Monthly Archives: September 2011

Baby William’s Birth Story

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I woke up on Saturday feeling very odd and disconnected, and a bit wired. There was a lot to do, The Pie had a Beaver event to get to, The Boy was already at Scout camp and I wanted to get the rest of the slate put down in the front garden. I had a bath, did some pottering, we went to the shops, went to the camp site (lots of walking across uneven fields), packed The Pie off to a sleepover and killed time.  It was a really odd day, and I just ‘knew’ something would happen soon.

I settled down to watch Doctor Who with the Rock God and a huge bowl of ice cream, and then laughed my way through X-Factor with the virtual company of the fabulously sharp and screamingly funny MN X-Factor thread members. Just as the program drew to a close, I felt a pop and a gush, and my waters broke.

Unfortunately for our best laid home birth plans, my waters were green, which meant meconium, which meant we had to go in to hospital.

So we grabbed our hospital bag and set off, thinking how serendipitous it was that both the Chums were sleeping elsewhere already, we actually couldn’t have planned it better.

We arrived at the hospital and met our first midwife, Helen, who happens to also be the nurse at my doctors surgery, so a familiar face. She made us feel very comfortable and confident, apologised that we weren’t going to be at home but assured us that we could still have most of the things we wanted from our birth plan. She did explain that we wouldn’t be able to have a delayed cord clamping as the baby would need to be seen by a paediatrician straight away, but that we could still have a natural third stage, and RG could still do the cord cutting. I had only had one measly contraction and we had to get things going so I was given a pessary, which worked almost straight away.

Even though we were attached to monitors, I was able to move about a bit, and they let us have a bit of time off the trace so I could walk about, stretch my legs and bounce on the ball. While the contractions were still building, the Rock God and I did a crossword together and chatted nonsense with Helen. I avoided any gas and air for ages as I wanted to cope on my own for as long as I could (I had the idea in my head that the longer I could go without it the more effective it would be), so I was just breathing through the contractions and trying to be all earth-mothery and calm (ha!).

According to my notes, labour started at 2am (although I’d been having contractions for a good long while before that), and next few hours are a bit of a blur. I was on my side for a while, curled up in the Rock God’s arms, sucking on the gas and air and sobbing, he says this was for about an hour and was the worst bit for me. During this bit, Helen’s shift ended and I remember her kissing me goodbye and wishing us all the best. She handed us over to Maddie and Becky’s very capable hands.

At this point or soon after, they suggested I get on my knees and lean over the upright back of the bed, and the rest of the labour was in that position. RG held on to the G&A for me and I dozed off between contractions, I wasn’t particularly aware of my surroundings by this point, but I do remember poor RG falling asleep standing up, clattering against the equipment. The MWs got him a cup of tea then, apparently, but I dont’ remember him leaving my side at all.

Things carried on for a while (it was six hours, apparently, for the first stage), and then I had one almighty contraction and push and it felt like the entire universe was breaking apart. I think I screamed (I remember vividly picturing a chimpanzee, I think that was me making a monkey noise) and the baby was born all at once. Head, shoulders and body, all at the same time.

The Rock God cut his cord, and they whisked him off to check him over before handing him to me, and he snuffled around for a while before latching on like a pro. While he fed, the MWs were busy trying to deliver my placenta, and I was vaguely aware that it wasnt’ going entirely to plan. There was a most disconcerting popping sensation and I passed some clots, and there was a sudden flurry of activity. I had an injection in my thigh, and they told me that not all of the placenta had come away and I had passed a bit too much blood. A doctor came in, and there was another injection and a bit of jiggery pokery and some tugging, and then The Biggest Placenta In The World™ came out and I think somebody cheered (maybe me?). So that was all very exciting. And a jolly good job we were in the hospital, I think, or it would have been a dramatic rush in an ambulance which would have rather spoilt the whole calm effect. As it was I wasn’t really aware of any drama at the time, we were so well looked after, all the MWs and Doctors were so gentle and affable and cheery that the mood in the room was very bouyant and upbeat (that may have been the gas and air, mind you).

