Birth Story

*In order to keep the blog up to date, I'm compiling this entry from brief updates I posted to a  discussion board as it happened.  There are many things about our experience - the birth and the days that followed - that I am still working through and I shall perhaps post more on this at a later date. In the meantime, sorry if this is a little choppy*

Begining early afternoon on the 12th January, I had strong back ache and cramps (in addition to the tightening since late boxing day) I actually resorted to paracetamol to get some sleep (which for me, is a big deal)

Then my waters went around 1:45am. I got up and changed, paced out the beginning contractions for an hour until mum came downstairs (she'd been listening out for me) and called the labour ward to make sure they had record of me since I'm still technically from out of area.
After asking a few questions, the midwife on duty recommended that I get some sleep and call FMAU in the morning.

After five hours of dozing off and on, I called FMAU who were already pretty busy. They recommended that I attend my midwife appointment, let her know what was going on and that she would book an induction after the usual 24 hours, if labour hadn't progressed.  In the meantime, A arrived just after lunch and was helping me to stay active and move labour along.

When labour didn't start by Wednesday morning, we were induced. Of all things, it had to be the pessary. Uncomfortable for most, to those of us with penetration anxiety and a tilted uterus to navigate... in the end we got it halfway.

We then went up to the birth centre to await developments. From 9:30 to 5, we watched others coming in after being induced and then being carted off to labour ward.  My contractions started in earnest in my back, progressing very quickly to almost a minute duration and alternating between a minute and five apart. Unfortunately for the other couples on the ward (and I felt really guilty about it but couldn't stop myself) I quickly latched on to vocalising as my main coping strategy. The cramps I could have handled but the backache was so strong, I could barely move.

As the night wore on, I accepted first a tens machine and then paracetamol and codeine. It had eased off a little by bed time but I was still vocalising and to help me relax about it, we were moved to a two bed ward where we were alone for the night.  Don't know what I would have done without A that night though. It's times like these that make me so grateful and proud to have her in my life.
By the morning, labour had not progressed further. After monitoring and breakfast, we were headed up to labour ward.

Ten hours of back labour with the drip and we found out that I was only 3cms gone. I was about to lose it at this point -already feeling I had nothing left to give. We tried diamorphine and then an epidural before one of the doctors realised that the reason we were struggling so much was because baby was presenting with her head in an awkward position.

We were taken down to theatre, where they tried first forceps and then suction to turn her. As a final resort when these failed, baby arrived by emergency c-section at exactly 4am.

Back on the labour ward, we seemed to be doing ok. Baby was struggling to feed but the midwife didn't seem concerned and said she'd get it in time. And we were discovering that my fast healing extends to surgery too.
About 7:30 someone came in to talk to us about needing to give baby anti-biotics for a potential infection I had been showing signs of during delivery. A went with her, when they took her away.

Whilst they tried to identify the source of the infection and the cause of her slightly lowered oxygen sats, baby was kept in a hot cot with oxygen for the first three days.  I felt the distance between the postnatal ward and high dependency, especially at night. I'm just grateful that the hospital is pro-breast and encouraged me to visit for feeds. The infection has since almost passed on its own, under a general range of anti-biotics but was never identified and was put down to PROM (my waters went over 70 hours before the C-section) And as a result of their investigations, a chest x-ray turned up a concerning sized pneumothorax.  There has been some improvement and she continues to be monitored.

The three days before we came home, baby and I were on a special ward between postnatal and high dependency. I was the only mother there breastfeeding and found it a little difficult, between baby's feeding hourly through the night and A returning home for work.  Mum would pop in for half hour visits at mealtimes, giving me just enough time to dash (as fast as my healing would allow) to grab something to eat and attempt to clean/tidy myself up.  Don't get me wrong: given how she had been taken away from us so soon after birth, it felt so good to finally have that time with her and even the long nights felt close and intimate, with the curtains drawn and the soft glow of the night light.  There were just so many moments where I felt down and unsure, living like a single parent and feeling like the night was going on forever.  The dawn always came though and with it: mum, pastries and a hot shower for my aching back.  She continues to cluster feed through the night but now that we're home, I'm starting to take it into my stride.

