completely on their own.  I guess it's a form of denial.  

The journey seemed to take forever, the paramedic wouldn't shut up and the Entinox kept making sounds like a ripe fart.

At the hospital the paramedics take me in on the bed, to the central delivery unit where we were met with a right battle axe of a midwife, with a 'none shall pass' attitude claiming she had no idea who we were and why we were there.  A human midwife took pity and asked if maybe we were booked in with the birth suite (midwife led).  Yes, why yes I am..... the paramedics had brought us to the wrong place as they had no idea there were two.  We eventually got to the right place.  In an Entinox high I just about manage to get from the ambulance bed trolley to the beanbag bed and roll onto my side.

The Midwife starts to read my notes and birthplan.  She tries to carry out her initial checks but to do that she needs a break in the contractions yet she could see there were none.  Eventually she just about managed to get my BP and heart rate done.  I can't move.  I'm actually rigid with pain yet she needed me to roll onto my back to check me.  I'm still in my clothes and slippers.  I beg for diamorphine, she manages to look and tells me it's too late, babies head is already there.  It probably had been for quite a while.  

Denial. This is not happening.  This is not part of the plan.  Where's my water birth?  Where's my diamorphine?  I'm still fully dressed.  I know she's right though.  I pretended to myself I couldn't feel it but of course I'd known, somewhere in my head, all along that that horrendous weight down below bearing down was her head.  No way could I push her out without more drugs.  I was desperate for us all to be wrong, so secretly flexed more then bore down, a nudge so to speak.  More like a fart than a poo.  Just to test.  Shit.... that's all it took and her head was out.  We'd been there less than 20 minutes.  The surprise is like thinking you've farted and realising you've actually shat yourself.  That tiny little experiment should not have resulted in her head being born!  I did it again, more a reflex than an actual effort and the body whooshed out with even more liquid.  That was it.  She was born.  That's all it took.  I stared at this vernix covered chunky baby being held up to me in disbelief.  How had this happened?  I can only describe it as surreal.  

Moomin was cross.  Really cross.  Pissed of even.  I jokingly remarked mid Entinox high that she's pissed off by the lack of available boob.  I was right.  I stripped off and she latched on immediately and began to feed for best part of an hour.  My others took days to really feed being sleepy from labour meds.  Moomin was alert and knew exactly what she wanted.

She's fed none stop since.

We were due to go home that evening but blood results came back that we had ABO incompatibility and she had to be observed for 24 hours.  Thankfully due to our absolutely amazing Midwife, because of my mental health issues she managed to secure me my own room and let us stay in the birth suite until The Husband left that evening.  She was so intuitive and respectful.  She left us alone with Moomin for an hour before even suggesting she got weighed etc.  I couldn't have asked for a better Midwife.  

Moomin turned out to be 8lb 14oz.  The vernix was so thick that they could only conduct part of the hearing test later that day as her other ear was full of it.

Labour was 90 minutes from the first contraction until birth.  She was born at 11.41am on Friday 29th August.  We registered her before we left the next day.  Afterpains are a horrid bitch.   I only needed three tiny stitches.

I am absolutely besotted with this little enchantress as are her siblings and The Husband.  She's still feeding like a champ.  In fact writing this up has been the longest she's been out of my arms, other than at night, since she was born 8 days ago.  She's fast asleep in her reclined chair next to me yet my arms ache to scoop her up as she spends the majority of her time laid on me.    She's my last baby.  I'm going to enjoy every cuddle I can.  As soon as they're born it's like someone presses fast forward on time.  I still can't believe she's already 8 days old.

The Preschooler's Birth Story (2010) - [repost]

Ah i believe I promised you all an actual update, did I not? Well here you are my lovelies.

As you have probably correctly guessed we are now a family of five. Pregnancy was unfortunately the hardest yet with back pain and spd so severe I was near housebound for four months other then frequent trips to fat camp for naughty blood pressure. Oh the joys.

Oh and along the journey I also managed to 'sack' one awful midwife with a phonecall to her superior along the lines of 'do not let that vile woman darken my doorstep ever again' in an i'm a pregnant woman hear me roar moment aka 'fuck with me and i'll sit on you whilst subjecting you to my pregnant ninja hormones'

I suppose at this point a birth story may be in order....those with a penis and without vaginal secretions may want to look away.

A VERY long write up for a very short birth!

So just to recap, on Wednesday 14th I had a hospital antenatal appointment at 39+2 were the doctor agreed to give me an early sweep (I had a bishops score of 9 and was soft and 3-4 cm dilated) I was then sent for a BP profile (they take your BP every 20 mins over 100 mins so there's five readings to compare and so a pattern can be gained, they also put you on a fetal monitor for 20 mins to monitor baby's heart rate and movements and to detect any contractions. They also take PET bloods) as my Bp was once again on the up.

Bloods came back clear, BP sort of settled, it was still high for me but no longer hypertensive. Baby's trace was perfect.

A doctor came and said that due to my immense disability from the spd and spine and my naughty BP they'd have me back in on Friday for a repeat BP profile and another sweep. After that they'd admit me at 9am on Monday 19th (Harris' EDD) for induction (ARM and drip).

Once home I had a clary sage bump rub and as usual spent the evening on my birthing ball bouncing before having a clary sage bath. With my previous sweeps I’d gone into labour within hours so wasn't feeling too hopeful in the evening. As we'd been at hospital all day my mum and brother kindly bought us a takeaway curry (Not to start things off tho, i only had a korma lol) then i had a long soak in a clary sage bath and washed my hair. I'd not had a single cramp, twinge, tickle of even a braxton hicks (i never get braxton hicks in pregnancy). The only thing that happened was i was losing more and more mucus plug throughout the evening and the next morning (all plug, no bloody show)

Morning came and I’m feeling decidedly unlabour-ish and slightly peeved that the sweep hadn't worked.

At 10.40am I was in my Thing One's room with Thing Two putting away some washing (as it was clogging up the cot in my room lol) and I felt a pain, a painful and sudden pain out of nowhere. I discounted it but then a few mins later i got another. I came downstairs and sat on my ball and 'zoned' out trying to establish what i was feeling and more pains came. By 10:20am I’d had about 8-10 intense pains (full on contractions, no niggles or build up cramps) , my bump was going hard and they were coming every 2mins 40 seconds lasting around 50 seconds. At this point I’m in total denial chatting to me bezzy mate online whilst The Husband was mowing the lawn. Due to various ailments I have a warped reaction to pain. Small sudden pains I wibble over but real intense pains i almost step around and outside of if that makes any sense. I decided I’d have a bath and take two paracetamol so up stairs i go, bath running, dh is with the washing machine repair guy and I’m bent over the sink in tears. Yes tears. I couldn't deny it any longer these pains were hard, fast and crippling.

The Husband comes up the stairs takes one look at me, pulls the plug on the bath and gets my bags ready to call an ambulance, it's only about an hour after the very first pain and I’m near rigid with pain and unable to stop crying. I insisted we wait for my parents first as they were due to have Thing Two that day anyway and were on their way. I try to call the hospital but the 24 hour maternity phone number............had nobody answering it! Cue more panic. I tried calling about 5 times.

Once The Parents were here (obviously The Mother had to finish doing her hair first) I’m trying hard to block out the pain and remain composed, i don't 'do' company when I’m in pain, I have to seclude myself in my own space so it wasn't helping with my mum flitting around me, i know she just wanted to help but it was having the opposite effect.

