Chapter 3....Ouch

Having Braxton Hicks contractions since being 5 months pregnant, I had got used to my stomach going slowly hard until it felt like steel.

The first time it happened I almost took myself to the hospital as I was convinced it was the real thing.

By the end of the third trimester I looked forward to experiencing one, even though it took my breath away as it solidified into a solid ball...then gently subsidised - a little like the blood pressure machine where it pumps up until it fits snugly, then that release rush when the blood starts pumping around again.

 It felt good that my uterus was practicing the technique...together we could breeze through this.

 The night of the 'nesting' I went to bed feeling on top of the world. I had washed a dawer full of baby clothes, now all fresh smelling and folded up in the newly painted chest of drawers.

When I got up to go to the toilet in the early hours I noticed a small 'plug'. I called the maternity hotline...pre-Google days..

 She told me I had had a show and could expect my waters to break anytime. I asked if I should panic, but she reassured me that I should be fine travelling to the hospital. I panicked anyway.

We lived half an hour away, so I figured I should get Pete to get up and get dressed. He jumped out of bed, threw some clothes on and disappeared downstairs.

I got dressed, thought about putting my contact lenses in but somehow felt glasses may be a better option. My gas permeable lenses had a habit of making my eyes water or me losing one.

I threw everything out of the bedside cabinet in a panic until I umearthed my seldom worn specs. I had forgotten they were broken and held together with celotape.

A sharp pain feeling like a dagger being dragged slowly across the bottom of my bump took me by surprise. Big ouch. It only lasted a minute but felt like a lifetime.

I brushed my teeth, put on my shoes, as best I could as I couldn't bend to tie the laces and brushed my hair. Looking in the mirror with excited anticipation I made a mental note to get some new glasses.

I called out to my noticeably absent better half. He was busy making his packed lunch. This was part of the advised plan from our antenatal classes. Possibly the only piece of information he took note of, that and him taking a good book.

The  'dagger' returned for another slow breath stopping moment...huge ouch.

I did start to panic a little, and when I opened the front door at 4am I could feel the thick fog in the back of my throat. A third intense pain stopped me in my tracks as I was unable to stand, let alone walk. I had never felt pain like it and assumed it must be at the end of labour already as surely it couldn't get any worse.

Pete tried to coerce me into the car. I felt like a solid mass unable to step forward let alone bend. The contraction subsided and I quickly jumped in the front seat and put my seatbelt on.

"Pete I'm going to be sick"...

He managed to find a carrier bag in the side pocket in the car...and passed it to me just in time.

The contractions continued on our slow journey through country lanes darkened even more by the dense cold fog.

They were 5 minutes apart, and excruciating ...I prayed we wouldn't break down.

Arriving at the hospital we pressed the bell for maternity and the door clicked for us to open it.
We got into the lift, Pete carrying my enormous hold-all packed to the brim and his sandwiches.

I was carrying a bag of sick, wearing glasses wrapped in celotape, precariously balanced on my nose.

The lift doors opened, I gave the welcoming nurse my bag of sick.

This I was certain was never mentioned in practical parenting. In my mind I imagined us walking in, smiling, holding hands with the odd kiss of assurance from my husband.

We were shown into a private room, I wasn't allowed on a ward due to the sickness as it could have been a bug. As I changed into my new T-shirt style nightie bought especially for the occasion I had that heart stopping moment. This was a week before 'D' day...I had pencilled in shaving my legs the following week. I looked down at my very hairy legs...and tried to reassure myself that surely lots of pregnant mums have hairy legs...the shocked expression on the young assistant midwives face told me - perhaps not quite this hairy. I carefully climbed onto the metal bed. A contraction built up to a crescendo as I was halfway up,. This made me pass wind loudly. Romance was officially dead.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, Or ask Pete to buy a razor, but this adventure was a far cry from the planned birth I had configured.

Once settled in the bed, I felt a different level of pain passing across the pit of my stomach. This one I recognised and told the nurse I needed to go to the toilet quickly. She gently explained that as I had had a show I couldn't go to the bathroom in case of infection.

I considered suing Practical Parenting at this point for selling this 'birth' plan as a guaranteed easy
time....well this had been my interpretation.

Having  diarrhea in a bed pan was not at all ladylike. A midwife walking round the room spraying not one but two air fresheners clinched the moment.

As the gap in between contractions got closer, it felt more like one continuous knife swiping exercise.
Fortunately I had no back pain at all.

I was begging Pete to get the aneathatist for my now urgent epidural. He smiled sweetly and reassured me, reminding me of my desire to have a natural birth with just gas and air.

I swore like a raving crazy woman and punched him.

They bought in a canister of gas and air and showed me how to use it.

After examination they said I was only 1cm dilated so it could be hours.

Pete left me with the mask permanently over my mouth and nose..as there was no defining gap in the pain. My now fairly scared husband had gone off to eat his packed lunch, grab a cup of tea and read his book.

My music cassettes and good book were still intact inside my hold-all...I hadn't had time to even think about them.

The nurses had left me to rest and gone to try and find the aneathatist.

Apparently Pete came back twenty minutes later to find me as high as akite, delirious and dribbling. The romantic side of giving birth had yet to emerge.

He called the nurses in as I started to wail deeply  like a cow mooing with a sore throat.

I remember having the urge to push. They assured me that I would be no where near ready so soon.

I insisted and possibly threatened to bite someone if I couldn't push.

The nurse calmly examined me again against her better judgement, then with a suprised shriek said I was 10cm dilated. She had no idea how it happened so quickly. It was to late for an epidural. An image of a concrete football crossed my mind.

The pain changed its orientation and depth. I was now getting respite in between the urges to push.

The monitor attached to the babies head showed he was now in distress...obviously taking after his mum.

The nonstop wailing and deep throated mooing got louder. I recall wondering who was making that dreadful noise as I was under the influence of the lifesaving gas and air.

I realised it was me. The nurses swept into action releasing the brake on the bed and mumbling something about emergency as they trundled me out into the corridor and off to the operating theatre.

My thoughts were with anyone coming onto the ward at that moment to be met with this horrendous noise evidently from a cow giving birth, on a hospital bed.

Pete ran next to me holding my hand, I was just mooing all the way. I seriously couldn't stop the noise exuding from my mouth, as hard as I tried.

Once in the the theatre they gave me an emergency episiotomy.
which is a deliberate cut to facilitate a faster exit for the now weary baby. As I pushed on the command of the midwife, I had the mixed feelings of nooooo this IS a concrete football and wanting to stop - to I've got to keep going to get our baby out.

Six pushes later our little boy was born.

As they laid him on my chest I looked at his beautifully shaped head, his tiny body, all beautifully messy. I looked up at Pete and we both smiled. This was the precious moment I had looked forward to for so long. Pete lent over and kissed me then our new son..

Praise God..4 hours from the first contraction he arrived safely.  It was the perfect birth after all...