At home now and we continue to marvel at what a character she is.  She has such a calm, placid nature, most of the time.  At night, she asks for a feed with a little whimpering and will lie quietly once she's acknowledged, waiting patiently until I have myself sorted.  Even the nappy changes are quiet and stress free.  It's almost a completely different baby however when we try to change her clothes...

Jingle Belle (Part 2) Due date + 4 - Yup, Still Pregnant!

After going through this post, I've realised that it really needs to be broken down further - such an eventful time of year :D This post is mainly about Christmas with the family and the next should hopefully bring us up to date.

Well, what a Christmas! We agreed this year that since A wanted to spend some time with her sister and I couldn't fly so close to term, we'd take our chances and have separate Christmases this year, with me travelling to spend time with my parents in Devon the day before A flew out to her sister's family in Ireland.  My mother was especially excited to have a family Christmas this year, with baby so close to due and this being my sister's last year at home before emigrating; she had gone all out on decorating rooms, shopping for everyone's favourite food and planning meals over the festive week.
It was like the magical Christmases of my childhood - right down to the little foot-and-a-half tree I found in my room, lit up and waiting for me.

I received the call from my consultant the day after I arrived and immediately, the holiday felt ruined.  Perhaps it was frustration at everything going down so close to my due date, perhaps it was the fact that it was happening whilst I was getting ready to enjoy a really special Christmas, perhaps it was just hormones; I cried for a solid hour after speaking with her - just contemplating having our baby girl arriving under such circumstances when everything had been going so well!  I dragged myself out of the funk I was in that day by holding onto one thought: at 38 weeks, baby was fully developed, presenting head down and I was far enough away to keep them waiting on a potential induction whilst I took matters into my own hands.  Long walks.  Bouncing.  Curries.  Here we go!  By Christmas, I was starting to feel more relaxed.  I had plenty of time before I was expected back for another blood draw and my plan was going to work.

Christmas day started in the usual calm and casual manner our family prefers: a summons to my youngest brother's room to open my stocking with him, a brief gathering at the tree for a couple presents each and then breakfast.  I've always had fond memories of gathering as a family for Christmas breakfast.  Everyone gets involved setting table with the seasonal cloth and mats whilst the parents are dishing up cooked breakfasts for those who want it, filling bowls of cereal and heating up the pastries.  Once my sister and I have finished ferrying things from kitchen to dining room and have coaxed the boys away from their current collective obsession (this year: rubix cubes) we sit to table and enjoy time together.  My appetite wasn't brilliant that morning but for baby's sake, I managed a couple pastries with some tea.

After that, it was on and off present opening during the day, a few at a time interspersed with eating, movies, walking the dog and (for me) napping.  Right now, I look back on this day and others like it from when I was small and two things stand out: Firstly, how much more fun you can have if you take your time on the day, instead of turning it into one big present opening frenzy before crashing for hours afterwards.  I plan to follow through with this kind of structure when baby gets old enough to really get into Christmas; from the little token present the night before Christmas to the not-a-surprise-any-more-but-we'll-pretend last present before bed, including all the traditions I used to enjoy as a girl such as the family breakfast and heading out for a brisk walk before settling down for the evening.
The other thing is how wonderful it feels to be a part of a larger family at Christmas.  There were seven of us gathered together on Christmas day (would have been eight, if A had been with us) and I know this was one of the things that made the day so special.  It only made me more excited to imagine family Christmases in the future: A and I sitting comfortably together with our morning tea, two, three or -dare I hope?- more children, excitedly tearing into their little stockings, the smell of warm pastries drifting in from the kitchen....

Boxing day is usually a low-key day for us, spent tidying up the small piles of gifts that have accumulated in everyone's preferred corners, putting together anything that needs assembly, reading, talking, checking emails and watching the lunchtime movie.  Sometimes extended family will stop by for an hour or so, to exchange gifts and catch up on family gossip.  On these occasions, mum will lay out a buffet style lunch of leftover meats, salads, cheese, crackers and dips - the usual affair.  The evening usually passes without much fanfare.  This year was different.  I felt different; tired but restless, hungry but not, wanting to be with people but developing a sudden aversion to the busy social hub that our living room had become.  I had started getting backache and my Braxton Hicks contractions were starting to feel a little stronger.

