Sonya's Birthday
Well, that went fairly well.
Apparently my delivery is the talk of the midwives tea room, I'm not entirely clear what I'm being congratulated on by each new carer, possibly just being able to push her out, for which I'm not sure how much credit I can really claim.
Their ultrasound estimate must have been reasonably accurate. She arrived at 3.9kg (90th percentile), 52.5cm long (over 90th), and with a head size of 37cm (over 98th percentile). The general vibe from those present was that she was perfect and healthy and it was a good thing we got her out when we did.
Apparently the placenta was also larger than average. I declined the invitation to look, but I guess it all explains why I was feeling so crowded. The relief at being back to just me in my body is hard to describe.
Bublet also seems to enjoy the new freedom of movement. She likes to sprawl out, and is seriously anti-swaddling. No thanks mum, I never want to experience the confines of the womb again.
It all went far better than I expected, as well in fact as I could have hoped for at my most optimistic.
Sunday night I refereed a final fencing "bout" for Alistair before bidding him goodnight and leaving Grandma to put him to bed. David took me to the hospital, we signed forms, then made our way to the maternity ward.
First stop was actually the birthing suite for some monitoring, Obst arrived and applied the gel since my pre-labour aches and pains hadn't accomplished very much. For someone who is obviously quite stretchy you wouldn't think I'd have quite so much trouble with these internal procedures.
The gel stirred bublet up, we were stuck on monitoring for ages waiting for her to go back to a rest state on the record. At last I got to settle into my room with a sleeping tablet and instructions to let them know if anything interesting happened.
Slept relatively well, just the usual number of wakings. At 6 I was contemplating getting showered since they were taking me through at 7:30 anyway, then I was advised to do that because I was actually going in quite soon to get started on the monitoring again.
So there was monitoring, TENS electrodes attached, IV line inserted, breakfast served and eaten at around 8ish. Mild crampy feelings in my back were apparently nice regular contractions that had achieved 1% dilation, although not enough to count. David arrived at some point during all that. Obst arrived a bit after 9am to break my waters and the juice was started.
Last time we spent hours just dialing up the juice to get contraction going and start dilation. With that already out of the way things progressed considerably faster.
It was only about 10:15 when I decided I wasn't going to be getting any more distraction out of my phone and told David to put it away while I concentrated on my TENS button.
One thing I had resolved to do better with this time around was communication. I now had a better idea of what to expect, and the limits of the machines to tell the midwives what was going on. So as I started to feel nauseous I managed to let David know that he might want to locate the sick bags - although as it turned out we whizzed past the nausea stage too fast for me to actually vomit. I also managed to recognise that I was going to want the Gas soon and let him know, and tell the midwives I wanted to lay down.
So that was all good, I was soon half out of my head on the gas but still more aware of what was going on than last time. Enough to let them know when I wanted to start pushing even though it seemed much too soon and all to be going ridiculously fast. They dialed back the juice, even stopped it altogether for a while to try and reduce the intensity, but apparently I had momentum now.
Things I didn't know, apparently for subsequent births it's not uncommon for the baby's head to push the cervix a bit closed again, so you have to stop pushing and let it reopen. No problem, I had lots of not-pushing practise last time. Applying long pushes proved rather more challenging, since I didn't really want to do this to myself.
The space between contractions can seem very long indeed when you need to wait for the next one to get the head out, and you're at the point where you really just want it out.
My main recollection now is a lot of involuntary shaking between contractions, David being told to wipe up my sweat, and remaining sufficiently aware to follow push and no-push instructions even though all my attention was focused internally and I couldn't have told you who else was in the room. And of course the huge relief when the head was out. Wasn't sure I could be bothered to keep going, but getting the shoulders out was an additional improvement.
At some point I was holding someones hand very tightly indeed, I'm not sure if it was David's or a midwife's.
At 11:42 I was presented with a baby. Mostly I was just feeling very glad it was done with.
Obst turned up having missed the excitement again, apparently he had been stuck with a patient that wouldn't stop talking. He confirmed I had somehow survived with no more than a graze, no need for stitches which I considered the best case very optimistic scenario.
Placenta once again was reluctant to move. They got bublet to try feeding, and unlike her brother she was very obliging. Where he had just lain there and stared at me, she was less interested in opening her eyes and a lot more interested in the prospect of lunch. This did the trick and placenta was out at middayish with a somewhat more noticeable passage than last time.
Apparently delivering by 12 was very thoughtful of me, it meant the midwives got to have a lunch break which they wouldn't have had otherwise. I got to have lunch too, although I hadn't ordered much since I had assumed I probably wouldn't eat it. They hunted down some more carbs for me though, apparently I'd earned them.
Then at last it was time to disconnect me, clean me up, and head for the room again. I felt like I was malingering in accepting a ride in the wheelchair, but I was also pretty tired and not about to argue over anything.
Later that evening I was happily toddling off to the tea room to fetch my own milo, having largely lost track of time and forgotten I'd only just given birth. The next day I felt like I'd spent the previous day engaged in a particularly arduous fencing tournament, with sore muscles and extreme fatigue, but otherwise pretty good.
I suspect when people talk about sending mothers home after only 2 or 3 days I'm the sort of example they have in mind. Not, for example, the poor girl who inched her way up the corridor tethered to a drip and looking like death warmed up. I feel very lucky to have had it so easy.
