14.06.2012 - a whole year ago

After days in labour I finally asked for a c-section and was rushed in to delivery theatre. I lay there talking to Dave - I'm sure he was chatting to keep me calm - and waiting to finally see my baby.

Finally it happened, I heard the little cry I have been waiting for over 80 hours. I of course, broke down and cried as well. Dave was still his normal self only due to the tiredness he forgot all about asking if we could bring a camera in to the room so we never got a picture of him right after his arrival.

The doctor brought him to us, as I can remember he stopped crying as soon as he heard our voices. I asked to breastfeed him and was told it was ok but there was needles and tubes everywhere and I just couldn't get him into position,  no help was ever offered so I missed that moment I dreamt with for so long.

Dave went out of the room with Harry and the doctors finished off my stitches. I'm sure Dave was really proud of being the first person to hold him. He always tells of how brave Harry was and did not make a sound when he had his vitamin shot done.

After hours of pain and a very anti-climax delivery I was finally in the recovery room been reunited with my boys. I will never be able to explain how it felt like to hold Harry for the first time, there is nothing in life I can compare that to. I finally has the chance to breastfeed him and cuddle up and hug and kiss and finally, rest.

I still want to write our breastfeed story but I can say that at first I had no idea what I was doing but looking back I'm proud of trying and keep on going.

The rest of that day is a bit of a haze, I remember being offered a mayo filled sandwich as my first meal after days in labour. Lucky my mum brought me a chicken broth later. also remember been put in a tiny and very hot cubicle in the delivery ward as there was no bed where i was meant to go. Not nice to be between the ladies having contractions after contraction when you have a little baby to look after and need to rest.

Once  again I was left without much care or assistance and when I complaint about not been moved i was even told the other room wouldn't be much better. Finally the anxiety attack came and they transferred me. The day went as a flash with Harry and I drifting in and out of sleep. By the time I was put in a quieter place it was almost midnight so Dave  had to go home.

Our first night was a quiet one, we slept well - unless woken up by doctors and nurses - and woke up on the other day for cuddles and milk and ready to start our life as a little family of three.

I whole year has passed and our little boy is healthy and happy, almost walking, babbles all day and is still breastfeeding. Today we had a lovely day out to celebrate his life and tomorrow we will have a party with family and friends to sing happy birthday and have his naming ceremony. Watch this space!

almost 72 hours on

and the worse was still to come.

on my second day in hospital was I finally transferred to the delivery ward. Dave rushed back to the hospital from home and came to stay with me.

That day is a bit of a blur. I remember waiting for an epidural from 9am until about 4pm Remember being abandoned by a midwife who was always too busy to stay with us and help us through the day and  couldn't be bother with trying to find out when I would get some pain relief. It's worth saying that i suffer from a very bad back and by the end of 9 months carrying a heavy belly, I couldn't tell what was worse, the contractions or the back pain,

I spent most of that day having really heavy contractions then hallucinating and dozing off. In my head, whenever I went off my last thought was; so that's what happens when you die. I know it might just sound like a big old drama to some people but after days of heavy contractions and knowing your baby no longer had all that much water, is hard to keep your head straight and passing out every half an hour or so really doesn't help,

For a while what kept my sanity was the music we had playing on the background and the sound of the baby heart on the monitor, whenever I passed out I could still hear that and those sounds made me think I was still alive.

To make matters worse my mother arrived from Brazil on that same day. Luckily I have booked a cab to pick her up at the airport it also helped that by the time she joined us I have finally had my epidural and even though was still off every now and then, I'm sure it wold have been a lot worse had she see me earlier.

My best luck on that day was to have Dave by my side, he was my rock. From helping with my mum's arrival to guide me through the contractions and stand there waiting for me to come around he made up for the lack of care from the midwife and more.

Another god sent was this Italian midwife student who came into the room at some point and actually noticed how distressed we were and made her business to get the doctors to see me and sort out some pain relief. She even came in on the next day to meet Harry and make sure we were alright.