By dinner time the next day, I was getting less comfortable as time went on and my mother and sister insisted on taking me to get checked out at our local A&E unit - they in turn sending me to the labour ward for assessment.  That evening felt so surreal, sitting with a continuous monitor on baby and the regular beep of the blood pressure cuff taking a reading.  I admit, it was a little exciting to think that baby was so close to putting in an appearance (although a part of me already knew that, with the contractions being more uncomfortable than painful and not quite regular, it wasn't actually labour)  Once the midwife had discharged me and we had arrived home, mum was still watching me like a hawk.  My sister made a point of asking us to come wake her if anything happened during the night and mum recommended she keep clothes by the bed, ready.  I tried to remind them that prelabour (which I felt it was) could last for weeks and I was fairly sure nothing would happen that night but still - a part of me was picking up on their excitement.  One week before my due date and it looked like everything was about to kick off.

The "I'm-too-lazy-to-think-of-a-title" post (34 weeks)

Well, it's six weeks to my due date; and whilst I am technically using my holiday hours up between now and Christmas, to all intents and purposes maternity leave has begun.  A is currently in Ireland for her sister's wedding and I am sitting in an empty flat, surrounded by newborn clothes and terry squares (not even born yet and all this washing!)

This week has passed by in that strange fashion of being both too fast and too slow, that anyone who has been in the position of 'use-your-holiday-hours-or-lose-them,' will be familiar with.  Days are mostly filled up with daily walks into town to stay limber (with lattes at the end, as a reward - decaf, of course) coming home to laundry and emails, wandering about the house doing nothing in particular and then in bed by 9:30 (mainly because I wake at 2am most days and can't get back to sleep)

At the start of the week, I was staying with my brothers whilst mum was at a wedding (so many in November) and I finally told them about the baby.  I arrived late to the house on the Thursday night and mum called my brothers into the front room saying there was something I would like to tell them.  When I said I wasn't sure where to start, my stepfather suggested I start where I was and go from there.  "About eight months, then?" I tried; immediately J, the older of the two, looked up at me with the beginnings of a grin.  M, I had to spell it out for, since he wasn't able to make the connection.  Like a number of children on the Autistic spectrum, M sometimes has difficulty with big changes but he took this news quite well, asking questions and thinking of activities he could do with his new niece once she's born.  J was obviously trying to play the cool teenager *insert eye-roll* but was actually quite attentive to me all weekend: sitting in the front room with me when he would usually skulk in his room, fetching drinks and snacks for me at regular intervals.  Lol, I called M over to feel baby kicking one evening, since he'd expressed an interest, and even though he didn't look up from his x-box game, J subtly shifted closer, just waiting for an invitation to take his turn.

My sister was with us for the weekend too.  She actually surprised me with the amount of interest she showed, not really being a baby person herself.  I think she may have bought up an entire branch of Mothercare, the number of vests, socks, muslins, and tiny two-piece outfits she presented me with on arrival.  She's always said that pregnant bellies freak her out (lol) but she seemed to be okay with my tiny bump.  I think it may have made a difference that I always turned away from her when baby's movements were becoming more visible and that because I've always taken care to stay hydrated and keep my skin moisturised*, I still don't have stretch marks.

At last appointment with the midwife, baby and I are both doing well.  My blood pressure is back up into 'normal' range, baby's heart rate is perfect and the fundus height (basically a measurement of the uterus, taken from top of the uterus to the pubic bone) is just right.  I was asked the usual questions for this stage of pregnancy: daily movement (oooh, yes!) swelling (nope) have we started a birth plan? (first draft done and it's getting reviewed regularly) anything else I'd like to talk about?
...Well, yes.  I've recently started wondering if the large itchy rash that I've been struggling with for the past month (that is slowly driving me crazy) could possibly be polymorphic eruption (some people may still know it as PUPPS)  Apparently, the midwife was stumped by that one.  She looked it up and agreed that it did sound like polymorphic eruption of pregnancy, which typically presents in the third trimester of first pregnancies, but that she'd never seen it before.  She says that if it's bothering me, I should talk to my GP about it. I'll see if I can get an appointment on Monday.
The last point we covered was that baby had not turned head down yet.  At this stage, it's not a big issue but the midwife says that if baby hasn't turned by our next appointment at the start of December, we will need to book in for a presentation scan to see what she's up to.  (I happen to know, based on her daily movements, that the little madam is still turning cartwheels in there; so it can't be obstruction.  She just doesn't feel like it yet.)

