Just a Little bit of Fruit

God wordpress has gone all fancy in my absence.. An absence forced from having no computer and sleep deprivation.

I don’t know if anyone is still reading this blog, but I wanted to get around to getting my birth story up. I have to apologise as it is quite epic, and will probably rank as the longest blog post of all time.

I hope you manage to trawl through it all.. It’s probably mind-numbingly boring to most people, but this was how I wrote it down for my own benefit, so I can enjoy it in later years.

So here goes: All 4,000 words of it.

Enjoy!

Charlotte’s Birth Story

Sunday, 9^th November.

DH and I headed out to the hospital at 2:30pm. For reasons I can never fathom, my Mam and Dad thought it would be jolly fun to follow us out there, even though nothing was happening that afternoon. It was a bit unusual (I found out later) to be admitted on the Sunday for section on the Monday, but I was under the impression at that point that I would be having the baby early the next day, hence the early admission.

We got to the Maternity Ward at just after 3, and because I was partially embarrassed at the whole family being there, I made my mam and dad wait in the cafe downstairs.

All the nurses and midwives were a bit bemused as to why I was there too. Me and another lady called Ruth were both to be admitted for elective sections the following Monday. We were both Gestational diabetics, so we all just came to the conclusion that the early admission was due to insulin and sugar monitoring.

I was given a bed, and dumped all my stuff in the locker, and decided to go down and join my Mam and Dad downstairs.

That was probably the weirdest time of all. There were four of us all pretty much sitting in silence and trying to avoid the subject of tomorrow’s operation… I was having little panic attacks at the thought of it all and tried to focus on what was happening there and then.

Eventually, 7pm came and I thought it best I go back up to the ward so I could be booked in and try and find out what was happening tomorrow. I said Goodbye to my Mam and Dad at the ward door, and me and DH spent the last hour together, not really speaking but wishing the night would end. I wanted him to go and I think he wanted to go too. There was a huge storm going on outside, and I was paranoid that I wanted him to get home safely before it got worse.

He went at 8pm. I walked down to the main entrance to see him off. The rain was getting worse, and we were both worried about a leak that had sprung in our living room a few weeks before. Although It had been fixed, we were both keen for him to get home in case we had a flooded living room!

I went back to the ward, and one of the nurses was waiting to do all my paperwork. She gave me two gowns for Monday, and some Hibiscrub for my shower before the operation. She told me the SHO would be around at some point later that night to inform me and Ruth (who was in the bed opposite) what would happen. Before I knew what was happening, the whole ward was shut down, and everyone was turning in. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep, so put my TV and headphones on. There was horrendous lightning outside, and I rang DH to check on the house (all fine) and to see that he was home safe.

I tried to sleep, but my mind was spinning with the fears, and the excitement about the following day. Me and Ruth had both struck up quite a long conversation, and we got on well. I was glad to have someone else there going through the same as me. This was her second baby and section. She seemed so confident and not scared in the slightest. I really wanted to carry on talking, but at 10pm, she pulled her curtain around, and went to sleep. I couldn’t believe she was actually sleeping! Snoring too. I am surprised she didn’t keep the whole ward awake. There was a girl next to me with her baby who was sleeping soundly.  I thought sod it, and tried to get some sleep myself.

At 02:30, I was still awake, and I heard the SHO wake Ruth. I was straining to hear what she was saying, but couldn’t quite make it out over the hushed tones.

She came to me eventually, and introduced herself. If I wasn’t scared about the whole operation before, (which I was actually) then I was petrified by the time she had finished with me. Apparently, because I was insulin dependent, I would be dripped with insulin and glucose prior to the operation because of the fasting-before-surgery-thing. Then it was the usual talk about what happens – They cut you and pull out baby basically, but then she wanted to run down the risks to me and baby. Ok, risks are – they could cut through my bladder or bowel, and leave me colostomized for life, they could damage the uterus or ovaries, I could have massive bleeding that would require a hysterectomy, the baby could end up being cut, I could end up with a blood clot, the anaesthetic could perhaps not work, and might need to be given a general. I could have a damaged spine where they put the needle in, and potentially be paralysed and lastly, I might actually die! I was given a form to sign to say I understood all this stuff, and then she said goodbye. I silently cried myself to sleep, thinking – why did I ever want a baby? What have I done? You stupid cow.  I remember it thundering, and thinking to myself, all I wanted was DH to be there.

Monday, 10^th November.

Charlotte’s Birthday.

I must have dropped off to sleep, as I woke up to one of the nurses calling my name to wake up and take my insulin. It was 06:00 and apparently, I was booked in for the 3pm slot for the section. As a result, I wasn’t allowed to eat for at least 6 hours prior to that. So they woke Ruth too, and we both did our jabs, and then were forced to eat some cold toast. We both sat and chatted about the SHO had said in the night, and Ruth admitted that she was scared by it too, and felt like I did – why were we doing this?!