By midnight and now on the 3rd midwife, at least the one was actually helpful, I was told I was still on 5cm of dilation which reduced me to tears. I have been in labour for almost 72 hours and they were still insisting on the natural birth thing as I just did not have clarity enough to ask for it myself.

Between Dave being exhausted, my mum panicking, my bursting out crying when I heard a baby next door and thought that was Harry and my  ever so strong contractions we kept on going with epidural shots every half an hour or so.

By 5am on the 14th of June I was still at 7cm, my mum haven't even been home and Dave no longer had energy left in his body, to the point that he could no longer hold the gas-and-air for me. I looked at the doctor and finally asked for a c-section; cut me open - I said - I have nothing left on me.

It was as simple as that and in less than half an hour we were in the delivery theater being prepped for our baby's birth.

and the contractions started

while I hardly had any contractions during the first few hours after my water have broken, the same can not be said about the next couple of days that we spent waiting for Harry.

I spent that Monday back and forth between hospital and home, despite have virtually no dilation I was, indeed, having strong contractions every 3 minutes or so. Of course the hospital would send me back home, recommending paracetamol and a bath. The first one done nothing at all for me and a bath was as good as a torture session. I did however have about 4 showers during the night from the 10th to the 11th of June, that really was the only thing that helped me through he pain.

On the 11th in the morning we finally headed to the hospital to be "induced". I sure wish they have told me what that meant, what we would do and what the expected outcome was. I was only told they would induce me but to this day still can't tell you how and when that was done. I spent a couple of days in the hospital waiting to give birth, begging for information and feeling lost as I have never felt before.

I'm not sure if I spoke about this on the blog but i suffered with anxiety through most of my life pregnancy and although I managed not to panic about giving birth - I just did not think about it - the idea of staying in a hospital, on my own, was enough to send my heart pounding. Being an NHS hospital, Dave wasn't allowed to stay with me but luckily I was in a room with another 4 ladies and so exhausted from the previous sleepless night I actually managed to have a half decent night's sleep...mind you gas-and-air might have had something to do with that as well.

The most frustrating thing during the "waiting for baby to arrive" part of my stay was the lack of information coming from doctors, nurses and midwives. I remember asking over  and over again what would the next step be should the induction fail, the answer was always: - that will not happen.
Boy were they wrong?!

Looking back at those days I still find hard to accept the lack of a more humane treatment at a place where millions of women go to, expecting to be looked after. Through the whole my stay I was just too spaced out to think of asking for a C-section and for a while I felt guilty about it now i see that really, if  I was been looked after by professional and ethical carers I would have been offered one, or at least a conversation about that option would have taken place during my stay. Considering that in many countries a mother to be wouldn't go more than 12 to 24 hours waiting for a natural birth after their waters were broken, i do look back now and feel that the whole campaign for natural birth can go way too far, to a point  that can be dangerous for both mother and baby. I understand a natural birth probably costs the NHS less money than a c-section but no family should be put under the pressure for a natural birth, specially when the situation have already dragged itself for over 48 hours.

1 year on, 3 days to go

Last night, when Harry woke up for his first night feed my mind started to wander. I went back to that same night a whole year ago. After a lovely lazy day I had an early night and was looking forward to getting all final arrangements done on my 39th week.

D. had just got in bed, it was 2:30am. I turned around to kissing him goodnight and startled for a second. When he asked if I was ok my answer was; either I have peed myself of my waters just broke. D called  the hospital and since i didn't have a "show" they said i could go in i if wanted but there was no rush.

Being first time parents course we rushed to the hospital, overnight bag, car seat and all.

I was also silly enough to agree to having a student doing the test to check the dilation, it hurt like hell AND had to be repeated by the nurse. i seriously think they make questions like that because they know you are way too zoned out to understand what will actually happen.

Of course i was disappointed to be told to go home as there was no dilation enough for me to be admit to hospital.

I was told that if nothing happened until Tuesday morning they would induce me.

Off we went  back home having not a clue that Harry wouldn't really make an appearance until Thursday morning.

That Monday was a painful one and full of anxiety knowing that my little guy was on his way but not sure of his ETA. It also was a day to stop and realise I was about to become a mum.