*in case you are interested btw, I've been using Cussons Mum and Me Bump Stretch Mark Cream twice daily, since week 20 - around the time my bump started to show and my skin first started getting dry and itchy.

Getting into the flow (24 weeks 6 days)

And wonder of wonders, we have a bump!

I discovered the evidence of an expanding tummy earlier this week.  Feeling hormonal from work stress and lack of sleep, I turned to A looking for love and sympathy.  Well, what I actually did was walk out of the bedroom, moaning "my zipper wont stay up.  I'm getting faaaatttt!"
And A - my wonderful, sensitive, loyal partner. The woman I plan to spend the rest of my days with and raise children with.  The love of my life - replied: "Don't complain.  You wanted a belly and now you have one."  Hands up.  Who can spot the clanger that set the hormonal pregnant lady off?
(For the record, A did later apologise and offer cheesecake in penance)
But to add insult to injury - later that day, the button holding up my trousers flew off and I was forced to suffer the indignity of asking the boss if he had a spare safety pin.

For the rest of the working week, I've had to make do with a pair of trousers from home that still fit me.  The maternity trousers our company provides are clearly designed by a man: they are basically regular size trousers with a ginormous non-elasticated waistband.  Even with the understanding that I'm going to get bigger, I think it's pretty clear by now that I'm never going to reach those proportions.  And even if I did, I would still want an elasticated waistband.
So far, it's only my work trousers that I have had to give up (thanks to a life-long preference for 'boys fit' clothes, I have plenty of room in most outfits) but as time marches on, I'm planning on buying belly bands to make my regular clothes last a bit longer.

In other news, we had an appointment with the midwife (W) on Tuesday.  We had to breeze through things as we had arrived late but we did get to hear baby's heartbeat for the first time.  We're starting to figure out that now she has full range of movement, she really doesn't like being spied on and will do everything she can to make it harder to check in on her.  The minute the Doppler hit my belly, she was twisting and turning cartwheels and kicking at the source of her frustration with everything she had.  We all had a laugh at how stubborn she could be.  Eventually, we got to hear a few moments of healthy heartbeat that satisfied W and left A and I in tears.
During that whistle-stop appointment, we had the usual urine and blood pressure checks, and W asked about fetal movement.  For the moment, all that is important is establishing that there is some daily movement, which we get plenty of.  Baby has recently graduated to hiccups, which means that she has started breathing and swallowing amniotic fluid in preparation for the outside world.  She gets them a lot and seems to blame me for them, as I get a tiny foot in my gut right after each one.  My blood pressure has changed from booking in: from 110/72 to 98/62, which is healthy but slightly low which may mean I'll be feeling light headed and/or dizzy and may lead to passing out.  This isn't a problem.  I've had periods of low blood pressure on account of my one kidney for as long as I can remember.  W (and mum) recommend I avoid taking long, warm baths on my own for a while (which is a shame, as it's something I've always enjoyed. Still, safety first.)
We also asked again about transferring to the birthing centre and were told that it would have to be reviewed further into third trimester (which is just around the corner!)

Ultrasound, sex reveal and update (21 weeks)

Well, it's been a year since our first insem and here we are: off the back of our second ultrasound with a healthy Baby Girl on board (the sonographer had trouble getting the perfect shot, as baby was being shy but we eventually got our view of those three little lines) We continue to have a relatively easy pregnancy and have started enjoying some of the perks: A being able to feel her kicks at 19w 6d as they become stronger and more frequent; and the friendly enquiries and fun we have as we begin to buy baby clothes and equipment.  We have been truly blessed this year.