The ambulance took about 20 mins to get here. I waited at the top of the road as i was insistent I’d not let them put me on one of those chairs they strap you in. Imagine my horror when about 20 mins after phoning for one....a rapid response car turns up?!?! ARGH! a car!  The bloke see's I’m clearly in labour (well duh, I did tell them) and looks a bit worried when told that even before labour I was 3-4 cm dilated...oops. My mum is stood there rubbing my back which is driving me up the wall and making me want to slap her but I sucked a breath in and blocked it out because she was trying to deal in her own way of seeing her daughter in pain and she thought she was helping. The Husband and I get in the ambulance and the paramedic starts asking questions. I'm quiet....just like with my other two people mistake the composure for lack of pain when in fact it's the opposite. The paramedic notices the tension in my face and the silent tears still streaming down my face and the lights and siren go on and he finally offers me entinox, yay!!!!! I'm hammering the entinox like there's no tomorrow because for that brief blissful minute when you're hammering it, everything goes furry round the edges and details fade and you can 'escape' especially as I close my eyes and just concentrate on breathing it in and breathing out. The contractions were on top of each other and I remember saying to The Husband 'I’m really sorry but please don't talk to me because you don't even exist to me right now'

It seemed to take forever to get to hospital and when the ambulance parks up I turn to The Husband  and apparently said 'f**k, I’m stoned!'. There were no wheelchairs but I insisted I’d walk whilst hubby carries the Entinox canister under his arm and I’m shown into the first delivery room.

Bliss Entinox on tap...it comes straight out the wall! I ask for diamorphine.... the mw chuckles and thinks’ I’m joking. The paramedic said to the mw ‘do you have some entinox I have to take this back to the ambulance’ to which the mw replied something along the lines of ‘er..yeah we have some, what with us being a labour ward’ and then pulled a tube out of the wall where it was ‘on tap’ . Genius!

My BP is high, an internal shows I’m 7cm and baby is 'very low' ..... this time i get my diamorphine when i re-ask! ...'if you get me diamorphine i will marry you' ... 'are you sure you want some?' .. 'YES'.. That’s why I blooming asked...twice. duh.

Upon finding out I’d not eaten since the night before the mw sends The Husband on a mission to get me a non-fizzy energy drink, he comes back with raspberry sport lucozade, a giant cookie and a large bakewell tart.... thoughtful? Very,  but I’m in agony, my world revolves around the blissful furry blackness of entinox, the last thing in the world I want is food! Fools!

Everytime a contraction ends and I’m coming down off the G&A my voice croaks and I get the compulsion to talk...a lot....and I feel like jack Dee on stage.

My BP should be settling however it's not...it's increasing and when diastolic was 113 they seek a dr who tells them to medicate me to try and bring it down. However, baby's trace is perfect, he's apparently very happy and kicks me a few times to prove it, I didn't expect him to kick in labour so was surreally amused!

The Husband was wearing a bandana/cap head thing and I allegedly turned to him and said in an acerbic tone 'do you think you're some kind of effin' surgeon with that stupid thing on your head or what?'

They need to test my pee ( have already stolen my blood) and I’m desperate for a pee but know there is no way in hell I could walk to the loo, the pain is too fast and intense so shame of shame...she gets a bedpan, I feel like a geriatric.... she puts it on the chair but i can't physically get off the bed so she puts it under and I can't effin' pee! He was resting that low so she had to use a catheter (nooooooo! i don't want it!) I was later told there was very significant amounts of protein in my wee .

As my BP is not behaving (i'm hooked up to a cuff throughout and it takes readings automatically on a timer) a dr tells the mw to break my waters....she examines me and I’m already 10cm, probably had been for ages hence why i couldn't move/wee/think. She breaks the waters and suddenly she's calling out for more people in the room with phrases like 'thick as gravy' being thrown around (I later learned this was grade III meconium, the worst kind) Whilst this is happening I get a contraction and i hear a voice...that's apparently mine whimpering this confused and pained 'oh? oooh?' not understanding as I feel my body working without my consensus, without any effort or action by me I  could feel him sliding down, the midwife literally blinked, turned back and shouted 'heads coming!' I was already 'panting' on the G&A as she's saying ...'yes...control it...short breaths' i felt like shouting 'I’m not doing anything! I’m not pushing! I don't even know why I’m panting before being told to' no sooner as she'd said heads coming, it was out and his body followed straight after. There was no bearing down or conscious effort...it was like the waters were the only thing stopping him falling out and once they went he slid out....I just felt this weird descending feeling followed by a ‘flop’ as he sped out.

I'm was shaking...absolute 'shock' shaking, I couldn't genuinely comprehend how in 5 short mins I was declared 10cm, waters were broken and baby is screaming and slithering on my tummy covered in slime, blood, vernix and LOTs of thick brown glooopy mucus meconimum...I’m petrified by my own confusion.... I didn't even try and push...how is he here?! " huh? how did that happen?' i meeped to the mw's....they were too busy to reply!

APGAR @ 1 min was 9
@ 5 mins it was 6.....

One min i'm getting my head round the fact my baby is here and the next they're taking him away from me........Not just away from me but out of the room.

According to the notes whilst away he had: Tracheal suction, vocal chords visualised, mask and valve ventilation and tactile stimulation.

Whilst he was away the mw found i had a 1cm 1st degree tear and put three stitches in whilst i puffed on G&A (she said to use a local anaesthetic it would just be even more needles for me to feel lol) I was still shaking with this bemused and blank expression on my face (I have a pic to illustrate this but no, i aint posting it lol) , my teeth were clattering with shivers and shakes against the mouthpiece of the G&A, i don’t think i’ve ever been that close to being in actual ‘shock’ before. Oh and just to add to it tey found a 'lump' down there and had to call a doc in but she thinks it's just a cyst.

Once he was back with me they let us have ages of time alone. It was like this with my first but with my second i was shunted into a bath and up to a room on the ward before i could do/say anything getting virtually no skin to skin. Eventually I felt ready to have a shower after demolishing the giant cookie and falling utterly in love with my beautiful boy and came back from the shower to a pile of toast, i couldn't stop eating and tbh am still eating like a pig three days later!

I got my own room on the ward (free too for medical grounds ...i.e mental health )which was a massive worry off of my mind....i get freaked out in social situations. However, it had it's own shower, bidet and sink but...........no toilet!? I had to trundle down the corridor every time i wanted a wee lol. Food was teeeeeeeeeeny portions so dh kept me in stash of yummies lol.

I didn’t sleep the first night or various reasons...too high on adrenaline? Couldn’t figure out how to turn the light off, noisy bints on the ward next door, the door bell of the ward constantly going off and woman constantly pressing their buzzers.....all night long. The headboard thing was too stiff to move, the pillows were horrid and i knew if i laid down i’d bleed heavier and it was a long walk to the loo’s to c lean up if that happened!

The ‘Patient line’ tv/phone/internet thing was a waste of money. The internet wouldn’t open babycentre and wouldn’t load facebook! I wanted to watch greys anatomy but it didn’t have living channel on it. So waste of a fiver really!

