(no subject)
Sorry it’s been so long since I updated. Here is the just of it, I now have a baby boy, and his name is Patrick.
He was born on the 10th of June, just two days after his due date, or one day according to the birth centre. Not bad timing, no one in my family has ever been on time for anything before.
After taking it easy for weeks, I had a rather busy day on Thursday (8 June). I had made two presentations, and then had the urge to buy a CD for labour, and a baby book. I came home very tired and Allen and I watched a parenting video. I noticed that I could not sit down for dinner, I had to kneel on a chair. Then at 9pm contractions started. I was able to breath through most of them without two much trouble. When there were 4-5 minutes apart we took a taxi to the hospital in the small hours of Friday morning.
Once at the Family Birth Centre things petered out and the contractions got further apart. We were sent home again. I took things easy and had a hottie and the contractions petered out and even stoped I think. We got some sleep. (I think that my body was not ready for labour - too tired)
The next day it all started again.
We go back to the hospital. Labour is still not quite underway so Allen and I walk to a local park. We stop at park benches for each contraction. Later we go to the Family birth Centre and use CD tapes, and a mat, and a big ball. The only pain killers I used was Nitrous Oxide for about an hour in transition - the last part of the first stage of labour. Labour was not progressing so I had my waters broken - then things got moving a bit more quickly - or the contractions were more intense and closer together.
With every contraction I though that I would not be able to continue but I did. I concentrated on my breath and adopted an active upright stance and got through another one. I found resources in myself that I didn’t know I had - It is as if I climbed the highest mountain. Labour was the worst and the best thing that I have ever done.
Then in the second stage gas just seemed irrelevant. I was in the zone - the “fuck this hurts” zone. I was really screaming as I pushed that head down through me - my sister and brother heard it from the corridor outside, I think the whole hospital must have heard!
The baby came out very fast in the end, (not that second stage seemed very fast - it went on for ever). The midwife says that they have to make a cut, an episiotomy to get the baby out. I have to lie on the bed and she asks when the next contraction is coming. (I had no monitors on.) I told her when, and she cuts and I push and SPLAT, there he was! Patrick came out in one push! One baby. He is put straight on my chest. There is not enough time for a second midwife to come into the room so my mother cut the cord. I was physically and mentally exhausted hours before this point, and was just dazed as I looked as this perfect little baby on my chest.
“I love you baby, I love you baby” I repeated.
Have you seen what it is? someone asks. Allen and I have a look, it’s a boy!
“I love you Patrick, I love you Patrick” I repeat again and again.
Then everything happens quickly. People come into the room, a catheter is put in, and the surgeon comes to stitch me up. They take one look and say that is it too bad to do there and then, and I have to go to surgery as I have torn to the anal sphincter. (new word for me too - didn’t know I had a sphincter)
I go to surgery - I am lying there watching the ceiling pass above me, haven’t seen that view since my miscarriage - and didn’t think I would see it again.
They can’t give me a general as it would upset my ability to mother (ie I need the use of my brain, arms and breasts) so I get an epidural - how ironic!
Anyway, I am told that the complex delicate surgery (preformed regularly at a big maternity hospital like that), done within the hour, is my best chance for a complete recovery. Now I am not allowed to do any housework or anything other than look after Patrick, have plenty of pain and things are not quite working well down there yet, but at least I have a wonderfully healthy little boy! I consider myself very lucky.
He was born on the 10th of June, just two days after his due date, or one day according to the birth centre. Not bad timing, no one in my family has ever been on time for anything before.
After taking it easy for weeks, I had a rather busy day on Thursday (8 June). I had made two presentations, and then had the urge to buy a CD for labour, and a baby book. I came home very tired and Allen and I watched a parenting video. I noticed that I could not sit down for dinner, I had to kneel on a chair. Then at 9pm contractions started. I was able to breath through most of them without two much trouble. When there were 4-5 minutes apart we took a taxi to the hospital in the small hours of Friday morning.
Once at the Family Birth Centre things petered out and the contractions got further apart. We were sent home again. I took things easy and had a hottie and the contractions petered out and even stoped I think. We got some sleep. (I think that my body was not ready for labour - too tired)
The next day it all started again.
We go back to the hospital. Labour is still not quite underway so Allen and I walk to a local park. We stop at park benches for each contraction. Later we go to the Family birth Centre and use CD tapes, and a mat, and a big ball. The only pain killers I used was Nitrous Oxide for about an hour in transition - the last part of the first stage of labour. Labour was not progressing so I had my waters broken - then things got moving a bit more quickly - or the contractions were more intense and closer together.
With every contraction I though that I would not be able to continue but I did. I concentrated on my breath and adopted an active upright stance and got through another one. I found resources in myself that I didn’t know I had - It is as if I climbed the highest mountain. Labour was the worst and the best thing that I have ever done.
Then in the second stage gas just seemed irrelevant. I was in the zone - the “fuck this hurts” zone. I was really screaming as I pushed that head down through me - my sister and brother heard it from the corridor outside, I think the whole hospital must have heard!
The baby came out very fast in the end, (not that second stage seemed very fast - it went on for ever). The midwife says that they have to make a cut, an episiotomy to get the baby out. I have to lie on the bed and she asks when the next contraction is coming. (I had no monitors on.) I told her when, and she cuts and I push and SPLAT, there he was! Patrick came out in one push! One baby. He is put straight on my chest. There is not enough time for a second midwife to come into the room so my mother cut the cord. I was physically and mentally exhausted hours before this point, and was just dazed as I looked as this perfect little baby on my chest.
“I love you baby, I love you baby” I repeated.
Have you seen what it is? someone asks. Allen and I have a look, it’s a boy!
“I love you Patrick, I love you Patrick” I repeat again and again.
Then everything happens quickly. People come into the room, a catheter is put in, and the surgeon comes to stitch me up. They take one look and say that is it too bad to do there and then, and I have to go to surgery as I have torn to the anal sphincter. (new word for me too - didn’t know I had a sphincter)
I go to surgery - I am lying there watching the ceiling pass above me, haven’t seen that view since my miscarriage - and didn’t think I would see it again.
They can’t give me a general as it would upset my ability to mother (ie I need the use of my brain, arms and breasts) so I get an epidural - how ironic!
Anyway, I am told that the complex delicate surgery (preformed regularly at a big maternity hospital like that), done within the hour, is my best chance for a complete recovery. Now I am not allowed to do any housework or anything other than look after Patrick, have plenty of pain and things are not quite working well down there yet, but at least I have a wonderfully healthy little boy! I consider myself very lucky.