They then put a catheter in (this appeals to my very basic lazy nature, I have to say. If I had a catheter in real life I could literally stay in bed all day, how cool would that be? Obviously carting around a huge bag of piss is less fun, but hey ho) and I had the nicest bath I’ve ever had while the Rock God dressed the baby, and then we were moved on to the ward. They kept us in for twenty four hours because both baby and me needed monitoring, and I had to have two lots of blood taken to see if I needed a transfusion (I didn’t), so that was a bit boring, but we did have lots of visitors and I managed to sleep for six hours on Sunday night, all snuggled up in bed with my very beautiful and amazing and much awaited new baby boy.

xxx

 

 

 

 

 

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Today’s the day…or not

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I am officially due today. I have BIG PLANS (as obviously I won’t be having a baby today, that never happens) to bounce on the birthing ball, watching Glee, eating chocolate and generally enjoying the peace and quiet.

Many thanks to my lovely top banana pal Kate for taking The Chums to school for me this morning, meaning I am still in my pjs and about to have a good long uninterrupted soak in the bath. Heaven.

Pore ol’ Rock God has gone to work with a filthy cold feeling sorry for himself. I do feel for him, he’s done the work of ten men lately picking up my slack and he hasn’t complained at all. He keeps cracking jokes about his four weeks holiday  paternity leave, but actually it will be a good break, four weeks together with the new baby and the Chums, I can’t wait.

In other exciting news, I have a New Winter Boots Fund due to returning some unworn shoes to Schuh. I wanted Merrel Puffins last year and didn’t get them, and I don’t think Schuh stock them, so if anyone has any ideas or recommendations for comfortable, chunky, flat, waterproof boots for around £70, please tell me.

Right, off for a bath, I may be some time.

xx

What we have achieved this weekend…..

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I love weekends, I may have mentioned that.

This weekend we have managed to fit in LOADS of ‘doing what we want’ stuff as well as ‘stuff that needed doing’ stuff. The BEST sort of weekend, I think.

The Boy had his first football match of the season yesterday, fortunately for me I can delegate this. Don’t get me wrong, I am as proud as punch of my budding Premiership player, and like watching him play. But I like being at home in the warm more. So the Rock God got to stand in the rain cheer him on while the Pie and I watched Fantasia and drew fashion designs in the warm. We even had the heating on. Lovely.

Then, in the afternoon, the Rock God ventured into the loft and brought down some of his most precious possessions. The Star Wars Toys Of His Childhood. You can add in your own fanfare/choir of angels effect here. This was a Big Deal.

Most impressive.

So that was HOURS of fun, and The Chums only argued over whose turn it was for Yoda a couple of times, so a pretty successful afternoon was had by all.

Then we had our lovely friends round for HOT curry, which thankfully arrived on time and correct so I didn’t have to do any crying or anything. It was awesome, lovely food and brilliant company.

So Saturday was a very good day.

Onto Sunday. I woke up after a FULL night’s sleep (hurrah!) in a really good mood, after a very exciting dream where the Rock God was actually Superman and was flying around saving people. My hero <swoon>.

I have done loads of tidying, sorting out and decluttering again today (nesting?) and also managed to have an hour long bath while reading Percy Jackson (these books are GOOD, by the way, we got them for The Boy for his birthday and I’m on book four already, great fun).

We’ve also managed to sort out (sort of) the front garden, otherwise known as the wilderness/the jungle/the weed patch…you get the idea. Unfortunately, we are a bit crap and vastly underestimated how much slate we’d need to fill the edge in so it’s still a work in progress.

Oops

Anyway, it looks a million times better than it did and we’ll buy some more slate tomorrow. This is just a quick fix until we can bulldoze the lot and pave it into a big double driveway <dreams>.

So it’s now teatime, RG is making meatballs, The Boy is building Diagon Alley and The Pie is watching Lemonade Mouth for the third time.