My parents brought my ds and dd to visit the evening after he was born, they are besotted with him J

My BP was monitored closely on the ward as were Harris' obs. He has plasters on both feet and on his hand as they had to take blood from him four times :( At first he had my rhesus antibodies in his blood, then he didn't, then they thought he had ABO incompatibility (I’m O- he's A+) an his bilibrum (sp?) levels were checked a fair few times too. He wasn't at all interested in feeding and all he wanted to do was sleep and spit up mucus (just like my other two) I was panicking that the lack of feeding and the blood stuff would keep us in hospital longer (this happened with dd) but the mw's were fab and agreed that he was probably too full of mucus, tired from the birth and doped up from my diamorphine to feed, that he would when he was ready and that as I’ve bf before they agreed i know what i was doing and they'd leave me to it :)

He filled about 3-4 nasty nappies in hospital (has done about 8 meconium filled nappies in three days...grim) but doesn't seem to be a big wee'er yet. Was getting worried about his feeding (or lack of) the next day but mid afternoon he started feeding and is now a pro :) He generally wants feeding every 60-90 mins tho atm, a theory is that as he's such a good weight for gestation (8lb 9.5 oz at 39+3) he's trying to make my milk come in quicker by feeding more often. My poor boobs lol.....blistered nipples...owie! The first night home he screamed like a banshee all night....not fun at all but last night he seemed to wake every 60-90 mins for a feed (feeding for about 10-20 mins a time) then he'd settle back down for another 60-90 mins so at least it was a bit predictable

He's so gorgeous :) He's beautiful and cuddly and adorable. His siblings adore him :) He seems to spend all his time feeding and sleeping.....such a hard life *L*

Al l in all from first pain to birth was 3hr 45 mins with no build up or pre-labour warning.

The Preschooler was born at 1.25pm on the 15^{th April 2010.} He was registered the next day by The Husband as there is a small regisery office in the hospital. We usually do it together but it would have meant leaving him on his on in a busy ward.

He's now 3yrs 11 months and he's finally in the process of weaning from the breast.

Thing Two's Birth Story (2006)

In Short

Thing Two was born on Thursday 7th September at 23:30 weighing 8lb 15oz after 3 pushes and a 4.5 hour labour start to finish.


The Long Story
In the weeks leading up to the birth I was a familiar site at the day ward at the hospital, once for suspected waters leaking (turned out they were in tact), once for spotting and then in the very final weeks I had high bp and had to spend three gruelling days travelling up to the hospital to have BP profiles done that seemed to take all day and as you can imagine were terrifically boring. They wanted to admit me as an inpatient, the night before Thing One's second birthday. I listened to them, weighed up my options and making an informed albeit 'against medical advice' decision, I discharged myself and went home. The protein was only a trace, the BP was high for me but not fatally so nor high enough to warrant any medication and everything else was fine.  The anxiety caused through staying in hospital alone, never mind missing Thing One's birthday would have been far more detrimental to my health. Plus,  after Thing One's poor first birthday (he was very poorly) there was no way I was missing his second even if i did have to spent the first half of the day back at hospital (The compromise we came to with the Consultant)

I was 40+4 and thoroughly once again fed up, i'd tried -every- natural induction thing going (apart from castor oil because that's just fucking dangerous) and i hadn't even had so much as an itch never mind a twinge!  My tiongue was spasoming from excess pineapples, my lips sore from curry and my pelvis in agony from walking.  OUr bathroom stank like a hippies brothel from an explosion of Clary Sage. I had my 'overdue' appointment at the hospital and was more then prepared to be told my cervix would be posterior thick tight and closed (like at 41w with Thing One)  Optimistic I was not. From self examination I did suspect I might be 2cm.....so imagine my surprise when the doctor told me I was 3-4cm dilated pre-sweep! she did a sweep and told me she thoroughly expected me to be delivering that night or the night after but if not to go back the following Wednesday to have my waters broken. She found it hard to believe that I was that far dilated without even a cramp.  Like my first pregnancy, I never experienced so much as a BH.

I was convinced the sweep wouldn't work, they rarely do and I'd already had my allocated success with Thing One. (with Thing One I had one at 41+4, when i was 2cm, at 8pm, had cramps immediately afterwards and loads of show. Labour started at 11pm and he was born after 10am next day), I had no show this time and no cramps. Bugger. We got home and went for a 2-3 mile walk into Farnworth, then had a clary sage bump rub and went for a nap. Still no cramps, no even a stitch!  In fact the only pain was from my poor decrepit pelvis which was rather miffed at the walk.

At about 6.50pm i noticed I was getting totally painless tightenings, about 10 mins apart. By 7.15pm they seemed to get stronger so we decided to bath Thing One and get him to bed.  I was most insistant that he was safely and happily tucked up in bed before I'd even entertain the idea of labour. By 7.30 i was in tears, clutching onto door frames in absolute agony unable to move/talk whilst The Husband was in a mad panic trying to bath/dress Thing One and put him to bed, knowing that his wife, who never cries, was in tears of agony.  I Called The Mother and told her to get a round quickly.  I'd pre-warned her after my sweep to share the news that it was highly likely I'd be in labour that night, they knowingly embarked upon a normal evening of wine rendering The Father unable to drive. Stupid Bastards.  I'd warned them.  They knew.  It's okay, she'd rely in a taxi. I called hospital and they said to dial 999. Bloke on the 999 line timed my contractions and said they were a minute apart. Twatwaffles. Ambulance showed up and as I insisted on going to Hope hospital, where Thing One was born and not Bolton Hospital (which was only 10-15 minutes away) they put the flashies on and bombed it down the road to the hospital on the proviso I kept my legs firmly crossed. I was having about 4-5 contractions in a space of five minutes on top of each other. There are quite simply no words to possibly explain the intensity and agony of this. They offered me gas and air but I hated it when I had Thing One, only had three puffs and said 'gas and air is the only thing that tastes worse then my breath right now so no thanks!'

When we got to the delivery ward we were shown into a room (not a patch on the room we had with e Thing One which had it's own bathroom!, this was more akin to a medical cell) I was told I was 6cm and asked what pain relief I wanted....I said diamorphine (like i had with Thing One). I was fucking petrified everything had happened so fast and with no warning.  No labour to full on labour, no cramps or tingles just pain and panic.  Understandably It shook me up, the absolute loss of control and the lack of warm up was simply petrifying.  Whilst waiting for her to finish writing up my notes my eyes were drawn towards the gas and air and I thought 'fuck it, gimmie some'  What a difference from last time, the act of having to physically stimulate the admission of it gave me something to focus on, something for my breathing to focus on. What can I say? wow. I loved it....bloody fabulous stuff.  I can liking the feeling only to being stoned. Next came the Diamorphine.  I was as close to Zen as could be expected.  Mellow, trippy and calm.  Naturally, The Husband was terribly envious.  Then came the talking and wholly hell did I talk, I talked The Husband's ears off and all the mw's ears too....I even got the giggles. It was 8pm when i arrived at the hospital or there abouts.

At around 11pm, I really needed to pee so hauled myself up and with the help of dean waddled to the bathroom across the corridor, who's genius idea was it to not have a bathroom in the room? It was in the bathroom that I  found out I was bleeding.

The MW started a trace on baby who was fine, but said she was worried as the bleeding signified that the placenta was starting to come away, if that had happened baby would have no oxygen. Fuck.  What a way to bring someone on an immediate and terrifying come down.

She did another internal (I can't even remember her name, how frightfully sluttish) to check my waters hadn't gone, and said I had no cervix left, it was just bulging waters.  Not even I took a moment to imagine that, just well...no.  Once again it would appear that my waters have not read the script and seem incapable of bursting themselves, so, she burst them.  Although old, the waters still had meconium within it so combined with the pleading she instantly told me to start pushing.er.  I never felt this at all with Thing One and none surprisingly neither did I feel it this time.  They say it's like the urge to take a shit, I only ever felt an urge to piss.  Just bear down and push! she urged.  Righty-o.  Three pushes later and more than my fair share of prehistoric vocalisations, at volume, she was born.  Just like that. 

