As I’m always early for everything it never occurred to me that my son would not arrive by his due date at the very latest. As soon as my due date came and went I should have known that he was going to take after his Dad in EVERY way!
On D-Day + 8 days I was getting ready for bed when my contractions started (my waters never did break in the middle of the supermarket or in bed, thank god!) – great timing. By the early hours, they were getting very uncomfortable, I can’t remember how far apart they were (all a blur these days) but I rang the hospital and they said to get some sleep and ring again when closer together. Were they joking! Sleep? There was absolutely no chance of me sleeping. It wasn’t boded will for a totally ‘natural’ birth, was it? My birth plan was clearly out of the window before I’d even got to the hospital. I was clinging to the dressing table for dear life.
Anyway, by 6.30 am I’d had enough, was knackered and the contractions were as close as they needed to be, to go to the hospital. I can still remember that 25-minute car journey – I obviously have NO pain threshold whatsoever. We arrived, I was booked in and we were taken to our delivery room. After a few hours it became clear that a) I was not going to ‘do this’ without drugs b) Bump was in discomfort, c) Mummy was blooming knackered.
So after having gas and air and an epidural and being linked up to a fetal monitor for HOURS, we were told that the baby was in a lot of distress, I was to be wheeled into the operating theatre, would be given two more attempts to push and if Bump had not been delivered, they would do an emergency C-section. This was all rather daunting for someone who had never been in hospital for anything, never broken any bones etc and obviously very stressful.
In the end, I was given three chances to push and Bump finally became Monkey (my son) with a little help with some forceps at 4.05 pm. Bless him, his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, hence all the problems trying to deliver him and why he was in so much distress. He was having problems breathing, so I had the briefest of cuddles (poor Daddy P didn’t get a chance) and he was whisked off to SCBU.
I’d torn so I was stitched up and wheeled back to the original delivery room, and there we stayed for the next five hours. It’s the weirdest thing ever to have given birth and not be with your baby. At some point in that time, a nurse came in with a picture that they had taken in SCBU of my son, a nice gesture, but not quite the same as seeing him for real.
We were told that he was doing well but would be in SCBU for at least twenty-four hours. I was finally taken up to the Post-Natal ward at around 9.30 pm and they wheeled my son out so we could see him for a couple of minutes – that was the most magical moment ever 🙂 until the next day when we got our first proper cuddles, but that’s another story …..