I went down for a paper and when I came back, they put the monitor on the baby to check the kicks and movement.  I was really anxious waiting for DH to get there. Ruth’s DH turned up at 8am, and I wondered where mine was! I phoned the house and got no answer so thought he must be on his way.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity. I was starting to panic when he hadn’t shown up by 9:30. I phoned my mother who phoned the house. No joy. I was convinced something bad had happened and I was going to be a widow or that he had upped and left me! My mind was working overtime! He eventually got there at 10:00am, and as it turned out the flood the night before on the roads had buggered the car right up, so it took him twice as long to get there.

I was sent for a shower at 11am, and as I was going, Ruth was being wheeled down for her operation. Hers wasn’t until 1pm, but they needed to put the drips in so we wished each other good luck, and hoped to see each other later.

I had my shower, and went back to my bed where a nurse was taking all my stuff away. Apparently, they were preparing my own private room that I would be returning to after the baby was born. God I was pleased at that thought! She told me to leave my camera, phone etc with DH and then it was time for me to be wheeled down.

I actually asked could I walk, as I hate being wheeled in those beds. Plus, I wanted one last use of my legs.

I went down to the Labour and Delivery ward and was put into a side room. I put my gown on, and got on the bed.  A nurse came in and shaved me, and then the anaesthetist came in and started putting the venflon tubes into my hands for the drips/anaesthetic. The vein in my left hand collapsed straight away meaning it was impossible to get the venflon in. They tried so many times, but gave up in the end and got a doctor in. She didn’t hesitate and stuck the damn thing in my arm instead. Jesus Christ that hurt. So much it made me cry. It was almost like the emotions of the last fortnight all came at once, and on top of the pain I just started blubbering.  DH was out looking for our respective parents who had text to say they had arrived.

They then hooked me up to two alternative drips. One was full of insulin, and the other a measured dose of glucose. Both were going off as my sugar kept dropping and the nurses had to keep turning it up, and fiddling with the insulin to get the balance right.

DH came back, and said that everyone was waiting in the cafe upstairs, and on the way back, there was a woman in labour and having trouble. There was talk of her having an emergency section which would have meant putting me back a day. I suddenly felt really selfish and irrational. I remember thinking – FUCK YOU! Just push it out you wimp! This is my turn!! – I would never normally feel like that, but by this time I was so desperate to get into theatre, I would have punched anyone who was standing in my way.

Then all of a sudden, at 3:10pm, the anaesthetist and another guy both made a very dramatic entrance into the room, and said ‘It’s Time’

I thought my legs were going to cave in! This is it! No running away, no turning back. I was going to have a baby! I was going to meet this little guy at last! Again I had a choice of being wheeled or walking to theatre – I walked. DH had to walk behind me as my gown was open at the back. I walked down the corridor and could see the operating room. I suddenly calmed down, and just thought to myself – shit or bust. This is It. Even if I die, I just want the baby to be OK.

The anaesthetist seemed to be running the show, and told me to get up on the trolley. There was a trainee doctor there, and he was great. He was cracking jokes and putting me at ease. I couldn’t see DH, and they started prepping me for the spinal. They sprayed cold water on my back and remember laughing and gasping as it was such a shock. The trainee stood in front of me, and told me to bend forward as far as I could, and grip his hand really tight as they (tried) to put the needle in my back. I had been through this twice before with operations on my ankle, so knew when the pain would start. I bent over as far as I could bearing in mind my (very) pregnant belly. I saw that the trainee had a packet of fags in his pocket, and I could have quite happily pulled them out and smoked the lot.

It took two attempts to get the needle in right. That hurts in a weird way. It really does feel like someone is pushing red hot steel into your spine. As they finished off, I saw DH in his gown sat on a chair next to the trolley. My legs started to warm up and tingle. Finally, No pain!

They led me down, and a little woman in a mask leaned over and said ‘glad to see you came back’ and it took a few seconds to register that it was the consultant I had been seeing at the ante natal/diabetic clinic. Then the other consultant who had given the go ahead for the section two weeks previous turned up too. It was somewhat comforting to see these two who I had got to know really well.

After that, things speeded up. They told me they were putting a screen up, and inserting a catheter. DH was sat next to my head on the left, and the anaesthetist on the right. He was still doing a running commentary of what was happening, and that was reassuring – For me. At this point, I had the shock of witnessing DH completely lose it. He started crying, and was gripping my hand saying ‘you’ll be OK’ and ‘I’m Sorry about all this – The section is my entire fault… I pushed you into it’ etc. (silly man. I have never seen him like that before)

The anaesthetist informed us that they had started cutting. He asked us if we knew the gender of the baby. I said no, and he asked DH if, when the time came, he wanted to see the baby being born and be the one to announce the sex. DH managed to nod. I remember thinking that it was a splendid idea.

Another 10 minutes or so went by with the anaesthetist still talking, and then he said Mr. R – If you would now like to stand up and see your baby being born.

DH stood up, and then the moment that will stay with me forever.