Thing Two was absolutely furious when she was born.....and screamed for ages.  Even when quiet. whenever her eyes open she looked absurdly grumpy and terrifically pissed off.  I still joke that she came out screaming and didn't stop for months for that is exactly what it felt like.

She wasn't tremendously enamored with the entire feeding issue yet showed considerable more willingness to try than Thing One ever did.  I'm convinced this was merely the effects of the pain relief I had in labour.

I had a few stitches, don't know where exactly and can't say finding out was top of my priority list of things to do. What I do  remember was The Husband,  in tears, and me kissing the top of Thing Two's head repeatedly, as if some physical mantra that couldn't be broken yet necessitated the repetitive behaviour. She was simply perfect. She had some hair which was a marvel as Thing One hardly had any at all until he turned a year old, she was also delightfully pink compared to the dayglo whiteness, then again, it's not surprising, that anger is bound to make her pink.


I was convinced she'd weigh about 7lbs.......how wrong was I! 8lb 15oz!

Thankfully they had a single room available albeit at a cost of £30 ( though they never did invoice me for this) although they only allowed The Husband to stay one more hour before cruelly kicking him out into the cold.

She lost interest in feeding and as I have ridiculously large knockers and massive nips (which mw  said are fab for bf'ing?! Oh such a flirt) she had trouble latching on.  

We were all set to leave the next morning, started discharge papers and then we were told............we had to stay another night. Despite me having two anti-d jabs in pregnancy, they found rh- antibodies in her rh+ blood (if you've never had an anti-d this can lead to a very nasty, often fatal, disease in newborns) and they wanted to keep her under obs, if she went yellow they would have to do liver tests etc. They took some blood from her heal to test liver functions....she howled and howled....especially as he kept squeezing it to fill a lil vile.  Bastard sadist.  I dream of having a six hour discharge, I'm destined to be kept prisoner.

Thankfully she didn't go yellow and by the late afternoon on the Saturday we were allowed home.

Thing One visited on the Friday and it nearly broke my heart. I left my baby boy at home on Thursday and on Friday this small child came into my room. He hadn't misses me at all and he seemed to have aged so much, he seemed massive, and different and I felt like I'd missed months not mere days of his life and development.

On the Friday night I was so close to bottle feeding, yet in the end we breastfed, without a single bottle, for two years and ten months.

For those that are worried, your love doesn't split when you have another baby, it multiplies.

Don't worry, only one more birth story to go then no more until later this year when Moomin will join us.

Thing One's Birth Story (2004)

The thing about being pregnant is it makes you think about, well, pregnancy.  Who knew?  Inevitably that then makes you think of giving birth which if you've done before will predictably make you go all nostalgic.  So, I thought, why not bore you all with my previous birth stories seeing as later this year i'll be giving birth for the final time.

Thing one was born at the end of August, 2004.

In short

Duration of pregnancy: 41 weeks & 5 days
Time labour started: approx 9pm on Monday 23rd
Ambulance arrived at: 03:00am ish. 24/08/04
Foetal monitoring: Continual
Upon arrival: 4cm dilated, 100% effaced, -1/0 station, anterior & soft.
Pain relief & point at which recieved: Diamorphine when at 7cm. (two breaths of gas and air before this)
IV?: yes
waters broke?: Artifically broken at 04.20am
Maternal position at delivery : semi-recumbent
Duration of first stage: 12h50mins
Duration of 2nd stage: 00h22mins
Duration of 3rd stage:00h05mins

Baby's birth weight: 3,620.00g (8lbs)
Head circumference: 35.50cm
Apgar scores: 9 at 1min and 10 at 5 mins.

Born: Tuesday 24th August 2004 @ 10.12ama
Discharged: Thursday 26th August.

The Long story.

Fed up.  I was utterly and indescribably fed up.  We're all warned that the majority of first pregnancies, statistically, go overdue.  The Mother was overdue with all three of us.  I was expecting to go overdue and yet, when it's actually happening it still feels like an insufferable punishment.  You spend the majority of your pregnancy crossing your legs and praying to any gods that may have ever existed to keep them in, then the last month or so wondering of they'll ever come out.

I'd been signed off work due to that ugly beast called SPD for some time.  I'd got married. We'd bought everything we'd ever need and everything we'd later find out we'd never even use.  We were ready.  Totally and absolutely ready.

I'd been for a sweep at 41 weeks only to be told a sweep would not be possible.  My cervix wasn't favourable.  It sounded terribly like my midwife was reciting a Dear John Letter to my foof.  My faulty, lazy foof.    My cervix was posterior, hard, thick and tightly closed.  Arse.  Wonderful.  I was going to be pregnant, forever.  

I was now 40+10 and booked in to be induced.  To say I was bricking it would be absurdly understating things.  I'd read the horror stories.  Long painful labours that often result in using the old salad tongs of doom to drag them out or worse, several days in labour only to be taken into the OR at last minute as they open up the old sun roof.  

This was back in my pre-crunchy parent days.  I had no qualms about pain relief or being in hospital for the birth yet one always assumed you went shopping, giggled an oops as your waters gushed on your new shoes then went to hospital, took drugs and pushed out this little pug faced screaming baby.  That's how it was in the movies.  There was nothing about sweeps and naughty lazy foofs.

That morning I had a small 'show', yet no so much as a twinge.  I never even had BH's. I was booked to attend the hospital that evening.  Thing never boded well when I was lead to a bed with a broken tv, on a ward.  In case you're new to the blog you'll realise, I'm petrified of group situations or communal ones.  Even worse, The Husband was told that he'd have to go home and would be called if labour started.  They wanted me to stay there, alone.  Alone.  They explained that they'd be inserting some 'Gel' up the old tunnel to try and woo the old cervix into putting out.  I begged.  I pleaded. I just wanted to go home and let it work.  I promise, pinky promise, I'd return at first sign of labour.  Oh no, that wouldn't be possible.  I had to remain a prisoner there.  I couldn't possibly go home where I'd be much more relaxed. Obviously before they did that they'd have to have a good rummage first as they cracked out the rubber gloves.  

Good job too.  My cervix was obviously gellaphobic as the mention of it appeared to have kicked it into action.  I was 2cm! yes, 2cm! Egads, it bloody worked.  It wasn't faulty!  Granted it could have been the EPO I'd been taking since the last attempt to try as 'ripen' it.   Seeing as I was actually dilated now, she gave it a good ol' stretch and declared that if I really wanted to, I could go home.  I was to return at 9am the next morning so they could break my waters.  Go home?  I rather fancy I was halfway off the bed and out the door before she changed her mind.  Now the sweep itself wasn't the most dignified event in the world, rather like a military fisting and near immediately after I had some pretty mean cramps all of which i'd read were to be expected.  Ditto to the extra show I had upon visiting the loo before leaving.

I'm not quite sure what I expected really.  The evening had already prove radically different to what we had planned.  I knew the stats, generally a sweep has a 50% chance or success.  If successful you'll go into labour within 48 hours (anything later than that is usually co-incidence and not related to the sweep) Yet it all seemed by the by seeing as it was now 8.30pm and we were due back to have my waters broken at 9am.

Nerves don't half build up an appetite, we embarked upon our last supper, a takeaway. Nerves and cramps made eating somewhat difficult.  They weren't contractions, just cramps.  The show had continued too, each bit grosser than the previous becoming gloopier and bloodier than the last.  I took some paracetamol as apparently if it stops the cramps it's not really labour.