I am relaxing and thinking cervix opening kind of thoughts. I have interesting backache, that could be labour, right? RIGHT?

<drives self mad with phantom symptom spotting>

xx

Dear Diary….

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Gawd, sorry chums. I have been really slack at blogging this last week or so. I’ll give you a rundown of the past few days’ interesting and exciting happenings to make up for it, if that’s ok.

So. Friday. The start of The Boy’s Birthday Weekend Extravanza. He had asked for a camping sleepover for his ninth birthday, but as a) I’m literally about to give birth, b) our garden isn’t very big and c) my parents are wonderful human beings, Mum and Dad hosted it at their house (hurrah!).

The invasion of children began at tea time. They marauded round the garden, demolished FIVE Domino’s pizzas (half price, oh yes indeed) and assorted fizzy drinks, and then my dad lit the fire and we all made s’mores again.

It was BRILLIANT. At about nine pm we got them into pjs and hussled them into the tents, and then (the best bit) I went to bed. My Dad stayed on tent watch until about midnight, which was when the Rock God got in from his gig (we had double booked, with our usual level of organisational skill <oops>) and took over.

I think they had just about gone to sleep by then, and were up with the sunrise at 5.45.

It was a very successful, minimal effort (and minimal cost) party. Highly recommended. The Boy says it was the Best Party Evah™, so high praise indeed.

Onto SATURDAY. We tried to keep it low key as The Chums were pretty much exhausted. We watched Rango, which was SO not a kids’ film, but very funny. Then in the evening we all went to a party that the Rock God was playing at. The Boy spent the evening running around like a child possessed, but The Pie flaked by about 8pm, and I wasn’t far behind.

Sleepy Pie

SUNDAY. It was my Aunt’s 60th birthday. We were invited to a Tea Party for her, which was gorgeous. All ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ and Cath Kidston prints, and scones and sarnies. Very twee, very lovely and very Aunt. I had awesome plans for a hot curry on the way home, but it turns out three jam and cream scones, six sandwiches and three cupcakes is about my limit for stuffing myself. Who knew?

Cake!

And then yesterday was The Boy’s actual birthday. We got him Lego Diagon Alley, which cost about the same as a small family car and has about three million pieces. So that’ll keep him occupied for the next six months. Or not. He’s started building it already, which involves telling his sister to sort out all the pieces and pick up the rubbish while doing all the fun building himself. She thinks she’s getting to play with him, little realising she’s doing all the shitwork. He’s happy, she’s happy. Genius.

For dinner yesterday my very awesome mother cooked us an epic roast and all fourteen of us (four generations of family) squeezed round the two dining tables for the feast. I have to say that while my family drive me batshit crazy much of the time, I do love it when we all get together for meals. It’s like The Waltons meets The Mansons. We bicker and squabble and get VERY loud, but there’s a hell of a lot of love there.

Right, I have wittered enough for today, the mindees are sleeping and I have Extreme Lolling (the lazy arse kind, not the laugh out loud kind) on the sofa to be getting on with. Three more days of work after today and then I am officially on maternity leave for four weeks and will start the ‘Get This Baby Out’ plan in earnest.

Big love xx

My Takeaway Nightmare

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I was really looking forward to a hot takeaway curry last night. I mean REALLY. I’d justified it by dressing it up as a ‘lets get labour started’ trick, but really I was just hankering for one.

I have been dreaming about juicy king prawns, hot madras sauce, greasy bhajis and warm chapatis for DAYS. Is there anything better for the soul than a takeaway on a friday night? I think not, my friends.

So, imagine my very real distress when they ballsed up the order and sent us two prawn madras instead of my one king prawn madras.

Oh the humanity <sob>. I was perilously close to actual tears, I won’t lie.

I sat and ate bahjis and watched everyone else eat their delicious and correct curries while we waited for the (very contrite) restaurant bod to come and replace my miserable teeny tiny flavourless prawn curry for my FAT king prawn extravanza.

Fortunately he arrived before hysteria set in. And all was right with the world again.

But it was a close run thing.

<wibble>