DH was crying, and then he said ‘OH MY GOD – It’s a GIRL!  OH MY GOD It’s a GIRL! He then actually said to the surgeon – ‘It IS a girl isn’t it?’ – I remember everyone laughing at that.

By this time he was sobbing, and all I could think to say was ‘Is she OK?’

They lifted her over the screen for me to see only briefly, and then whisked her away to a room on my right. DH went with her, and I could see him stood up crying. I couldn’t see the baby, but then I heard an almighty cry that would have woken the dead. (Vitamin k jabs apparently) DH kept shouting at me ‘She’s Perfect’ I don’t think I could say anything. I was in such shock. I was convinced I was getting a little guy. Sometimes even now, I stare in wonder at my little girl and am amazed. (There are no girls in DH’s family… Every child born to his family over the last 30 years has been a boy. DH always said throughout my pregnancy that his family ‘just couldn’t have girls’)

After they had finished with her, the midwife gave her to me and DH briefly whilst I was sewn up. We sat together with her, both crying and totally in awe. We had already decided that if we did have a girl that her name would be Charlotte, and DH asked me if we were still going to call her by that name.  Straight away, she looked like our little Charlie, and those big blue eyes seemed to agree. As they were sewing me up, there was a slight problem, and apparently I ended up with a small haemorrhage from an internal cut. That seemed to take no time to sort out though and within minutes, Charlie was put into a cot and we were both wheeled into the same room I had been waiting in before surgery. They gave her to me straight away for skin-to-skin contact, and the (wonderful) midwife that was there took Charlie’s blood sugars, and they were quite low.  She put Charlie on my breast where she latched on well and fed for a little while (I knew there was no milk, but she seemed to be comforted by it anyway) They explained that they probably wouldn’t need to send her to SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit – some people refer to it as NICU) as long as she would feed from me to bring her blood sugars up. They said they would check it after 3 hours and see what would happen then.

The following three hours were wonderful. Mine and DH’s parents came in two at a time. Another one of my enduring memories of the day was DH going to find them and tell them. Apparently, He went up to the cafeteria (crying all the way) and My Mother, Father and his Mother were sat drinking tea. He walked into the room, (which was full of people) and threw open his arms and shouted ‘I’ve got a Daughter!’

He tells me that he saw the relief on my parents faces. They were so worried about us. My Dad got quite emotional and had to go outside. When they both came to see me, I will never forget their expressions.  I am their only child, so this little girl was about to bring so much joy to their life. It was amazing.

All the family had to leave at 8pm as that was the end of visiting hours. DH was allowed to stay with me, and we went back up to the Maternity ward. I was wheeled up in my bed, and was able to hold Charlie all the way. I have to say, I don’t know whether it was a combination of drugs and anaesthetic wearing off, but I felt so proud as I was wheeled through the corridors. I wanted to shout at people at say ‘LOOK! Look what I did! I have a Girl and she is MINE!’

I did get my own room. It was small but it was like my own private Bethlehem. They took Charlie and placed her in a cot next to the bed whilst I was given a bed bath and changed. DH had to go at 9:30pm.

After that, a Nurse from SCBU came in, and did Charlie’s blood sugar. It was still really too low, and even though she was latching onto the breast OK, my milk wasn’t there. There was nothing. At that point, I had to make the decision to either let her go to SCBU downstairs, or give her a formula. I couldn’t bear them to take her away from me, so agreed on the formula.

The night was spent, looking at my Daughter, getting to know her, and trying to take as many pictures as I could manage. I was still on Morphine, so the C Section pain wasn’t that bad at the time. I was managing to reach over to pick her up to change and cuddle her.

The stay in the hospital was pretty crappy afterwards. I had to stay on the Tuesday, and Wednesday morning, the surgeon came around to check me and Charlie and said we could go home.

My milk had started come in on the Tuesday night so was doing my best to breastfeed, but by this time, the SCBU nurses had been dropping off formula bottles for her every three hours with instructions to feed her at least 1oz or they would take her ‘downstairs’. The paediatrician had also picked up a slight heart murmur too, which was worrying. (It has disappeared since – thank god) I managed to supplement the bottle with breast feeding and hoped that once we were home, I could just concentrate on feeding on demand rather than being given a hard schedule by the hospital.

We finally got home on the Wednesday night around 7pm. We had been waiting all day for my medication to come up from the pharmacy, and Charlie had had to be checked over for the heart murmur. Also, the SCBU nurses had to say whether she was fit for discharge and that took all day.

I have never been so scared in a car as I was that evening. It was dark, wet and very foggy coming home the 13 miles. I sat in the back with Charlie holding onto her car seat for dear life! I knew that my DH would be careful, but that was the longest car ride of my life!

I was glad to get home. My mother had been there all day, and she had completely cleaned the place from top to bottom. There were pink banners and balloons up everywhere, and she had set up the Moses basket, sterilizer, clothes and clean bedding for me. It was a magical moment.

I won’t run into the details of the following weeks here, but will finally get you up to speed on where we are at now.

Let’s just say the buzzword for the past 9 weeks has been:

EXHAUSTED!