The cramps were still there yet now concentrating on my back too, how indecently unkind of them seeing as I already suffered from back issues.  I resorted to the bath, somewhere I seemed to have spent half my pregnancy, it being the only place I was ever truly relaxed and pain free.  I remember vaguely noticing how the pains were gained intensity every ten minutes yet denial isn't just a river.  The contractions the foetal monitor at the hospital picked up on had been at the top of my bump and I barely felt a thing.  Thus these couldn't be contractions, these were under my bump.  It felt like some thick belt being tightened under my bump until my insides were constricted, a crushing pain that felt like my stomach was being pushed through my spine and everything in-between was incinerated.

But of course, I wasn't in labour.

We tried to take my mind off things through playing Monopoly and Top Trumps yet I couldn't concentrate and threw in the towel.  A documentary was on tv yet I couldn't get comfy nor concentrate on that either.  Eventually I sent myself to bed.  I couldn't get comfy.  I couldn't sleep.  The pains were around every 5-7 minutes now.

I got out of bed, admitting defeat, and leaned against the top of the stairs sucking in a breath and wincing as another wave of pain pulled me under.  The Husband had finally come up to bed yet I was sucking sharp breaths inwards as I was assaulted by waves of unrelenting cramps.  

I wasn't in labour though.  Sweeps simply don't work that fast.  They're not immediate Therefore this absolutely wasn't labour.

This called for another bath…..I was sat in the bath with my mobile phone on stop watch mode, as The Husband sat next to me. I had a green envelope and a purple pen as I scribbled down how often the pain came and how long it lasted. The first pain lasted 42 seconds, 3 minutes and 16 seconds later another pain came and lasted for 51 seconds… the gap was only 2 minutes this time before a 53 second pain crushed inside the gap then went to one minute and forty five seconds and the next pain lasted 56 seconds. I'd had enough. I still have the envelope.

I no longer had a choice.  I'd tried and failed miserably to get through this.  It hurt too much.  I made the dreaded call to the delivery unit expecting to be told to take more paracetamol, to stop being ridiculous, that I was only 2cm and this wasn't labour.  I did not want to make that call.

The woman was lovely on the phone and said I should be making my way there, it was about 3am at this point. She asked if we knew where we were going to which I said know. She asked where we were coming from to which I said from Swinton by taxi. She wasn't keen on this and asked if there was nobody that could take us, not a chance…none of my family live near enough and we don't know our two neighbours. She mentioned an ambulance and said I was entitled to one and she'd arrange one to come and get us.

Wholly fuck, an ambulance.  It felt absurd, I wasn't dying.  I hadn't had an accident. It felt like years waiting downstairs in the kitchen, with both fear and excitement vague and prickly in my veins, spiking through ny concentration. We were waiting outside the house, as you can't actually access our three house street with a vehicle, so we needed to keep our eyes on the main road, I was dreading being bundled into an ambulance and was more then happy when it finally arrived and I was allowed to walk there without help or the offered chair and blankets.  That would have just been embarrassing.

The ambulance staff were lovely… she checked my bp and stuff and asked me various questions. I'm weird about pain, I hate showing it. I'm sure they weren't convinced I was in labour as I told them my contractions were about every 3 minutes and lasting 40-60 seconds and yet here I was talking away to them and smiling. When a contraction came I went vaguely quiet and my breathing was probably unnoticeabley all-nasal. I was offered gas and air and the young woman told me repeatedly that I was doing 'really well' and she kept asking me to tell her when a contraction hit so she could feel my abdomen/uterus (once again I still don't think she believed I was getting them that hard and fast until she actually felt them) I'm just not the vocal type… I'm quiet and understated when in pain maybe I was just used to it from the years of ankle problems.  Maybe it's an aversion to displaying weakness.

The ambulance drove into casualty by mistake and had to turn round, only in my life would that happen. When we got to the central delivery unit we waited outside to be let in which seemed to take ages! Was anybody even home? We were shown straight to a delivery room and I was told to 'make myself comfy' and change into something I was comfortable with.  It was the early ours of the morning, my uterus was trying to assassinate me and I was supposed to make myself comfy?  Sure love.  Great idea.  Why hadn't I thought of that? The Husband was pretty made up as there was not only a rocking chair in there but a blue leather lazy boy chair.  It was a decent sized room with it's own bathroom.

I handed the all important notes, the ones to be gurarded with your life for the majority of your pregnancy, and changed into my designated labour night shirt that had been purchased expecially for the occasion.  Cheap and comfy.  You spent ages agonising over yoru birth plan, inserting every detail you can think of yet I never actually expected anyone to ever read it yet evidently they did as the MW apologised profusely whist rigging me up to the monitor mentioning how she knew that on my birth plan I wanted to be as active as possible.  Active?  I actually wrote that?! Ha! fuck that sideways.  I wanted to curl up and not have to move ever again. Lay me down and leave me alone! Usually they monitor baby for the first 30 minutes yet seeing as I was ten days overdue she explained that the monitoring would have to be constant.  I should have been bothered.  I'd written in my birth plan that I didn't want that.  Why wasn't I bothered?  I couldn't have cared less.  I was just so incredibly tired.

It was at this point that she mentioned that seeing as they were due to break my waters at 9am anyway by means of inductions, she'd be able to do it herself considerably early.  Hooray. Or something.

Throughout the pregnancy, thanks to an anterior placenta, I was never kept awake with baby gymnastics.  I rarely felt movements and kicks to the extent where I'd had several traces carried out at the hospital so how bloody typical that Thing One chose now, of all times, to have a little race in there.  The little bugger kept wriggling out of place leading to a million adjustements of the monitor to catch him.  They mentioned the possibility of needing to attach a monitor to his scalp.  Okay that's enough.  All a bit too  sc-fi for my liking, reaching up through the old foof to attach something to my babies scalp.  Nuh uh.  Not happening.

The getting to know each other small talk over, all giuses of romance were cast aside as she went all hardcore on me and donned the rubber gloves.  Not even the offer of a drink or dinner and her hand was up there faster than a rat up a drainpipe rummaging around as if it were some lucky dip up there.  Still, she announced I was 100% effaced and a 'stretchy' 4cm with a now anterior cervix.  By now it was 04.20am.  It was working! My body really had decided to have a baby.  She asked if i'd like to see the instrument she'd break my waters with. Did I fuck as like..  She was positive she'd burst my waters and had placed a pad (oh the glamour!) beneath me yet there was no fluid.  No dramatic gush, no pathectic trickle just plenty of show.  The only explanation was that somehow he was so far descended he was blocking the fluids escape.

Some other person in scrubs entered the room, why wouldn't these people let me sleep damnit?  Her job,her one job, was to put an IV line in my hand.  What a mess, lets just say her trousers turned red.

I was peeing like a pissed up tramp, everytime I got up to go they had to go through the whole task of unhooking me from the monitors yet the piss had company, copious amounts of show. Gross.  It didn't look at all like Google told it should.  Bad Google.  Bad.

I caught The Husband through the corner of my eye comfortably reclined in the lazy boy, dozing peacefully.  Bastard. How very dare he.  They offered me gas and air yet it did fuck all for the pain and made my mouth dry.  It tasted of inhalers and the fact it had to be actively and continually used only served to annoy me tremendously.

The pain was coming thick and fast now viciously attacking me from the back and front, it was wickedly intense and brutally inescapable.  Another quick date with the MW and her magic fingers declared I was 7cm, possibly more.  Time to break out the big guys. Give me drugs.  Give me all the drugs. Diamorphone to be exact.  I specifically didn't want Pethadine as it's a sedative not technically a painkiller whereas Diamorphone is both (a derivative or heroine apparently. Perfect.)