I am now 21 weeks along and baby is roughly the size of a papaya.  I say 'roughly' because she currently measures a little under average for gestation - not that we're surprised.  Babies on my side of the family (especially girls) tend to be on the smaller side.  I'm still barely showing and have yet to give up any of my regular fitting clothes.  At the scan, baby was moving a lot; she must have been reacting to the ultrasound because it was an unusual hour for her.  One of the great things about this stage of pregnancy is that baby's periods of sleep and wakefulness are more regular.  We have been able to track her more wakeful periods quite easily now she is kicking and punching with more force.  She is most active just after breakfast, in the middle of the afternoon and somewhere around 2/3 in the morning (which apparently indicates that she's likely to be a night owl)

For the most part, this pregnancy has been treating us well and we've had few symptoms.  I have however noticed an increase in my stress levels that seem to be more hormone related than anything else.  Being more of an introvert, I've never been comfortable in crowds but as I've had years to develop coping tactics, it hasn't been an issue for a long time.  Now I've started struggling to cope with demands made on my time.  Five minutes of conversation can leave me feeling drained and close to tears.  A has been pretty understanding about my need for space but at the same time, I think she is having trouble adjusting to how quickly I snap when she is just trying to spend some time with me.  Hopefully, it gets easier with time.

I've been taking it easy these last couple weeks, after coming off my bike in traffic.  I landed pretty heavily and for the first ten minutes, I was so dizzy from the adrenalin that I could barely keep my head up.  The management team of the student letting office on the corner where it happened took me in and called the store for me to let them know what had happened.  They even arranged a rapid appointment with our health centre for me once they found out I was pregnant.  The doc who checked me out assured us (A had joined us after fetching me home from the offices) that everything checked out OK.  He said that because I was carrying small, baby was still tucked safely out of harms way in the pelvis.  Still, it was a relief to see her for ourselves at the scan later that week (she couldn't have chosen a worse time to suddenly go quiet)

We had our first baby related shopping spree this month.  We'd originally gone to the top end of town to get baby's scan pictures put onto a memory stick so that we could send them as a birthday greeting for my dad.  Whilst waiting, we browsed the charity shops in the area and found a newborn sleep-suit in near perfect condition for the price of a small coffee.
This does not mean to say that we intend to kit baby out exclusively in charity shop clothes; just that we have no qualms in using good quality used clothing whenever we find it.  Properly washed, it's no different to hand-me-down clothing from older siblings, it's possible to score branded clothing at a fraction of their original cost and it has the added benefits of re-using what could otherwise be going to landfill and contributing towards various local charities.  We've recently bought several outfits of different sizes for the first year that in total probably cost the same as two brand new ones from high-street stores.

From tiny toes to great steps forward (I think...?)

An entry of miscellaneous thoughts and happenings, since I've been too distracted to post them separately over the last few weeks.

First tiny movements felt around week 15 (wish I'd thought to write down when I first felt baby so that this milestone could be recorded accurately)  Perhaps it was due to ligament pain or the sudden increase in severity of my restless leg syndrome, perhaps it was the result of my increased need to urinate or just the intense heat of the room even with all the windows open but for a while, I established a sleeping pattern where I would be awake for long periods between 2 and 5 am.  It was during one of these hours that I felt what I, at first, took to be a tiny pulse in my lower belly.  I waited for it to happen again, making an effort to keep my breathing relaxed and steady and being consciously aware of my heart rate.  It took a moment but when it happened again, I was sure that it wasn't my pulse but the first tiny kicks I was feeling.  Because of the hour, the whole world outside was silent, like nothing else existed outside our room.  It felt perfect.
Since then, baby has started to kick with more strength and regularity.  Most often, it's just after breakfast, when I have the time to sit and talk to him/her.  It's so nice to have that morning greeting.  We even have a game we like to play, where s/he will kick and I'll place my hand on my belly to say hi.  S/he will stop and I will carry on with what I am doing.  Two minutes later, s/he will kick again and I'll stop to say hi again.  This can go on for twenty minutes at a time.

