Because what the internet needs is more wittering about rubbish parenting

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

A Bit Less BS

As promised, whether you want it or not, here is the story of the arrival of The New'un! I promise, it is shorter than the last one, mainly because so was the actual labour. She was in a hurry, this one.

The day before my due date. I had only remembered a day or two before that I was still sending The Toddler to nursery every Tuesday, and, as the hospital bags were finally packed, and the nursery finally sorted, Husband and I were in the rare and enviable position of having a WHOLE DAY to ourselves, to do whatever we liked with! (There was actually tons of cleaning that could have been done, but we decided to ignore that). Instead, we decided to have a good lie-in, and go to the pictures, which we never get to do anymore.

So, I dropped The Toddler off and went back to bed. When we finally got up, about 11am, Husband made me a bacon sandwich. The day was going extremely well so far, apart from the fact that I was feeling a bit twingey. But I'd been feeling twingey for days, so didn't really pay all that much attention. Also, it was a really distractingly good bacon sandwich. By about noon, the bacon was all gone, and I realised that actually, the twinges hurt really quite a lot. Hmmm. Perhaps they could be actual contractions? I decided to time a few. They were over a minute long, and about three minutes apart. But I only timed about three, then I got bored. Husband asked if I wanted to go in the bath to help with the pain. I thought it was far more important to go in the shower, and give my hair a good wash. After all, if I was in labour, I would soon be having a baby, and soon be having pictures taken of me, and therefore the state of my hair was an important consideration. I had my priorities straight.

Really in quite a lot of pain now. Husband times my contractions while I dry and straighten my hair. He informs me that there is hardly any time between them, so did I maybe think I should phone the hospital now? So I do, and they say I can come in. We set off, to do the car journey to the hospital, which should take about 3 minutes. But Husband starts to go the way with all the speed bumps. I am not keen on this plan. I do not fancy contracting and going over a speed bump at the same time. I make him go the other way. Where we get stuck behind a JCB. We finally get to the hospital, only to find that the handy "park herefor 20 minutes if you are in labour" spot has disappeared. Miss the bit of the car park we should go to in our confusion over this. Have to go round entire stupid one-way hospital road system. Get stuck behind a very old person looking for a parking space. Finally get dropped off at the door while Husband goes to park. Each contraction is now at least twice as painful as the last one, and I am getting slightly unnerved as to how quickly it got very very painful indeed. Passing strangers are looking at me with interest as I huff and puff and hold on to the doorframe of the maternity unit. After what feels like a year, I see Husband making his way over. Without my bags or hospital notes. Send him back to the car.

Finally, FINALLY, make it to a delivery room! By now, it hurts A LOT. Eventually, a lovely midwife comes to examine me. She says she wants to get a second opinion as she can't tell what my cervix is doing, but I'm having strong contractions, so "things are definitely happening". They better bloody be happening, if I'm in this much pain but not dilating, I will..... do nothing, clearly, but I won't be very happy about it. Second midwive examines me, and says "Oh, she's 8 or 9 cm". WHAT?! That's, like, nearly there! I'm actually about to have a baby. The midwife asks me if I want some gas and air, and I nearly bite her arm off. The gas and air is as fantastic as I remember it, but the tube has some kind of annoying wheezy rattle to it which is tainting my enjoyment somewhat. I am told not to push, which of course makes me realise just how desperately I want to do exactly that. It all comes flooding back now. I think this is what is called "transition" and is horrible - a combination of lots of pain, and the effort of not doing what you really want to do. I start to think the usual "this is unbearable, I can't do this" kind of thoughts. But somehow I manage to listen to the rather stern voice in my head that is telling me not to be so ridiculous, that I can bear it, and that I don't really have any choice in the matter.

After a while, while the midwife is outside sorting out some of my paperwork, I suddenly can't NOT push anymore, and start hysterically screaming "It's COMING!" like a demented person. Husband goes to fetch the midwife, and I remember that now I've got to squeeze a person out of me, and that that is not a particularly easy thing to do. But I know that I've got to do it, and that I can and I will. I am also determined not to let the head go bloody well back in this time, so, despite me having the odd shout of "I can't do this" (better than the "I'm NOT doing this" of last time though!), I keep pushing even though I feel like my face, and most other parts of me are about to pop, and then the head is out! I feel great at this point, (or as great as you can when you're in pain and have a human head hanging out of you) as I know I'm so nearly there. "One big push" they tell me, and this time I believe them, and do it, and out comes my baby. Husband tells me it's a girl, and I feel happy. I look behind me (I am kneeling on the bed hanging over the back of it), and see my new baby, and loads of other goo, and I'm pretty sure I said "that's disgusting". I meant the goo and stuff, not the baby. But there goes my last chance to say something nice and meaningful on the birth of my child. Oh well. At least I kept my top on this time.

So that's pretty much it (apart from Husband not being able to resist the strange temptation to look at the placenta and listen to the midwife's explanation of what each bit did). The New'un arrived at 15.42, 2 hours after arriving at the hospital. We were told she was 8lb 10oz, although we found out later that someone had done their sums wrong and she was in fact 8lb 2oz. And I had no nasty traumas happen afterwards, and was home after 24 hours. I'm incredibly lucky to have had two such good labours, and even more lucky to have two such gorgeous daughters. Especially two gorgeous daughters who are, right now, both asleep. I am off to enjoy this moment, for the short time it will undoubtedly last.......

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