Oh hello you. Bliss.  Absolute fucking bliss.  Off my face bliss.  I could still feel the contractions yet they were now more tightenings than actual agony.  My head felt thick and heavy, tripping my tits off.  I was hyper aware of the textures inside my cheeks as I kept licking them obsessively.  My head was silently conversing, a wry and astute observationlist, I was feeling warm and sleepy and actually managed to doze on and off.  Here I was, in hospital apparently having a baby yet I was pilling my head off all mellow and funkytastic.  They don't tell you this in the books.

The midwives changed shifts.  I barely notices.  I absolutely didn't care.

Bless their cotton socks though they did try to stick motivate me, suggesting I get active... they had a birthing ball, should they get it?  What was this, using my birth plan against me?  I changed my mind.  I retract my birth plan.  Active schmactive. I wasn't moving for anyone.  Nope.  I was spaced out, too much so to possibly even contemplate moving.  Why would I want to move?  Stupid idea.  I just wanted to stay there and concentrate on the fan as the biggest decision in my life at that moment was whether it was annoying or relieving the extreme heat,

The pain was coming back.  That wasn't fair. I asked for another dose of the good stuff but it did sweet F.A.  Great.  Fantastic. Ow.  I barely registered them hooking up fluids to my IV I was consumed with the urge to pee versus the inability to actually pee.  My back hurt, I could hardly walk and every time my arse greeted the loo seat a contraction would come.  The journey there and back felt weird. like walking with a bowling bowl between your legs, a huge heavy feeling.  They kept asking me if i felt the need to poo, apparently we were on poo chat closeness now, oh how our relationship was accelerating.  These MW's really should work harder on their chat up lines.  Of course I didn't want to poo.  I just wanted to wee.  It just so happened that I couldn't.

At some point some fluids were hooked up to my IV line.

Upon reflection, I was ready to push.  Really ready to push.  Super ready.  That weird heavy feeling?  It was

Thing One, very very very low.  However, at the time, I was convinced it couldn't possibly be time for that and thus ignored this powerful yet strange instinct for quite some time.

I wanted an epidural.  Fuck this.  The request spilled out of my mouth yet another quick root about down below (I was starting to feel somewhat used!) at 09.50am proved I was fully dilated!  She asked if I wanted to feel the head.  Was she for real?  Of course I didn't want to feel the head, what I wanted was an epidural.

The fact I'd held out so long and ignored the constipated feeling (aka urge to push) enabled him to super-descend.

It was time to push. 

By this time I was whimpering quietly that I couldn't do this, I wanted to go home, it was no use, it wasn't going to happen or work…suddenly it all felt insane, utterly absurd and I just wanted to be home….only nobody was listening to me and their words of encouragement made me want to bite off their noses and insert them up their arses whilst chewing off their knees. I didn't care that I'd done well (as the mw said over and over until her face looked like a very good punchbag in my mind) I also didn't care that she could see the head…I'd had enough…this was all insane and I wanted out of there thankyou very much.   Taxi!

Still through each contraction I breathed (wrongly apparently but it helped me so I didn't care.  Who knew, I couldn't even breath right!) in through my nose and held my breath till it finished occasionally very very quietly whimpering the word 'ow…ow…' like a right wally.  Yes really.  I said 'Ow'

My mind was logically making my mouth explain that if I was to stop pushing at the end of each contraction then they weren't long enough get him out so I'd be here for the rest of my life pushing him up only to have him slip back down again and again and again. I was assured that each time he'd slip less further down, I really didn't believe her …I was sure she was bullshitting me.

I didn't like pushing….it felt like extreme constipation…and I was sure if I pushed my arse would split open.

She kept saying again that I was 'doing really well' and my pushing was incredibly well controlled…. I was too busy grunting a little understated and quietish….I think it was caveman for 'this hurts I'm going home…if you touch me one more time I'll make a necklace out of your teeth' then again it could just as likely have been small meaningless grunts of pain. Someone mentioned that I'd get a sore throat …I think I quietly stated that I didn't fucking care because it fucking made me feel better. 

Crowning…

OW OW OW oh my god…OW. Burning stinging…like nothing I'd felt before and I had to hold it there until the next contraction. 

22 minutes after I started pushing he was born…he just came out …plopped out..The Husband said it was like watching a calf being born when they just slide out. He'd watched the whole thing…he was in tears.

Thing One was handed straight to me. I was in awe. Paralysed with it…this beautiful teeny person…was in my arms…part of me…..i just stared transfixed as The Husband was cutting the cord.   Bloody hell.  We made this perfect person.

Thing One was surprisingly un-yucky….possibly because he was so overdue….he had a bit of blood on his head and eyebrow and such but that was about it. 

His apgar score was 9 at 1 minute and 10 at five minutes.

I had an injection and the placenta was delivered 5 minutes after.

She said I'd torn and it probably didn't need stitches but because it was still bleeding she'd have to stitch me up. Joy.  Couldn't wait. I had about three stitches which I didn't feel, the anaesthetic was like a tiny scratch prick…I was too involved with falling……..irrevocably in love with the lil bundle in my arms. I later found out from reading my notes that I had a 2nd degree tear.

We remained with skin to skin contact for over an hour, some toast was brought in and The Husband went to text phone people and bought me a lil card and a helium balloon (because I'd said all along that was all I wanted when in hospital … I was later gutted when we got home and realised It had been left at the hospital)
I didn't want to let him go…. He'd been put to the breast but wasn't interested in the slightest. He was weighted at 3,620.00g (8lbs) with a head circumference of 35.50cm and the mw said he was very very long. I consented to the vitamin k by injection to be administered to him.

I knew I needed to clean up I felt yucky and couldn't settle so The Husband was happily holding him..mezmorised by him and I got up to use the shower. This is the first time i freaked… as I stood up blood just poured/dripped everywhere…urgh.  What the fuck? I was assured this was fine. FINE? Were they insane? Once in the shower I felt sick, infact I was sick (classy!)….it was a quick shower and I got out, changed into a clean nightshirt and half stumbled out to watch Thing One and The Husband only to return to the bathroom, to the sink…retching…..this time I freaked out more, as I vomited I felt this huge weight land in my knickers…when I looked it was a red gelatinous lump (like red berry jelly) about the size of my fist in my knickers…Surely I was dying? right?

The mw again reassured me and got me a chair to go up to the ward and I was told my mother was outside (several hours -before- visiting hours… gah!!!) The Husband and The Father brought all my stuff up as I was wheeled to the post natal ward (no private room available -again- …I could have cried!) Thing One was tucked up against my chest under my nightie with towels wrapped around us.

I felt a lot better now, infact I was glowing.  Amazing what a pick me up vomit and blood loss can be.  My parents expected me to be half dead what with the M.E and stuff but I was buzzing…my mum said she'd never seen me look so well…she was horridly iffy after all her births. They said hello's and such and then left till the visiting hours later. 

Thing One and I remained in skin to skin for several hours but he still wouldn't take to the breast.

I could have cried that night when The Husband had to leave, I We was alone…. But at least I had the four bed ward all to myself, or that was until halfway through the night when two other woman were brought in.

I couldn't sleep…I couldn't tear my eyes away from him in his perspex crib beside my bed.

Mw's kept checking on us….and my breasts were pulled, tweaked, yanked, grabbed, shoved and still lil Thing One wouldn't even so much as sniff at them. This is why I had to stay in that first night, they won't let you go until feeding has been established. 