This week, we've been having a lot of discussions to re-assess where we stand on our plans for the near and continuing future.  I've had my maternity certificate tucked inside my yellow book since our 15 week appointment with W.  It needs to be handed in to my manager at 20 weeks to claim statutory maternity pay.  This will, I know, probably prompt a meeting with him to discuss maternity leave - which is a subject I have been side-stepping a lot recently. I know it's not fair for me to be so unclear, when the management team is only trying to figure out how to cover a team leader for an extended period, likely starting at a very crucial period for trading.  I've just been feeling extra vulnerable lately and the idea of broaching what's on my mind has started to bring out the old anxiety gremlins.  I would really like to start my maternity leave just before Christmas.  I would like to have the opportunity to (try to) relax before baby is born and enjoy our last Christmas as a couple.  I would really appreciate the time to be close to my mother (I never get the chance to visit when she's not working) and recently, I have been thinking about taking a career break until baby is old enough for pre-school...
I don't know. I've always said I'd be a working mother - It makes financial sense in this economy to have two wages coming in - but something inside me is saying that as much as baby would benefit from the higher income of two working mothers, it is also very important to me that s/he has the benefit of a full time mother (at least in the early years)  A strongly supports me in this and has actually encouraged me towards making this decision. Sometimes I feel like it's something she has been hoping for me to agree to and sometimes I wonder if it's something she's encouraging me in (because that's who she is) without actually thinking about the implications.  It all comes down to finances.  I may post more on this at a later date - when I have it clearer in my head.  In the meantime, we've added another book to our pregnancy library: How to afford time off with your baby by Becky Goddard-Hill, who was in the middle of her maternity leave when she decided to take a six year career break to raise their first child.  The book is written in a friendly and easy to access style with well organised chapters that include money saving ideas from pregnancy to pre-school, resource lists and support and encouragement.  Whilst our copy is a little out of date as it is second hand and we would have to do some further research on benefits, taxes and allowances if we were to seriously consider this path, this made an excellent starting point.

Ultrasound (12 weeks)

Tuesday was our first Ultrasound and I can't begin to describe how amazing it felt to actually see little Felix on the monitor.

The midwife (W) marked in our yellow book (the pregnancy records that travel to every baby appointment with us) that we are hoping to deliver at the birthing suite close by to where we live. Since they will only accept low risk pregnancies, we will have to wait until we've passed our anomaly scan around the 20th week to know if they will be able to refer us. In the mean time, we are proceeding as for a delivery at the central suite.

So for our first scan, we hopped on the bikes and headed thirty minutes across the city for the antenatal clinic at the big hospital.  We were both tired, sleep being evasive in the weather we are currently having (we've since been looking into low energy floor fans to take the edge off the room at bed-time) and I was especially irritable because of an uncomfortably full bladder but all of that changed as soon as the image of our baby appeared on the screen set up for us.  Until that moment, I think because I've had so few symptoms, it has sometimes been hard to believe that I'm pregnant.  But to see that perfectly formed image, with tiny heart beating away...It seemed so real suddenly. A took my hand and together we looked at our little miracle.  Maybe I'm a little bias but I think Felix already has my mother's nose.

Thoughts

It's so surreal.

We've been trying for a while to get pregnant and yet, it was still a complete surprise when the indicator flashed up 'Pregnant' - even after the previous positive (a picture of which is now the screensaver on my laptop)  After we got the results, we laughed, we hugged and then we didn't quite know what else to do.  We sat talking about mundane things: the shifts we were working, our dinner plans; all the while, we kept exchanging excited looks and glancing over at the test stick, where it sat on our side table among tea cups, newspapers and discarded keys like some bizarre ornament. And every time we looked, it still said 'Pregnant'

A and I both had to work today and whilst I can't speak for A, I certainly went about my day as if in a complete daze. How much I wanted to tell everybody I saw that I was pregnant; that A and I are having a baby.  But we decided a while back that we weren't going to tell anybody before we got to 10 weeks, and so any time somebody asked me today why I was so happy, I'd smile and reply that I'd had a good breakfast and all was right with the world.

next step is getting an appointment at the health centre on Friday.