Apparently my delivery is the talk of the midwives tea room, I'm not entirely clear what I'm being congratulated on by each new carer, possibly just being able to push her out, for which I'm not sure how much credit I can really claim.
Their ultrasound estimate must have been reasonably accurate. She arrived at 3.9kg (90th percentile), 52.5cm long (over 90th), and with a head size of 37cm (over 98th percentile). The general vibe from those present was that she was perfect and healthy and it was a good thing we got her out when we did.
Apparently the placenta was also larger than average. I declined the invitation to look, but I guess it all explains why I was feeling so crowded. The relief at being back to just me in my body is hard to describe.
Bublet also seems to enjoy the new freedom of movement. She likes to sprawl out, and is seriously anti-swaddling. No thanks mum, I never want to experience the confines of the womb again.
It all went far better than I expected, as well in fact as I could have hoped for at my most optimistic.
Sunday night I refereed a final fencing "bout" for Alistair before bidding him goodnight and leaving Grandma to put him to bed. David took me to the hospital, we signed forms, then made our way to the maternity ward.
First stop was actually the birthing suite for some monitoring, Obst arrived and applied the gel since my pre-labour aches and pains hadn't accomplished very much. For someone who is obviously quite stretchy you wouldn't think I'd have quite so much trouble with these internal procedures.
The gel stirred bublet up, we were stuck on monitoring for ages waiting for her to go back to a rest state on the record. At last I got to settle into my room with a sleeping tablet and instructions to let them know if anything interesting happened.
Slept relatively well, just the usual number of wakings. At 6 I was contemplating getting showered since they were taking me through at 7:30 anyway, then I was advised to do that because I was actually going in quite soon to get started on the monitoring again.
So there was monitoring, TENS electrodes attached, IV line inserted, breakfast served and eaten at around 8ish. Mild crampy feelings in my back were apparently nice regular contractions that had achieved 1% dilation, although not enough to count. David arrived at some point during all that. Obst arrived a bit after 9am to break my waters and the juice was started.
Last time we spent hours just dialing up the juice to get contraction going and start dilation. With that already out of the way things progressed considerably faster.
It was only about 10:15 when I decided I wasn't going to be getting any more distraction out of my phone and told David to put it away while I concentrated on my TENS button.
One thing I had resolved to do better with this time around was communication. I now had a better idea of what to expect, and the limits of the machines to tell the midwives what was going on. So as I started to feel nauseous I managed to let David know that he might want to locate the sick bags - although as it turned out we whizzed past the nausea stage too fast for me to actually vomit. I also managed to recognise that I was going to want the Gas soon and let him know, and tell the midwives I wanted to lay down.
So that was all good, I was soon half out of my head on the gas but still more aware of what was going on than last time. Enough to let them know when I wanted to start pushing even though it seemed much too soon and all to be going ridiculously fast. They dialed back the juice, even stopped it altogether for a while to try and reduce the intensity, but apparently I had momentum now.
Things I didn't know, apparently for subsequent births it's not uncommon for the baby's head to push the cervix a bit closed again, so you have to stop pushing and let it reopen. No problem, I had lots of not-pushing practise last time. Applying long pushes proved rather more challenging, since I didn't really want to do this to myself.
The space between contractions can seem very long indeed when you need to wait for the next one to get the head out, and you're at the point where you really just want it out.
My main recollection now is a lot of involuntary shaking between contractions, David being told to wipe up my sweat, and remaining sufficiently aware to follow push and no-push instructions even though all my attention was focused internally and I couldn't have told you who else was in the room. And of course the huge relief when the head was out. Wasn't sure I could be bothered to keep going, but getting the shoulders out was an additional improvement.
At some point I was holding someones hand very tightly indeed, I'm not sure if it was David's or a midwife's.
At 11:42 I was presented with a baby. Mostly I was just feeling very glad it was done with.
Obst turned up having missed the excitement again, apparently he had been stuck with a patient that wouldn't stop talking. He confirmed I had somehow survived with no more than a graze, no need for stitches which I considered the best case very optimistic scenario.
Placenta once again was reluctant to move. They got bublet to try feeding, and unlike her brother she was very obliging. Where he had just lain there and stared at me, she was less interested in opening her eyes and a lot more interested in the prospect of lunch. This did the trick and placenta was out at middayish with a somewhat more noticeable passage than last time.
Apparently delivering by 12 was very thoughtful of me, it meant the midwives got to have a lunch break which they wouldn't have had otherwise. I got to have lunch too, although I hadn't ordered much since I had assumed I probably wouldn't eat it. They hunted down some more carbs for me though, apparently I'd earned them.
Then at last it was time to disconnect me, clean me up, and head for the room again. I felt like I was malingering in accepting a ride in the wheelchair, but I was also pretty tired and not about to argue over anything.
Later that evening I was happily toddling off to the tea room to fetch my own milo, having largely lost track of time and forgotten I'd only just given birth. The next day I felt like I'd spent the previous day engaged in a particularly arduous fencing tournament, with sore muscles and extreme fatigue, but otherwise pretty good.
I suspect when people talk about sending mothers home after only 2 or 3 days I'm the sort of example they have in mind. Not, for example, the poor girl who inched her way up the corridor tethered to a drip and looking like death warmed up. I feel very lucky to have had it so easy.