The next day he still wouldn't feed …he was starving too….i talked to a mw and I decided to put him on formula. I didn't 'want' to breastfeed, I just felt like I should give it a go, which I did but not only wasn't he interested at all, because my boobs are so big, I needed about another three hands to support him and my boobs…even the areola is about twice as big as his mouth.  No position would get him interested and every position hurt my back. As soon as he was given formula he -gulped- it down….he took to it straight away.

We were to be discharged that night, all my notes were done….then I mentioned I don't think he'd wee'd (he'd pooed about four times) so they said we had to stay. 20 minutes after The Husband went home…..he had a wee! I was so excited (I'd been so worried that there was a problem….worried sick) … I went to tell the mw and then I saw red….i was bleeding…..all down my legs…all on the floor……I just felt it warm and continual…. It had ruined the nasty thick white support stockings I had to wear (hoorah! Meant I could take the bastard things off!) when I got to the loo the double pads I had were saturated it was horrible not to mention frightening.

I was so proud of Thing One in the hospital he was such a darling. All the other baby's were -constantly- crying and my lil angel just slept, oblivious… only waking when he wanted feeding or changing.

He amazes me so much, by day two his eyes were wide open and alert.

He had his first bath on the Wednesday, they wouldn't bathe him on the Tuesday as they say they wait 24 hours before bathing newborns to help body temperature regulate.

We were told we could go first thing Thursday…but come Thursday I had to remind the midwives and pester them. See my parents were taking us home in their car so I had to let them know when they could set off as they live in a different town.

Finally an assistant midwife went through my discharge, I'd been shown the night before how to give myself the Tinziparin injections, and finally my prescription of them had arrived including my very own sharp boxes, such thoughtful leaving gifts.

It was weird going, there was nobody about and I was sure someone should have said something or done something more (turns out they should have…found out a few days later they should have given me a 'discharge pack' which I know nothing about, not even any exercise sheets and his registration info was sent by post a day later)

It's strange, all the build up to labour, the pain, the exhilaration .... all disappears the minute you meet your baby.  It isn't love at first sight, you already loved them.  It's more the continual falling in love, every time you look at them.

Congratulations if you got this far, next i'll bore you with Thing Two's birth story.

 

Better late then never....

Ah i believe I promised you all an actual update, did I not? Well here you are my lovelies.

As you have probably correctly guessed we are now a family of five. Pregnancy was unfortunately the hardest yet with back pain and spd so severe I was near housebound for four months other then frequent trips to fat camp for naughty blood pressure. Oh the joys.

Oh and along the journey I also managed to 'sack' one awful midwife with a phonecall to her superior along the lines of 'do not let that vile woman darken my doorstep ever again' in an i'm a pregnant woman hear me roar moment aka 'fuck with me and i'll sit on you whilst subjecting you to my pregnant ninja hormones'

I suppose at this point a birth story may be in order....those with a penis and without vaginal secretions may want to look away.

A VERY long write up for a very short birth!

So just to recap, on Wednesday 14th I had a hospital antenatal appointment at 39+2 were the doctor agreed to give me an early sweep (I had a bishops score of 9 and was soft and 3-4 cm dilated) I was then sent for a BP profile (they take your BP every 20 mins over 100 mins so there's five readings to compare and so a pattern can be gained, they also put you on a fetal monitor for 20 mins to monitor baby's heart rate and movements and to detect any contractions. They also take PET bloods) as my Bp was once again on the up.

Bloods came back clear, BP sort of settled, it was still high for me but no longer hypertensive. Baby's trace was perfect.

A doctor came and said that due to my immense disability from the spd and spine and my naughty BP they'd have me back in on Friday for a repeat BP profile and another sweep. After that they'd admit me at 9am on Monday 19th (Harris' EDD) for induction (ARM and drip).

Once home I had a clary sage bump rub and as usual spent the evening on my birthing ball bouncing before having a clary sage bath. With my previous sweeps I’d gone into labour within hours so wasn't feeling too hopeful in the evening. As we'd been at hospital all day my mum and brother kindly bought us a takeaway curry (Not to start things off tho, i only had a korma lol) then i had a long soak in a clary sage bath and washed my hair. I'd not had a single cramp, twinge, tickle of even a braxton hicks (i never get braxton hicks in pregnancy). The only thing that happened was i was losing more and more mucus plug throughout the evening and the next morning (all plug, no bloody show)

Morning came and I’m feeling decidedly unlabour-ish and slightly peeved that the sweep hadn't worked.

At 10.40am I was in my Thing One's room with Thing Two putting away some washing (as it was clogging up the cot in my room lol) and I felt a pain, a painful and sudden pain out of nowhere. I discounted it but then a few mins later i got another. I came downstairs and sat on my ball and 'zoned' out trying to establish what i was feeling and more pains came. By 10:20am I’d had about 8-10 intense pains (full on contractions, no niggles or build up cramps) , my bump was going hard and they were coming every 2mins 40 seconds lasting around 50 seconds. At this point I’m in total denial chatting to me bezzy mate online whilst The Husband was mowing the lawn. Due to various ailments I have a warped reaction to pain. Small sudden pains I wibble over but real intense pains i almost step around and outside of if that makes any sense. I decided I’d have a bath and take two paracetamol so up stairs i go, bath running, dh is with the washing machine repair guy and I’m bent over the sink in tears. Yes tears. I couldn't deny it any longer these pains were hard, fast and crippling.

The Husband comes up the stairs takes one look at me, pulls the plug on the bath and gets my bags ready to call an ambulance, it's only about an hour after the very first pain and I’m near rigid with pain and unable to stop crying. I insisted we wait for my parents first as they were due to have Thing Two that day anyway and were on their way. I try to call the hospital but the 24 hour maternity phone number............had nobody answering it! Cue more panic. I tried calling about 5 times.

Once The Parents were here (obviously The Mother had to finish doing her hair first) I’m trying hard to block out the pain and remain composed, i don't 'do' company when I’m in pain, I have to seclude myself in my own space so it wasn't helping with my mum flitting around me, i know she just wanted to help but it was having the opposite effect.

The ambulance took about 20 mins to get here. I waited at the top of the road as i was insistent I’d not let them put me on one of those chairs they strap you in. Imagine my horror when about 20 mins after phoning for one....a rapid response car turns up?!?! ARGH! a car!  The bloke see's I’m clearly in labour (well duh, I did tell them) and looks a bit worried when told that even before labour I was 3-4 cm dilated...oops. My mum is stood there rubbing my back which is driving me up the wall and making me want to slap her but I sucked a breath in and blocked it out because she was trying to deal in her own way of seeing her daughter in pain and she thought she was helping. The Husband and I get in the ambulance and the paramedic starts asking questions. I'm quiet....just like with my other two people mistake the composure for lack of pain when in fact it's the opposite. The paramedic notices the tension in my face and the silent tears still streaming down my face and the lights and siren go on and he finally offers me entinox, yay!!!!! I'm hammering the entinox like there's no tomorrow because for that brief blissful minute when you're hammering it, everything goes furry round the edges and details fade and you can 'escape' especially as I close my eyes and just concentrate on breathing it in and breathing out. The contractions were on top of each other and I remember saying to The Husband 'I’m really sorry but please don't talk to me because you don't even exist to me right now'

It seemed to take forever to get to hospital and when the ambulance parks up I turn to The Husband  and apparently said 'f**k, I’m stoned!'. There were no wheelchairs but I insisted I’d walk whilst hubby carries the Entinox canister under his arm and I’m shown into the first delivery room.

Bliss Entinox on tap...it comes straight out the wall! I ask for diamorphine.... the mw chuckles and thinks’ I’m joking. The paramedic said to the mw ‘do you have some entinox I have to take this back to the ambulance’ to which the mw replied something along the lines of ‘er..yeah we have some, what with us being a labour ward’ and then pulled a tube out of the wall where it was ‘on tap’ . Genius!

My BP is high, an internal shows I’m 7cm and baby is 'very low' ..... this time i get my diamorphine when i re-ask! ...'if you get me diamorphine i will marry you' ... 'are you sure you want some?' .. 'YES'.. That’s why I blooming asked...twice. duh.

Upon finding out I’d not eaten since the night before the mw sends The Husband on a mission to get me a non-fizzy energy drink, he comes back with raspberry sport lucozade, a giant cookie and a large bakewell tart.... thoughtful? Very,  but I’m in agony, my world revolves around the blissful furry blackness of entinox, the last thing in the world I want is food! Fools!

Everytime a contraction ends and I’m coming down off the G&A my voice croaks and I get the compulsion to talk...a lot....and I feel like jack Dee on stage.

My BP should be settling however it's not...it's increasing and when diastolic was 113 they seek a dr who tells them to medicate me to try and bring it down. However, baby's trace is perfect, he's apparently very happy and kicks me a few times to prove it, I didn't expect him to kick in labour so was surreally amused!

The Husband was wearing a bandana/cap head thing and I allegedly turned to him and said in an acerbic tone 'do you think you're some kind of effin' surgeon with that stupid thing on your head or what?'

They need to test my pee ( have already stolen my blood) and I’m desperate for a pee but know there is no way in hell I could walk to the loo, the pain is too fast and intense so shame of shame...she gets a bedpan, I feel like a geriatric.... she puts it on the chair but i can't physically get off the bed so she puts it under and I can't effin' pee! He was resting that low so she had to use a catheter (nooooooo! i don't want it!) I was later told there was very significant amounts of protein in my wee .

As my BP is not behaving (i'm hooked up to a cuff throughout and it takes readings automatically on a timer) a dr tells the mw to break my waters....she examines me and I’m already 10cm, probably had been for ages hence why i couldn't move/wee/think. She breaks the waters and suddenly she's calling out for more people in the room with phrases like 'thick as gravy' being thrown around (I later learned this was grade III meconium, the worst kind) Whilst this is happening I get a contraction and i hear a voice...that's apparently mine whimpering this confused and pained 'oh? oooh?' not understanding as I feel my body working without my consensus, without any effort or action by me I  could feel him sliding down, the midwife literally blinked, turned back and shouted 'heads coming!' I was already 'panting' on the G&A as she's saying ...'yes...control it...short breaths' i felt like shouting 'I’m not doing anything! I’m not pushing! I don't even know why I’m panting before being told to' no sooner as she'd said heads coming, it was out and his body followed straight after. There was no bearing down or conscious effort...it was like the waters were the only thing stopping him falling out and once they went he slid out....I just felt this weird descending feeling followed by a ‘flop’ as he sped out.

I'm was shaking...absolute 'shock' shaking, I couldn't genuinely comprehend how in 5 short mins I was declared 10cm, waters were broken and baby is screaming and slithering on my tummy covered in slime, blood, vernix and LOTs of thick brown glooopy mucus meconimum...I’m petrified by my own confusion.... I didn't even try and push...how is he here?! " huh? how did that happen?' i meeped to the mw's....they were too busy to reply!

APGAR @ 1 min was 9
@ 5 mins it was 6.....

One min i'm getting my head round the fact my baby is here and the next they're taking him away from me........Not just away from me but out of the room.

According to the notes whilst away he had: Tracheal suction, vocal chords visualised, mask and valve ventilation and tactile stimulation.

Whilst he was away the mw found i had a 1cm 1st degree tear and put three stitches in whilst i puffed on G&A (she said to use a local anaesthetic it would just be even more needles for me to feel lol) I was still shaking with this bemused and blank expression on my face (I have a pic to illustrate this but no, i aint posting it lol) , my teeth were clattering with shivers and shakes against the mouthpiece of the G&A, i don’t think i’ve ever been that close to being in actual ‘shock’ before. Oh and just to add to it tey found a 'lump' down there and had to call a doc in but she thinks it's just a cyst.

Once he was back with me they let us have ages of time alone. It was like this with my first but with my second i was shunted into a bath and up to a room on the ward before i could do/say anything getting virtually no skin to skin. Eventually I felt ready to have a shower after demolishing the giant cookie and falling utterly in love with my beautiful boy and came back from the shower to a pile of toast, i couldn't stop eating and tbh am still eating like a pig three days later!

I got my own room on the ward (free too for medical grounds ...i.e mental health )which was a massive worry off of my mind....i get freaked out in social situations. However, it had it's own shower, bidet and sink but...........no toilet!? I had to trundle down the corridor every time i wanted a wee lol. Food was teeeeeeeeeeny portions so dh kept me in stash of yummies lol.

I didn’t sleep the first night or various reasons...too high on adrenaline? Couldn’t figure out how to turn the light off, noisy bints on the ward next door, the door bell of the ward constantly going off and woman constantly pressing their buzzers.....all night long. The headboard thing was too stiff to move, the pillows were horrid and i knew if i laid down i’d bleed heavier and it was a long walk to the loo’s to c lean up if that happened!

The ‘Patient line’ tv/phone/internet thing was a waste of money. The internet wouldn’t open babycentre and wouldn’t load facebook! I wanted to watch greys anatomy but it didn’t have living channel on it. So waste of a fiver really!

My parents brought my ds and dd to visit the evening after he was born, they are besotted with him J

My BP was monitored closely on the ward as were Harris' obs. He has plasters on both feet and on his hand as they had to take blood from him four times :( At first he had my rhesus antibodies in his blood, then he didn't, then they thought he had ABO incompatibility (I’m O- he's A+) an his bilibrum (sp?) levels were checked a fair few times too. He wasn't at all interested in feeding and all he wanted to do was sleep and spit up mucus (just like my other two) I was panicking that the lack of feeding and the blood stuff would keep us in hospital longer (this happened with dd) but the mw's were fab and agreed that he was probably too full of mucus, tired from the birth and doped up from my diamorphine to feed, that he would when he was ready and that as I’ve bf before they agreed i know what i was doing and they'd leave me to it :)

He filled about 3-4 nasty nappies in hospital (has done about 8 meconium filled nappies in three days...grim) but doesn't seem to be a big wee'er yet. Was getting worried about his feeding (or lack of) the next day but mid afternoon he started feeding and is now a pro :) He generally wants feeding every 60-90 mins tho atm, a theory is that as he's such a good weight for gestation (8lb 9.5 oz at 39+3) he's trying to make my milk come in quicker by feeding more often. My poor boobs lol.....blistered nipples...owie! The first night home he screamed like a banshee all night....not fun at all but last night he seemed to wake every 60-90 mins for a feed (feeding for about 10-20 mins a time) then he'd settle back down for another 60-90 mins so at least it was a bit predictable

He's so gorgeous :) He's beautiful and cuddly and adorable. His siblings adore him :) He seems to spend all his time feeding and sleeping.....such a hard life *L*

Al l in all from first pain to birth was 3hr 45 mins with no build up or pre-labour warning.

The Preschooler was born at 1.25pm on the 15^{th April 2010.} He was registered the next day by The Husband as there is a small regisery office in the hospital. We usually do it together but it would have meant leaving him on his on in a busy ward.

He's now 3yrs 11 months and he's finally in the process of weaning from the breast.